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I     1 


\ 


\ 


* 


Wi  ^' 


1 


1^    t\-.  I 


HISTORY 


OF 


ROMAN  LITERATURE, 


FROM 


ITS  EARLIEST  PERIOD 


TO 


THE  AUGUSTAN  AGE. 


IN   TWO  VOLUMES. 


^    > 


JOHN  DUNLOP, 

AUTHOR  OF  THE  HISTORY  OF  FICTION. 
FROM  THE  LAST  LONDON  EDITION. 


VOL.    I. 


PUBXilBHED  BY 
B.  LITTELL)  CHESTNUT  STREET,   PHILADELPHIA. 
O.  8l  C.  CABVlLIi,  BBOADWAYy  KXW  YORK. 


1827. 


^ 


^  ' 


.1 


4 


James  fay,  Jun.  Ptinter, 
8,  E.  Comer  of  Race  4r  Sixth  Streets, 
Philadelphia. __ 


^ 


■] 


n' 


PREFACE. 


T, 


HERE  are  few  subjects  on  which  a  greater  number  of 
laborious  volumes  have  been  compiled,  than  the  History  and 
Antiquities  of  Rome.  Everything  connected  with  its  foreign 
policy  and  civil  constitution,  or  even  with  the  4ompstic  man- 
ners of  its  citizens,  has  been  profoundly  and  accurately  investi- 
gated.     The  mysterious  origin  of  Rome,  veiled  in  the  wonders 

of  mythological  f^^ — the  stupendous. increase  of  its  power, 

.*  •  '        ■ 

rendered  y^t  more  gigantic  by  the  mists  of  antiquity — its  un- 

.3^  daunted  heroes,  who  seem  to  us  like  the  genii  of  some  greater 
w^rld — its  ^ide  dominion,  extended  over  the  whole  civilized 
globe — and,  finally,  its  portentous  fall,  which  forms,  as  it  were, 
the  separation  between  ancient  «nd  modern  times,  have  ren- 
dered  its  civil  and  military  history  a  subject  of  prevailing  inte- 

« j  ^^^fW^  enlight^jjMjd  nations.  But,  while  its  warlike  exploits, 
and  the.  prine|pier«  its  political  institutions,  have  been  re* 
peat^dly  and  iM^b^sly  investigated,  less  attention,  perhaps. 


iv  PREFACE. 

has  been  paid  to  the  history  of  its  literature,  than  to  that  of  any 
other  country,  possessed  of  equal  pretensions  to  learning  and 
refinement;  and,  in  the  English  language  at  least,  no  con- 
nected view  of  its  Rise,  its  Progress,  and  Decline,  has  been  as 
yet  presented  to  us.  When  the  battles  of  Rome  have  been 
accurately  described,  and  all  her  political  intrigues  minutely 
developed — when  so  much  inquiry  and  thought  have  been  be- 
stowed, not  only  on  the  wars,  conquests,  and  civil  institutions 
of  the  Romans,  but  on  their  most  trivial  customs,  it  is  wonder- 
ful that  so  little  has  been  done  to  exhibit  the  intellectual  ex- 
ertions of  the  fancy  and  the  reason,  of  their  most  refined  and 
exalted  spirits. 

It  cannot,  indeed,  be  denied,'  that  the  civil  history  of  Rome, 
and  her  military  operations,  present  our  species  in  a  lofty  as- 
pect of  power,  magnanimity,  and  courage — that  they  exhibit 
the  widest  range  and  utmost  extent  of  the  human  powers  in 
enterprize  and  resources — and  that  statesmen  or  philosophers 
may  derive  from  them  topics  to  illustrate  almost  every  political 
speculation.  Yet,  however  vast  and  instructive  may  be  the 
page  which  unfolds  the  eventfiil  history  of  the  foreign  hostilities 
and  internal  commotions  of  the  Roman  people,  it  can  hardly 
be  more  interesting  than  the  analogies  between  their  literary 
attainments  and  the  other  circumstances  of  their  condition ; — 
the  peculiarities  of  their  literature,  its  peculiar  origination,  and 
the  peculiar  effects  which  it  produced.  The  literature  of  a 
people  may  indeed,  in  one  sense,  be  regarded  as  the  most  at- 
tractive featuie  of  its  history.  It  is  at  once  the  effect  of 
leisure  and  refinement,  and  the  means  of  increasing  and  perpe^ 
tuating  the  civilization  from  which  it  springs.  Literature,  as  a 
late  writer  has  powerfully  and  eloquently  demonstrated^  pos- 


PREFACE.  T 

sesses  an  extensive  moral  agency,  and  a  close  connection  with 
glory,  liberty,  and  happiness"^;  and  hence  the  history  of  litera-* 
ture  becomes  associated  with  all  that  concerns  the  fame,  the 
freedom,  and  the  felicity  of  nations.  *^  There  is  no  part  of  his- 
tory,''  says  Dr  Johnson,  *'  so  generally  useful,  as  that  which 
relates  the  progress  of  the  human  mind — the  gradual  improve- 
ment of  reason — the  successive  advances  of  science — the  vicis- 
situdes of  learning  and  ignorance,  which  are  the  light  and  dark- 
ness of  thinking  beings — the  extinction  and  resuscitation  of 
arts,  and  the  revolutions  of  the  intellectual  world.  If  accounts 
of  battles  and  invasions  are  peculiarly  the  business  of  princes, 
the  useful  or  elegant  arts  are  not  to  be  neglectedf  ^''  If,  then, 
in  the  literary  history  of  Rome,  we  do  not  meet  with  those  daz- 
zling events,  and  stupendous  results,  which,  from  their  lustre 
and  magnitude,  still  seem,  as  it  were,  placed  at  the  summit  of 
human  affairs,  we  shall  find  in  it  more  intelligence  and  order, 
in  consequence  of  its  progress  being  less  dependent  on  passion 
and  interest.  The  trophies,  too,  of  the  most  absolute  power, 
and  the  most  unlimited  empire,  seem  destined,  as  if  by  a  moral 
necessity,  to  pass  away :  But  the  dominion  which  the  writers  of 
Rome  exercise  over  the  human  mind,  will  last  as  long  as  the 
world,  or  at  least  as  long  as  its  civilization — 

"  Alas,  for  Tully's  Toice,  and  Virgil's  lay. 
And  Livy's  pictured  page ! — But  these  shall  be 
Her  resurrectioii;  all  beside— decay |." 

r 

There  are  chiefly  two  points  of  view,  in  which  literary  his- 
tory may  be  regarded  as  of  high  utility  and  importance.    The 

*  Mad.  de  Stael,  J)e  la  Litteraiure,  Tom.  I. 

t  Boiseliu.  X  Childe  Harolde,  c.  IV. 


Ti  PREFACE. 

firH  18  the  consideration  of  the  powerful  effect  of  literature  <m 
the  manners  and  habits  of  the  people  among  whom  it  flourishes. 
It  is  noble,  indeed,  in  itself,  and  its  productions  are  glorious, 
without  any  relative  considerations.  An  ingenious  literary 
performance  has  it  intrinsic  merits,  and  would  delight  an  en- 
thusiastic scholar,  or  contemplative  philosopher,  in  perfect 
solitude,  even  though  he  himself  were  the  only  reader,  and  the 
work  the  production  of  a  Being  of  a  differeat  order  from  him- 
self. But  what  renders  literature  chiefly  interesting,  is  the 
influence  which  it  exercises  on  the  dignity  and  happiness  of 
human  nature,  by  improving  the  character,  and  enlarging  the 
capacity,  of  our  species.  A  stream,  however  .grand  or  beasrii- 
ful  in  itself,  derives  its  chief  interest  from  a  consideration  of  its 
influence  on  the  landscape  it  adorns ;  and,  in  this  point  of  view, 
literature  has  been  well  likened  to  "a  noble  lake  or  majestic 
river,  which  imposes  on  the  imagination  by  every  impression 
of  dignity  and  sublimity.  But  it  is  the  moisture  that  insensi- 
bly arises  from  them,  which,  gradually  mingling  with  the  soil, 
nourishes  all  the  luxuriance  of  vegetation,  and  fructifies  and 
adorns  the  surface  of  the  earth*." 

Literature,  however,  has  not  in  all  ages  denoted,  with  equal 
accuracy,  the  condition  of  mankind,  or  been  equally  efficacious 
in  impelling  their  progress,  and  contributing  to  their  improve- 
ment. In  the  ancient  empires  of  the  East,  where  monarchies 
were  despotic,  and  priests  the  only  scholars,  learning  was  re- 
garded  by  those  who  were  possessed  of  it  rather  as  a  means  of 
confirming  an  ascendancy  over  the  vulgar,  than  of  improving 
their  condition ;  and  they  were  more  desirous  to  perpetuate  the 
subjection,  than  contribute  to  the  melioration  of  mankind.    Ac- 


PREFACE.  ¥11 

cordingly,  almost  every  trace  of  this-  confined  and  perverted 
learning  has  vanished  from  the  world.  In  the  freer  states  of 
antiquity,  as  the  republics  of  Greece  and  Rome,  letters  found 
various  outlets,  by  which  their  improving  influence  was  im- 
parted, more  or  less  extensively,  to  the  bulk  of  the  citizens. 
Dramatic  refwesentations  were  among  the  most  favourite 
amusements,  and  oratorical  displays  excited  among  all  classes 
the  most  lively  interest.  Such  public  exhibitions  established 
points  of  contact,  from  which  light  was  elicited.  The  mind 
of  the  multitude  was  enriched  by  the  contemplation  of  superior 
intellect,  and  mankind  were,  to  a  certain  extent,  united  by  the 
reception  of  similar  impressions,  and  the  excitement  of  similar 
emotions. 

StilU  however,  the  history  of  any  part  of  ancient  literature 
IB,  in  respect  of  its  influence  on  the  condition  of  states,  far  less 
important  than  that  of  modern  nations.  From  the  high  price 
and  scarcity  of  books,  a  restriction  was  imposed  on  the  difiu- 
Non  of  knowledge.  "  A  bulwark  existed  between  the  body  of 
mankind  and  the  reflecting  few.  They  were  distinct  nations 
inhabiting  the  same  country;  and  the  opinions  of  the  one, 
speaking  comparatively  with  modern  times,  had  little  influence 
on  the  other*."  The  learned,  in  those  days,  wrote  only  or 
chiefly  for  the  learned  and  the  great.  They  neither  expected 
nor  cultivated  the  approbation  of  the  mass  of  mankind.  An  ex« 
tensive  and  noisy  celebrity  was  interdicted.  It  was  only  with  the 
more  estimable  part  of  his  species  that  the  author  was  united 
by  that  sympathy  which  we  term  the  Love  of  Fame.  He  was 
the  head,  not  of  a  numerous,  but  of  a  select  community.    By 

*  Vuidkia  Gattkm. 


viii  PREFACE. 

nothing  short  of  the  highest  excellence  could  he  hope  for  the 
approbation  of  judges  so  skilful,  or  expect  an  immortality  so 
difficult  to  be  preserved.  While  this  may,  perhaps,  have  con- 
tributed to  the  polish  and  perfection  of  literary  works,  it  is 
obvious  that  the  general  influence  of  letters  must  have  been 
less  humanizing,  and  must  have  had  less  tendency  to  unite  and 
assimilate  mankind.  Even  philosophers,  whose  peculiar  busi- 
ness was  the  instruction  of  their  species,  had  no  mode  of  dis- 

« 

seminating  or  perpetuating  their  opinions,  except  by  the.  for- 
mation of  sects  and  schools,  which  created  for  the  masters, 
pupils  who  were  the  followers  of  his  creed,  and  the  deposita- 
ries of  his  claims  to  immortality. 

It  is  the  invention  of  the  art  of  printing  which  has  at  length 
secured  the  widest  diffusion,  and  an  unlimited  endurance,  to 
learning  and  civilization.  ,  As  a  stone  thrown  into  the  sea  agi- 
tates (it  has  been  said)  more  or  less  every  drop  in  the  expanse 
of  ocean,  so  every  thought  that  is  now  cast  into  the  fluctuating 
but  ceasele3s  tide  of  letters,  will  more  or  less  affect  the  human 
mind,  and  influence  the  human  condition,  throughout  all  the 
habitable  globe,  and  "  to  the  last  syllable  of  time." 

It  is  this,  and  not  the  height  to  which  individual  genius  has 
soared,  that  forms  the  grand  distinction  between  ancient  and 
modern  literature.  The  triumph  of  modern  literature  consists 
not  in  the  point  of  elevation  to  which  it  has  attained,  but  in  the 
extent  of  its  conquests — the  extent  to  which  it  has  refined  and 
quickened  the  mass  of  mankind.  It  would  be  difficult  to  adjust 
the  intellectual  precedence  of  Newton  and  Archimedes— of 
Bacon  and  Aristotle — of  Shakspeare  and  Homer— of  Thucy- 
dides  and  Hume  :  But  it  may  be  declared  with  certainty,  that 
the  people  of  modem  nations^  in  consequence  of  literature  be- 


PREFACE.  ix 

ingmore  wicjjsly  diffused,  have  become  more  civilized  and  en- 
lightened. The  Indus  and  Oronoko,  rolling  amid  woods  and 
deserts  their  waste  of  waters,  may  seem  superior  to  the  Thames 
in  the  view  of  the  mere  admirer  of  the  grandeur  and  magnifi- 
cence of  nature ;  but  how  inferior  are  they  in  the  eye  of  the 
philosopher  and  historian ! 

With  regard  to  the  Romans,  in  particular,  they  are  allowed 
to  have  been  a  civilized  nation,  powerfully  constituted,  and 
wisely  governed,  previous  to  the  existence  of  any  author  in  the 
Latin  language.  Their  character  was  formed  before  their  lite- 
rature was  created :  their  moral  and  patriotic  dignity,  indeed, 
had  reached  its  highest  perfection,  in  the  age  in  which  their 
literature  commenced — the  age  of  Loelius  and  Africanus.  Ex- 
cept in  the  province  of  the  drama,  it  always  continued  a  patri- 
cian attribute ;  and  though  intellectual  improvement  could  not 
have  facilitated  the  inroads  of  vice  and  guilty  ambition,  it  cer- 
tunly  proved  inadequate  to  stem  the  tide  of  moral  corruption, 
to  mitigate  the  sanguinary  animosities  of  faction,  or  to  retard 
the  establishment  of  despotism. 

Literary  history  is,  secondly^  of  importance,  as  being  the  in- 
dex of  the  character  and  condition  of  a  people — as  holding  up 
a  mirror,  which  reflects  the  manners  and  customs  of  remote  or 
ancient  nations.  The  less  influence,  however,  which  literature 
exercises,  the  less  valuable  will  be  its  picture  of  life  and  manners. 
It  mast  also  be  admitted,  that  from  a  separate  cause,  the  early 
periods,  at  least,  of  Roman  literature,  possess  not  in  this  point 
of  view  any  peculiar  attractions.  When  literature  is  indige- 
nous, as  it  was  in  Greece,  where  authors  were  guided  by  no  an- 
tecedent system,  and  their  compositions  were  shaped  on  no 
Vol.  L— B 


X  PREFACE. 

Other  model  than  the  objects  themselyes  which  they  were  oe- 
cupied  in  delineating,  or  the  living  passions  they  portrayed,  an 
accurate  estimate  of  the  general  state  of  manners  and  feeling 
may  be  drawn  from  works  written  at  various  epochs  of  the  na- 
tional history.  But,  at  Roipe,  the  pursuit  of  literature  was 
neither  a  native  nor.  predominant  taste  among  the  people.  The 
Roman  territory  was  always  a  foreign  soil  for  letters,  which 
were  not  the  produce  of  national  genius,  but  were  naturalized 
by  the  assiduous  culture  of  a  few  individuals  reared  in  the 
schools  of  Greece.  Indeed,  the  early  Roman  authors,  particu- 
laily  the  dramatic,  who,  of  all  others,  best  illustrate  the  preva- 
lent ideas  and  sentiments  of  a  nation,  were  mere  translators 
from  the  Greek.  Hence,  those  delineations,  which  at  first 
view  might  appear  to  be  characteristic  national  sketches,  are 
in  fact  the  draught  of  foreign  manners,  and  the  mirror  of  cus- 
toms which  no  Roman  adopted,  or  of  sentiments  in  which,  per- 
haps, no  Roman  participated. 

Since,  then,  the  literature  of  Rome  exercised  but  a  limited 
influence  on  the  conduct  of  its  citizens,  and  as  it  reciprocally 
reflects  but  a  partial  light  on  their  manners  and  institutions,  its 
history  must,  in  a  great  measure,  consist  of  biographical 
sketches  of  abhors — of  critical  accounts  of  their  toorks — and 
an  examination  of  the  %f\fiuence  which  these  works  have  exer- 
cised on  modern  literature.  The  atdhara  of  Rome  were,  in 
their  characters,  and  the  events  of  their  lives,  more  interesting 
than  the  writers  of  any  ancient  or  modern  land.  The  authors 
who  flourished  during  the  existence  of  the  Roman  Republic, 
were  Cato  the  Censor,  Cicero,  and  Caesar ;  men  who  (indepen- 
dently of  their  literary  claims  to  celebrity)  were  unrivalled  in 
their  own  age  and  country,  and  have  scarcely  been  surpassed 


PREFACE.  xi 

in  any  other.  I  need  not  here  anticipate  those  ohserratione 
which  the  work$  of  the  Roman  aathors  will  suggest  in  the  fol- 
lowing pages.  Though  formed  on  a  model  which  has  been 
shaped  by  the  Greeks,  we  shall  perceive  through  that  spirit  of 
imitation  which  marks  all  their  literary  productions,  a  tone  of 
practical  utility,  derived  from  the  familiar  acquaintance  which 
their  writers  exercised  with  the  business  and  affairs  of  life  ;  and 
also  that  air  of  nationality,  which  was  acquired  from  the  great- 
ness and  unity  of  the  Roman  republic,  and  could  not  be  ex- 
pected in  literary  works,  produced  where  there  was  a  subdivi- 
sion of  states  in  the  same  country,  as  in  Greece,  modern  Italy, 
Ctennany,  uid  Britain.  We  shall  remark  a  characteristic 
authority  of  expression,  a  gravity,  circumspection,  solidity  of 
oiderstanding,  and  dignity  of  sentiment,  produced  partly  by 
the  moral  firmness  that  distinguished  the  character  of  the  Ro* 
mans,  their  austerity  of  manners,  and  tranquillity  of  temper,  but 
chiefly  by  their  national  pride,  and  the  exalted  name  of  Roman 
eitixen,  which  their  authors  bore.  And,  finally,  we  shall  re- 
cognise that  love  of  rural  retirement  which  originated  in  the 
mode  of  life  of  the  ancient  Italians,  and  was  augmented  by  the 
pleasing  contrast  which  the  undisturbed  repose  and  simple  en- 
joyments of  rural  existence  presented  to  the  bustle  of  an  im- 
flueDse  and  agitated  capital.  In  the  last  point  of  view  that  has 
been  alluded  to — ^the  influence  which  these  works  have  exer- 
cised on  modem  letters — it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  literary 
history  of  Rome  is  peculiarly  interesting.  If  the  Greeks  gave 
the  first  impulse  to  literature,  the  Romans  engraved  the  traces  of 
its  progress  deeper  on  the  world.  ^*  The  earliest  writers,"  as  has 
been  justly  remarked,  <*  took  possession  of  the  most  striking  ob- 
jects for  description,  and  the  most  probable  occurrences  for 


xii  PREFACE. 

fiction,  and  left  nothing  to  those  that  followed,  but  transcriiH 
tions  of  the  same  events,  and  new  combinations  of  the  same 
images*."  The  great  author  from  whom  these  reflections  are 
quoted,  had  at  one  time  actually  *'  projected  a  work,  to  show 
how*  small  a  quantity  of  invention  there  is  in  the  world,  and  that 
the  same  images  and  incidents,  with  little  v^iation,  have  serv^ 
ed  all  the  authors  who  have  evec  writtenf ."  Had  he  prose- 
cuted his  intention,  he  would  have  found  the  notion  he  enter- 
tained fully  confirmed  by  the  history  both  of  dramatic  and 
romantic  fiction ;  he  would  have  perceived  the  incapacity  of 
the  most  active  and  fertile  imagination  greatly  to  diversify  the 
common  characters  and  incidents  of  life,  which,  on  a  superficial 
view,  one  might  suppose  to  be  susceptible  of  infinite  combina-. 
tions ;  he  would  have  found,  that  while  PlaUtus  and  Terence 
servilely  copied  fi*om  the  Greek  dramatists,  even  Ariosto 
scarcely  diverged  in  his  comedies  from  the  paths  of  Plautus. 

But  whatever  may  be  the  advantages  or  imperfections  of 
a  literary  subject  in  its  own  nature,  it  is  evident  that  it  can 
never  be  treated  with  efiect  or  utility,  unless  sufiicient  materials 
exist  for  compilation.  Unfortunately,  there  was  no  historian 
of  Roman  literature  among  the  Romans  themselves.  Many 
particulars,  however,  with  regard  to  it,  as  also  judgments  on 
productions  which  are.  now  lost,  may  be  collected  from  the 
writings  of  Cicero;  and  many  curious  remarks,  as  wellas  amus- 
ing anecdotes,  may  be  gathered  from  the  works  of  the  latter 
Classics ;  as  Pliny's  Natural  History^  the  Institutes  of  Quin* 
tilian,  the  Mic  Nights  of  Aulus  Gellius,  and  the  Saturnalia  of 
Macrobius. 

*  MoiselaM,  t  Boswefl'i  L^e  of  Johnson,  Vol.  IV. 


\ 


PREFACE.  xiii 

Among  modern  authors  who  have  written  on  the  subject  of 
Roman  literature,  the  first  place  is  unquestionably  due  to  Ti- 
raboflcbi,  who,  though  a  cold  and  uninteresting  critic,  is  dis- 
tinguished by  soundness  of  judgment  and  labour  of  research. 
The  first  and  second  volumes  of  his  great  work,  Delia  Letteror 
tura  Italiana^  are  occupied  with  the  subject  of  Roman  litera- 
ture; and  though  not  executed  with  the  same  ability  as  the  por- 
tion of  his  literary  history  relating  to  modem  Italy,  they  may 
safely  be  relied  on  for  correctness  of  facts  and  references. 

The  recent  French  work  of  Schoell,  entitled,  Histoire  Abre- 
gee  de  la  lAtterature  RomcAne^  is  extremely  succinct  and  unsa- 
tisfibctory  on  the  early  periods  of  Roman  literature.  Though 
consisting  of  four  volumes,  the  author,  at  the  middle  of  the  first 
volume  of  the  book,  has  advanced  as  far  as  Virgil.  It  is  more 
complete  in  the  succeeding  periods,  and,  like  his  Histdre  de 
la  LUieraiure  Orecque,  is  rather  a  history  of  the  decline,  than  of 
the  progress  and  perfection  of  literature. 

A  number  of  German  works,  (chiefly,  however,  bibliographi- 
cal,) have  lately  appeared  on  the  subject  of  Roman  literature. 
I  regret,  that  fix>m  possessing  but  a  recent  and  limited  acquain- 
tance with  the  language,  I  have  not  been  able  to  draw  so 
extensively  as  might  have  been  wished  from  these  sources  of 
information. 

The  composition  of  the  present  volumes  was  not  suggested 
by  any  of  the  works  which  I  have  mentioned  on  the  subject  of 
Roman  literature ;  but  by  the  perusal  of  an  elegant,  though 
somewhat  superficial  production,  on  "The  Civil  and  Constitu- 
tional History  of  Rome,  firom  its  Foundation  to  the  Age  of 


xiv  PREFACE. 

AugUBtiu^."  It  occurred  to  me  that  a  History  of  RonuiB  LUe" 
raiurBj  doring  the  same  period,  might  prove  not  uninteresting. 
There  are  three  great  ages  in  the  literary  history  of  Rome—* 
that  which  precedes  the  ssra  of  Augustas-^the  epoch  which  ii 
stamped  with  the  name  of  that  emperor — and  the  interval  which 
commenced  immediately  after  his  death,  and  may  be  considered 
as  extending  to  the  destruction  of  Rome.    Of  these  periods, 

the  first  and  second  run  into  each  other  with  respect  to  dates^ 

• 

but  the  difference  in  their  spirit  and  taste  m^y  be  easily  distin- 
guished. Although  Cicero  died  during  the  triumvirate  of  Oc- 
tavius,  his  genius  breathes  only  the  spirit  of  the  Republic ;  and 
though  Virgil  and  Horace  were  born  during  the  subsistence  of 
the  commonwealth,  their  writings  bear  the  character  of  monar- 
chical influence. 

The  ensuing  volumes  include  only  the  first  of  these  succes- 
sive periods.  Whether  I  shall  hereafter  proceed  to  investigate 
the  history  of  the  others,  will  depend  on  the  reception  which 
the  present  effort  may  obtain,  and  on  other  circumstances, 
which  I  am  equally  unable  to  anticipate. 


Meanwhile,  I  have  made  considerable  alterations,  and,  I 
trust,  improvements,  in  the  present  edition.  These,  however, 
are  so  much  interwoven  with  the  body  of  the  work,  that  they 
cannot  be  specified— except  some  additional  Translations  from 


*  Cfiml  and  ConstUutional  lEitory  of  Rome,  from  Us  FbundaHon  to  the  Jge 
ofjiugwtutt  by  Henry  Bankes,  Esq.  M.  P.  ed.  iiOiuloo,  1818, 2  vol.  8vo. 


PREFACE.  XT 

the  Fragments  of  the  older  Latin  poets— ^a  Dissertation  on  the 
Tackygraphy,  or  short-hand  writing  of  the  Romans,  introduced 
at  the  commencement  of  the.  Appendix — and  a  Critical  Account 
of  Cicero's  Dialogue  De  ReptubKca^  which,  though  discovered, 
had  not  issued  from  the  press  when  the  former  edition  was  pub- 
lished. 


fflSTORY 


OF 


m<i>mAsr  ^LivaimAwma^  &<•% 


Vol.  1. 


**  Pwft  quoquey  litt  fenne  prineipift  oiiiiih»  et  ea  ipn  peragiiut  ret 
fuit." 

LxvT,  lib.  Til.  c.  2. 


f 


[ 


HISTORY 


OF 


musMs  &s«]i»ikv«]&a«  «•« 


I 


N  tracing  the  Literary  History  of  a  people,  it  is  important 
not  only  to  ascertain  whence  their  first  rudiments  of  know- 
ledge were  derived,  but  even  to  fix  the  origin  of  those  tribes, 
whose  cultivation,  being  superior  to  their  ovm,  acted  as  an 
incentive  to  literary  exertion.  The  privilege,  however,  as- 
sumed by  national  vanity,  miBcendi  kumana  dunnts,  has 
enveloped  the  antiquities  of  almost  every  country  in  darkness 
and  mystery :  But  there  is  no  race  whose  early  history  is 
involved  in  greater  obscurity  and  contradiction  than  the  first 
inhabitants  of  those  Italian  states,  which  finally  formed  com- 
ponent parts  of  the  Roman  republic.  The  origin  of  the  five 
Satumian,  and  twelve  Etruscan  cities,  is  lost  in  the  mist  of 
ages  ;  and  we  may  as  well  hope  to  obtain  credible  informa- 
tion concerning  the  monuments  of  Egypt  or  India,  as  to  inves- 
tigate their  inscrutable  antiquities.  At  the  period  when  light 
is  first  thrown,  by  authentic  documents,  on  the  condition  of 
Italy,  we  find  it  occupied  by  various  tribes,  which  had  reached 
different  degrees  of  civilization,  which  spoke  different  dialects, 
and  disputed  with  each  other  the  property  of  the  lands  whence 
they  drew  their  subsistence.  All  before  that  time  is  founded 
on  poetical  embellishment,  the  speculations  of  theorists,  or 
national  vanity  arrogating  to  itself  a  Trojan,  a  Grecian,  or 
even  a  divine  original. 

The  happy  situation  of  Italy,  imbosomed  in  a  sea,  which 
washed  not  only  the  coast  of  all  the  south  of  Europe,  but 
likewise  the  shores  of  Africa  and  Asia,  afforded  &cilitie8  for 


i 

I 


20  ETRURIA. 

f 

communication  and  commerce  with  almost  every  part  of  the 
ancient  world.  It  is  probable,  that  a  country  gifted  like  this 
peninsula,  with  a  fertile  soil,  incomparable  climate,  and  unusual 
charms  of  scenery,  attracted  the  attention  of  its  neighbours, 
and  sometimes  allured  them  from  less  favoured  settlements. 
"II  semble,"  says  a  recent  French  writer,  "que  les  Dieux  aient 
lance  lltalie  au  milieu  du  vaste  ocean  comme  un  Phare  im- 
mense qui  appelle  les  navigateurs  des  pays  les  plus  eloignes''*. 
The  customs,  and  even  names,  which  were  prevalent  in  Egypt, 
Phoenicia,  and  Greece,  were  thus  introduced  into  Italy,  and 
formed  materials  from  which  the  framers  of  systems  have  con- 
structed theories  concerning  its  first  colonization  by  the  Egyp- 
tians, the  Pelasgi,  or  whatever  nation  they  chose.  There  is 
scarcely,  however,  an  ancient  history  or  document  entitled  to 
credit,  and  recording  the  arrival  of  a  colony  in  Italy,  which 
does  not  also  mention  that  the  new-comers  found  prior  tribes, 
with  whom  they  waged  war,  or  intermixed. 

The  ample  lakes  and  lofty  mountains,  by  which  Italy  is 
intersected,  naturally  divided  its  inhabitants  into  separate  and 
independent  nations.  Of  these  by  far  the  most  celebrated 
were  the  Etruscans.  The  origin  of  this  remariiable  people, 
called  Tyrrhenians  by  the  Greeks,  and  Thusci,  or  Etrusci,  by 
the  Latins,  has  been  a  subject  of  endless  controversy  among 
antiquarians;  and,  indeed,  had  perplexed  the  ancients  no  less 
than  it  has  puzzled  the  modems.  Herodotus,  the  earliest  au- 
thentic histori&ui  whose  works  are  now  extant,  represents  them 
as  a  colony  of  Lydians,  who  were  themselves  a  tribe  of  ifie 
vagrant  Pelasgi.  In  the  reign  of  Atys,  son  of  Menes,  the  Ly- 
dian  nation  being  driven  to  extremity  by  famine,  the  king 
divided  it  into  two  portions,  one  of  which  was  destined  to 
remain  in  Asia,  and  the  other  to  emigrate  under  the  conduct 
of  his  son  Tyrrhenus.  The  inhabitants  who  composed  the 
latter  division  leaving  their  country,  repaired  to  Smyrna,  where 
they  built  vessels,  and  removed  in  search  of  new  abodes.  After 
touching  on  various  shores,  they  penetrated  into  the  heart  of 
Italy,  and  at  length  settled^  in  Umbria.  There  they  construc- 
ted dwellings,  and  called  themselves  Tyrrhenians,  from  the 
name  of  their  leaderf  •  Some  of  the  circumstances  which  He- 
rodotus relates  as  having  occurred  previous  to  the  emigration 
of  the  Lydian  colony  appear  fabulous,  as  the  invention  of' 
games,  in  order  to  appease  the  sensation  of  hunger,  and  the 
fasting  every  alternate  day  for  a  spaise  of  eighteeen  years; 
and  it  would,  perhaps,  be  too  much  to  assert,  that  before 
the  Lydians,  no  other  tribe  had  ever  set  foot  in  Umbria  or 

*  Voyage  de  PolycUie,  Lettre  2.  3  Tom.  Paris,  1820.      f  Herod,  Clio,  c,  94. 


ETRURIA.  21 

Etniria.  But  the  account  of  the  departure  of  tfie  colony 
18  itself  plausible,  and  its  truth  appears  to  be  corroborated,  if 
not  confinned,  by  certain  resemblances  in  the  language,  reli- 
gion, and  pastimes  of  the  Lydians,  and  of  the  ancient  Etrus- 
cans*. The  manners,  too,  and  customs  of  the  Lydians,  did 
not  differ  essentially  from  those  of  the  Greeks;  and  the  princes 
of  Lydia,  like  the  sovereigns  of  Persia,  being  accustomed 
to  employ  Phcenician  or  Egyptian  sailors,  the  colony  of  Ly- 
dians, which  settled  in  Italy,  might  thus  contain  a  mixture 
of  such  people,  and  present  those  appearances  which  have  led 
some  antiquarians  to  consider  the  Etruscans  as  Phcenicians  or 
Egyptians,  while  others  have  regarded  them  as  Greeks.  The 
writers  of  antiquity,  though  varying  in  particulars,  have  fol- 
lowed, in  general,  the  tradition  delivered  by  Herodotus  con- 
cerning the  descent  of  the  Etruscans.  Cicero,  Strabof,  Vel- 
leius  Paterculus|,  Seneca,  Pliny,  Plutarch^,  and  Servius,  all 
affinn  that  they  came  from  Lydia;  and  to  these  may  be  added 
Catullus,  who  calls  the  lake  Benacus  LyduB  hwus  unda^  ob- 
viously because  he  considered  the^antient  Etruscans,  within 
whose  extended  territory  it  lay,  as  of  Lydian  origin.  It  is 
evident,  too,  that  the  Etruscans  themselves  believed  that  they 
had  sprung  from  the  Lydians,  and  that  they  inculcated  this 
belief  on  others.  Tacitus  informs  us,  that,  in  the  reign  of 
Tiberius,  a  contest  concerning  their  respective  antiquity  arose 
among  eleven  cities  of  Asia,  which  were  heard  by  their  depu- 
ties in  presence  of  the  Emperor.  The  Sardians  rested  their 
cUBms  on  an  alleged  affinity  to  the  Etruscans,  and,  in  support 
of  their  pretensions,  produced  an  ancient  decree,  in  which  that 
people  declared  themselves  descended  from  the  followers  of 
Tyrrhenus,  who  had  lefl  their  native  country  of  Lydia,  and 
founded  new  settlements  in  Italy  ||. 

Hellanicus  of  Lesbos,  a  Greek  historian,  nearly  contempo- 
rary with  Herodotus,  and  quoted  by  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus, 
asserted  that  the  Etruscans  were  a  tribe  of  Pelasgi,  not  from 
Lydia,  but  from  Greece,  who  being  driven  out  of  their  country 
by  the  Hellenes,  sailed  to  the  mouth  of  the  Po,  and  leaving 
their  ships  in  that  river,  built  the  inland  town  of  Cortona, 
whence  advancing,  they  peopled  the  whole  territory  afterwards 
called  Tyrrheniaf . 

Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus  holds  the  account  of  those  au- 
thors, who  maintain  that  the  Etruscans  were  descended  from 
the  Lydians,  to  be  utterly  fabulous,  principally  on  the  grotmd 

*  HercUUmetitUiy  Dissert.  V.  Loud.  1810. 

t  Oeograph,  Lib.  V.  c.  2.  %  ^^tar.  Roman.  Lib.  L  c.  1. 

§  Qua9tione$  Ramanm,  \\  Annal.  Lib.  IV.  c.  S5. 

T  JbUiquUates  SomarUB,  Lib.  L  'p.  22.  Ed.  Sylburg,  1586. 


22  ETRURU. 

that  Xantus^  the  chief  historian  of  Lydia,  says  nothing  of  any 
colony  having  emigrated  thence  to  Italy :  and  he  is  of  opinion, 
that  those  also  are  mistaken,  who,  like  Hellanicus  of  Lesbos, 
believed  the  Etruscans  and  Pelasgi  to  be  the  same  people. 
\lde  conceives  them  to  have  been  Aborigines,  or  natives  of  the 
^vCOuntry,\as  they  radically  agreed  with  no  other  nation,  either 
ill  their  language  or  manner  of  life.  He  admits,  however,  that 
a  tri]^  of  Pelasgi  passed  from  Thessaly  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Pifl^fliany  ages  previous  to  the  Trojan  war,  and  directing  their 
course  to  the  south,  occupied  a  considerable  portion  of  the 
heart  of  Italy.  Soon  after  their  arrival,  they  assisted  the  ab- 
original Etruscans  in  their  wars  with  the  Siculi,  whom  they 
fdKced  to  seek  refuge  in  Sicily,  the  seat  of  the  ancient  Sicarn. 
Subsequent  to  this  alliance,  they  were  again  dispersed'  in 
consequence  of  disease  and  famine ;  but  a  few  still  remained 
behind,  and  being  incorporated  with  the  original  inhabitants, 
bestowed  on  them  whatever  in  language  or  customs  appeared 
to  be  common  to  the  Etruscans,  with  other  nations  of  Pelas- 
gic  descent*. 

Several  eminent  writers  among  the  moderns  have  partly 
coincided  with  Dionysius.  Dempster  seems  to  think  that 
there  was  an  indigenous  population  in  Etruria,  but  that  it  was 
increased  both  by  the  Lydian  emigration  and  by  colonies  of 
Pelasgi  from  Greecef .  Bochart  is  nearly  of  the  same  opi- 
nion ;  only  he  farther  admits  of  a  direct  intercourse  between 
the  Etruscans  and  Phoenicians,  whence  the  former  may  have 
received  many  Oriental  fables  and  customs.  He  denies,  how- 
ever, that  there  was  any  resemblance  in  the  languages  of 
these  two  people ;  and  the  Etruscan  arts  he  believes  to  have 
been  chiefly  derived  from  Greece];.  The  opinion  of  Bochart 
on  these  latter  points  is  so  much  the  more  entitled  to  weight, 
as  his  prepossessions  would  have  led  him  to  maintain  an  op- 
posite system  could  it  have  been  plausibly  supported.  Gib- 
bon also  declares  in  favour  of  Dionysius ;  and,  as  to  the  rela- 
tion of  Herodotus,  he  says,  '^  L'opinion  d'Herodote,  qui  les 
fait  venir  de  la  Lydie,  ne  pent  convenir  qu'aux  poetes''§. 
Several  recent  Italian  writers  likewise  have  maintained,  that, 
previous  to  the  arrival  of  any  Lydian  or  Pelasgic  colony,  there 
existed  what  they  term  an  indigenous  population,  by  which 
they  do  not  merely  signify  a  population  whose  origin  cannot 

*  jifUiquUatet  Romanm,  Lit).  I.  p.  22,  &c. 

t  Ve  Etruria  BegaU.  Lib.  1.  Ed.  Florent.  1723.  2  torn.  fol. 
.  t  Oeographia  Sacral  De  Colaniis  PhoeDicum.  Lib.  1.  torn.  L  p.  682,  3te  Optr- 
Liu;d.  Bat.  1712. 

^MuctUaneous  Works,  Vol.  lY.  p.  164.  Ed.  Svo.  1814. 


ETRURIA.  83 

be  traced)  since  they  hint  pretty  broadly,  that  Etruria  had  iti 
Adam  and  Eve  as  much  as  Eden*. 

Gorius  derives  every  thing  Etruscan  from  Egypt  or  Phoenicia. 
These  countries  he  considers  as  the  original  seats  of  the  Pe- 
lai^i,  who,  being  driven  out  of  them,  settled  in  Achaia,  Thrace, 
Arcadia,  and  Lydia,  and  from  these  regions  gradually,  and  at 
different  times,  passed  into  Italyf . 

A  similar  system  has  been  adopted  by  Lord  Monboddo. — 
From  a  resemblance  in  their  letters  and  language  to  those  of 
the  Greeks,  he  believes  the  Etrusqans  to  have  been  a  very  an- 
cient colony  of  the  roaming  Pelasgi  who  left  Arcadia  in  quest 
of  new  settlements.  These  Pelasgi,  however,  he  maintains, 
were  not  themselves  indigenous  in  Arcadia,  as  thcty  issued 
ortffinally  from  Egypt,  where  there  was  a  district  and  a  city 
of  ihe  name  of  Arcadia];. 

Ma^ochi  follows  the  oriental  theory,  but  does  not  venture 
to  determine  from  what  eastern  region  the  Etruscans  emigrated. 
He  merely  affirms,  that  they  spread  from  the  east,  under  which 
term  he  includes  regions  very  remote  from  each  other — Assy- 
ria, Armenia,  Canaan,  and  Egypt||.  He  also  thinks  that  they 
came  directly  from  the  east,  without  having  previously  passed 
through  Lydia  or  Arcadia:  For,  if  they  hiul,  the  monuments 
of  these  latter  countries  would  exhibit  (which  they  do  not) 
still  stronger  remains  of  oriental  antiquity  than  those  of  the 
Etruscans.  This  descent  Mazzochi  attempts  to  confirm  by 
the  most  fanciful  derivations  of  words  and  proper  names  of 
the  Etruscan  nation  from  the  eastern  languages,  especially 
fr<Mn  the  Hebrew  and  Syriac.  Thus  one  of  the  most  exten- 
sive plains  in  Italy,  and  the  spot  where,  in  all  probability,  the 
oriental  colony  first  landed,  is  near  the  sestuary  of  the  Po. 
This  plain  they  naturally  called  Paddan,  one  of  the  names  of 
the  level  Mesopotamia,  and  the  appellation  of  the  district  soon 
came  to  be  transferred  to  the  river  Padus  or  Po,  by  which  it 
was  bounded.  It  occdrred  to  the  author,  however,  that  the 
Eridanus  was  the  more  ancient  name  of  the  Po;  but  this  only 
fiimishes  him  with  a  new  argument.  Eraz,  it  seems,  signifies 
in  Hebrew,  a  cedar,  or  any  sort  of  resinous  tree,  and  the  ori- 
entals, finding  a  number  of  trees  of  this  nature  on  the  banks 
of  the  PjO,  and  Z  being  a  convertible  letter  with  D,  they  could 


H,  VBaKa  aoanH  U  DomMo  dei  Ronwni.  Ed.  Firenz.  1810.  Bowi, 
Ittaria  d'Baiia.  Ed.  1819. 

t  Museum  Etnueum, 

t  Origin  and  Progre»$  of  Language^  vol.  V.  book  i.  e.  8.  See  also  Swinton, 
Df  Ltfiftta  Etruria  Vemaeuia, 

0  At  Bie  end  of  his  DiMertalion  he  alludes  to  a  future  work,  in  which  he  is  to  set- 
tle the  particular  district  and  ttme  of  the  Etruscan  einigration ;  but  I  d9  not  know 
whether  or  not  he  ever  accompliriied  this  undertaldog. 


24  ETRURIA. 

not  &il  to  call  the  river,  near  which  they  grew  in  such  abun- 
dance, the  Eridanus*. 

Bonarota  has  deduced  the  origin  of  the  Etruscans  from 
Egypt — a  theory  which  has  chiefly  been  grounded  on  the  re- 
semblance of  the  remains  of  their  arts  with  the  monuments  of 
the  ancient  Egyptiansf . 

Maffei  brings  them  directly  from  Canaan,  and  supposes 
them  to  have  been  the  race  expelled  from  that  region  by  the 
Moabites,  or  children  of  Lot.  The  river  Arnon,  (whence 
Arno,)  flowed  not  far  from  that  part  of  Canaan,  where  Lot 
and  Abram  first  sojourned;  one  of  its  districts  was  called 
Etroth,  (whence  Etruria);  and  on  the  banks  of  the  Arnon 
stood  the  city  Ar,  a  syllable  which  is  a  frequent  compound  in 
Etruscan  appellativeis.  The  Etruscans  erected  their  places  of 
worship  on  hills  or  high  places — ^they  formed  corporeal  im- 
ages of  their  divine  beings  like  the  idolatrous  race  from 
whom  they  sprung — but  above  all,  their  divinations  and  pro- 
fession of  augury,  identified  them  with  those  original  inhabi- 
tants of  Canaan,  of  whom  it  is  said,  "that  they  barkened  unto 
observers  of  times  and  unto  diviners''];. 

By  far  the  most  voluminous,  but  at  the  same  time  one  of 
the  most  fanciful  writers  concerning  the  Etruscans,  is  Guar- 
nacci,  who  maintains,  that  they  came  directly  from  the  east, 
and  were  stragglers  who  had  been  dispersed  by  Noah's  flood, 
or,  at  the  very  latest,  by  the  confusion  at  Babel.  The  Umbri 
and  Aborigines,  according  to  him,  were  the  same  people,  un- 
der a  difierent  denomination,  as  the  Etruscans:  They  gradu- 
ally spread  themselves  over  all  Italy,  and  somie  tribes  of  them, 
called,,  from  their  wandering  habits,  Pelasgi,  at  length  emi- 
grated to  (jreece  and  Lydia;  so  that,  whatever  similarity  has 
been  traced  in  the  language,  religion,  manners,  or  arts,  of  the 
Greeks  and  Etruscans,  is  the  consequence  of  the  Etruscan 
colonization  of  Greece,  and  not,  as  is  generally  supposed,  of 
Italy  having  been  peopled  by  Pelasgic  colonies  from  Arcadia 
or  Peloponnesus^. 

In  general,  the  oriental  system  has  been  maintained  in  op- 
position to  all  other  theories,  chiefly  on  the  ground  that  the 
Etruscans,  like  many  eastern  nations,  wrote  from  right  to  left, 
and  that,  like  the  Hebrews,  they  often  marked  down  only 

*  **  Confesso  iDgenuamente,"  says  the  author,  "  che  questa  Etimologia  deUavoce 
Eridano  mi  h  sempre  piaciuta  assai." — DiMtrtax,  topra  POrigine  de  Torrent, 
neU  Saggi  <2t  Dissert,  dell  Acad,  Etrusea,  Tom.  IH.  p.  1. 

t  Supplem,  ad  Monument.  Etrusc.  Detnpst  c.  47.  See  also  Riccobaldi  del 
Bava,  Dissertax,  sopra  V  Origine  deW  Etrusea  Munone, 

X  Deutoronomy,  c.  18,  y.  14.  Ragionament,  degV  Rati  primUwi,  in  Jstoria 
JD^lomaHca.    Ed.  Mantua,  1727. 

§  Origmi  Jtahcke,  3  Tom.  folio.  Lucca,  1767-72. 


FTRURIA.  25 

the  consonants,  leaving  the  reader  to  supply  the  auxiliary 
vowels. 

The  oriental  theory,  in  all  its  modifications,  has  been  strenu- 
ously opposed  by  a  number  of  learned  Italian,  French,  and 
German  antiquaries,  who  have  contended  for  the  northern 
aind  Celtic  origin  of  the  Etruscans,  and  have  ridiculed  the 
opinions  of  their  predecessors  as  if  they  themselves  were 
about  to  promulgate  ^.more  rational  system.  Bardetti,  while 
he  admits  a  colonization  of  Italy  from  foreign  quarters,  prior 
even  to  the  Trojan  war,  maintains,  that  it  was  inhabited  by  a 
primitive  population  long  before  the  landing  of  the  Lydians 
or  Pelasgi :  That  previous  to  the  arrival  of  the  latter  tribe  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Po,  which  happened  300  years  before  the 
siege  of  Troy,  there  had  been  no  navigation  to  Italy  from 
Egypt,  or  any  other  country :  That,  therefore,  this  primitive 
population  must  have  come  by  land,  and  could  have  been  no 
other  than  bands  of  Celts  who  were  the  immediate  posterity 
of  Japheth,  and  who,  having  originally  settled  in  Gaul,  de- 
scended to  Italy  from  the  Alps  by  Rhetium,  Tirol,  and  Trent. 
Their  first  seats  were  the  regions  along  the  banks  of  the  Po; 
the  earliest  tribes  of  their  population  were  called  Ligurians 
and  Umbrians,  and  from  them  sprung  the  Etrurians,  and  all 
the  other  ancient  nations  of  Italy*. 

A  system  nearly  similar  has  been  followed  by  Pelloutierf , 
Freret]:,  and  Funccius§,  and  has  been  adopted,  with  some 
modifications,  by  Adelung,  and  also  by  Heyne||,.who,  how- 
ever, admits  that  other  tribes  besides  the  Gallic  race,  vmy 
have  contributed  to  the  population  of  EtrurialT. 

This  theory,  whether  deducing  the  Etruscans  from  the  Celts 
of  Gaul  or  from  the  Teutonic  tribes  of  Germany^  ia  too  often 
supported  by  r^ote  and  fancifiil  etymologies ;  and,  so  far  as 
depends  on  authority,  it  chiefly  rests  on  an  ambiguous  pas 
sage  of  the  ancient  historian  Boccus,  (quoted  by  Solinus,^ 
where  it  is  said,  Gattomm  veterwn  prapaginem  Utnbraa  esse^ 
and  taken  in  connection  with  this,  the  assertion  of  Pliny, 
Umbrarum  gens  anUquiasima  ItaluB  existimatur^f. 

*  De  iVtmt  JSbitatori  deU  RaUa,  £d.  Modena,  17S9. 8  Tom.  4to. 
t  lEstoire  des  CeUea,  Paris,  1770. 

t  Recherchea  sur  rOrigine  dea  Differena  PeupUa  d'RaUe,  in  VHiat,  de  VAcad* 
dea  biaeripHona.  Tom.  XvIII. 

iDe  Origme  Latifke  LingtUB.  Ed.  1720. 
Heyne,  Opuacula  jScademifOf  Tom,  V.'See  abo  Court  doGebelin,  Monde 

xnTJiPlttly. 

t  Non  eDim  Etruscorum  stirpeni  ab  una  gente  nee  ab  una  turba  deductam ;  sed 
temponim  saccewu  pluiium  populonim  propagines  in  eum  populum,  qui  tandem 
Etraseum  nomen  teiris  hia  allevit  confluxisse  arbitrof.  JVbo.  Comment  Soe»  Reg, 
QoUHtg.  Tom.  IH.  . 

•t  Jm,  met.  Lib.  III.  c.  14.  Ed.  Haidoohi. 

Vol.  L— D 


26  ETRURIA. 

The  most  learned  and  correct  writer  on  the  mibject  of  the 
Etruscans  is  Lanzi.  In  his  elaborate  work*,  (in  which  he  has 
followed  out  and  improved  on  a  system  first  started  by  Ulivi- 
eri,)  he  does  not  pretend  to  investigate  the  origin  of  this  cele- 
brated race,  though  he  seems  to  think  that  they  were  LydianSy 
augmented  ftbm  time  to  time  by  tribes  of  the  Pelasgi.  But 
he  has  tried  to  prove  that  whatever  may  have  been  their  de- 
scent, the  religion,  learning,  language,  and  arts  of  the  Etrus- 
cans must  be  referred  to  a  Greek  origin,  and  he  refutes  Gori 

>  and  Caylus,  who,  deceived  by  a  few  imperfect  analogies,  as* 
cribed  them  to  the  Egyptians.     The  period  of  Etruscan  per- 

-  fection  in  the  arts,  and  formation  of  those  vases  and  urns 
which  we  still  admire,  was  posterior,  he  maintains,  to  the 
subjugation  of  Etruria  by  the  Romans,  and  at  a  time  when  an 
intercourse  with  Greece  had  rendered  the  Etruscans  familitfr 
with  models  of  Grecian  perfection.  As  to  the  language,  he 
does  not  indeed  deny  that  all  languages  came  originaHy  from 
the  east,  and  that  many  Greek  words  sprung  from  Hebrew 
roots ;  but  there  are  in  the  Etruscan  tongue,  he  asserts,  sucb 
clear  traces  of  Hellenism,  particularly  in  the  names  of  gods 
and  heroes,  that  it  is  impossible  to  ascribe  its  origin  to  any 
other  source.  In  particular,  he  attempts  to  show  from  the  in- 
scriptions on  the  Eugubian  tables,  that  the  Etruscan  language 
was  the  iEolic  Greek,  since  it  has  neither  .the  monosyllables 
characteristic  of  northern  tongues,  nor  the  affixes  and-sufiuces 
peculiar  to  oriental  dialectsf. 

From  whatever  nation  origincJly  sprung,  the  Etruscans  at 
an  early  period  attained  an  enviable  height  of  prosperity  and 
power.  Etruria  Proper,  or  the  most  .ancient  Etruria^teaGhed 
from  the  Arno  to  the  Tiber,  being  nearly  bounded  all  along 
by  these  rivers,  from  their  sources  to  their  jiuiction  with  the 
Tyrrhenian  sea.  Soon,  however,  the-  Etruscans  passed  those 
narrow  limits ; — to  the  north,  they  spread.their  conquests  over 
the  Ligurians,  who  inhabited  the  region  beyond  the  Amo^ 
and  to  this  territory  the  conquerors  gave  the  name  of  New 
Etruria.  To  the  south,  they  crossed  the  Tiber,  made  allies 
or  tributaries  of  the  Latins,  and  introduced  among  them  many 
of  their  usages  and  rites.  Having  thus  opened  a  way  through 
Latium,  they  drove  the  Osci  from  the  fertile  plains  of  Cam- 

*  Visconti,  who  has  since  become  so  celebrated  by  his  leonof^aphie  Greeque 
et  Romainty  says  in  the  Approvazione  of  the  work  of  Lanzi,  which  he  had  perased 
in  his  official  capacity, — "  U  w»ggio  di  linpia  Etmsca,  che  ho  letto  per  commisdooe 
del  Rfno.  P.  M.  del  S.  P.  A.,  mi  <*  semhrato  assolutamente  il  miglior  libro  che  aia 
stato  .sinora  scritto  su  questo  difficile  e  vasto  arf^meuto."  This  opinion,  so  early 
formed,  has  been  confirmed  by  that  of  all  writers  who  have  subsequently  touched 
on  the  subject. 

t  Saggio  di  Lingua  Etrusca.  Ron.  1789. 3  Tom.  8yo. 


ETRUIIIA.  a? 

• 

puBa»  Bud  founded  the  city  of  Capua,  about  fifty  years  b^e 
the  building  of  Rome.  Colonies,  too,  were  sent  out  by)ilieni 
to  spots  beyond  their  immediate  sway,  till  at  length  th4f  {ta* 
lian  name  was  nearly  sunk  in  that  of  the  Etruscans.  Th^ir 
minds,  however,  were  not  wholly  bent  on  conquest  and  po« 
litical  agrandizeraent ;  their  attention  was  also  directed  to  use- 
ful institutions,  and  to  the  cultivation  of  the  fine  arts.  The 
twelve  confederated  cities  of  Etruria  were  embellished  with 
numberless  monuments  of  architecture;  wholesome  laws  were 
enacted,  commerce  was  extended  along  all  the  shores  of  the 
Mediterranean:  and,  in  short,  by  their  means  the  general  pro- 
gress of  civilization  in  Italy  was  prodigiously  accelerated. 
The  glory  and  prosperity  of  the  EtriTscans  were  at  their 
height  before  Rome  yet  possessed  a  name.  But  their  govern* 
ment,  like  that  of  all  other  republics,  contained  the  seeds  of 
decay.  Each  state  had  the  choice  of  remaining  as  a  common- 
wealth, or  electing  a  king ;  but  the  Kings,  or  Lucumoifs,  as 
they  were  usually  called,  were  only  the  priests  and  presidents 
of  the  difierent  cities  of  the  confederatiool;'  There  was  no 
monarch  of  the  whole  realm;  and  it  is  the  seitesof  these  Lu- 
cumons  that  has  swelled  the  confused  list  oCjprgs  '{^resented 
by  Etruscan  antiquaries.  Each  state  had  aA  the  privilege 
of  separately  declaring  war.  or  concluding  f^ace ;  and  each 
appears,  on  all  .occasidn^,  to  have  been  more  anxious  for  its 
own  safety,  than  for  tU  general  interests  of  the  union.  Hence, 
rivalgbms  aind  dissen^ons  prevailed  in  the  general  assemblies 
of  ther^melve  states,  t  A  confederate  government,  thus  united 
by  a  link  of  political  f  connection,  almost  as  feeble  as  the  Am- 
phictyonic  council  of  Greece,  afforded  no  such  compact  re- 
sistance as  could  oppose  an  adequate  barrier  to  the  vmca  via 
of  the  intrcgiii^:«neffties  with  whom  the  Etruscans  had  now  to 
contend.  At  sea  they  were  assailed  by  the  Syracusans  and 
Carthaginiaodfr;  the  Umbrians  retook  several  of  their  ancient 
possessions^  they  were  forced  to  yield  the  plains  v^ich  lie 
between  the  Alps  and  Apennines  to  the  valour  of  thtd;^  Gauls  ^ 
and  the  Samnites  expelled  them  firom  the  yet  more  desirable 
and  delicious  regions  of 'gljfi^pania. 

While  the.EtniscansvMl  thus  i^ain  confined  almost  within 
the  territory  which  s^J^E^Tleaffs  their  name,  and  extends  from 
the  Tiber  iiorth ward  t€r4|ie  Apennines,  a  yet  more  formidable 
foe  than  any  they  badilrtherto  encountered  appeared  on  the 
political  theatre  of  Italy.  It^wasiiatiunt,  which  had  the  sin- 
gular fortune  to  see  one  of  it)ltQwn.$  ris'6  t4  the  supreme  do- 
minion of  Italy,  and  finally  Jbi^  the  worldi^  ^  This  city,  which 
Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus  represents  M.iL  respectable  colonyi 
fitted  out  from  Alba  under  the  escort  of  Romulus,  and  thence 


28  ETRURIA. 

supplied  with  money,  provisions,  and  anns;  but  which  wu 
more  probably  composed  of  outlaws  from  -the  Equi,  Marsi, 
Volsci,  and  other  Latian  tribes,  had  gradually  acquired 
strength,  while  the  power  of  the  Etruscans  had  decayed.  En- 
ervated by  opulence  and  luxury*,  they  were  led  to  despise 
the  rough  unpolished  manners  of  the  Romans;  but  during 
'  centuries  of  almost  incessant  warfare,  they  were  daily  taught 
to  dread  their  military  skill  and  prowess.  The  fall  of  Veil 
was  a  tremendous  warning,  and  they  now  sought  to  preserve 
their  independence  rather  by  stratagem  than  force  of  arms. 
At  length,  in  an  evil  hour,  they  availed  themselves  of  the  dif- 
ficulties of  their  enemy;  and,  while  the  rival  republic  was 
pressed  on  the  south  by  the  S'amnites,  they  leagued  with  those 
northern  hordes  which  descended  from  the  Alps  to  the  anti- 
cipated conquest  of  Rome.  Before  they  had  fully  united  with 
the  Gauls,  the  Consul  Dolabella  annihilated,  near  the  Lake 
Vadimona,  the  military  population  of  Etruria,  and  the  feeble 
remains  of  the  nation  received  the  imperious  conditions  of 
peace,  dictated  by  the  victCH^,  which  left  them  nothing  but 
the  shadow  of  a  great  name, — ^the  glory  of  attending  the  Ro- 
man march  to  the  conquest  of  the  world,  and  the  vestiges  of 
arts  destined  to  attract  the  curiosity  and  research  of  the  latest 
posterity. 

The  vicinity  of  the  Estruscans  to  Rome,  firom  which  their 
territories  were  separated  only  by  the  Tiber,-^the  alliance  of 
their  leader,  Coelius,  with  Romulus,  and  the  habitation  as- 
signed them  on  the  Coelian  Mount, — the  accession  to  the  Ro- 
man sovereignty  of  the  elder  Tarquin,  who  was  descended 
fi'om  a  Greek  family  which  had  fixed  its  residence  in  Etruria, 
— ^the  settlement  of  a  number  of  Etruscan  prisoners,  four  years 
after  the  expulsion  of  the  kings,  in  a  street  called  the  Vicus 
Tuscus^  in  the  very  heart  of  the  city ; — ^and,  finally,  the  in- 
tercourse produced  by  the  long  period  of  warfare  and  politi- 
cal intrigue  which  subsisted  between  the  rising  republic  and 
their  more  polished  neighbours  before  they  were  incorporated 
into  one  state,  would  be  sufficient  to  account  for  the  Roman 
reception  of  the  customs  and  superstitions  of  Etruria,  as  also 
for  the  interchange  of  literary  materials.  It  does  not  seem 
that  the  hostility  of  rival  nation^  prevents  the  reciprocal  adop- 
tion of  manners  and  literature.  The  romantic  gallantry  and 
learning  of  the  Arabs  in  the  south  of  Spain  soon  passed  the 
limits  of  their  splendid  empire;  and  long  before  the  conquest 
of  Wales  the  Cambrian  fables  and  traditions  concerning 
Arthur  and  his  host  of  heroes  were  domesticated  in  the  court 

*  Diodonis  Sicului— Atfaeni^us. 


ETRURIA.  39 

of  England.  Accordingly,  we  find  that  the  Romans  were 
indebted  to  the  Etruscans  for  the  form  of  the  robes  which 
invested  their  magistrates,  the  pomp  that  attended  their 
triumphs,  and  even  the  music  that  animated  their  legions.  The 
purple  vest,  the  sceptre  surmounted  by  an  eagle,  the  curule 
chair,  the  fiuces  and  lictors,  were  the  ensigns  and  accompani- 
ments of  supreme  authority  among  the  Etruscans;  while  the 
triumphs  and  ovations,  the  combats  of  gladiators  and  Circen- 
sian  games,  were  common  to  them  and  the  Romans. 

The  simple  and  rustic  divinities  of  Etruria  and  Latium  were 
likewise  the  objects  of  Roman  idolatry,  long  before  the  intro- 
duction of  that  more  imposing  and  elegant  mythology  which 
had  been  embellished  by  the  conceptions  of  Homer  and  the 
hand  of  Phidias.  Saturn,  the  reformer  of  civil  life,  though 
afterwards  confounded  with  the  Kronos  of  the  Greeks,  was  not 
of  Greek  origin.  Janus,  the  Dearum  Deua  of  the  Salian 
verses,  to  whom  the  Romans  offered  their  first  sacrifices,  and 
addressed  their  first  prayers,  and  whom  system-framers  have 
'•  identified  with  Noah*,  the  Indian  Ganesaf ,  the  Egyptian 
Oannes|,  and  the  Ion  of  the  Scandinavians^,  or  have  repre-> 
sented  as  a  symbolic  type  of  all  things  in  nature,  was  truly  an 
Italiim  God : — 


'*Nam  tibi  par  nuDtim  Gneda  Bumen  habetlf.'* 

Faunus  and  Picus,  Bona  Dea  and  Marica,  were  Etruscan  or 
Latian  divinities  of  the  Saturnian  family.  Italy  was  also  filled 
with  many  local  deities,  in  consequence  of  those  wonderful 
natural  phenomena  which  it  so  abundantly  exhibited,  and 
which  its  early  inhabitants  ascribed  to  invisible  powers.  A 
sulphuric  lake  was  the  residence  of  the  Nymph  Albunea,  and 
the  medicinal  founts  of  Abano  were  the  acknowledged  abodes 
of  a  beneficent  genius. — ^^  Nullus  lucus  sine  fonte,  nuUus  fons 
non  sacer,  propter  attributos  illis  deos,  qui  fontibus  preeesse 
dicunturir."  AH  nature  was  thus  linked  by  a  continued  chain 
of  consecrated  existence,  from  the  God  of  Thunder  to  the 
simple  Faun.  The  Vacunia  and  Feronia  of  the  Sabines  were 
naturalized  by  Numa,  and  the  Vejove  of  Etruria  presided  in 
Rome  at  the  general  council  of  the  twelve  greater  gods.  Ions 
before  a  knowledge  of  the  Grecian  Mars  or  Jupiter.  In  all 
their  mythology  we  may  remark  the  grave  and  austere  charac- 

*  Goaniicci,  Origini  ItaUehe, 

t  Sir  WtDiun  Jones,  On  the  €hd$  of  Raly  and  fndia. 

X  Hertulanensia,  Dissert.  V.  ^  Hermes  Scythiew,  p.  90. 

H  Ovid.    Fatt,  I.  90. 

r  Setviui,  ad  ifineid.  VII.  84. 


30  ETRURIA. 

ter  of  the  ancient  Italians*.  Their  deities  retembled  imt  4}ie 
otwcene  and  vitious  gods  of  Greece.  They  presided  over 
agriculture,  the  rights  of  property,  conjugal  fidelity,  truth  and 
justice;  and  in  like  manner  in  early  Rcmie, 

**  Cana  Fides  et  Vesta;  Remo  cum  tain  Qumnus 
Jura  dabaaL*' 

Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus  particularly  points  out  the  dif- 
ference between  the  religion  of  the  Greeks  and  the  Romans. 
The  latter,  he  inform^  us,  "did  not  admit  into  their  creed  those 
impious  stories  told  by  the  Greeks  of  the  castration  of  their 
gods,  or  of  destroying  their  own  children,  of  their  wars,  wounds, 
bonds,  and  slavery,  and  such  like  things  as  are  not  only  altoge- 
ther unworthy  of  the  divine  nature,  but  disgrace  even  the  hu- 
man. They  had  no  wailing  and  lamentations  for  the  sufferings 
of  their  gods,  nor  like  the  Greeks,  any  Bacchic  orgies,  or  vigils 
of  men  and  women  together  in  the  temples.  And  if  at  any 
time  they  admitted  such  foreign  pollutions,  as  they  did  with 
regard  to  the  rites  of  Cybcle  and  the  Ideean  goddess,  the  cere-^ 
monies  were  performed  under  the  grave  inspection  of  Roman 
magistrates ;  nor  even  now  does  any  Roman  disguise  himself 
to  act  the  mummeries  performed  by  the  priests  of  Cybelef  ^ 
Dionysius,  who  refers  every  thing  to  Greece,  thinks  that  the 
early  Roman  was  just  the  Greek  religion  purified  by  Romulus, 
to  whom,  in  fact,  his  country  was  more  indebted  than  to  Numa 
for  its  sacred  institutions.     In  reality,  however,  this  superior 

fmrity  of  rites  and  worship  was  not  occasioned  by  any  such 
ustration  of  the  Greek  fables,  but  from  their  being  founded 
on  Italian,  and  not  on  Grecian  superstitions. 

But  although  the  Etruscan  mythology  may  have  been  more 
pure,  and  its  rites  more  useful,  than  those  of  Greece,  its  fables 
were  not  so  ingenious  and  alluring.  Ora,  the  goddess  of 
health  and  youth,  was  less  elegant  th^  Hebe ;  and  even  the 
genius  of  Virgil,  who  has  chosen  the  Italian  Myth9  for  the 
machinery  of  the  iEncid,  could  hardly  bestow  grace  or  dignity 
on  the  prodigy  of  the  swarm  of  bees  that  hung  in  clusters 
from  the  Laurentian  Laurel — on  the  story  of  the  robber  Cacus 
vomiting  flames,  the  ships  metamorphosed  into  nymphs,  the 
fiow  which  farrowed  thirty  white  pigs,  and  thereby  announced 
that  the  town  of  Alba  would  be  built  in  thirty  years,  the  puerile 

*  L'Olympe  de  Numa  fut  plus  majestueux, 
Mercure  moins  fripon,  Mara  moins  voluptueuz ; 
Jupiter  brulft  moins  d'uuQ  flamme  adultere, 
Venus  meme  re^ut  une  culte  plus  severe. 

JDe  Lille,  Anagimation,    Ch.  y/l 
t  '^ntiquUat.  Moman*    Lib.  II.  c.  19. 


ETRURIA.  31 

fiedoii  of  the  infimcy  of  Camilla,  or  the  hideous  harpy  which 
hov^ed  retifld  the  head  of  Tumus,  and  portended  his  death. 
Accoidinffly,  when  the  Romans  were  allured  by  the  arts  of 
Greece,  toe  rude  and  simple  traditions  of  Italian  mythology 

E 'elded  to  the  enticing  and  voluptuous  fictions  of  a  more  po» 
ibed  people*.  The  tolerant  spirit  of  Polytheism  did  not 
restrict  the  nuinber  of  gods,  and  the  ministers  of  superstition 
seemed  always  ready  to  reconcile  the  most  discordant  sys* 
tems.  Hence  the  poet  interwove  the  national  traditions  with 
the  Greek  fables,  and  concentrated  in  one  the  attributes  of 
different  divinities.  Thus,  the  Greek  Kronos  was  identified 
with  Saturn ;  the  rustic  deities,  Sylvanus  and  Faunus,  peculiar 
to  Latium,  being  confounded  with  Pan,  the  Satyrs,  and  Sile- 
nus,  were  associated  with  the  train  of  Bacchus ;  Portumnus 
was  converted  into  Palemon — a  deity  whom  the  Greeks  had 
received  from  Phoenicia;  Bona  Dea  was  transformed  to  Hecate, 
and  Libitina  to  Proserpine ;  and  the  Camesnae,  or  Camense,  of 
the  family  of  Janys,  who  prophesied  in  Satumian  verse  on  the 
summit  of  Mount  Janiculum,  were  metamorphosed .  into 
Musesf .  Hercules,  Jupiter,  and  Venus,  gods  of  power  and 
pleasure,  occupied,  with  theii  splendid  temples,  the  place  of 
the  peaceful  and  pastoral  deities  of  Numa.  Still,  however, 
the  national  religion  was  in  some  measure  retained,  and  Apollo 
and  Bacchus,  in  particular,  continued  to  be  decorated  with 
the  characteristic  emblems  of  Etruria. 

The  Etruscans  do  not  seem  to  have  believed,  like  the  Greeks, 
that  they  were  possessed  of  those  interpretations  of  passing 
events  or  revelations  of  futurity  which  were  obtained  by  im- 
mediate inspiration,  whether  delivered  from  the  hill  of  Dodona, 
or  the  Delphian  shrine.  Their  divination  was  supposed  to  be 
the  result  of  experience  and  observation;  and  though  not  des^ 
titute  of  divine  direction  or  concurrence,  depended  chiefly  on 
human  contrivance.  Among  them  peculiar  families,  like  the 
tribe  of  Levi,  the  Peruvian  Incas,  and  the  descendants  of  Thor 
and  Odin,  were  depositaries  of  the  secrets  and  ceremonies  of 
religion.  Their  prognostics  were  taken  from  the  flight  of 
birdb|,  the  entrails  of  animals,  and  observations  on  thunder. 


*  Beaufort  it  of  opinion  that  the  gradual  introduction  of  the  Greek  mytfaologr  &t 
Korae  commenced  as  early  as  the  reign  of  Tarquinius  Priscus.  La  UtpuoSqw 
Ramame,    DUcours  Preliminaire.    Ed.  1766.    2  Tom.  4to. 

t  He3me,  Excurs.  V.  lib.  vii.  ad  iEneid. 

X  Bentlej,  however,  is  of  opinion  that  the  College  of  Augurs,  whose  divinatiom 
was  made  mm  observations  of  birds,  was  of  Roman  institution,  being  founded  by 
Kmua,  and  that  the  skill  and  province  of  the  Haruspices  of  Etruria  reached  totlu«6 
Ihinn,  exta^fiUgurey  et  OMterUa,  entrails  of  cattle,  diunders,  and  monstrous  births, 
bill  did  not  include  auguries  from  the  flight  of  birds.  ^*  It  often  happened/'  he  adds, 
"  that  this  pack  of  Etruscan  soothsayer  gave  ^eir  answers  quite  cross  to  what  the 


*c 


32  ETRURIA. 

In  the  early  ages  of  Rome,  a  band  of  Patrician  youdis  wa* 
sent  to  Etniria,  to  be  initiated  in  the  mysteries  of  its  religious 
rites*.  The  constant  practice  of  consulting  the  gods  on  all 
enterprises,  public  or  private, — the  belief,  that  prodigies  ma- 
nifested the  will  of  heaven,  and  that  the  deities  could  be 
appeased,  and  their  vengeance  averted  by  expiations  or  sacri-* 
fices,  were  common  to  the  Tuscan  and  Roman  creeds.  In 
short,,  the  fervent  spirit  of  Etrurian  superstition  passed  undi- 
minished to  the  Romans,  who  owed  to  its  influence  much  of 
their  .valour,  temperance,  and  patriotism.  To  this,  Cicero  in 
a  grecEt  ^egree  inscribes  their  political  supremacy.  The  Ro- 
mans, says  he,  wbre  not  superior  in  numbers  to  the  Spaniards, 
in  strengtbs^r  courage  to  the  Gauls,  in  address  to  the  Cartha- 
ginians, in  tactics  to  the  Macedonians ;  but  we  surpass  all  na- 
tions in  that  prime  wisdom  by  which  we  have  learned  that  all 
things  are  governed  and  directed  by  the  immortal  gods. 

To  the  same  singular  people  from  whom  they  derived  their 
customs  and  superstitions,  the  Romans  wer.e  much  indebted 
for  their  itaajestic  language.  As  their  writers  in  a  great  mea- 
sure owe  their  immortality  to  the  lofty  tones  and  commanding 
accents  of  the  Latin  tongue,  it  would  be  improper  entirely  to 
neglect  its  origin  in  entering  on  the  literary  history  of  Rome. 

The  supporters  of  the  various  systems  witri  regard  to  the  first 
peopling  of  Etruria,  of  course  discover  the  elements  of  the 
Etruscan  language  in  that  of  the  different  nations  by  whom 
they  believe  it  to  have  been  colonized.  Lord  Monboddo,  for 
example,  deduces  both  the  Latin  and  Etruscan  from  the  old 
Pelasgic ;  which  language,  he  asserts,  was  first  brought  into 
Italy  by  a  colony  of  Arcadians,  seventeen  generations  before 
the  Trojan  war.  He  considers  the  Latin  as  the  most  ancient 
dialect  of  the  Greek ;  and  he  remarks,  that  as  it  came  off  from 
the  original  stock  earlier  than  the  Doric,  or  iEk)lic,  or  any  other 
Greek  dialect  now  known,  it  has  more  of  the  roughness  of  the 
primitive  Hebrew,  from  which  he  believes  the  Pelas^c  to  be 
derivedf .  Lanzi  also  thinks  that  both  the  Latin  and  Etruscan 
flowed  from  the  Greek,  and  that  the  resemblance  between  the 
Etruscan  and  Latin  was  not  occasioned  by  the  derivation  of 
the  latter  from  the  former,  but  was  the  necessary  consequence 
of  both  having  sprung  from  a  common  source. 

It  certainly  is  not  easy  to  discover  the  primary  elements  of 
the  Latin  or  any  other  language ;  but  its  immediate  origin 

Roman  augurs  hadgiven,  so  that  the  two  disciplines  clashed." — {Remark$  an  m 
late  Discourse  ofFi-eethinkingfp,  241,  Lond.  1787.) 

*  ViUeriuB  Maximus,  Lib.  I.  c.  i.  Ed.  1&33.  Cicero,  De  Dmnaii4me,  Lib.  L  r. 
41.  Ed.  Schutz. 

t  Origin,  ire.  of  Language,    Pait  I.  book  iii.  c.  II. 


ETRURIA.  53 

may  easily  be  traced.  The  inscriptions  on  the  most  ancient 
monuments  which  have  been  discovered,  from  the  Alps  to 
Calabria,  shew  that,  from  the  time  of  the  Etrds^an  supremacy, 
there  was  an  universal  language  in  Italy,  varied,  indeed,  by 
dialects,  but  announcing  a  common  origin  in  the  inflections  of 
words  and  the  forms  of  characters.  The  language  of  the 
Etruscans  had  been  so  widely  spread  by  their  conquests,  that 
it  might  almost  be  regarded  as  the  general  tongue  of  Italy, 
and  the  Latian,  Oscan,  and  Sabine  idioms,  were  in  a  great 
measure  the  same  with  the  Etruscan.  From  these  the  early 
Latin  language  was  chiefly  formed;  and  what  little  Greek 
existed  in  its  original  composition  came  through  these  lan- 
guages from  the  Pelasgic  colonies,  which  in  the  remotest 
periods  had  intermixed  with  the  Etruscans,  and  with  the 
inhabitants  of  ancient  Latium.  "  It  is  a  great  mistake,"  says 
Home  Tooke,  *^  into  which  the  Latin  etymologists  have  fallen, 
to  suppose  that  all  the  Latin  roust  be  found  in  the  Greek,  for 
the  fact  is  otherwise.  The  bulk  and  foundation  of  the  Latin 
language  is  Greek ;  but  great  part  of  the  Latin  is  the  lan- 
guage of  our  northern  ancestors  grafted  on  the  Greek ;  and  to 
our  northern  languages  the  etymologist  must  go  for  that  part 
of  the  Latin  which  the  Greek  will  not  furnish*."  This  author 
is  correct,  in  ofllirming  that  all  the  Latin  cannot  be  found  in 
the  Greek ;  but  he  is  far  in  error  if  he  mean  to  maintain  that 
any  part  of  the  Latin  came  directly  from  the  language  of  the 
Celts,  or  that  their  uncouth  jargon  was  grafted  on  the  Greek. 
The  northern  tongues,  however,  whether  Celtic  or  Sclavonic, 
may  have  contributed  to  form  those  dialects  of  Italy  which 
composed  the  original  elements  of  the  imperial  language,  and 
were  exhibited  in  great  variety  of  combinations  for  five  cen- 
turies with  little  admixture  of  the  Greek.  The  eminent  gram- 
marian is  still  farther  mistaken  in  declaring  that  the  foundation 
of  the  Latin  language  is  Greek.  That  much  of  the  Augustan 
Latin  is  derived  from  the  Greek,  is  true.  Gataker,  who 
strenuously  contends  for  the  Greek  origin  of  the  whole  Latin 
language,  has,  as  a  specimen,  attempted  to  shew,  that  every 
word  in  the  first  five  lines  of  Virgil's  Eclogues  is  drawn  from 
the  Greek  f ;  and  though  part  of  his  etymologies  are  fanciful, 

*  Dwenians  ofPwUy,  Part  II.  c.  iv.  Wakefield  and  Home  Tooke  had  mi- 
dertaken  in  conjunction  a  division  and  separation  of  the  Latin  lanfpnu^e  into  two 
parts,  pladne  together,  in  one  division,  all  that  could  be  clearly  shewn  to  be  Greek, 
and  in  Che  ouier,  aO  tikt  could  be  clearly  shewn  to  be  of  northern  extraction,  in- 
chufingy  I  presume,  both  Teutonic  and  Celtic  originals.  This  design,  we  are 
infonned,  was  frastnted  "  by  the  persecution  of  that  virtuous  and  hamUess  ^ood 
man,  Mr  Gilbert  Wakefield."— Divers.  Purley,  II.  4.  See  also  on  the  origin  of 
die  Latin  Language,  Ginguen6  HiaL  lAtUraire  d^Ralk,  Tom.  I. 

t  De  JVbei  Insfrumenft  Stylo^  c.  1.  London,  1648, 

Vol.  I.— E 


34  ETRURIA. 

yet  in  a  very  considerable  portion  of  them  he  haa  been  com- 
pletely successful.  But  the  case  is  totally  different  with  the 
ancient  remnants  of  the  Latin  language  previous  to  the  capture 
of  Tarentum.  In  the  song  of  the  Fratres  ArvaUs,  the  oldest 
specimen  of  the  language  extant,  there  seem  to  be  only  two 
words  which  have  any  analogy  to  the  Greek — sal  from  aX^ 
and  sta  from  krtwku  That  there  was  little  Greek  incorporated 
with  the  Latin  during  the  first  ages  of  the  Republic,  is  evident 
from,  the  circumstance,  that  the  Latin  inscriptions  of  a  former 
period  were  unintelligible  to  the  historian  Polybius,  and  the 
most  learned  Romans  of  his  age.  Now,  as  he  himself  was  a 
Greek,  and  as  the  most  learned  Romans,  by  his  time,  had 
become  good  Greek  scholars,  any  Grecisms  in  the  ancient  in- 
scriptions would  have  been  perfectly  intelligible.  It  is  evident, 
therefore,  that  .the  difficulty  arose  from  the  words  of  the  old 
Italian  dialects  occurring  instead  of  the  new  Greek  terms, 
suddenly  introduced  after  the  capture  of  Tarentum,  and  to 
which  the  Romans  having  by  that  time  become  habituated, 
could  not  understand  the  language  of  a  preceding  genera- 
tion. Besides,  when  Rome  was  originally  filled  with  Latian 
bands — when  the  Etruscans  and  Oscans  were  inunediately 
beyond  the  walls  of  Rome, — ^when,  as  early  as  the  time  of 
Romulus,  the  Sabines  were  admitted  within  therti, — when  all 
the  women  then  in  Rome  were  Sabines,  (from  which  it  may 
be  presumed  that  much  of  the  conversation  was  carried  on  in 
the  Sabine  dialect,)  and,  above  all,  when  the  Romans,  for  many 
centuries,  had  little  intercourse  with  any  other  people  than 
the  Italian  nations,  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  they  would 
borrow  their  colloquial  language  from  the  Celts,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Alps,  or  the  Greeks,  from  whom  they  were  separa- 
ted by  the  Adriatic  Gulf,  and  who,  as  yet,  had  established 
only  remote,  insignificant,  and  scattered  colonies,  in  Italy. 
Varro,  too,  has  shewn  the  affinity  between  the  Sabine  and  the 
Latin  languages*.  That  the  Oscan  resembled  the  old  Latin, 
is  proved  from  its  being  constantly  employed  in  the  most  po- 
pular dramatic  representations  at  Rome,  and  from  the  cir- 
cumstance that  almost  every  word  of  its  few  relics  which 
remain,  is  the  root  of  some  equivalent  Latin  term.  Thus 
Akeru  produced  a^erra — ^Anter,  inter — Phaisnam,  fanum — 
Tesaur,  Thesaurus — Famel,  famulus — Multa,  mulcta — Solum, 
(totusjj  solus — Facul,  Facultas — Cael,  coelum — Embratur, 
imperator.f     The  copious  admixture  of  Greek  only  took  place 

•  Dt  lingua  Latina,  lib.  IV.  c.  10. 

t  Remondiui,  Dissertaz.  sopra  una  iserizione  OscOt  p.  49.  ed.  1760,  Genoa. 
Some  writers  have  even  asserted,  that  tfie  Twelve  tables  were  originally  written  ui 
the  Oscan  dialect.  Terrasson,  HisL  de  la  Jurisprudence  Romaine.  Baron  de 
Theis,  Voyage  de  Polyclete,  let.  15. 


ETRURIA.  «5 

after  the  *taking  of  Tarentum,   when   the  poets  of  Magna 
settled  at  Rome,  and  were  imitated  by  native  writers, 


((. 


Cum  ling:ua  Catonis  et  Enni 


Sermonem  patrium  ditaverit,  et  nova  renim 
Nomina  protulerit" 

So  far,  then,  from  the  Latin  language  being  composed  of 
Celtic  grafted  on  the  Greek,  it  appears  to  me  to  have  been 
formed  from  the  Greek,  grafted  on  those  various  dialects  of 
the  Etruscan  tongue,  which  prevailed  in  Italy  at  the  period  of 
the  building  of  Rjome. 

It  would  have  been  singular,,  when  the  Romansi  derived  so 
much  from  their  Etruscan  neighbours,  if  they  had  not  also 
acquired  a  portion  of  those  arts  which  were  the  chief  boast 
of  Etruria.  Among  the  Etruscans,  the  arts  certainly  had  not 
the  imposing  character  they  assumed  in  Egypt,  or  the  ele- 
gance they  exhibited  in  Greece"* ;  but  in  their  vases,  tombs, 
and  altars,  which  have  recently  been  brought  to  light,  we 
possess  abundant  proofs  of  their  taste  and  ingenuity.  In 
these — domestic  occupations,  marriages,  spectacles,  masque- 
rades,  contests  in  the  Circus,  equestrian  exercises,  the  chase, 
toiumphs,  mysteries,  funeral  rites,  Lares,  Lamise,  Lemures,  and 
deities  of  every  description,-^in  short,  all  ancient  Etruria 
passes  in  review  before  the  eye,  which,  in  many  instances, 
mast  admire  the  boldness  of  the  attitudes,  the  elegance  of  the 
draperies,  and  justness  of  the  proportions.  The  art  of  mo- 
delling,, or  sculpture,  appears  to  have  been  that  in  which  the 
Etruscans  chiefly  excelled.  The  statues  of  the  first  kings 
erected  at  Rome,  in  the  reign  of  the  elder  Tarquin,  were  of 
their  workmanship,  as  well  as  that  of  Horatius  Codes,  and  the 
equestrian  statue  of  Clelia.  The  Jupiter  of  the  Capitol  was 
also  Tuscan ;  and  the  four-wheeled  chariot  placed  in  his  tcm-^ 
pie,  received  its  last  polish  from  Etruscan  hands,  under  the  . 
first  Roman  consuls. 

In  the  course  of  the  5th  century  of  Rome,  not  fewer  than 
2000  Etruscan  statues,  which  were  probably  little  figures  in 
bronze,  were  carried  to  that  city  from  Volsinium,  (now  Bolse- 
na,)  which  the  Romahs  were  accused  of  having  besieged,  in 
order  to  plunder  it  of  these  treasures.  Architecture  was  un- 
known in  Rome  until  the  Tarquins  came  from  Etruria :  hence 
the  works  of  the  kings,  some  of  which  still   remain,   were 

• 

*  It  would  be  foreign  to  the  object  of  this  woric  to  enter  into  the  inquiry,  whether 
ihb  Etniscan  arts  were  the  reihilt  of  indieenous  izaie  and  cultivation,  or  were  deriv- 
ed from  the  Greeks.  The  latter  proposition  has  bee'i  maintained  by  Winclcelman 
and  Lanzi-4he  fonner  by  Tirab<uchi  and  Pignotti.    (  SUaria  di  Tbscana,  T.  1 .  Ed.  i 

"       1816.) 


36  ETRURIA. 

built  in  the  Etruscan  style,  with  large  and  regulsor,  but  un- 
cemented  blocks*.  The  most  ancient  and  stupendous  archi- 
tectural monuments  of  Rome,  were  executed  by  Etruscan 
artists.  Theirs  were  the  temple  of  Jupiter  Capitolinus,  the 
Circus,  and  Cloaca  Maxima,  which  showed  such  a  wonderful 
anticipation  of  the  future  magnitude  of  Romef ,  and  which 
Livy  pronounces  equal  to  anyUiing  which  had  been  produced 
by  modern  magnificence.  Painting,  too,  was  introduced  at 
Rome  from  the  Etruscans,  about  the  middle  of  the  fifth  cen- 
tury, by  one  of  the  Fabian  family,  who  had  Idng  resided  in 
Etruria,  and  who  himself  painted  in  fresco^  after  his  return, 
the  interior  of  the  Temple  of  Salus,  and  transmitted  the  sir- 
name  of  Pictor  to  his  descendants. 

The  excellence  to  which  the  Etruscans  had  attained  in 
sculpture  and  architecture,  forms  a  presumption  of  their  pro- 
ficiency in  those  sciences  which  are  essential  to  eminence  in 
the  arts.     As  not  a  vestige  of  their  writings  remains,  it  is  im- 

fossible  to  judge  of  the  merits  of  their  literary  compositions, 
suspect,  however,  that,  like  the  ancient  Egyptians,  they  had 
made  much  less  progress  in  literature  than  in  arts  or  science. 
What  books  they  bad,  were  extant,  and  well  known,  at  Rome; 
yet  Cicero  and  other  Latin  writers,  ^ho  have  the  Greek  au- 
thors perpetually  in  their  mouths,  scarcely  ever  allude  to  any 
works  of  the  Etruscans,  except  treatises  on  augury  or  divina- 
tion; and  the  only  titles  of  the  books,  recorded  by  Roman 
writers,  are  the  Libri  Fatales,  Libri  Haruspicinse,  Sacra  Acher- 
ontia,  Fulgurales  et  Rituales  Libri.  It  is  said!,  indeed,  that 
the  Etruscans  cultivated  a  certain  species  of  poetry,  sung  or 
declaimed  during  the  pomp  of  sacrifices,  or  celebration  of 
marriages;^.  Such  verses  were  first  employed  in  Fescennia, 
a  city  of  Etruria,  whence  the  ancient  nuptial  hymns  of  the 
Romans  were  called  Fescennine.  It  is  evident,  however,  that 
these  ftruscan  songs,  or  hymns,  were  of  the  very  rudest  de- 
scription, and  probably  never  were  reduced  into  writing. 
They  were  a  kind  of  impromptus^  composed  of  scurrilous 
jests,  originally  recited  by  the  Italian  peasants  at  those  feasts 
of  Ceres,  which  celebrated  the  conclusion  of  their  harvests; 
and  they  resembled  the  verses  describeid  in  the  well-known 
lines  of  Horace — 


*  Forsyth'8  Remarks  on  Raiy,  p.  141. 

I  "  La  grandeur  de  Rome,"  says  Montesquieu,  "  pardt  bientot  dans  nes  edifices 

Eubllcs.    L*es  ouvrages  qui  ont  donnC^  et  qui  dooaent  encore  aujourd'bui  la  plus 
aute  idee  de  sa  puisAance  ont  etc  faitn  sous  les  Rois.    On  commenj^oit  dtrja  a  Uatir 
la  Ville  eteroelle.'*     Grandeur  et  Decadence  des  iZomotVw,  c.  1. 
X  Dempster,  Eiruria  Hegatis,  Lib.  111.  c.  80. 


ETRURIA.  37 

*'  Agrieoh»  pnsci,  fortes,  paryoque  beati,  . 
CoDdita  post  frumenta,  levaDteti  tempore  festo 
Corpus,  et  ipsum  animum  spe  finis  dura  ferentem. 
Cum  todia  operum  pueris,  et  conjuze  fida, 
Tellurem  porco,  Syivanum  lacte  piabant, 
Floribus  et  vino  Genium,  memorem  brevis  sevi ; 
Feseennina  per  hunc  inventa  licenta  morem 
Yenibiis  altemis  opprobria  nistica  fuditV* 

It  appears,  also,  that  some  of  the  ancient  rustic  oracles  and' 
prophecies  of  the  Etruscans,  were  delivered  in  a  rugged  sort 
of  verse  -called  Saturnian — *a  measure  which  was  adopted  from 
them  by  the  earliest  Latin  poets — 


"  Scripsere  alii  rem  . 
Yenibus  quos  olim  Fauni  vatesque  caoebajitf. 


Censorinus  informs  us,  on  the  authority  of  Varro,  that  this 
ancient  people  was  not  without  its  chroniclers  and  historians 
— In  Tuscia  Histariis  qtuB  octavo  eorum  aaculo  scripta  aunti. 
But  this  eighth  century  of  the  Etruscans,  according  to  the 
chronology  followed  .by  Lanzi,  would  be  as  late  as  the  sixth 
century  of  Rome^;  and,  besides,  it  is  evident  from  the  con- 
text of  Censorinus,  that  these  pretended  histories  were,  in 
fact,  mere  registers  of  the  foundations  of  cities,  and  the  births 
and  deaths  of  individuals.  Varro  al^o  mentions  Etruscan 
tragedies  composed  by  Volunmius||.  No  date  to  his  produc- 
tions, however,  is  specified,  and  Lanzi  is  of  opinion,  that  he 
did  not  write  in  Etruria  till  after  the  dramatic  art  had  made 
considerable  progress  at  Rome ;  and  it  certainly  may  at  least 
be  doubted,  if,  previous  to  that  period,  the  Etruscan  stage 
had  ever  reached  higher  than  extemporary  recitations,  or 
pantomimic  entertainments  of  music  and  dancing. 

But  whatever  the  literature  of  the  Etruscans  may  have  been, 
it  certainly  had  no  influence  oh  the  progress  of  learning  among 
the  Romans.  Neither  the  intercourse  of  the  two  nations, 
nor  the  capture  of  Veii,  though  followed  by  the  final  subju- 
gation of  the  Etruscans,  was  attended  with  any  literary  im- 
provement on  the  part  of  their  unpolished  neighbours.  In 
fact,  few  nations  have  been  more  completely  illiterate  than 
the  Romans  were,  during  five  centuries,  from  the  commence- 
ment of  their  history;  and  of  all  the  natioris  which  have  figur- 
ed in  the  annals  of  mankind,  none  certainly  attained  the 
same  height  of  power  and  grandeur,  and  civil  wisdom,  with 
equal  ignorance  of  literature  or  the  fine  arts.  For  the  pre- 
tended acquaintance  of  the  elder  Brutus  with  the  Pythagorean 

•  Herat  Epist.  Lib.  II.  Kp.  1.        t  Enniu«j,  Annal.        t  De  Die  JSratali,  c.  6. 
4  &^gw  diUng.  Etfusc,  Tom.  U.  p.  567.    i|  JJe  Ling.  Lat.  Lib.  iV.  c  9. 


38  ETRURIA. 

philosophy,  it  would  be  difficult,  I  suspect,  to  find  any  better 
authority  than  the  romance  of  Clelia ;  and  the  learned  acade* 
my,  which  some  writers'^  have  found  in  Numa's  College  of 
PontiiTs,  must  be  classed,  I  fear,  with  ¥ockerodt's  literary  so- 
cieties, which  existed  before  the  floodf . 

It  is  not  difficult  to  account  for  this  ignorance  of  the  Ro- 
mans during  the  first  ages  of  their  history.  Rome  was  not,  as 
has  been  asserted  by  Dionysius,  a  regular  colony  sent  out  from 
a  wellrregulated  state,  but  was  formed  fi'om  a  mixture  of  €ill 
kinds  of  people  unacquainted  with  social  life.  It  consisted  of 
Romulus'  own  troop,  and  a  confluence  of  banditti  inured  to 
lawless  acts,  and  subsisting  by  rapine,  who  were  called  from 
their  fastnesses  by-  the  proclamation  of  a  bold,  cunning,  and 
hardy  adventurer|.  This  desperate  band  would  not  be  much 
softened  or  humanized  by  their  union  with  the  tribe  of  Sabines, 
who,  in  the  time  of  Romulus,  became  incorporated  with  the 
state,  if  we  may  judge  of  Sabine  civilization  from  the  story  of 
Tarpeia.  Numa  did  much  for  the  domestic  melioration  of  his 
people:  He  subdivided  them  into  classes,  impressed  their 
minds  with  reverence  for  rehgion,  and  encouraged  agricul- 
ture ;  but  there  was  no  germ  of  literature  which  he  could  foster. 
For  more  than' three  centuries  after  his  death,  the  persevering 
hostilities  of  neighbouring  states,  and  the  furious  irruptions  of 
the  Gauls,  scarcely  allowed  a  moment  of  repose  or  tranquillity. 
The  safety  of  Rome  depended  on  its  military  preparations,  and 
every  citizen  necessarily  became  a  soldier.  Learning  and 
arts  may  flourish  amid  the  wars  and  commotions  of  a  jnighty 
empire,  because  every  individual  is  not  essentially  or  actively 
involved  in  the  struggle;  but  in  a  petty  state,  surrounded  by 
foes,  all  are  in  some  shape  or  other  personally  engaged  in  the 
conflict,  and  the  result,  perhaps,  is  viewed  with  intenser  inte- 
rest. The  enemies  of  Rome  were  repeatedly  at  her  gates,  and 
once  within  her  walls;  and  while  the  city  thus  resounded  with 
martial  alarms,  literary  leisure  could  neither  be  enjoyed  nor 
accounted  among  the  ingredients — 

« 

"  ViCam  qus  faciunt  beatiorem." 

The  exercise  of  arms,  which  commenced  in  order  to  pre- 
serve the  new-founded  city  from  destruction,  was  continued 
for  the  sake  of  conquest  and  dominion;  so  that  the  whole 

•  Orgival,  Considerai,  sur  VOrigine  et  ProgrH  de$  Belles  LeUres  ehtM  U9 
Romains, 
t  Comment,  de  Erudit.  Soeietai. 
i  Romulus  ut  saxo  locum  circumdedit  alto, 
CuilJbet  hue,  inquit,  coofuge  tutus  erit. 


ETRURIA.  39 

pride  of  the  Romans  was  still  placed  in  valour  and  military 
success.  At  the  first  'formation  of  their  theatre,  they  were 
propitiated  by  the  address,  Belli  dudlatores  Offtimi*,  What- 
ever time  could  be  snatched  from  warlike  occupations,  was 
devoted  to  agriculture.  Each  individual  had  two  acres  al- 
lotted to  him,  which  he  was  obliged  to  till,  for  the  maintenance 
of  his  family.  While  thus  labouring  for  subsistence,  he  had 
little  leisure  to  cultivate  literature  or  the  arts,  and  could  find 
no  inclination  for  such  pursuits.  Indeed,  he  was  not  allowed 
the  choice,  of  his  occupations.  The  law  of  Romulus  which 
consigned  as  ignominious  all  sedentary  employments  to  foreign- 
ers or  slaves,  leaving  only  in  choice  to  citizens  and  freemen 
the  arts  of  agriculture  and  arms,  long  continued  in  undimin- 
ished respect  and  observance.  Romulus,  says  Dionysius,  or- 
dered the  same  persons  to  exercise  the  employments  both  of 
husbandmen  and  soldiers*  He  taught  them  the  duty  of  sol- 
diers in  time  of  war,  and  accustomed  them  in  time  of  peace 
to  cultivate  the  landf . 

During  this  period  the  Romans  had  nothing  which  can  pro- 
perly be  termed,  or  which  would  now  be  considered  as  poetry 
— the  shape  in  which  literature  usually  first  expands  amongst 
a  rude  people.  The  verses  which  have  come  down  to  us  un- 
der the  character  of  Sibylline  oracles,  are  not  genuine.  There 
probably  at  one  time  existed  a  few  rude  lines  uttered  by  pre- 
tended prophetesses,  and  which  were  doubtless  a  political 
instrument,  usefiiUy  employed  in  a  state  subject  to  popular 
commotions.  The  book  delivered  to  Tarquin,  and  which  was 
supposed  to  contain  those  ancient  oracles,  perished  amid  the 
conflagration  in  the  Capitol,  *during  the  civil  wars  of  Marius 
and  Sylla.  Even  those  collected  in  Greece,  and  the  municipal 
states  of  Italy,  in  order  to  supply  their  place,  and  which  were 
deposited  in  the  temple  of  Apollo,  on  Mount  Palatine,  were 
burned  by  Stilicho  in  the  reign  of  the  Emperor  Honorius. 
There  is  still  extant,  however,  the  hymn  stmg  by  the  Fraires 
jlrvaleSj  a  college  of  priests  instituted  by  Romulus,  for  the 
purpose  of  walking  in  procession  through  the  fields  in  the 
commencement  of  spring,  and  imploring  from  the  gods  a  bless- 
ing on  agriculture.  Of  a  similar  description  Were  the  rude 
Saturnian  verses  prescribed  by  Numa,  and  which  were  chaunt- 
ed  by  the  Salian  priests,  who  carried  through  the  streets  those 
sacred  shields,  so  long  accounted  the  Palladium  of  Rome. 

About  the  end  of  the  fourth  century  from  the  building  of 
the  city,  when  it  was  for  the  first  time  afilicted  with  a  plague, 
the  Senate  having  exhausted  without  efiect  their  own  super- 

*  Photui,  Ce^tivi  Prol.  t  '^nHqwtat,  Roman,  lib.  XL 


40  LATIN  LANGUAGE. 

stitious  ceremonies,  and  run  over  the  whole  round  of  suppli- 
cations, decreed  that  histrions  or  players  should  be  summoned 
from  Etruria,  in  order  to  appease  the  wrath  of  the  gods  bj 
scenic  representations.  These  chiefly  exhibited  rude  dances 
and  gesticulations,  performed  to  the  sound  of  the  flute*. 
There  was  no  dialogue  or  song,  but  the  pantomime  did  not 
consist  merely  of  unmeaning  gestures:  It  had  a  certain  scope, 
and  represented  a  connected  plot  or  storyf ;  but  what  kind  of 
action  or  story  was  represented^  is  utterly  unknown.  This 
whimsical  sort  of  expiation  seems  to  have  attracted  the  fancy 
of  the  Roman  youths,  who  imitated  the  Etruscan  actors;  but 
they  improved  on  the  entertainment,  by  rallying  each  other  in 
extemporary  and  jocular  lines.  The  Fescennine  verses,  origi- 
nally employed  in  Etruria  at  the  harvest-homes  of  the  peasants, 
were  about  the  same  period  applied  by  the  Romans  to  mar- 
riage ceremonies  and  public  diversions. 

There  were  also  songs  of  triumph  in  a  rude  measure,  which 
were  sung  by  the  soldiers  at  the  ovations  of  their  leaders.  As 
early  as  the  time  of  Romulus,  when  that  chief  returned  trium- 
phant to  Rome  after  his  victory  over  the  Ceninenses  and  An- 
temnates,  his  soldiers  followed  him  in  military  array,  singing 
hymns  in  honour  of  their  gods,  and  extemporary  verses  in  praise 
of  their  commander|.  Of  this  description,  too,  were  the 
Paeans,  With  which  the  victorious  troops  accompanied  the 
chariot  of  Cincinnatus,  after  he  subdued  the  Equi^,  and  with 
which  they  celebrated  a  spirited  enterprize  of  Cossus,  a  tribune 
of  the  soldiers||.  Sometimes  these  laudatory  songs  were  sea- 
soned with  coarse  jokes  and  camp  jests,  like  those  introduced 
at  the  triumph  of  C.  Claudius,  and  of  M.  LiviuslT. 

The  triumphal  hymns  were  not  altogether  confined  to  the 
ceremony  performed  on  the  streets  of  Rome.  Cicero  informs 
us,  on  the  authority  of  Cato's  Origines,  that  at  feasts  and 
entertainments,  it  was  usu^il  for  the  guests  to  celebrate  the 
praises  of  their  native  heroes  to  the  sound  of  the  flute*f .  Va- 
lerius Maximus  says,  that  the  verses  were  sung  by  the  older 
guests,  in  order  to  excite  the  youth  to  emulationf  f ;  and  Varro, 

*  Livy.  Lib.  VFI.  c.  2.  Sine  carmine  ullo,  sine  imitandorom  camiinmn  adtu,  lu* 
diones  ex  Etruria  acciti,  ad  tibicinis  modes  saltantes,  baud  indecoros  motus  more 
Tusco  dabant. 

t  Flogel,  Gesehichte  der  Kbimisch.    LUteratur.  Tom.  IV.  p.  82. 

I  Dionys.  Halic.    Lib.  U.  c.  34. 

^  Livy,  Lib.  IIL  c.  29.  Epulantesque,  cum  carmine  triumphal!  et  solennibud 
jocis,  commissantiam  mode,  cumim  secuti  sunt. 

II  ibid.  Lib.  IV.  c.  ^0.  In  eum  milites  cannina  iDC0Qdi(»,  equantes  eum  RomUlo, 
ouiere. 

IT  Ibid.    Lib.  XXVIII.  c.  9. 

*t  Tmc.  DUput.    Lib.  I.  c.  2.  and  lib.  IV.  c.  2.  Brvtus,  c.  19. 

ft  Lib.  II.  c.  1. 


LATIN  LANGUAGE.  41. 

that  they  were  chaunted  by  ingenuous  youths*.  The  difference, 
however,  between  the  two  authors,  is  easily  reconciled.  The 
former  speaks  of  the  original  composition  of  these  baJladsf , 
while  Yarro,  though  the  passage  is  imperfect^  seems  to  refer 
to  a  later  period,  when  they  were  'brought  out  anew  for  the 
entertainment  of  the  guests.  Valerius  talks  of  them  as  poems 
or  ballads  of  considerable  extent.  It  was  many  generations, 
however,  before  the  age  of  Cato,  that  this  practice  existed ; 
and  by  the  time  of  Cicero,  these  national  and  heroic  pro- 
ductions, if  they  ever  had  been  reduced  to  writing,  were 
no  longer  extant}.  This  is  all  that  can  be  collected  concern* 
ing  these  legends,  from  the  ancient  Roman  writers,  who  had 
evidently  very  imperfect  notions  and  information  on  the  sub- 
ject. Niebuhr,  however,  and  M.  Schlegel,  seem  as  well 
acquainted  with  their  contents  as  we  are  with  Chevy  Chase, 
and  talk  as  if  these  precious  relics  were  lying  on  their  shelves, 
or  as  if  they  had  been  personally  present  at  the  festivals  where 
they  were  recited.  They  expressed,  it  seems,  feelings  purely 
patriotic — they  contained  no  inconsiderable  admixture  of  the 
marvellous — ^but  even  the  prppensity  for  what  was  incredible 
was  exclusively  national  in  its  character — and  the  Roman 
fablers  indulged  themselves  in*  the  creation  of  no  wonders, 
which  did  not  redound  in  some  measure  to  the  honour  of  their 
ancestors.  They  were  founded  on  the  oldest  traditions  *  con- 
cerning the  kings  and  heroes  of  the  infant  city,  and  the  esta- 
blishment of  the  republican  form  of  government,  '^  The 
fabulous  birth  of  Romulus,"  says  Schlegel,  ^*  the  rape  of  the 
Sabine  women,  the  most  poetical  combat  of  the  Horatii  and 
Cttriatii,  the  pride  of  Tarquin,  the  misfortunes  and  death  of 
Lucretia,  and  the  establishment  of  liberty  by  the  elder  Brutus 
— ^the  wonderful  war  with  Porsenna,  and  steadfastness  of 
Scaevola,  the  banishment  of  Coriolanus,  the  war  which  he 
kindled  against  his  country,  the  subsequent  struggle  of  his 
feelings,  and  the  final  triumph  of  his  patriotism  at  the  all- 
powerful  intercession  of  his  mother ; — ^these  and  the  like  cir- 
cumstances, if  they  be  examined  from  the  proper  point  of 
view,  cannot  fail  to  be  considered  as  relics'  and  fnigments  of 
the  ancient  heroic  traditions  and  heroic  poems  of  the  Ro- 
mans^."    Niebuhr,  not  contented  with  insulated  ballads,  has 

*  De  VUa  PopvU  Ranuau,  ap.  NoAium,  c.  ii.  sub  voce,  Am*. 

t  llfljotes  Data  in  conTiviit  ad  tibias  egregia  superionim  opera,  cannine  oomprt- 
Wim,  pangebaut. 

t  Cieero,  Brutu9,  c.  19.  llie  passage  rather  seems  to  imply  that  ttiey  had  been 
m  wiitiog*  "  Utinam  aetarent  iUa  earmina,  que  multis  seoutts  ante  suam  etatem 
in  epoBs  esse  cantata  a  singidis  conviTis  de  daronim  viromm  laudibas,  in  Oiigiaibai 
scriptom  reliquit  Cato" ! 

§  Lcehtre*  an  LUeraiure,  Lect.  IIT. 

Vol.  L— F 


42  LATIN  LANGUAGE. 

imagined  the  existence  of  a  grand  and  complete  Epopee, 
commencing  with  the  accession  of  Tarquinius  Prisons,  and 
ending  with  the  battle  of  Regillus*.  This  is  a  great  deal  more 
information  than  Cicero  or  Varro  could  have  afforded  us  on 
the  subject. 

However  numerous  or  extensive  these  ballads  may  have 
been,  they  soon  sunk  into  oblivion ;  and  in  consequence  of 
the  overpowering  influence  of  Greek  authors  and  manners, 
they  never  formed  the  groundwork  of  a  polished  system  ojf 
national  poetry.  The  manifold  witcheries  of  the  Odyssey,  and 
the  harmony  of  the  noble  Hexameter,  made  so  entire  a  con- 
quest of  the  fancy  and  ears  of  the  Romans,  as  to  leave  no 
room  for  an  imitation,  or  even  an  affectionate  preservation, 
of  the  ancient  poems  of  their  country,  and  led  them,  as  we 
shall  soon  see,  exclusively  to  adopt  in  their  stead,  the  thoughts, 
the  recollections,  and  the  poetry  of  the  Greeks.  Cicero,  in 
his  Tusculan  IHsputaiionSj  mentions  a  poem  by  Appius 
Claudius  Cgbcus,  who  flourished  in  the  fiiUi  century  of  Romef ; 
but  he  does  not  say  what  was  the  nature  or  subject  of  this 
production,  except  that  it  was  Pythag6rean ;  and  this  is  the 
solitary  authentic  notice  transmitted  to  us  of  the  existence  of 
any  thing  which  can  be  supposed  to  have  been  a  regular  or 
continued  poem,  during  the  first  five  centuries  that  elapsed 
from*  the  building  of  the  city. 

Since,  then,  we  can  discover,  during  this  period,  nothing 
but  those  feeble  dawings  of  dramatic,  satiric,  and  heroic  poe- 
try, which  never  brightened  to  a  perfect  day,  the  only  history 
of  Roman  literature  which  can  be  given  during  the  long  inter- 
val, consists  in  the  progress  and  improvement  of  the  Latin 
language.  In  the  course  of  these  five  centuries,  it  was.  ex- 
tremely variable,  from  two  causes. — 1st,  Although  their  po- 
licy in  this  respect  afterwards  changed,  one  of  the  great 
principles  of  aggrandizement  among  the  Romans  in  their  early 
ages,  was  incorporating  aliens,  and  admitting  them  to  the 
rights  of  citizens.  Hence,  there  was  a  constant  influx  to 
Rome  of  stranger  tribes;  and  the  dissonance  within  its  walls 
was  probably  greater  than  had  yet  been  any  where  heard  since 
the  memorable  confusion  at  Babel. — 2d,  The  Latin  was 
merely  a  spoken  language,  or  at  least  had  not  received  sta- 
bility by  literary  composition — ^writing  at  that  time  being 
confined,  (in  consequence  of  the  want  of  materials  for  it,)  to 
treaties,  or  short  columnar  inscriptions.  So  remarkable  was 
the  fluctuation  produced  by  these  causes,  even  during  a  very 
short  period,  that  Pol]^bius,  speaking  of  a  treaty  concluded 

*  jRomitche  GeschUhte,  Berlin,  1811.  2  Tom.  8vo  t  Uh.  IV.  c.  2. 


LATIN  LANGUAGE.  4^ 

between  the  Carthaginians  and  Romans  in  the  245th  Year  of 
the  City,  during  the  Consulship  of  Publius  Valerius  and  Mar- 
cus HoratiuSy  declares,  that  the  language'  used  in  it  was  so 
diilerent  from  the  Latin  spoken  inliis  time,  that  the  most 
learned  Romans  could  not  explain  its  text^. 

Of  this  changeable  tongue,  the  earliest  specimen  extant, 
and  which  is  supposed  to  be  as  ancient  as  the  time  of  Romu* 
lus,  is  the  hymn  chaunted  by  the  Fratres  ArvdUa^  the  college 
of  priests  above-mentioned,  who  were  called  Fratres^  from 
the  first  members  of  the  institution  being  the  sons  of  Acca 
Laureptia,  the.  nurse  of  Romulus.  This  song  was  inscribed, 
during  the  time  of  the  Emperor  Heliogabalusf ,  on  a  stone, 
which  was  discovered  on  opening  the  foundations  of  the  Sa- 
cristy at  St  Peter's,  in  the  year  1778.  It  is  in  the  following 
words  :— 

**  Enos  Lases  jov&te. 

Neve  luerve  Marmar  atnisincurrer'in  pleoria. 

Satur  fufere  Mara :  timen  aali  sta  berber : 

S^nones  altemei  advocapit  cimctcM. 

£no0  Mamior  juvato, 

THumpe!  triumpe!^'* 

These  words  have  been  thus  interpreted  by  Herman :  *^  Nos 
Lares  juvate,  neve  luem  Mamuri  sinis  incurrere  in  plures. 
Satur  fueris  Mars :  limen  (t.  6.  postremum)  sali  sta  vervex : 
Semones  alterni  jam  duo  capit  cunctos.  Nos  Mamuri  juvato 
— ^Triumphe !  Triumphe"| !  There  are  just  sixteen  letters  used 
in  the  above  inscription  ;  and  it  appears  from  it,  that  at  this 
early  period  the  letter  8  was  frequently  used  instead  of  r — that 
the  final  e  was  struck  out,  or  rather,  had  not  yet  been  added 
— the  rich  diphthong  ei  was  employed  instead  of  i,  and  the 
simple  letter  p,  in  words  where  /  or  ph  came  afterwards  to 
be  substituted. 

Of  the  Carmen  Sdliare,  sung  by  the  Salian  priests,  appoint- 
ed under  Numa,  for  the  protection  of  the  AnciUaj  or  Sacred 

*  Lib.  III.  c.  22.  t  Bosai,  Storia  de  MaHa,  Tom.  VI.  p.  S75. 

X  Klementa  Doctrinm  Metriea,  Lib.  III.  c.  9.  Lanzi,  ( Saggio  di  Luig, 
EtruMc.)  Schoel],  {Hist,  Ahre^^e  de  la  LUterature  Romaine^  Tom.  I.  p.  42.' in- 
troduct.^  and  Eustace  [Classical  Tbur  tn  italy.  Vol.  III.  p.  416.)  give  a  some- 
what dtfferent  interpretatiofi.  Pleoies,  they  render  (lores,  and  not  plures,  in  whidi 
they  seem  right— Satur,  fufere  Mars,  (you  shall  be  full,  O  Man ! )  they  make  Ator, 
or  ador  fieri,  Mara,  (Let  there  be  food,  0  Mars !)  which  is  evidently  erroneous. 
The  following  will  give  some  general  notion  of  the  import  of  the  verses: — 

Ye  Lares,  aid  us !  Mars,  thou  God  of  Might ! 

From  murrain  shield  the  flocks — ^the  flowers  from  blight. 

For  diee,  O  Mars !  a  feast  shall  be  prepared ; 

Salt,  and  a.  wether  chosen  from  the  herd : 

Invite,  by  tura,  each  Demigod  of  Spring — 

Great  Mars,  assist  us }  Triumph !  Triumph  sing ! 


44  LATIN  LANGUAGE. 

Shields,  there  remain  only  a  few  words,  which  have  been  oited 
by  Varro,  who  remarks  in  them,  what  has  already  been  noticed 
with  regard  to  the  Hynm  of  the  Fratres  ArvakSy  that  the  let- 
ter s  often  occurs  in  words  where  his  contemporaries  placed 
r — as  Melios,  for  melior^-Plusima,  for  plurima — Asena,  for 
arena-^Janitos,  for  janitor*.  The  Carmen  Saiiem,  however, 
can  scarcely  be  taken  as  a  fair  specimen  of  the  state  of  the 
Roman  language  at  the  time  it  W)9is  composed.  Among  the 
nations  adjacent  to  Rome,  there  were  Saltan  priests,  who  had 
their  hymns  and  solemn  forms  of  invocationf ,  which  are  said 
to  have  been,  in  part  at  least,  adopted  by  Numa|.  So  that 
his  Carmen  Scdiare  probably  approaches  nearer  to  the  Tus- 
can and  Oscan  dialects,  than  the  Latin  language  did,  even  at 
that  early  period  of  the  monarchy. 

The  fragments  of  a  few  laws,  attributed  to  Numa,  have  been 
preserved  by  ancient  jurisconsults  and  grammarians,  and  re- 
stored by  Festus,  with  much  pains,  to  their  proper  orthography, 
which  ha^  not  been  sufficiently  attended  to  by  those  who  first 
cited  passages  from  this  Regiam  Maj^atem  of  the  Romans. 
One  of  these  laws,  as  restored  by  him,  is  in  the  following 
terms : — '^  Sei  cuips  hemonem  lobsum  dolo  sciens  mortei  duit 
pariceidad  estod.  sei  im  imprudens  se  dolo  malod  occusit  pro 
capited  oceisei  et  nateis  eiius  endo  concioned  arietem  subici- 
tod,"  which  law  may  be  thus  interpreted :  '^  Si  quis  hominem 
liberum  dolo  sciens  morti  dederit  parricida  esto :  Si  eum  im* 
prudens,  sine  dolo  malo,  occiderit,  pro  capite  occisi  et  natis 
ejus  in  concionem  arietem  subjicito.'^  A  law,  ascribed  to 
Servius  TuUius,  has  been  thus  given  by  Festus : — "  Sei  paren- 
tem  puer  verberit  ast  oloe  plorasit,  puer  diveis  parentum  sacer 
esto— sei  nurus  sacra  diveis  parentum  esto,"-rwhich  means« 
"  Si  parentem  puer  verberet,  at  ille  ploraverit,  puer  divis  pa- 
rentum sacer  esto  ]  si  nurus,  sacra  divis  parentum  esto"^. 

From  the  date  of  th^se  Leges  ReguBy  no  specimen  of  the 
Latin  language  is  now  extant,  till  we  come  down  to  the 
Twelve  Tables,  enacted  in  the  commencement  of  the  fourth 
century  of  Rome.  These  celebrated  institutions  have  de- 
scended to  us  inmutilated  fragments,  and  their  orthography 
has  probably  been  in  some  respects  modernised :  yet  they  bear 
stronger  marks  of  antiquity  than  the  above-recited  law  of 
Servius  TuUius,  or  even  than  those  of  Numa.  The.  Latin 
.writers  themselves  by  whom  they  are  quoted  did  not  very  well 
understand  them,  owing  to  the  change  which  had  taken  place 

•  Varro,  De  lAng.  taL  Lib.  VLc.  1  and  3. 

t  Senriud  ad  Mneid,  Lib.  VIIL 

i  Camiegieter,  DisBert.  Philol.  Jurid,  ad  les^em  JSPuma. 

^  Funccius,  De  Pueritia  Latin.  JJng,  c.  ItL  §  6  and  S. 


LATIN  LANGUAGE-  45 

in  the  language..  Accordingly,  Cicero,  and  the  early  gram- 
marians  who  cite  them,  have  attempted  rather  to  give  the 
meaning  than  the  precise  words  of  the  Decemvirs.  Terrasson 
has  endeavoured  to  bring  them  back  to  the  old  Oscan  language, 
in  which  he  supposes  them  to  have  been  originally  written ; 
but  his  emendations  are  in  a  great  measure  conjectural,  and 
his  attempt  is  one  of  more  promise  than  fulfilment.  On  the 
whole,  they  have  been  so  much  corrupted  by  modernising 
them,  and  by  subsequent  attempts  to  restore  them  to  the 
ancient  readings,  that  they  cannot  be  implicitly  relied  on  as 
specimens  of  the  Roman  language  during  the  period  in  which 
they  were  promulgated.  The  laws  themselves  are  very  con-; 
cise,  and  free  from  that  tautology,  which  seems  the  charac- 
teristic of  the  enactments  of- nations  farther  advanced  in 
refinement.  The  first  law  is,  "  S'  in  jus  vocat  queat,"  which 
is  extremely  elliptical  in  its  expression,  and  means,  '^  Si  quis 
aliquem  in  jus  vocet,  vocatus  eat."  In  some  respects  the  lan- 
gui^e  of  the  LtgeB  Regw^  and  twelve  tables,  possesses  a 
richness  of  sound,  which  we  do  not  find  in  more  modern  Latin, 
particularly  in  the  use  of  the  diphthong  at  for  a,  as  vitai  for 
vitae,  and  of  the  diphthong  ei  for  i,  as  sei  for  si.  Horace  might 
perhaps  be  fvell  entitled  to.  ridicule  the  person, 

<'  Sic  &utor  veteram,  ut  tabulas  peccare  Tetantes, 
Que  bi8<}uinque  viri  sanxenmt,  feodera  regum 
Vel  Gabtis,  vel  cum  rigidis  cquata  SabiiUB, 
PoDtificoin  libros,  aiinosa  volumina  vatum, 
Dictitet  Albano  Musaa  in  monte  loquutas :" 

Yet  he  would  have  done  well  to  have  considered,  if,  amid  the 
manifold  improvements  of  the  Augustan  poets,  they  had  judged 
right  in  rejecting  those  rich  and  sonorous  diphthongs  of  the 
tabula  peccare  vetantea^  which  still  sound  with  such  strength 
and  majesty  in  the  line?  of  Lucretius. 

There  is  scarcely  a  vestige  of  the  Latin  language  remaining 
during  the  two  centuries  which  succeeded  the  enactment  of 
the  twelve  tables.  At  the  end  of  that  long  period,  and  during 
the  first  Punic  war,  a  celebrated  inscription,  which  is  still 
extant,  recorded  the  naval  victory  obtained  by  the  Consul 
Duillius,  in. 492,  over  the  Carthaginians.  The  column  on 
which  it  was  engraved,  and  which  became  so  famous  by  the 
title  of  the  Cdumna  Rostrata^  was,  as  Livy*'  informs  us,  struck 
down  by  lightning  during  the  interval  between  the  second  and 
third  Punic  wars.  It  remained  buried  among  the  ruins  of 
R(xne,  till,  at  length,  in  1565,  its  base,  which  contained  the 

•  Lib.  XLII.  c.  20. 


40  LATIN  LANGUAGE. 

inscriptioui  was  dug  up  in  the  vicinity  of  tke  CapitoL  So 
much,  however,  was  it  defaced,  that  many  of  the  letters  were 
illegible.  These  have  been  restored  in  the  foUowiiig  manner 
by  the  conjectures  of  the  learned : 

"  C.  D*.  exemet  leciones  mazimosque  magistratus  navem 
eastreis  exfociunt.  Macel/am  /iiicnandod  cepet  enque  eodem 
macis^ro^u  rem  navebos  marid  consol  primos  cesei  clasesque 
navales  primos  ornavit  cumque  eis  navebos  claseis  pcsnicas 
omiie^  sumas  copias  Cartaciniensis  preesente  dictatored  olorum 
in  altod  marid  puctumdod  tnctt  trigintaque  naveU  cepet  cum 
socieis  septem  triremosque  naveis  XX  captum  numei  DCC 
captom  sBs  navaled  prsdad  poplomf ." 

In  modern  Latin  the  above  inscription  would  run  thus. — 
'^Caius  Duillius  exemit:  legiones,  maximusque  magistratus 
novem  castris  effugiunt.  Macellam  pugnando  cepit;  inque 
eodem  magistratu,  l^em  navibus  mari  Consul  primus  gessit, 
classesque  navales  primus  ornavit;  cumque  iis  navibus  classfes 
Punicas  omnes  summas  copias  Carthaginienses,  praesente  dic- 
tatore  iUorum,  in  alto  mari  pugnando  vicit :  Trigintaque 
naves  cepit  cum*  sociis  sep^em^  triremosque  naves  decern. 
Captum  nununi,  captum  aes  navali  pneda,  populo  donavit." 

There  are  also  extant  two  inscriptions,  which  were  engraved 
on  tlie  tombstones  of  Lucius  Scipio  Barbatus  and  his  son  Lu- 
cius Scipio,  of  which  the  former  was  somewhat  prior,  and  the 
the  latter  a  year  subsequent  to  the  date  of  the  Duillian  inscrip- 
tion. The  epitaph  on  Barbatus  was  discovered  in  1780,  in 
the  vault  of  the  Scipi'an  family,  between  the  Via  Appia  and 
Via  Latina.  Mr  Hobhouse  informs  us  that  it  is  inscribed  on  a 
handsome  but  plain  sarcophagus,  and  he  adds,  ^'  that  the  elo- 
<|uent  simple  inscription  becomes  the  virtues  and  fellow- 
countrymen  of  the  deceased,  and  instructs  us  more  than  a 
chapter  of  Livy  in  the  style  and  language  of  the  Republican 
Romans'^t: — 

''Cornelius  Lucius  Scipio  Barbatus  Gnavoid  patre  progna- 
tus  fortis  vir  sapiensque  quoius  forma  virtutei  parisuma  fuit. 
Consol  Censor  Aidilis  quei  fuit  apud  vos  Taurasia  Cisauna 
Samnio  cepit  subicit'omne  Loucana  opsidesque  abdoucit." 

The  above  may  be  converted  into  modern  Latin,  as  follows: 

''C.  L.  Scipio  Barbatus,  Cneio  patre  prognatus,  fortis  vir 
sapiensque,   cujus  forma  virtuti  par  fuit.     Consul,  Censor, 

■ 

*  The  letten  which  have  beea  supplied  are  here  printed  io  Italics. 

t  Ciacconius,  however,  ia  of  opinion  that  this  is  not  precisely  what  was  iiuscribed 
-on  the  base  of  the  column  in  the  time  of  Duillius,  for.  that  the  inscription,  having 
been  greatly  effaced,  Was  repaired,  or  raUier  engraved  anew*  after  the  time  of  Julius 
Caesar.    In  Colum,  Host.  Explie. 

t  mu8trati<ma  of  ChUde  Harold,  p.  169. 


LATIN  LANGUAGE.  47 

iEdilis  qui  fiiit  apud  tos,  Taurasiam,  Ckaunam,  Samnio  cepit ; 
subjecit  omnem  Lucaniam  obsidesque  abdncit.'*  The  other 
Scipian  epitaph  had  been  discovered  long  before  the  above, 
on  a  slab  which  was  found  lying  near  the  rorta  Capena,  hav- 
ing been  detached  from  the  family  vault.  Though  a  good 
many  years  later  as  to  the  date  of  its  composition^  the  epitaph 
on  the  son  bears  marks  of  higher  antiquity  than  that  on  the 
father: — 

''Hone  oino  ploirume  consentiunt  duonpro  optumo  fuise 
viro  Lucium  Scipione.  Filios  Barbati  Consol  Censor  iEdilis 
hec  fiiit.  Hec  cepit  Corsica  Aleriaque  urbe :  dedit  tempes- 
tatibus  aide  mereto;"  which  means,  '^  Hunc  unum  plurimi  con- 
sentiunt Rbmee  bonorum  optimum  fuisse  virum  Lucium  Scipi- 
onem.  Filius  Barbati,  Consul,  Censor,  JSdilis  hie  fuit.  Hie 
cepit  Corsicam  Aleriamque  urbeni :  dedit  tempestatibus  sedem 
merito". 

The  celebrated  Eugubian  tables  were  so  called  from  hav- 
ing been  found  at  Eugubium  (Gubbio)  a  city  in  ancient  Um- 
bria^near  the  foot  of  the  Apennines,  where  they  were  dug  up 
in  1444.  When  first  discovered,  they  were  believed  to  be  in 
the  Egyptian  language ;  but  it  was  afterwards  observed  that 
five  of  the  seven  tables  were  in  the  Etruscan  character  and  lan- 
guage, or  rather  in  the  Umbrian  dialect  of  that  tongue,  and  the 
other  two  in  Roman  letters,  though  in  a  rustic  jargon,  between 
Latin  and  Estruscan,  with  such  mixture  of  each,  as  might  be 
expected  from  an  increased*  intercourse  of  the  nations,  and 
the  subjugation  of  the  one  by  the  other*.  The  two' tables  in 
the  Latin  character  were  written  towards  the  close  of  the  sixth 
century  of  Rome,  •  and  those  in  the  Etruscan  letters  a  short 
while  previous.  So  little,  however,  was  the  Etruscan  language 
fixed  or  understood,  even 'in*  the  middle  of  last  century,  when 
the  Etruscan  rage  was  at  its  height  in  Italy,  that  Bonarota 
believe^  that  those  tables  contained  treaties  of  the 'ancient 
Italian  nations — Gori,  an  Oscan  poem,  and  Maflfei,  legal  enact- 
ments, till  Passerius  at  length  discovered  that  they  consisted 
solely  of  ordinances  for  the  performance  of  sacred  rites  and 
religious  ceremoniesf  * 

*  This  M>tt  of  rustic  Latin  has  by  some  writers  been  supposed  to  be  the  origin  of 
the  modem  Italian. 

t  Omnino  ad  jura  pontificalia  pertinere  videntur.  hi  Dempsteri  Kbros  ParaUpo^ 
mena.  Ed.  Luca,  1767.  It  was  on  tlieseEuguMantablesthat,  in  modem  times,  the 
alphabet  of  the  Etniscan  language  was  first  found.  At  the  earliest  attempt  it  was 
Tery  imperfect  and  contradictory ;  Maffei  maintaining  that  these  tables  were  in  He- 
biew,  and  Gori  that  they  were  in  Oreelc  characters ;  but  at  lens^th  in  1782,  M.  Bour- 
guet,  a  Frenchman,  bv  comparing  &e  tables  in  the  Roman  with  those  in  the  Etrus- 
can character,  found  that  the  former  was  a  compendium  of  the  latter,  and  that  many 
words  in  the  one  corresponded  with  words  in  the  other.  Having  got  this  key,  he 
was  enabled,  by  comparing  word  with  word,  and  letter  with  letter,  to  form  an  alpha- 
bet, which,  tboogh  not  perfect,  was  much  more  complete  than  any  previoosiy  pre- 


48  LATIN  LANaUAGE. 

On  comparing  the  fragments  of  the  Leges  RegUB  with  the 
Duillian  and  Scipian  inscriptions,  it  does  not  appear  that  the 
Roman  language,  however  greatly  it  may  have  varied,  had 
either  improved  or  approached  much  nearer  to  modem  Latin 
in  the  fifth  century  than  in  the  time  of  the  kings.  Short  and 
mutilated  a?  thes^laws  and  inscriptions  are,  they  still  enable 
us  to  draw  many  important  conclusions  with'  regard  to  the 
general  state  of  the  language  during  the  existence  of  the  mo- 
narchy, and  the  first  ages  of  the  republic.  It  has  already  been 
mentioned  that  the  dipthong  ai  was  employed  where  ae  came 
to  be  afterwards  substituted,  as  aide  for  ssde ;  ei  instead  of  t, 
as  castreis  for  castris;  and  oi  in  place  of  (b,  as  coilum  for  coe- 
lum.  The  vowel  e  is  often  introduced  instead  of  o,  as  hemo 
for  homo,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  o  is  sometimes  used  in- 
stead of  6,  as  vostrum  for  vestrum ;  and  Scipio  Africanus  is 
said  to  have  been  the  first  who  always  wrote  the  e  in  such 
words*.  U  is  fi^equently  changed  'into  o,  as  hone  for  hunc^ 
sometimes  into  ou,  as  abdoucit  for  abdncit,  and  sometimes  to 
at,  as  oino  for  uno.  'On  the  whole,  it  appears  that  the  vowels 
were  in  a  great  measure  used  indiscriminately,  and  often, 
especially  in  inscriptions,  they  were  altogether  omitted,  as 
bne  for  bene,-  though  sometimes,  again,  an  e  final  was  added, 
as  face  for  fac,  tlice  for  die.  As  to  the  consonants, — h  at  the 
beginning  of  a  word  was  du^  as  duonorum  for  bonorum,  and 
it  was  jp  at  the  middle  or  end,  as  opsides  for  obsides.  The 
letter  g  certainly  does  not  appear  in  those  earliest  specimens 
of  the  Latin  language — ^the  hynm  of  the  Frcdres  Arvaks,  and 
Leges  RegUBy  where  c  is  used  in  its  place.  Plutarch  says,  that 
this  letter  was  utterly  unknown  at  Rome  during  the  space  of 
five  centuries,  and  was  first  introduced  by  the  grammarian 
Spurius  Carvillius  in  the  year  640f .  It  occurs,  however,  in 
the  epitaph  of  Scipio  Barbatus,  which  was  written 'at  least 
half  a  century  before  that  date ;  and,  what  is  remarkable,  it  is 
there  placed  in  a  word  where  c  was  previously  and  subse- 
quently employed/  Gnaiyo  being  written  for  Cnseo.  The 
Letter  r  was  not,  as  Hbs  been  asserted,  unknown  to  the  anci- 
ent Romans,  but  it  was  chiefiy  used  in  the  beginning  and  end 
of  words — s  being  employeid  instead  of  it  in  the  middle,  as 
lases  for  lares.  Frequently  the  letters  m  and  s  were  omitted 
at  the  end  of  words,  especially,  for  the  sake  of  euphony,  when 
the  following  word  began  with  a  consonant — ^thus  we  have 

duced,  and  was  found  to  be  the  same  with  that  of  the  Pelaagi,  and  not  veiy  different 
from  the  alphabet  conunuoicated  to  the  Graeks  by  Cadmus.  Viisertax.  dell  Jiea- 
defiita  Etrusea,  T.  I.  p.  1. 1742.    . 

*  QuiatiliaD,  hisiittit.  Lib.  I.  c.  7.  f  Qu«»<«me8  BAVMiMt. 

X  Festusj  voce  SoUiawriUa, 


LATIN  LANGUAGE.  49 

Aleria  cepit,  for  Aleriam  cepit  The  ancient  Romans  were 
equally  careful  to  avoid  a  hiatus  of  vowels,  and  hence  they 
wrote  sin  in  place  of  si  in.  Double  consonants  were  never 
seen  till  the  time  of  Ennius*;  and  we  accordingly  find  in  the 
old  inscriptions  sumas  for  summas :  er  was  added  to  the  infi- 
nitive passive,  as  darier  for  dari,  and  d  was  subjoined  to  words 
ending  with  a  vowel,  as  in  altod,  marid,  pucnandod.  It  like- 
wise appears  that  the  Romans  were  for  a  long  period  unac- 
quainted virith  the  use  of  aspirates,  and  were  destitute  of  the 
phi  and  chi  sounds  of  the  Greek  alphabet.  Hence  they  wrote 
triumpe  for  triumphe,  and  pulcer  for  pulcherf .  We  also  meet 
with  a  good  many  words,  particularly  substant" ;•  >  which 
afterwards  became,  altogether  obsolete,  and  some^aio  applied 
in  a  sense  different  from  that  in  which  they  were  subsequently 
used.  Finally,  a  difference  in  the  conjugation  of  the  same 
verb,  and  a  want  of  inflection  in  nouns,  particularly  proper 
names  of  countries  or  cities,  where  the  nominative  frequently 
occurs  instead  of  the  accusative,  show  the  unsettled  state  of 
the  language  at  that  early  periodf . 

It  is  unnecessary  to  prosecute  farther  the  history  of  Roman 
inscriptions,  since,  immediately  after  the  erection  of  the  Duil- 
lian  coluom  in  494,  Latin  became  a  written  literary  language; 
and  although  the  diphthongs  di  and  ei  were  retained  for  more 
than  a  century  longer,  most  of  the  other  archaisms  were  to- 
tally rejected,  and  the  language  was  so  enriched  by  a  more 
copious  admixture  of  the  Greek,  that,  while  always  inferior  to 
that  tongue,  in  ease,  precision,  perspicuity,  and  copiousness, 
it  came  at  length  to  rival  it  in  dignity  of  enunciation,  and  in 
that  lofty  accent  which  harmonized  so  well  with  the  elevated 
character  of  the  people  by  whom  it  was  uttered. 

This  sudden  improvement  in  language,  as  well  as  the 
equally  sudden  revolution  in  taste  and  literature  by  which  it 
was  accompanied,  must  be  entirely  and  exclusively  attributed 
to  the  conquest  of  Magna  Graecia,  and  the  intercourse  opened 
to  the  Romans  with  the  Greek  colonies  of  Sicily.  Their 
ndnds  were,  no  doubt,  in  some  measure  prepared,  during  the 
five  centuries  which  bad  followed  the  foundation  of  the  city, 
for  receiving  the  seeds  of  learning.  The  very  existence  of 
social  life  for  so  long  a  period  must  have  in  some  desree 
reclaimed  them  from  their  native  barbarism.  Freed  from 
hourly  alarms  excited  by  the  attacks  of  foes  whose  territories 

*  FeitiM,  voce  SolitauriUa, 

t  For  a  fiiller  detail  of  these  raiiatioDs  see  Fimedus  de  PueriHa  Ling.  Lot,  c.  6. 
Id.  de  MolescenHa  Idng.  Lot.  c.  7.  and  Terrasson,  HUU  de  la  Jurisfimdenee 
SUmume,  Part  I.  par.  8. 

Vol.  I.— G 


60  MAGNA  GRiECIA. 

reached  almost  to  the  gates  of  the  city,  it  was  now  possible 
for  them  to  enjoy  those  pleasures  which  can  only  be  relished 
in  tranquillity ;  but  their  genius,  I  believe,  would  have  re- 
mained unproductive  and  cold  for  half  a  millennium  longer, 
had  it  not  been  kindled  by  contact  with  a  more  polished  and 
animated  nation,  whose  compositions  could  not  be  read  with- 
out enthusiasm,  or  imitated  without  advantage. 

However  uncertain  may  be  the  story  concerning  the  arrival 
of  CEnotrus  in  the  south  of  Italy,  the  passage  of  the  Pelasgi 
from  Epirus  to  the  Po,  seventeen  generations  before  the  Tro- 
jan war,  or  the  settlement  of  the  Arcadian  Evander  in  Latium, 
there  can  be  no  doubt,  that,  about  the  commencement  of  the 
Roman  8er&,  the  dissensions  of  the  reigning  families  of  Greece, 
the  commotions  which  pervaded  its  realms,  the  suggestions  ojf 
oracles,  the  uncertain  tenure  of  landed  property,  the  restless 
spirit  of  adventure,  and  seasons  of  famine,  all  co-operated 
in  producing  an  emigration  of  numerous  tribes,  chiefly 
Dorians  and  Achaeans  of  Peloponnesus,  who  founded  colonies 
on  the  coasts  of  Asia,  the  iEgean  islands,  and  Italy.  In  this 
latter  country,  (which  seems  in  all  ages  to  have  been  the  re- 
sort and  refuse  of  a  redundant  or  unfortunate  population,) 
the  Greek  strangers  first  settled  in  a  southern  district,  then 
known  by  the  ancient  name  of  lapygia,  and  since  denominated 
Calabria.  Serenity  of  climate,  joined  to  the  vigour  of  laws, 
simplicity  of  manners,  and  the  energy  peculiar  to  every  rising 
community,  soon  procured  these  colonies  an  enviable  increase 
of  prosperity  and  power.  They  gradually  drove  the  native 
inhabitants  to  the  interior  of  the  country,  and  formed  a  poli- 
tical state,  which  assumed  the  magnificent  name  of  Magna 
Graecia — an  appellation  which  was  by  degrees  applied  to  the 
whole  coast  which  bounds  the  bay  of  Tarentum.  On  that 
shore,  about  half  a  century  after  the  foundation  of  Rome, 
arose  the  flourishing  and  philosophic  town  of  Crotona,  and  the 
voluptuous  city  of  Sybaris.  These  were  the  consolidated 
possessions  of  the  Grecian  colonies ;  but  they  had  also  scat- 
tered seats  all  along  the  western  coast  of  the  territory  which 
now  forms  the  kingdom  of  Naples. 

As  in  most  other  states,  corruption  of  manners  was  the  con- 
sequence of  prosperity  and  the  cause  of  decay.  Towards  the 
close  of  the  third  century  of  Rome,  Pythagoras  had  in  some 
measure  succeeded  in  reforming  the  morals  of  Crotona,  while 
the  rival  state  of  Sybaris,  like  the  Moorish  Grenada,  hastened 
to  destruction,  amid  carousals  and  civil  dissensions;  and 
though  once  capable,  as  is  said,  (but  probably  with  some 
exaggeration,)  of  bringing  three  hundred  thousand  soldiers 


MAGNA  GRiECIA.  51 

into  the  field*,  it  sunk,  after  a  short  struggle,  under  the  power 
of  Crotona.  The  other  independent  states  were  successively 
agitated  by  the  violence  of  popular  revolution,  and  crushed 
by  the  severity  of  despotism.  As  in  the  mother  country,  they 
had  constant  dissensions  among  themselves.  This  rivalship 
induced  them  to  call  in  the  assistance  of  the' Sicilians — a 
measure  which  prepared  the  way  for  their  subjection  to  the 
vigorous  but  detestable  sway  of  the  elder  Dionysius,  and  of 
Agathocles.  Tarentum,  founded  about  the  same  time  with 
Sybaris  and  Crotona,  was  the  most  powerful  city^of  the  Gre- 
cian colonies  toward  the  conclusion  of  their  political  existence, 
and  the  last  formidable  rival  to  the  Romans  in  Italy.  Like 
the  neighbouring  states,  it  was  chiefly  ruined  by  the  succour 
of  foreign  allies.  Unsuccessfully  defended  by  Alexander  Mo- 
lossus,  oppressed  by  the  Syracusan  tyrants,  and  despoiled  by 
Cleomenes  of  Sparta,  neither  the  genius  of  Pyrrhus,  nor  the 
power  of  Carthage,  could  preserve  it  from  the  necessity  of 
final  submission  to  the  Romans. 

In  all  their  varieties  of  fortune,  the  Grecian  colonies  had 
maintained  the  manners  and  institutions  of  the  mother  coun- 
try, which  no  people  ever  entirely  relinquish  with  the  soil 
they  have  left.  A  close  political  connection  also  subsisted 
between  them ;  and,  about  the  year  300  of  Rome,  the  Athe- 
nians sent  to  the  assistance  of  Sybaris  a  powerful  expedition, 
which,  on  the  decay  of  that  city,  founded  the  town  of 
Thurinm  in  the  immediate  vicinity.  This  constant  intercourse 
cherished  and  preserved  the  literary  spirit  of  the  colonies  of 
Magna  Greecia.  Herodotus,  the  father  of  history,  and  Lysias, 
whose  orations  are  the  purest  models  of  the  simple  Attic 
eloquence,  were,  in  early  youth,  among  the  original  founders 
of  the  colony  of  Thuriumf ,  and  the  latter  held  a  share  in  its 
government  till  an  advanced  period  of  life.  The  Eteatic 
school  of  philosophy  was  founded  in  Magna  Grsecia  ;  and  the 
impulse  which  the  wisdom  of  Pythagoras  had  given  to  the 
mind,  promoted  also  the  studies  of  literature.  Plato  visited 
Tarentum  during  the  consulship  of  Lucius  Camillus  and 
Appius  Claudius^,  which  was  in  the  406th  year  of  Rome,  and 
Zeuxis  wa«  invited  from  Greece  to  paint  at  Crotona  the  mag- 
nificent temple  of  Juno,  which  had  been  erected  in  that  city<§. 

*  This  numeration,  which  rests  on  the  authority  of  Diodorus  Siculus,  (Lib.  XII.) 
^  Strabo,  ^lib.  VI.)  has  been  a  subject  of  considerable  discussion  and  contro- 
v^ny  iu  modem  times.  (See  Wallace  on  the  numbers  of  Mankind ,  Hume's  Essay 
on  Populousness  of  Ancient  Nations,  and  Gibbon's  Miscellaneous  Works,  vol.  III. 
P-  ns.)    In  all  MSS.  of  ancient  authors,  the  numbers  are  corrupt  and  uncertain. 

t  Plutarch,  De  ExUio.  Id.  Vit.  decern.  Orator.  Strabo,  Geog.  Lib.  XIV. 

I  Cicero,  Cato  Major,  sei<  de  Senectuie,  c.  12. 

^  Id.  Shetoricorufn,  Lib.  II.  c.  1. 


62  MAGNA  GRiECIA. 

History  and  poetry  were  cultivated  with  a  success  which  did 
not  dishonour  the  Grecian  name.  Lycus  of  Rhegium  was 
the  civil,  and  Glaucus  of  the  same  city  was  the  literary  his- 
torian of  Magna  GrsBcia.  Orpheus  of  Crotona  was  the  author 
of  a  poem  on  the  expedition  of  the  Argonauts,  attributed  to 
an  elder  Orpheus.  The  lyric  productions  of  Ibicus  of  Rhe- 
gium rivalled  those  of  Anacreon  and  Alcaeus.  Two  hundred 
and  fifty-five  comedies,  written  by  Alexis  of  Thurium,  the  titles 
of  which  have  been  collected  by  Meursius,  and  a  few  firag- 
ments  of  them  by  Stephens,  are  said  to  have  been  composed 
in  the  happiest  vein  of  the  middle  comedy  of  the  Greeks, 
which  possessed  much  of  the  comic  force  of  Aristophanes  and 
Cratinus,  i^ithout  their  malignity.  In  his  Meropis  and  An- 
cylio,  this  dramatist  is  supposed  to  have  carped  at  Plato ;  and 
his  comedy  founded  on  the  life  of  Pythagoras,  was  probably 
in  a  similar  vein  of  satire.  Stephano,  the  son  of  Alexis,  and 
who,  according  to  Suidas,  was  the  uncle  of  Menander,  became 
chiefly  celebrated  for  his  tragedies ;  but  his  comedies  were 
also  distinguished  by  happy  pictures  of  life,  and  uncommon 
harmony  of  versification. 

War,  which  had  so  long  retarded  the  progress  of  literature 
at  Rome,  at  length  became  the  cause  of  its  culture.  The 
Romans  were  now  involved  in  a  contest  with  the  civilized 
colonies  of  Magna  Grsecia.  Accordingly,  when  they  gar- 
risoned Thurium,  in  order  to  defend  it  against  the  Samnites, 
and  when  in  482  they  obtained  complete  possession  of  Magna 
Graecia,  by  the  capture  of  Tarentum,  which  presented  the  last 
resistance  to  their  arms,  they  could  not  fail  to  catch  a  portion 
of  Grecian  taste  and  spirit,  or  at  least  to  admire  the  beautiful 
creations  of  Grecian  fancy.  Many  of  the  conquerors  remained 
in  Magna  Graecia,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  all  the  inhabitants 
of  its  cities,  who  were  most  distinguished  for  literary  attain- 
ments, fixed  their  residence  at  Rome. 

The  first  Carthaginian  war,  which  broke  out  in  489,  so  far 
from  retarding  the  literary  influence  of  these  strangers,  accele- 
rated the  steps  of  improvement.  Unlike  the  former  contests 
of  the  Romans,  which  were  eitlier  with  neighbouring  states, 
or  with  barbarous  nations  who  came  to  attack  them  in  their 
own  territories,  it  was  not  attended  with  that  immediate  danger 
which  is  utterly  inconsistent  with  literary  leisure.  In  its  pro- 
secution, too,  the  Romans  for  the  first  time  carried  their  arms 
beyond  Italy.  Literature,  indeed,  was  not  one  of  those  novel- 
ties in  which  the  western  part  of  Africa  was  fruitful,  but,  with 
the  exception  of  Greece  itself,  there  was  no  country  where  it 
flourished  more  luxuriantly  than  in  Sicily ;  and  that  island,  as 
is  well  known,  was  the  principal  scene  of  the  first  great  strug- 


SICILY.  63 

gle  between  Rome  and  Carthage.  None  of  the  Grecian  colo- 
nies shone  with  such  splendour  as  Syracuse,  a  city  founded 
by  the  Dorians  of  Corinth,  in  the  19th  year  of  Rome.  This 
capital  had  attained  the  summit  both  of  political  and  literary 
renown  long  before  the  first  Carthaginian  war.  iEschylus 
passed  the  concluding  years  of  his  life  in  Sicily,  and  wrote,  it 
is  said,  his  tragedy  of  The  Persians,  to  gratify  the  curiosity  of 
Hiero  I.  King  of  Syracuse,  who  was  desirous  to  see  a  repre* 
sentation  of  the  celebrated  war  which  the  Greeks  had  waged 
against  Xerxes.  Epicharmus,  retained  in  the  same  elegant 
court,  was  the  first  who  rejected,  on  the  stage,  the  ancient 
munomeries  of  the  satires,  and  composed  dramas  on  that  regu- 
lar elaborate  plan,  which  was  reckoned  worthy  of  imitation  by 
Plaaius — 


"Dicitur 


Plautus  ad  exemplar  Siculi  properare  Epicharmi*/' 

Dionysius,  the  tyrant,  was  also  a  patron  of  learning,  and  was 
himself  a  competitor  in  the  fields  of  literature.  Philistus,  the 
historian,  was  the  friend  of  the  elder,  and  Plato  of  the  younger 
Dionysius.  Aristippus  and  iEschines  passed  some  time  in  the 
court  of  these  tyrants.  Theocritus,  and  other  poets  of  the 
Alexandrian  constellation,  resided  in  Sicily  before  they  par- 
took in  Egypt  of  the  splendid  patronage  of  the  Ptolemies. 
The  Syracusans,  who  put  to  death  so  many  of  their  Athenian 
prisoners  in  cold  blood,  and  with  frightml  tortures,  spared 
those  of  them  who  could  recite  the  verses  of  Euripides.  Sce- 
nic representations  were  peculiarly  popular  in  Sicily :  Its 
towns  were  crowded  with  theatres,  and  its  dramatists  were 
loaded  with  honours.  The  theatrical  exhibitions  which  the 
Roman  invaders  of  Sicily  must  have  witnessed,  and  the  respect 
there  paid  to  distinguished  poets,  would  naturally  awaken  lite- 
rary emulation.  During  a  contest  of  nearly  twenty-four  years 
between  Rome  and  Carthage,  Hiero  II.,  King  of  Syracuse, 
was  the  zealous  and  strenuous  ally  of  the  Romans.  At  the 
conclasion  of  peace  between  these  rival  nations,  in  the  year 
512,  part  of  Sicily  was  ceded  to  the  Romans,  and  the  inter- 
course which  consequently  arose  with  the  inhabitants  of  this 
newly-acquired  territory,  laid  the  foundation  of  those  studies,. 
which  were  afterwards  brought  to  perfection  by  the  progress 
of  time,  and  by  direq|  communication  with  Greece  itselff . 

*  Hoiat.  EpUt.  Lib.  II.  ep.  1.  y.  5S. 

t  See  Micaii,  SaHa  aoant,  U  Domm.  dei  Romani,  Raoul-Rochette,  Hist,  de 
PEtahiUsement  des  Colonie$  Grecquts.  Hcyne»  Opusc,  Jteadem.  Nogarols, 
EpiU,  de  RaU»  qui  Oraee  $erw$erunt.  tp.  Fabricius,  Suj^l&n.  ad  Vossium  De 
BUtar.  Lai, 


64  LIVIUS  ANDRONICUS. 

Accordingly,  it  is  in  the  end  of  the  fifth,  and  beginning  of 
the  sixth  century,  from  the  building  of  Rome,  that  we  find 
among  its  inhabitants  the  earliest  vestiges  of  literature*  Poe- 
try, as  with  most  other  nations,  was  the  first  of  the  liberal  arts 
which  was  cultivated  among  the  Romans ;  and  dramatic  poetry, 
founded  on  the  school  of  Greece,  appears  to  have  been  that 
which  was  earliest  preferred.  We  have  seen,  indeed,  that 
previous  to  this  period,  and  in  the  year  392,  when  the  city 
was  afflicted  with  a  plague,  the  Senate  decreed  that  players 
should  be  summoned  from  Etruria  to  appease  the  wrath  of  the 
gods  by  scenic  representations,  and  that  the  Roman  youth 
imitated  these  expiatory  performances,  by  rallying  each  other 
in  extemporary  verses.  This  by  some  has  been  considered  as 
a  dawning  of  the  drama,  since  the  characters  probably  bore  a 
resemblance  to  the  Arlequin  and  Scaramouch  of  the  Italian 
farces.     But 


LIVIUS  ANDRONICUS, 


I  Grfficia, 


A  native  of  Magna  Grsecia,  was  the  first  who  attempted  to 
establish  at  Rome  a  regular  theatre,  or  to  connect  a  dramatic 
fable,  free  from  the  mummeries,  the  hailet^  and  the  melo- 
drama of  the  ancient  satires*.  Tiraboschi  asserts,  that  when 
his  country  was  finally  subdued  by  the  Romans,  in  482,  Livius 
was  made  captive  and  brought  to  Romef .  It  is  generally  be- 
lieved ^hat  he  there  became  the  slave,  and  afterwards  the 
freedman  of  Livius  Salinator,  from  whom  he  derived  one  of 
his  names :  these  facts,  however,  do  not  seem  to  rest  on  any 
authority  more  ancient  than  the  Eusebian  Chronicle^.     The 

[)recise  period  of  his  death  is  uncertain ;  but  in  Cicero's  Dia- 
ogue  De  Senectute,  Cato  is  introduced  saying,  that  he  had 
seen  old  Livius  while  he  was  himself  a  youth^.  Now  Cato 
was  born  in  519,  and  since  the  period  of  youth  among  the 
Romans  was  considered  as  commencing  at  fifteen,  it  may  be 
presumed  that  the  existence  of  Livius  was  at  least  protracted 
till  the  year  534  of  the  city.  It  has  been  frequently  said,  that 
he  lived  till  the  year  546||,  because  LivylT  mentions  that  a 
hymn  composed  by  this  ancient  poet  was  publicly  sung  in  that 

*  AusuB  est  primus  argumento  fabulam  serere.    Livy,  Lib.  Til.  c.  2. 

t  Tiraboschi,  Star,  dell  Ijitteratura  Italiana.    PaitB  III.    Lib.  IL  c.  1. 

X  Hieronj'^m.  in  Euseh.  Chron.  p.  37.  In  Scaliger,  TJiesaurut  Temporum^  ed. 
Amstel.  1653. 

§  Vidl  etiam  senem  Livium,  qui  usque  ad  adolescentiam  meam  procewit  etate. 
De  Seneetute,  c.  14. 

tl  SignorclH,  Storia  de  Teatriy  Tom.  II. 

T  Lib.  XXVII.  c.  37. 


/" 


LIVIUS  ANDRONICUa  65 

year,  to  avert  the  disasters  threatened  by  an  alarming  prodigy ; 
but  the  historian  does  not  declare  that  it  was  written  for  the 
occasion,  or  even  recently  before. 

The  earliest  play  of  Livius  was  represented  in  513  or  514, 
about  a  year  after  the  termination  of  the  first  Punic  war.  Osan- 
nus,  a  modem  German  author,  has  written  a  learned  and  chro- 
nological dissertation  on  the  question,  in  which  of  these  years  / 
the  first  Roman  play  was  performed*;  but  it  is  extremely  dit 
ficult  for  us  to  come  to  any  satisfactory  conclusion  on  a  sub- 
ject which,  even  in  the 'time  of  Cicero,  was  one  of  doubt  and 
controversyf .  Like  Thespis,  and  other  dramatists  in  the  com- 
mencement of  the  theatrical  art,  Livius  was  an  actor,  and  for 
a  considerable  time  the  sole^  performer  in  his  own  pieces. 
Afterwards,  however,  his  voice  failing,  in  consequence  of  the 
audience  insisting  on  a  repetition  of  favourite  passages,  he  in- 
troduced a  boy  who  relieved  him,  by  declaiming  in  concert 
with  the  flute,  while  he  himself  executed  the  corresponding 
gesticulations  in  the  monologues,  and  in  the  parts  where  high 
exertion  was  required,  employing  his  own  voice  only  in  the 
conversational  and  less  elevated  scenes];.  It  was  observed 
that  his  action  grew  more  lively  and  animated,  because  he 
exerted  his  whole  strength  in  gesticulating,  while  another  had 
the  care  and  trouble  of  pronouncing.  "  Hence,"  continues 
Livy,  ^'  the  practice  arose  of  reciting  those  passages  lyhich 
required  much  modulation  of  the  voice,  to  the  gesture  and 
action  of  the  comedian.  Thenceforth  the  custom  so  far  pre- 
vailed, that  the  comedians  never  pronounced  anything  except 
the  verses  of  the  dialogues|| :"  And  this  system,  which  one 
should  think  must  have  completely  destroyed  the  theatric  illu- 
sion, continued,  under  certain  modifications,  to  subsist  on  the 
Roman  stage  during  the  most  refined  periods  of  taste  and  lite- 
rature. 

The  popularity  of  Livius  increasing  from  these  perform- 
ances, as  well  as  from  a  propitiatory  hynm  he  had  composed, 
and  which  had  been  followed  by  great  public  success,  a 
building  was  assigned  to  him  on  the  Aventine  hill.  This 
edifice  was  partly  converted  into  a  theatre,  and  was  also  in- 

*  AnaUcta  Cfritiea  poena  JRomanorum  Setfnic^  ReUquitu  lUustrtmHa,  c.  8. 
ed.  Berlin,  1816. 

t  Eft  eoim  inter  scriptores  de  nuraero  annonim  controversia.  Cicero^  BnUus, 
c.  18.  Cicero,  however,  fixes  on  the  year  514,  followmg,  as  he  says,  the  account 
of  his  friend  Atticus. 

X  Livy,  Lib.  VII.  c.  2.  Quum  saepius  revocatus  vocem  obtudisset,  veniA  petitfl, 
puenini  ad  canendum  ante  tibicinem  quum  statuisset,  canticum  egisse,  aliquanto 
magiit  vigente  motu,  quia  nihil  vocis  usus  impediebat* 

It  Inde  ad  manmn  cantari  histrionibus  coeptum,  diverbiaque  tantum  ipsonun  voci 
relicta. — IM. 


\ 


56  LIVIUS        ^ONICUS. 

habited  by  a  troop  of  playe^^,  for  whom  Livius  wrote  hii 
pieces,  and  frequently  acted  along  with  them*. 

It  has  been  disputed  whether  the  first  drama  represented 
by  Livius  Andronicus  at  Rome  was  a  tragedy  or  comedyf . 
However  this  may  be,  it  appears  from  the  names  which  have 
been  preserved  of  his  plays,  that  he  wrote  both  tragedies  and 
\  comedies.  These  titles,  which  have  been  collected  by  Fabri- 
cius  and  other  writers,  are,  ^chiUes^  Adonis,  ^gisikua,  Ajax, 
Andromeda^  JlrUuqfa,  Centattri,  Equus  TrqjanuSy  Hdena^ 
Hermionej  InOy  Lydius,  ProtesUaodamiaj  Serenus,  Tereus^ 
Teucer,  VirgoX,  Such  names  also  evince  that  most  of  his 
dranfas  were  translated  or  imitated  from  the  works  of  his 
countrymen  of  Magna  Graecia,  or  from  the  great  tragedians 
of  Greece.  Thus,  iEschylus  wrote  a  tragedy  on  the  subject 
of  iEgisthus :  There  is  still  an  Ajax  of  Sophocles  extant,  and 
he  is  known  to  have  written  an  Andromeda :  Stobaeus  men- 
tions the  Antiopa  of  Euripides:  Four  Greek  dramatists,  So- 
phocles, Euripides,  Anaxandrides,  and  Fhilseterus,  composed 
tragedies  on  the  subject  of  Tereus ;  and  Epicharmus,  as  well 
as  others,  chose  for  their  comedies  the  story  of  the  Syrens. 

Little,  however,  except  the  titles,  remains  to  us,  from  the 
dramas  of  Livius.  The  longest  passage  we  possess  in  con- 
nection, extends  only  to  four  lines.  It  forais  part  of  a  hymn 
to  Diana,  recited  by  the  chorus,  in  the  tragedy  of  Ino,  and 
contains  an  animated  exhortation  to  a  person  about  to  pro- 
ceed to  the  chase : — 

"  Et  jam  purpureo  miras  include  cothumo, 
Baltheus  et  revocet  volucres  in  pectore  sinufl ; 
Pressaque  jam  gravida  crepitent  tibi  terga  phaietra : 
Dtrige  odoiiaequoe  ad  ccca  cubilia  cane^.*' 

This  passage  testifies  the  vast  improvement  effected  by  Livius 
on  the  Latin  Tongue ;  and  indeed  the  poUsh  of  the  language 
and  metrical  correctness  of  these  hexameter  lines,  have  of 
late  led  to  a  suspicion  that  they  are  not  the  production  of  a 
period  so  ancient  as  the  age  of  Livius||,  or  at  least  that  they 

*  Festus,  voce  SeriboB*  t  Osaniutt,  AnaUeta  Critical  c.  8. 

Biblioiheca  Latino,  Tom.  III.  Lib.  IV.  c.  1. 

§  *<  Let  the  red  buskin  now  your  limba  invest, 
And  the  loose  robe  be  belted  to  your  breast ; 
The  rattline  quiver  let  your  shoulders  bear — 
«  Throw  oflfSie  hounds  which  scent  the  secret  lair.** 

II  Jos.  Scaliger,  Leetionibus  Ausonianis,  where  the  lines  are  attributed  to  Lsvitis. 
ap.  Sogitarius,  de  Vita  L.  Andronieif  c.  S.  Osannus,  Analecta  Critica,  c.  2.  p.  S6. 
Some  verses  in  the  Carmen  de  Arte  Metriea  of  TerenUanus  Maunis,  are  the  chief 
authority  for  these  hexameters  being  by  Livius : — 

**  Livius  ille  vetus  Grajo  cognomine,  sue 
Inserit  Inonis  versu,  puto,  tale  doclmen, 
Praemisso  heroo  subjungit  namque  /Jtuoupof, 
Hymno  quando  Chorus  festo  cantt  ore  Trivia— 
'  £t  jam  purpureo,'  "  kc. 


LIVIUS  ANDRONICUS.  57 

have  been  modernised  by  some  later  hand.  With  this  earliest 
offspring  of  the  Latin  muse,  it  may  be  curious  to  compare  a 
production  from  her  last  age  of  decrepitude.  Nemesianus,  in 
his  CynegeticoUy  has  closely  imitated  this  passage  while  ex- 
horting Diana  to  prepare  for  the  chase : 

'*  Sume  habitus,  arcumque  manu ;  pictamque  pbaretram 
Suspende  ex  humeris ;  sint  aarea  tela,  sagittae ; 
Candida  puniceis  aptentur  crura  cothumis : 
Sit  chlamys  aurato  multum  subtemine  lusa, 
Corrugesque  sinus  gemmatis  baltheus  artet 
Nexibus " 

As  the  above-quoted  verses  in  the  chorus  of  the  Ino  are  the 
only  passage  among  the  fragments  of  Livius,  from  which  ^  a 
connected  meaning  can  be  elicited,  we  must  take  our  opinion 
of  his  poetical  merits  from  those  who  judged  of  them  while 
his  writings  where  yet  wholly  extant.  Cicero  has  pronounced 
an  unfavourable  decision,  declaring  that  they  sqarcely  deserved 
a  second  perusal*.  They  long,  however,  continued  popular 
in  Rome,  and  were  read  by  the  youths  in  schools  even  during 
the  Augustan  age  of  poetry.  It  is  evident,  indeed,  that  during 
that  golden  period  of  Roman  literature,  there  prevailed  a  taste 
corresponding  to  our  black-letter  rage,  which  led  to  an  in- 
ordinate admiration  of  the  works  of  Livius,  and  to  the  bitter 
complaints  of  Horace,  that  they  should  be  extolled  as  perfect, 
or  held  up  by  old  pedants  to  the  imitation  of  youth  in  an  age 
when  so  much  better  models  existed : 

*<  Non  equidem  insector,  delendaque  carmina  Livl 
Esse  reor,  memini  qu»  plagosum  mihi  parvo 
Orbilium  dictare ;  sed  cmendata  videri, 
Pulchraque,  et  exactis  minimum  distantia,  miror : 
Inter  quae  verbum  emicuit  si  forte  decorum,  et 
Si  Terms  pauIo  concinnior  unus  et  alter ; 
.   Injuste  totum  ducit  venditque  poemaf." 

But  although  Livius  may  have  been  too  much  read  in  the 
schools,  and  too  much  admired  in  an  age,  which  could  boast 
of  models  so  greatly  superior  to  his  writings,  he  is  at  least 
entitled  to  praise,  as  the  inventor  among  the  Romans  of  a 
species  of  poetry  which  was  afterwards  carried  by  them  to 
much  higher  perfection.  By  translating  the  Odyssey,  too,  into 
Latin  verse,  he  adopted  the  means  which,  of  all  others,  was 
most  likely  to  foster  and  improve  the  infant  literature  of  his 
country — as  he  thus  presented  it  with  an  image  of  the  most 


*  Liviane  fabols  non  satis  digne  que  itenim  legvitur.    Brvtus,  c.  18. 
t  EfUt.  Lib.  II.  Ep.  1.  V.  69. 

Vol.  L— H 


1 


58  NiEVIUS. 

pure  and  perfect  taste,  and  at  the  same  time  with  those  wild 
and  romantic  adventures,  which  are  best  suited  to  attract  the 
sympathy  and  interest  of  a  half-civilized  nation.  This  happy 
influence  could  not  be  prevented  even  by  the  use  of  the  rug- 
ged Saturnian  verse,  which  led  Cicero  to  compare  the  trans- 
lation of  Livius  to  the  ancient  statues,  which  might  be  attri- 
buted to  Dsedalus*. 
The  Latin  Odyssey  commenced — 

«  Yinim  mihi,  Camezia,  insece  versutum." 

There  have  also  been  three  lines  preserved  by  Festus,  which 
are  translated  from  the  Sth  Book,  expressing  the  effects  pro- 
duced on  the  mind  b;  a  sea-storm — 


— ^— ■^— —  "  Namque  nilum  pejus 
Macent  hemonem  quamde  mare  sevoni :  vires  quoi 
Sunt  magnae,  topper  confringent  importuDB  undKt*" 

From  the  sera  in  which  the  dramatic  productions  of  Livius 
appeared,  theatrical  representations,  formed  the  object  of  a 
peculiar  art.  The  more  regular  drama,  founded  on  that  of 
Magna  GrsBcia,  or  Sicily,  being  divided  into  tragedy  and  come- 
dy, became,  in  a  great  measure,  the  province  of  professional 
players  or  authors,  while  the  Roman  youths  of  distinction  con- 
tinued to  amuse  themselves  with  the  FabuUB  ^'^tellaruB.  and 
Exodia^  a  species  of  satirical  medley,  derived  from  the  ancient 
Etruscans,  or  from  the  Osci,  the  nature  and  progress  of  which 
I  shall  hereafter  have  occasion  more  particularly  to  examine. 


CNEIUS  NiEVIUS, 

A  native  of  Campania,  was  tne  first  imitator  of  the  regular 
dramatic  works  which  had  been  produced  by  Livius  Andro- 
nicuB.  He  served  in  the  first  l^unic  war,  and  his  earliest  plays 
were  represented  at  Rome  in  the  year  519;^.  The  names  of 
his  tragedies,  from  which  as  few  fragments  remain  as  from 
those  of  Livius,  are  still  preserved : — ^JlcesHa^  (from  which 
there  is  yet  extant  a  description  of  old  6ge  in  rugged  and  bar- 
barous verse) — Danae^  Duhrestes,  Ileaionay  Hector^  Iphige- 
nta,  LycurguSf  PhaniastB^  FrotesUauSf  and  lelephus.    AH 

*  Brututt  e.  18. 

1^  .     «« Nought  wowe  can  be 

For  wearing  out  a  man  than  the  rough  sea ; 
Even  though  his  force  be  great,  and  heart  be  brave. 
An  will  be  broken  bv  the  vexing  wave." 
t  Au.  Gelfius,  Lib.  XVII.  c.  21.  Ed.  Lugd.  Bat.  1666. 


N^VIUS.  S9 

these  were  translated,  or  closely  imitated  from  the  works  of 
Euripides,  Anaxandrides,  and  other  Greek  dramatists.  Cicero 
commends  a  passage  in  the  Hector,  one  of  the  above-men- 
tioned tragedies^,  where  the  hero  of  the  piece,  delighted  with 
the  praises  which  he  had  received  from  his  father  Priam,  ex- 
claims— 

« Letus  sum 

Laudarime  abs  te,  pater,  laudato  virof." 

Naevius,  however,  was  accounted  a  better  comic  than  tragic 
poet.  Cicero  has  given  us  some  specimens  of  his  jests,  with 
which  that  celebrated  wit  and  orator  appears  to  Save  been 
greatly  amused ;  but  they  consist  rather  in  unexpected  turns 
of  expression,  or  a  play  of  words,  than  in  genuine  humour. 
One  of  these,  recorded  in  the  second  Book  De  Oratore,  has 
found  its  way  into  our  jest-books ;  and  though  one  of  the  best 
in  Cicero,  it  is  one  of  the  worst  of  Joe  Miller.  It  is  the  say- 
ing of  a  knavish  servant,  '^  that  nothing  was  shut  up  from  him 
in  his  master's  house". — '^  Solum  esse,  cui  domi  nihil  sit  nee 
obsignatum,  nee  occlusum:  Quod  idem,"  adds  Cicero,  ''in 
bono  servo  dici  solct,  sed  hoc  iisdem  etiam  verbis." 

Unfortunately  for  Nsevius,  he  did  not  always  confine  him- 
self in  his  comedies  to  such  inoffensive  jests.  The  dramas  of 
Magna  Grsecia  and  Sicily,  especially  those  of  Epicharmus, 
were  the  prototypes  of  the  older  Greek  comedy ;  and  accord- 
ingly the  most  ancient  ^Latin  plays,  particularly  those  of 
NsviuSf  which  were  formed  on  the  same  school,  though  there 
be  no  evidence  that  they  ridiculed  political  events,  partook  of 
the  personal  satire  and  invective  which  pervaded  the  produc- 
tions of  Aristoplmnes.  If,  as  is  related,  the  comedies  of 
Naevius  were  directed  against  the  vices  and  corporal  defects 
of  the  Consuls  and  Senators  of  Rome,  he  must  have  been  the 
most  original  of  the  Latin  comic  poets,  and  infinitely  more  so 
than  Plautus  or  Terence ;  since  although  he  may  have  parodied 
or  copied  the  dramatic  fables  of  the  ancient  Greek  or  Sicilian 
comedies,  the  spirit  and  colouring  of  the  particular  scenes 
must  have  been  his  own.  The  elder  Scipio  was  one  of  the 
chief  objects  of  his  satiric  representations,  and  the  poetic 
severity  with  which  Aristophanes  persecuted  Socrates  or  Eu- 
ripides, was  hardly  more  indecent  and  misdirected  than  the 
sarcasms  of  Naevius  against  the  greatest  captain,  the  most 
accomplished  scholar,  and  the  most  virtuous  citizen  of  his  age. 

•  Tuseul.  Dispta.  Lib.  IV.  c.  81. 

^  «* My  spirits,  sire,  arc  raised, 

Thus  to  be  praised  by  one  the  worid  has  praised." 


GO  NiEVIUS. 

Some  lines  are  Btill  extant,  in  which  he  lampooned  Scipio  on 
account  of  a  youthful  amour,  in  which  he  had  been  detected 
by  his  father — 

«  Edam  qui  res  muf^Bas  manu  sepe  gemt  j^oriose, 
Cujus  facta  viva  nunc  vigent,  qui  apud  gentes  solus 
Prestat,  eum  suus  pater,  cum  palUo  uno,  ab  amidL  abduzit.'* 

The  conqueror  of  Hannibal  treated  these  libels  with  the 
,  same  indifference  with  which  Caesar  afterwards  regarded  the 
lines  of  Catullus.  Nsevius,  however,  did  not  long  escape  with 
impunity.  Rome  was  a  very  different  sort  of  republic  from 
Athens :  It  was  rather  an  aristocracy  than  a  democracy,  and 
its  patricians  were  not  always  disposed  to  tolerate  the  taunts 
and  insults  which  the  chiefs  of  the  Greek  democrary  were 
obliged  to  endure.  Nsevius  had  said  in  one  of  his  verses,  that 
the  patrician  family  of  the  Metelli  had  frequently  obtained  the 
Consulship  before  the  age  permitted  by  law,  and  he  insinuated 
that  they  had  been  promoted  to  this  dignity,  not  in  conse- 
quence of  their  virtues,  but  the  cruelty  of  the  Roman  fate  : 

**  Fato  Metelli  Rome  fiunt  Consules.*' 

With  the  assistance  of  the  other  patricians,  the  Metelli  re- 
torted his  sarcasms  in  a  Saturnian  stanza,  not  unlike  the 
measure  of  some  of  our  old  ballads,  in  which  they  threatened 
to  play  the  devil  with  their  witty  persecutor — 

«*  Et  NjBvio  Poets, 
Cum  sxpe  Isderentur,    . 
Dabunt  malum  Metelli, 
Dabunt  malum  MetclJi, 
Dabunt  malum  Metelli." 

The  Metelli,  however,  did  not  confine  their  vengeance  to  this 
ingenious  and  spirited  satire,  in  the  composition  of  which,  it 
may  be  presumed  that  the  whole  Roman  Senate  was  engaged. 
On  account  of  the  unceasing  abuse  and  reproaches  which  he 
had  uttered  against  them,  and  other  chief  men  of  the  city,  he 
was  thrown  into  prison,  where  he  wrote  his  comedies,  the 
Hariolua  and  Leontes,  These  plays  being  in  some  measure 
intended  as  a  recantation  of  his  former  invectives,  he  was 
liberated  by  the  tribunes  of  the  people*.  He  soon,  however, 
relapsed  into  his  former  courses,  and  contihued  to  persecute 
the  nobility  in  his  dramas  and  satires  with  such  implacable 
dislike,  that  he  was  at  length  driven  from  Rome  by  their  in- 

*  Au.  Gellius.  Lib.  III.  c.  3.    Vossius,  De  Historicis  Latinis,  Lib.  L  c.  2. 


NiEVIUS.  61 

fluence,  and  having  retired  to  Utica*,  he  died  there,  in  the 
year  550,  according  to  Cicerof ;  but  Varro  fixes  his  death 
somewhat  later.  Before  leaving  Rome,  he  had  composed  the 
following  epitaph  on  himself,  which  Gellius' remarks  is  full  of 
Campanian  arrogance ;  though  the  import  of  it,  he  adds,  might 
be  allowed  to  be  true,  had  it  been  written  by  another^ ; 

"  Mortales  immortales  flere  si  fbret  fas, 
Flerent  divae  Camoeoae  Nxvium  poetam ; 
Itaque  postquam  est'OrciDO  traditus  th^satiro, 
ObUtei  sunt  Romae  loquier  Latina  lmgua§." 

Besides  his  comedies  and  the  above  epitaph,  Naevius  was 
also  author  of  the  Cyprian  Iliad,  a  translation  from  a  Greek 
poem,  called  the  Cyrian  Epic.  Aristotle,  in  the  33d  chapter 
of  his  Poetics,  mentions  the  original  work,  (ra  xwrjia,)  which, 
he  says,  had  furnished  many  subjects  for  the  drama.  Some 
writers,  particularly  Pindar,  have  attributed  this  Greek  poem 
to  Homer ;  and  there  was  long  an  idle  story  current,  that  he 
had  given  it  as  a  portion  to  his  daughter  Arsephone.  Hero- 
dotus, in  his  second  Book,  concludes,  after  some  critical  dis- 
cussion, that  it  was  not  written  by  Homer,  but  that  it  was 
doubtless  the  work  of  a  contemporary  poet,  or  one  who  lived 
shortly  after  him.  Heyne  thinks  it  most  probable,  that  it  was 
by  a  poet  called  Stasinus,  a  native  of  the  island  of  Cyprus, 
and  that  it  received  its  name  from  the  country  of  its  author ||. 
Whoever  may  have  written  this  Cyprian  Epic,  it  contained 
twelve  books,  and  was  probably  a  work  of  amorous  and 
romantic  fiction.  It  commenced  with  the  nuptials  of  Thetis 
and  Peleus — ^it  related  the  contention  of  the  three  goddesses 
on  Mount  Ida — ^the  fables  concerning  Palamedes — the  story  of 
the  daughters  of  Anius — and  the  love  adventures  of  the  Phry- 
gian fair  during  the  early  period  of  the  siege  of  Troy — and  it 
terminated  with  the  council  of  the  gods,  at  which  it  was  re- 
solved that  Achilles  should  be  withdrawn  from  the  war,  by 
sowing  dissension  between  him  and  AtrideslT. 

*  Hicronym.  Ckronicwn  Eusebianum,  p.S7,  ut  supra, 
t  Cicero,  Brutus,  c.  15.  X  ^"'  ^liiu8»  Lib.  I.  c.  24. 

§  "  Ul^Jeflt  immortals  mortals  might  bemoan, 
Each  heavenly  Muse  would  Nevius'  loss  deplore : 
Soon  as  his  spirit  to  the  shades  had  flown, 
In  Rome  the  Roman  tongue  was  heard  no  more." 
It  Heyne,  Exeurt.  1.  ad  Lib.  II.  JSSneid. 

T  Id.  ad  ^neid.  The  Cyprian  Iliad  had  long  been  almost  universally  ascribed 
to  N^evius,  and  lines  were  quoted  from  it  as  his  by  all  the  old  grammarians.,  Se- 
veral modem  German  critics,  however,  think  tliat  it  was  the  work  of  Laevius,  a  poet 
who  lived  some  time  after  Nacvius,  since  the  lines  preserved  from  the  Cyprian  Iliad 
are  hexameters, — a  measure  not  elsewhere  used  by  Neviu<;,  nor  introduced  into 
Italy,  according  to  their  supposition,  before  the  time  of  Ennius.  Osannus,  AnO' 
leeta  Orilica,  p.  36.  Hennan,  Elemenia  Doctrince  Metrical  p.  210.  Ed.  Glasg. 
1817. 


62  NiEVIUS. 

A  metrical  chronicle,  which  chiefly  related  the  events  of 
the  first  Punic  war,  was  another,  and  probably  the  la^^t  work 
of  Naevius,  since  Cicero  says,  that  in  writing  it  he  filled  up 
the  leisure  of  his  latter  days  with  wonderful  complacency  and 
satisfaction*.  It  was  originally  undivided  ;  but,  after  his 
death,  was  separated  into  seven  booksf . — Although  the  first 
Funic  war  was  the  principal  subject,  as  appears  from  its  an- 
nouncement, 


"  Qui  temi  Latiai  hemooes  tuserant 
Vires  Inuidesque  Poinicas  fabor;' 


.»> 


yet  it  also  afforded  a  rapid  sketch  of  the  preceding  incidents 
of  Roman  history.  It  commenced  with  the  flight  of  iEneas 
from  Carthage,  in  a  ship  built  by  Mercuryj; ;  and  the  early 
wars  of  the  Romans  were  detailed  in  the  first  and  second 
books.  To  judge  by  the  fragments  which  remain,  the  whole 
work  appears  to  have  been  full  of  mythological  machinery. 
Macrobius  informs  us,  that  some  lines  of  this  production 
described  the  Romans  tost  by  a  tempest,  and  represented 
Venus  complaining  of  the  hardships  which  they  suffered  to 
Jupiter,  who  cons<Mes  her  by  a  prospect  of  their  future  glory 
— a  passage  which  probably  suggested  those  verses  in  the  first 
book  of  the  iEneid,  where  Venus,  in  like  manner,  complains 
to  Jupiter  of  the  danger  experienced  by  her  son  in  a  storm, 
and  the  god  consoles  her  by  assurances  of  his  ultimate  pros- 
perity^. Cicero  mentions,  that  Ennius,  too,  though  he  classes 
Ncevius  among  the  fauns  and  rustic  bards,  had  borrowed,  or, 
if  he  refused  to  acknowledge  his  obligations,  had  pilfered, 
many  ornaments  from  his  predecessor ||.  In  the  same  passage, 
Cicero,  while  he  admits  that  Ennius  was  the  more  elegant  and 
correct  writer,  bears  testimony  to  the  merit  of  the  older  bard, 
and  declares,  that  the  Punic  war  of  this  antiquated  poet  afford- 
ed him  a  pleasure  as  exquisite  as  the  finest  statue  that  was 
ever  formed  by  Myron.  To  judse,  however,  from  the  lines 
which  remain,  though  in  general  too  much  broken  to  enable 
us  even  to  divine  their  meaning,  the  style  of  Nsevius  in  this 

*  De  Seruetuie,  c.  14.  f  Suetonius,  De  Ilhut.  Grcammai. 

t  Serviuf ,  M  JBneid,    Lib.  1. 

§  SatumaHa,  Lib.  VL  c.  2.  Ed.  Lugduni,  1560.  I  am  anxious  to  take  this  o|>- 
portunity  of  remaikiDg,  that  the  books  and  chapters  of  the  Saturnalia  of  Macrobius 
are  differently  divided  in  different  editions.  The  same  observation  applies  to  nuuiy 
x>f  the  books  most  frequently  referred  to  in  the  course  of  this  work,  as  P1iny*6  Na- 
tural History,  Aulus  Gellius,  and  Cicero.  This  difference  in  the  division  of  chap- 
ters, I  fear,  has  led  to  a  suspicion  with  regard  to  the  accuracy  of  a  few  of  my 
references,  which,  however,  have  been  uniformly  verified  on  some  edition  or  other^ 
thou|^  I  cannot  pretend  that  Ihava  always  had  access  to  the  best. 

II  Brutus,  c.  19. 


NiEVIUS.  63 

woA  was  more  rugged  and  remote  froiQ  modem  Latin  than 
that  of  his  own  plays  and  satires,  or  the  dramas  of  Livius 
Andronicus. 

The  whole,  too,  is  written  in  the  rough,  unmodulated,  Sa* 
tumian  verse — a  sort  of  irregular  iambics,  said  to  have  been 
originally  employed  by  Faunus  and  the  prophets,  who  deliver- 
ed  their  oracles  in  this  measure.  To  such  rude  and  unpo- 
lished verses  Ennius  alludes  in  a  fragment  of  his  Annals, 
while  explaining  his  reasons  for  not  treating  of  the  first  Punic 
war — 


*'  ScripseFe  alii  rem 


Versitms,  quos  olim  Faunl,  vate^que  canebant ; 
Cum  Deque  MMsanmi  scopuloft  quisquam  supenumt, 
Nee  dicti  atudioBUB  erat." 

As  this  was  the  most  ancient  species  of  measure  employed 
in  Roman  poetry,  as  it  was  universally  used  before  the  meloily 
of  Greek  verse  was  poured  on  the  Roman  ear,  and  as,  from 
ancient  practice,  the  same  strain  continued  to  be  repeated  till 
the  age  of  Ennius,  by  whom  the  heroic  measure  was  intro- 
duced, it  would  not  be  suitable  to  omit  some  notice  of  its 
origin  and  structure  in  an  account  of  Romam  literature  and 
poetry. 

Several  writers  have  supposed  that  the  Saturnian  measure 
was  borrowed  by  the  Romans  from  the  Greeks^,  having  been 
used  by  Euripides,  and  particularly  by  Archilochus;  but 
•thers  have  believed  that  it  was  an  invention  of  the  ancient 
Italiansf .  It  was  first  employed  in  the  Carmen  Saliare,  songf 
of  triumph,  supplications  to  the  gods,  or  monumental  inscrip- 
tions, and  was  afterwards,  as  we  have  seen,  adopted  in  thi 
works  of  Livius  Andronicus  and  Nsevius.  In  consequence  df 
the  firagments  which  remain  of  the  Saturnian  verses  being  sf 
short  and  corrupted,  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  fix  their  re- 
gular measure,  or  reduce  them  to  one  standard  of  versifica- 
tion. Herman  seems  to  consider  a  Saturnian  line  as  having 
regularly  consisted  of  two  iambuses,  an  amphibrachys,  •  aid 
three  trochaei 


A  dactyl,  however,  was  occasionally  admitted  into  the  place 
of  the  first  or  second  trochae,  and  a  spondee  was  not  unfie- 
qaently  introduced  indiscriminately.    It  also  appears  that  a 

*  FofftiBtttiaoiw.    Edit.    Putsch,  p.  2679.    Bentley,  DUaert.  on  PhaJaruu  p. 
16S.  Hawkins,  i&uriitry  into  the  JVaiure  of  Latin  Poetry^  p.  452.  Ed.  Lond.  1$17. 
t  Merala,  Ed.  Emiii  Frmgm.  p.  88.    HeimiB,  Elementm  Doet.  Met  p.  395. 


64  ENNIUS. 

Saturnian  line  was  sometimes  divided  into  two— the  first  line 
consisting  of  the  two  iambuses  and  amphibrachys,  and  the 
second  of  the  trochaes,  whence  the  Saturnian  verse  has  been 
sometimes  called  iambic,  and  at  others  trochaic. 

The  Hexameter  verse,  which  had  been  invented  by  the 
Greeks,  was  first  introduced  into  Latium,  or  at  least,  was  first 
employed  in  a  work  of  any  extent,  by 


ENNIUS, 


-"  Qui  primus  amceno 


Detulit  ex  llcUcone  perenni  fronde  coronam. 
Per  gentes  Italas  hoininum  quae  dara  ciueret." 

This  poet,  who  has  generally  received  the  glorious  appellation 
of, the  Father  of  Roman  Song,  was  a  native  of  Rudiae,  a  town 
in  Calabria,  and  lived  from  the  year  of  Rome  516  to  685*.  In 
his  early  youth  he  went  to  Sardinia;  and,  if  Silius  Italicus 
may  be  believed,  he  served  in  the  Calabrian  levies,  which,  in 
the  year  638,  followed  Titus  Manlius  to  the  war  which  he 
waged  in  that  island  against  the  favourers  of  the  Carthaginian 
causef .  After  the  termination  of  the  campaign,  he  continued 
to  live  for  twelve  years  in  Sardinia];.  He  was  at  lengtli 
brought  to  Rome  by  Cato,  the  Censorj  who,  in  550,  visited 
Sardinia,  on  returning  as  questor  from  Africa^.  At  Rome  he 
fixed  his  residence  on  the  Aventine  hill,  where  he  lived  in  a 
irery  frugal  manner,  having  only  a  single  servant  maid  as  an 
ittendant||.  He  instructed,  however,  the  Patrician  youth  in 
jrreek,  and  acquired  the  friendship  of  many  of  the  most  illustri- 
ous men  in  the  state.  Being  distinguished  (like  ^schylus,  the 
jreat  father  of  Grecian  tragedy)  in  arms  as  well  as  letters,  he 
followed  M.  Fulvius  Nobilior  during  his  expedition  to  iEtolia 
h  664ir;  and  in  669  he  obtained  the  freedom  of  the  city, 
iirough  the  favour  of  Quintus  Fulvius  Nobilior,  the  son  of  his 
farmer  patron,  Marcus*f .  He  was  also  protected  by  the  elder 
Scipio  Africanus,  whom  he  is  said  to  have  accompanied  in  all 
his  campaigns : 

*  Cicero,  BnUus^  c.  18.    Id.  De  Senect,  c.  5.  f  SU.  Ital.  Lib.  XII. 

X  Aurelius  Victor  says  he  taught  Cato  Greek  in  Sardinia,  ;In  praeturi  Sardiniam 
3U>egit,  ubi  ab  Ennio  Graecis  literis  institutus ;)  but  this  is  inconsistent  with  what 
is  -elated  by  Cicero,  that  Cato  did  not  acquire  Greek  till  old  age.  {De  Senectute, 
c.  3.) 

i  Cornelius  Nepos,  In  Vita  Catonis, 

I  Hieron.  Chron*  Eu$eb.  p.  87. 

1  Cicero,  Pro  Jtrehiat  c.  10.     Tusc.  JH$put.   Lib.  I.  c.  2. 

^t  Cicero,  BrtUu$,  c.  20. 


ENNIUS.  65 

"  Herebat  doctus  latert,  casbuque  iolebat 
Onmibufl  in  medias  Ennius  ire  tubas*.'* 

It  is  difficult,  however,  to  see  in  what  expeditions  he  could 
have  attended  this  renowned  general.  His  Spanish  and  Afri- 
c«ui  wars  were  concluded  before  Ennius  was  brought  from  Sar- 
dinia to  Rome;  and  the  campaign  against  Antiochus  was  com- 
menced and  terminated  while  he  was  serving  under  Fulvius 
N'obilior  in  iEtoliaf .  In  his  old  age  he  obtained  the  friend- 
ship of  Scipio  Nasica;  and  the  degree  of  intimacy  subsisting 
between  them  has  been  characterised  by  the  well-known  anec- 
dote of  their  successively  feigning  to  be  from  home|.  He  is 
said  to  have  been  intemperate  in  drinking^,  which  brought 
on  the  disease  called  Morbus  Articularis^  a  disorder  resemb- 
ling the  gout,  of  which  he  died  at  the  age  of  seventy,  just 
after  he  had  exhibited  his  tragedy  of  Thyestes: 


"  Emuus  ipse  pater  dum  pocida  dccat  iniquaf 
Hoc  vitio  teles  fiurtur  meniisse  dploresl^.'* 


The  evils,  however,  of  old  age  and  indigence  were  supported 
by  him,  as  we  learn  from  Cicero,  with  such  patience,  and  even 
cheerfulness,  that  one  would  almost  have  imagined  he  derived 
satisfaction  from  circumstances  which  are  usually  regarded, 
as  being,  of  all  others,  the  most  dispiriting  and  oppressivelT. 
The  honours  due  to  his  character  and  talents  were,  as  is  fre* 
quently  the  case,  reserved  till  after  his  death,  when  a  bust  of 
him  was  placed  in  the  family  tomb  of  the  Scipios^f ,  who,  till 
the  time  of  Sylla,  continued  the  practice  of  burying,  instead 
of  burning,  Uieir  dead.  In  the  days  of  Livy,  the  bust  still 
remained  near  that  sepulchre,  beyond  the  Porta  Capena^ 
along  with  the  statues  of  Africanus  and  Scipio  Asiaticus.f  f 
The  tomb  was  discovered  in  1780,  on  a  farm  situated  between 
the  Via  Appia  and  Via  Latina.  The  slabs,  which  have  been 
since  removed  to  the  Vatican,  bear  several  inscriptions,  com- 
memorating different  persons  of  the  Scipian  family.  Neither 
statues,  nor  any  other  memorial,  then  existed  of  Africanus 

*  Claiidiaii,  de  Laud.  SHUehonis,  Lib.  III.  Pnef. 

t  MoBer  thinks  it  was  in  Sardinia  he  served  under  Africanus.  Eirdeitung  mu 
KaUmu  LatemUehen  SchriftBteller,  Tom.  I.  p.  378.  Ed.  Dresden,  1747—61. 

i  Cicero,  De  Orat.  Lib.  H.  c.  68. 

i  Hoiat.  EpUt.  Lib.  I.  Ep.  19.  v.  7. 

(I  Ser.  Sammonicus,  de  Medicina,  c.  87. 

Y  Annoe  septuaginta  natus,  ita  ferebat  duo»  qua  maxima  putantur  onera,  pauper- 
tatem  et  senectutem,  ut  iis  psene  delectari  videretur.    De  Seneetute,  c.  5. 

*t  Cicero,  two  Arekia,  c.  9.  Valeiius  Maximus,  Lib.  VI 11.  c;  15.  §  1. 

tt  Lib.  IC^VIII.  c.  56. 

Vol.  I.— I 


6o       •      •         '  ENNIUS. 

himself,  or  of  Asiaticus* ;  but  a  laurelled  bust  of  Pepperino 
stone,  which  was  found  in  this  tomb,  and  which  now  stands 
on  the  Sarcophagus  of  Scipio  Barbatus  in  the  Vatican,  is  sup- 
posed to  be  that  of  Enniusf .  There  is  also  still  extant  an 
epitaph  on  this  poet,  reported  to  have  been  written  by  him- 
self|,  stongly  characteristic  of  that  overweening  conceit  and 
that  high  estimation  of  his  own  talents,  which  are  said  to  have 
formed  the  chief  blemish  of  his  character : — 

"  Aipicite,  0  cives,  senis  EbuI  iina{;;iiii8  (bnnam : 
Hie  vestram  panxit  maxuma  facta  patrum. 
Nemo  me  lacrumis  decoret,  ncc  funera  fletu 
Faxit — cur  ?  volito  vivus  per  ora  virum§." 

The  lines  formerly  quoted  ||,  which  were  written  by  Na5vius 
for  his  tomb-stone,  express  as  high  a  sense  of  his  own  poetical 
merits  as  the  above  verses ;  but  there  is  in  them  something 
plaintive  and  melancholy,  quite  different  from  the  triumphant 
exultation  in  the  epitaph  of  Ennius. 

To  judge  by  the  fragments  of  his  works  which  remain, 
Ennius  greatly  surpassed  his  predecessors,  not  only  in  poetical 
genius,  but  in  the  art  of  versification.  By  his  time,  indeed, 
the  best  models  of  Greek  composition  had  begun  to  be  studied 
at  R^me.  Ennius  particularly  professed  to  have  imitated 
Homer,  and  tried  to  persuade  his  countrymen  that  the  soul 
and  genius  of  that  great  poet  had  revived  in  him,  through  the 
medium  of  a  peacock,  according  to  the  process  of  Pythago- 
rean transmigration.  It  is  to  this  fantastic  genealogy  that 
Persius  has  alluded  in  his  6th  satire : — 

"  Cor  jubet  hoc  Enni,  postquam  destertuit  ease 
Maeonides  Qutntus,  pavone  ex  Pytha^oreo." 

From  the  following  lines  of  Lucretius  it  would  appear,  that 
Ennius. somewhere  in  his  works  had  feigned  that  the  shade  of 
Homer  appeared  to  him,  and  explained  to  him  the  nature  and 
laws  of  the  universe  : — 

"  Etsi  prasterea  tamen  esse  Achenisia  Templa 

Ennius  aetemis  exponit  versibus  edens ; 

Quo  neque  permanent  animx,  ncque  corpora  nostra. 


*  Banlces,  Civil  History  of  Homey  Vol.  I.  p.  357.    Hobhouse,  Hhutrations  of 
Childe  Harold,  p.  167. 
t  Rome  in  the  \9th  Century,  Letter  36. 
X  Cicero,  Tiiscul.  Disput.  Lib.  L  c.  15. 
§  «  Romans,  the  form  of  Ennius  here  behold. 

Who  sunpyour  fathers*  matchless  deeds  of  old. 

My  fate  let  no  lament  or  tear  deplore, 

I  Uve  in  fame,  although  I  breathe  no  more/' 
li  See  above,  p.  61. 


ENNIUS.  rr. 


Sed  quedam  simulacra  oiodis  pallentia  miris  : 
Undo,  sibi  ezortam,  semper  fiorentis  Homeri 
Commemorat  spcciem,  lacruma^  efiundere  j^alsaa 
Ccepisse,  et  renim  naturam  expandere  dictis.' 


»» 


Accordingly,  we  find  in  the  fragments  of  Ennius  many  imi- 
tations of  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey.  It  is,  however,  the  Greek 
tragic  writers  whom  Ennius  has  chiefly  imitated ;  and  indeed 
it  appears  from  the  fragments  which  remain,  that  all  his  plays 
were  rather  translations  from  the  dramas  of  Sophocles  and 
Euripides,  on  the  same  subjects  which  he  has  chosen,  than 
original  tragedies.  They  are  founded  on  the  old  topics  of 
Priam  and  Paris,  Hector  and  Hecuba;  and  truly  Ennius,  as 
well  as  most  other  Latin  tragedians,  seems  to  have  anticipated 
Horace's  maxim — ' 

*<  Rectiufl  niacum  carmen  deducts  in  actus, 
Qnam  si  proferres  ignota  indictaque  primus." 

But  although  it  be  quite  clear  that  all  the  plays  of  Ennius 
were  translated,  or  closely  imitated,  from  the  Greek,  there  is 
occasionally  some  difficulty  in  fixing  on  the  drama  which  was 
followed,  and  also  in  ascertaining  whether  there  be  any  origi- 
nal passage  whatever  in  the  Latin  imitation.     This  difficulty 
arises  from  the  practice  adopted  by  the  Greek  dramatists,  of 
new  modelling  their  tragedies.    Euripides,  in  particular,  some- 
times altered  his  plays  afler  their  first  representation,  in  order 
to  accommodate  them  to  the  circumstances  of  the  times,  and 
to  obviate  the  sarcastic  criticisms  of  Aristophanes,  who  had 
frequently  exposed  whole   scenes   to   ridicule.     With   such 
views,  considerable  changes  were  made  on  Iphigenia  inAulia^ 
the  Uippolytus,  and  Medea.     Euripides  is  the  author  from 
whom  Ennius  has  chiefly  borrowed  the  fables  of  his  tragedies ; 
and  when  Sophocles  and  Euripides  have  treated  the  same 
subject,  the  latter  poet  has  been  uniformly  preferred.     Not 
one  of  the  dramas  of  Ennius  has  been  imitated  from  iEschylus. 
The   reason  of  this   is   sufficiently  obvious:   The   plays   of 
iEschylus  have  little  involution  of  plot,  and  are  rather  what 
we  should  now  term  dramatic  sketches,  than  tragedies.     The 
plots  of  Sophocles  are  more  complex  than  those  of  iEschylus ; 
but  the  tragedies  of  Euripides  are  the  most  involved  of  all. 
Now,  it  may  be  presumed,  that  a  tragedy  crowded  with  ac- 
tion, and  filled  with  the  bustle  of  a  complicated  fable,  was 
best  adapted  to  the  taste  of  the  Romans,  because  we  know 
that  this  was  their  taste  in  comedy.     PlaUtus  combined  two 
Greek  comedies  to  form  one  Latin ;  and  the  representation  of 
the  Hecyra  of  Terence,  the  only  Latin  play  formed  on  the 


68  ENNIUS. 

simple  Greek  model,  was  repeatedly  abandoned  by  the  people 
before  it  was  concluded,  for  the  sake  of  amusements  of  more 
tumult  and  excitement. 

OfAchiUeaj  which,  in  alphabetical  order,  is  the  first  of  the 
plays  of  Ennius,  there  are  just  extant  seven  lines,  which  have 
been  preserved  by  Nonius  and  Festus;  and  from  such  remains 
it  is  impossible  to  know  what  part  of  the  life  or  actions  of  the 
Grecian  hero  Ennius  had  selected  as  the  subject  of  his  plot. 
There  were  many  Greek  tragedies  on  the  story  of  Achilles,  of 
which,  one  by  Aristarchus  of  Tegea,  was  the  most  celebrated, 
and  is  supposed  to  have  been  that  from  which  Ennius  copied. 

•^jax.  Sophocles  was  author  of  two  tragedies  founded  on 
the  events  of  the  life  of  Ajax; — ^jax  FtageUifety  and  Ajax 
Locrensis.  The  first  turns  on  the  phrensy  with  which  the 
Grecian  hero  was  seized,  on  being  refused  the  arms  of  Achil- 
les, and  it  may  be  conjectured,  from  a  single  fragment,  appa- 
rently at  the  very  close  of  the  tragedy  by  Ennius,  and  which 
describes  the  attendants  raising  the  body  of  Ajax,  streaming 
with  blood,  that  this  was  the  piece  translated  by  the  Roman 
poet. 

*  Alcmaon.  This  play,  of  which  the  fable  closely  resembles 
the  story  of  Orestes,  has  by  some  been  attributed  to  the  Latin 
poet  Quintus  Catulus.  The  transports  of  Alcmseon  had  been 
frequently  exhibited  on  the  Greek  stage"*^.  The  drama  of 
Ennius  was  taken  from  a  tragedy  of  Euripides,  which  is  now 
lost,  but  its  subject  is  well  known  from  the  Thebaid  of  Statius. 
The  soothsayer  Amphiaraus,  foreseeing  that  he  would  perish 
at  the  siege  of  Thebes,  concealed  himself  from  the  crimps  of 
those  days ;  but  his  wife,  Eryphile,  who  alone  knew  the  place 
of  his  retreat,  being  bribed  by  the  gift  of  a  mantle  and  neck- 
lace, revealed  the  secret  to  one  of  the  "  Seven  before  Thebes," 
who  compelled  him  to  share  in  the  expedition.  Before  death, 
the  prophet  enjoined  his  son,  Alcmseon,  to  avenge  him  on  his 
faithless  wife.  The  youth,  in  compliance  with  this  pious  com- 
mand, slew  his  mother,  and  was  afterwards  tormented  by  the 
Furies,  who  would  only  be  appeased  by  a  gift  of  the  whole 
paraphernalia  of  Eryphile,  which  were  accordingly  hung  up  in 
their  temple.  As  soon  as  their  persecution  ceased,  he  married 
the  fair  Calirrhoe,  daughter  of  Achelous,  and  precipitately 
judging  that  the  consecrated  necklace  wotfld  be  better  be- 
stowed on  his  beautiful  bride  than  on  the  beldames  by  whom 
he  had  so  long  been  haunted,  he  contrived,  on  false  pretences, 
to  purloin  it  from  the  place  where  it  was  deposited;  but  the 

*  Alcmson  oUm  traeiconun  pulpita  iassavit  cum  furore  suo.  Barth.  in  SlaHum. 
Tom.U. 


ENNIUS.    *  69 

Furies  were  not  to  be  so  choused  out  of  their  perquisites,  and 
in  consequence  of  his  rash  preference,  Alcmaeon  was  com- 
pelled to  suffer  a  renewed  phrensy,  and  to  undergo  a  fresh 
course  of  expiatory  ceremonies'*^. 

Alexander  IParU).  The  plot  of  this  play  hinges  on  the 
destruction  oi  Troy.  The  passages  which  remain  are  a  heaven- 
ly admonition  to  Priam  on  the  crimes  of  his  son,  a  lamenta- 
tion for  the  death  of  Hector,  and  a  prediction  of  Cassandra 
concerning  the  wooden  horse.  Planck,  in  his  recent  edition 
of  the  Medea  of  Ennius,  while  he  does  not  deny  that  our  poet 
may  have  written  a  tragedy  with  the  title  of  Alexander^  is  of 
opinion  that  the  fragments  quoted  as  from  this  play  in  the  edi- 
tions of  Ennius  belong  properly  to  his  Alexandra  (C<usandra)j 
to  which  subject  they  are  perfectly  applicable.  This  German 
critic  has  also  collected  a  good  many  fragments  belonging  to 
the  Cassandra^  which  h^  been  omitted  in  Columna  and 
Merula's  editions  of  Ennius.  The  longest  of  these  passages, 
delivered  by  Cassandra  in  the  style  of  a  prophecy,  seems  to 
refer  to  events  previous  to  the  Trojan  war — ^the  judgment  of 
Paris,  and  arrival  of  Helen  from  Sparta. 

jlndroniache.  It  is  uncertain  from  what  Greek  writer  this 
tragedy  has  been  translated.  It  seems  to  be  founded  on  the 
lamentable  story  of  Andromache,  who  fell,  with  other  Trojan 
captives,  to  the  share  of  Neoptolemus,  and  saw  her  only  son, 
Aslyanax,  torn  from  her  embraces,  to  be  precipitated  from  the 
summit  of  a  tower,  in  compliance  with  the  injunctions  of  an . 
oracle.  Among  the  fragments  of  this  play,  we  possess  one  of 
the  longest  passages  extant  of  the  works  of  Ennius,  containing 
a  pathetic  lamentation  of  Andromache  for  the  fall  and  confla- 
gration of  Troy,  with  a  comparison  between  its  smoking  niins 
and  former  splendour.  This  passage  Cicero  styles,  ^'  PrsBcla- 
rum  Carmen :" — "  Est  enim,"  he  adds,  ^'  et  rebus,  et  verbis,  et 
modis  lugubref ." 


"  Quid  pefam 

Prssidi  aut  ezsequar  ?  quo  nunc  aut  exilio  aut  fugA  freta  sim  ? 
Aice  et  urbe  orba  sum ;  quo  acddam  ?  quo  appUcem  ? 
Cui  nee  are  patrie  domi  stant ;  fracte  et  diftjecte  jacent ; 
Faoa  fbmmft  deflagrata ;  toBti  alti  stant  parietes. 

O  Pater,  O  Patria,  O  Priami  domus ; 

Septum  altisono  cardine  templum : 

Vidi  ego  te,  adstante  ope  barbarica, 

Tectis  caelatis,  laqueatis, 

Auro,  ebore  instructum  regifice. 


*  Those  who  wish  more  particulars  concerning  the  necklace  may  eonsult  Bayle, 
Alt.  CaUrrhoe, 
t  Tuseul.  JH$pui.  Ub,  III,  cA9. 


70  ENNIUS. 

Hec  omnia  vidi  inflammaii, 
Priamo  vi  vitam  evitari, 
Jo%'i8  anm  sanguine  turpari*." 

Andromache  Molottus  is  trBuslsted  from  the  Andromache  of 
Euripides,  and  is  so  called  from  Molottus,  the  son  of  Neopto- 
lemns  and  Andromache. 

Andromeda.  Livius  Andronicus  had  formerly  written  a 
Latin  play  on  the  well-known  story  of  Perseus  and  Andromeda, 
which  was  translated  from  Sophocles.  The  play  of  Ennius, 
however,  on  the  same  subject,  was  a  version  of  a  tragedy  of 
Euripides,  now  chiefly  known  from  the  ridicule  cast  on  it  in 
the  fifth  act  of  Aristophanes'  Feasts  of  Ceres,  That  Ennius^ 
drama  was  translated  from  Euripides,  is  sufficiently  manifest, 
from  a  comparison  of  its  fragments  with  the  passages  of  the 
Greek  Andromeda,  preserved  by  Stobaeus. 

Athamas.  There  is  only  one  short  fragment  of  this  play 
now  extant. 

Cresphonies.  Merope,  believing  that  her  son  Cresphontes 
had  been  slain  by  a  person  who  was  brought  before  her,  dis- 
covers, when  about  to  avenge  on  him  the  death  of  her  child, 
that  she  whom  she  had  mistaken  for  the  murderer  is  Cres- 
phontes himself. 

DtUarestes.  Of  this  play  there  is  only  one  line  remaining, 
and  of  course  it  is  almost  impossible  to  ascertain  from  what 
Greek  original  it  was  borrowed.  Even  this  single  verse  has 
by  several  critics  been  supposed  to  be  falsely  attributed  to 
Ennius,  and  to  belong,  in  fact,  to  the  Dulorestes  of  Pacuviusf . 

Erectheus.  There  is  just  enough  of  this  play  extant  to  have 
satisfied  Columna,  one  of  the'  editors  of  Ennius,  that  it  was 
taken  from  a  tragedy  of  the  same  name  by  Euripides.  As 
told  by  Hyginus,  the  fable  concerning  Erectheus,  King  of 
Attica,  was,  that  he  had  four  daughters,  who  all  pledged 
themselves  not  to  survive  the  death  of  any  one  of  their  number. 
Eumolpus,  son  of  Neptune,  being  slain  at  the  siege  of  Athens, 
his  father  required  that  one  of  the  daughters  of  Erectheus 
should  be  sacrificed  to  him  in  compensation.     This  having 

*  "  Where  shall  I  refuge  seek  or  aid  obtain  ? 
In  flight  or  exile  can  I  safety  gain  ? — 
Our  city  sacked— even  scorched  the  walls  of  stone. 
Our  fanes  consumed,  and  altars  all  o*crthrown. 
O  Father — country — Priam's  ruined  home  ; 
O  hallowed  temple  with  resounding  dome. 
And  vaulted  roof  with  fretted  gold  illumed — 
All  now,  alas !  these  eyes  h^ve  seen  consumed : 
Have  seen  the  foe  shed  royal  Priam's  ^lood, 
And  stain  Jove's  altar  with  the  crimson  flood." 
t  This  subject  is  fully  discussed  in  Eberhardt,  Zustand  der  Scfumen  H'la9tn- 
scficfien  bei  den-Jlomernj  p.  88.  Ed.  Altona,  1801. 


ENNIUS.  71 

been  accomplished,  her  sisters  slew  themselves  as  a  matter  of 
course,  smd  Erectheus  was  soon  afterwards  struck  by  Jupiter 
with  thunder,  at  the  solicitation  of  Neptune.  The  longest 
passage  preserved  from  this  tragedy  is  the  speech  of  Colopho* 
Ilia,  when  about  to  be  sacrificed  to  Neptune  by  her  father. 

Eumenides.  This  play,  translated  from  iEschylus,  exhibited 
the  phrensy  of  Orestes,  and  his  final  absolution  from  the  ven- 
geance of  the  Furies. 

Hedcfis  Lytris  vd  Lustra^  so  called  from  Xvoj,  aolvo,  turned 
on  the  redemption  fi-om  Achilles  by  Priam,  of  the  body  of 
Hector.  It  appears,  however,  from  the  fragments,  that  the 
combat  of  Hector,  and  the  brutal  treatment  of  his  corse  by 
Achilles,  had  been  represented  or  related  in  the  early  scenes 
of  the  piece. 

Hecuba.  This  is  a  free  translation  from  the  Greek  Hecuba^ 
perhaps  the  most  tragic  of  all  the  dramas  of  Euripides.  From 
the  work  of  Ennius,  there  is  still  extant  a  speech  by  the  shade 
of  Polydorus,  announcing  in  great  form  his  arrival  from  Ache- 
ron. This  soliloquy,  which  is  a  good  deal  expanded  from  the 
original  Greek,  always  produced  a  great  sensation  in  the  Ro- 
man theatre,  and  is  styled  by  Cicero,  Chrande  Carmen*. — 

**  Adsum,  atque  advenio  Acherante,  vix  via  alta,  atque  ardua. 
Per  speluncas  saxeii  structas  aspereis  pendendbus 
Maxumeis ;  ubi  rigida  constat  et  crassa  caligo  inferOm ; 
Unde  anime  excitantur  obscura  umbra,  aperto  ostio 
Alti  Achenintu,  ialso  Banguine  imagines  mortuorumt." 

A  speech  of  Hecuba,  on  seeing  the  dead  body  of  Polydorus, 
and  in  which  she  reproaches  the  Greeks  as  having  no  punish- 
ment for  the  murder  of  a  parent  or  a  guest,  seems  to  have  been 
added  by  Ennius  himself,  at  least  it  is  not  in  the  Greek  origi- 
nal of  Euripides.  On  the  whole,  indeed,  the  Hecuba  of  Ennius 
appears,  so  far  as  we  can  judge  from  the  fragments,  to  be  the 
least  servile  of  his  imitations.  In  Columna's  edition  of  Ennius, 
an  opportunity  is  afforded  by  corresponding  quotations  from 
the  Greek  Hecuba,  of  comparing  the  manner  in  which  the 
Latin  poet  has  varied,  amplified,  or  compressed  the  thoughts 
of  his  original.  In  Euripides,  Hecuba,  while  persuading 
Ulysses  to  intercede  for  Polixena,  says — 

•  TusctU.  Disjmt.  Lib.  I.  c.  16. 

t  '*  I  come — retraced  the  paths  profound  that  lead 

Through  nigged  caves,  from  mannons  of  the  dead: 

Mid  these  huge  caverns  Cold  and  Darkness  dweM 

And  Shades  pass  through  them  from  the  gates  ofHell — 

Whea  roused  from  rest,  by  hlood  of  victims  slain. 

The  Sorcerer  calls  them  forth  with  rites  obscene." 


72  ENNIUS. 

Ennius  imitates  this  as  follows: 

"  Hcc  tu,  etri  pervene  dicM,  &dle  Achivot  fle^eris ; 
Namque  opuleDti  cum  loquuntur  pariter  atque  ignobUe*, 
Eadem  dicta,  eademque  oratio  aqua  non  xque  valent." 


»« 


This  has  been  copied  by  Plautus,  and  from  him  by  Moliere  in 
his  Amphitrion — 

"  Tous  lea  discoun  sont  dei  sottises 
Partant  d'un  homme  sans  edaC ; 
Ce  seroient  paroles  exquimes. 
Si  c'etoit  un  j^iand  qui  parlit." 

The  last  link  in  this  chain  of  imitation,  is  Pope's  well-known 
lines — 

'<  What  woful  stuff  this  madrigal  would  be, 
In  some  starved  hackney  sonnetteer  or  me ! 
But  let  a  lord  once  own  the  happy  lines. 
How  the  wit  brightens,  how  the  style  refines !" 

» 

Iliona  &ive  Polydorua. — Priam,  during  the  siege  of  Troy, 
Had  entrusted  his  son  Polydorus  to  the  care  of  Polymnestor, 
King  of  Thrace,  who  was  married  to  Iliona,  daughter  of  Priam, 
and  slew  his  guest,  in  order  to  possess  himself  of  the  treasure 
which  had  been  sent  along  with  him.  The  only  passage  of 
the  play  which  remains,  is  one  in  which  the  shade  of  Polydorus 
calls  on  Hecuba  to  arise  and  bury  her  murdered  son. 

Iphigenia. — ^Ennius,  as  already  mentioned,  appears  invaria- 
bly to  have  translated  from  Euripides,  in  preference  to  Sopho- 
cles, when  the  same  subject  had  been  treated  by  both  these 
pdets.  Sophocles  bad  written  a  tragedy  on  the  topic  of  the 
well-known  Iphigenia  in  AvlUs  of  Euripides;  but  it  is  the  lat- 
ter piece  which  has  been  adopted  by  the  R6man  poet. 

Boeckius  has  shown,  in  a  learned  dissertation,  that  Euripides 
wrote  two  Iphigeniaa  in  Aulis*.  From  the  first,  which  has 
perished,  Aristophanes  parodied  the  verses  introduced  in  his 
Firogs ;  and  it  was  on  this  work  that  Ennius  formed  his  Latin 
Iphigenia.  The  Iphigenia  now  extant,  and  published  in  the 
editions  of  Euripides,  is  a  recension  of  the  original  drama, 
which  was  undertaken  on  account  of  the  ridicule  thrown  on 
it  by  Aristophanes,  and  was  not  acted  till  after  the  death  of 

*  Gr«Bcm  Tragadia  prindpum  JSuhyUy  4rc.  num  ta  qum  sufenuni  gemtme 
omnia  sunt.  Ed.  Hiedelberg,  1808. 


ENNIUS.  73 

its  author.  Boeckius,  indeed,  thinks,  that  it  was  written  by  the 
younger  Euripides,  the  nephew  of  the  more  celebrated  dra- 
matist; hence  some  of  the  lines  of  Ennius,  which,  on  compari- 
son with  the  Iphigenia  now  extant,  appear  to  us  original,  were 
probably  translated  from  the  first  written  Iphigenia.  Such, 
perhaps,  are  the  jingling  verses  concerning  the  disadvantages 
of  idleness,  which  are  supposed,  not  very  naturally,  to  be  sung 
while  weather-bound  in  Aulis,  by  the  Greek  soldiers,  who 
form  the  chorus  of  this  tragedy  instead  of  the  women  of  Chal- 
cis  in  the  play  of  Euripides : — 

"  Otio  qui  netcit  uti,  plus  DC^otl  habet, 

Quam  quiim  est  negotium  in  negotio ; 

Nam  cui  quod  agat  institutum  est,  in  illo  negotio 

Id  agit^;  stiidet  ibi,  mentem  atque  animum  delectat  saum. 

Otioso  ia  otio  animus  nescit  quid  sibi  velit. 

Hoc  idem  est ;  neque  domi  nunc  nos,  nee  militis  sumus: 

Imus  hue,  hinc  illuc ;  quum  illuc  ventom  est,  ire  illinc  lubet. 

Inceite  enat  animus——*." 

Medea. — ^This  play  is  imitated  from  the  Medea  of  Euripides. 
Since  the  time  of  Paulus  Manutiusf,  an  idea  has  prevailed 
that  Ennius  was  the  author  of  two  plays  on  the  subject  of 
Medea— one  entitled  Medea,  and  the  other  Medea  Exsul, 
both  imitated  from  Greek  originals  of  Euripides.  This  opinion 
was  formed  in  consequence  of  there  being  several  passages  of 
the  Medea  of  Eniiius,  to  which  corresponding  passages  cannot 
be  found  in  the  Medea  of  Euripides,  now  extant ;  and  it  was 
confirmed  by  the  grammarians  sometimes  quoting  the  play  by 
the  title  Medea,  and  at  others  by  that  of  Medea  Exsul.  Planck, 
however,  in  his  recent  edition  of  the  fragments  of  the  Latin 
tragedy,  conjectures  that  there  was  only  one  play,  and  that 
this  play  was  entitled  by  Ennius  the  Medea  Exsul,  which 
name  was  appropriate  to  the  subject ;  but  that  when  quoted 
by  the  critics  and  old  grammarians,  it  was  sometimes  cited, 
as  was  natural,  by  its  fiill  title,  at  others  simply  Medea.  The 
lines  in  the  Latin  play,  to  which  parallel  passages  cannot  be 
found  in  Euripides,  he  believes  to  be  of  Ennius'  own  inven- 
tion.    Osannus  thinks,  that  neither  the  opinion  of  Manutius, 

*  **  Who  Idiows  not  leisure  to  enjoy, 

Toib  more  than  those  whom  toils  employ ; 

For  they  who  toil  with  purposed  end, 

Ifid  all  their  labours  pleasure  blend — 

But  they  whose  time  no  labours  fill, 

Haye  in  dieir  minds  nor  wish  nor  will : 
.  *Tb  so  with  us,  called  far  from  home. 

Nor  yet  to  fields  of  battle  come-^ 

We  hither  haste,  then  thither  go. 

Our  minds  veer  round  as  breezes  blow." 
t  Comment  ad  Clc.  Ep.  ad  Pam,  \\\.e.    See  also  Scaliger,  Vosiius,  &c. 

Vol.  L— K 


■ 


74  ENNIUS. 

nor  of  Planck,  is  quite  accarate.  He  believes  that  Euripides 
wrote  a  Medea^  which  he  afterwards  revised  and  altered,  in 
order  to  obviate  the  satiric  criticisms  of  Aristophanes.  The 
Greek  Medea^  which  we  now  have,  he  supposes  to  be  com- 
pounded of  the  original  copy  and  the  recension, — die  ancient 
grammarians  having  interpolated  the  manuscripts.  Ennius, 
he  maintains,  employed  the  original  tragedy ;  and  hence  in 
the  Latin  play,  we  now  find  translations  of  lines  which  were 
omitted  both  in  the  recension  and  in  the  compound  tragedy, 
which  is  at  present  extant*. 

The  Medea  of  Ennius  was  a  popular  drama  at  Rome,  and 
was  considered  one  of  the  best  productions  of  its  author. 
Cicero  asks,  if  there  be  any  one  such  a  foe  to  the  Roman 
name,  as  to  reject  or  despise  the  Medea  of  Ennius.  From  the 
romantic  interest  of  the  subject,  Medea  was  the  heroine  of  not 
less  than  four  epic  poems ;  and  no  fable,  of  Greek  antiquity* 
was  more  frequently  dramatized  by  the  Latin  poets.  Attius, 
,  Varro,  Ovid,  and  Seneca,  successively  imitated  the  tragedy  of 
Ennius,  and  improved  on  their  model. 

Phanix, — ^There  were  two  persons  of  this  name  in  mytholo- 
gical story.  One  the  s<3n  of  Agenor,  and  brother  of  Cadmus, 
who  gave  name  to  Phoenicia;  the  other  the  preceptor  of 
Achilles,  who  accompanied  that  hero  to  the  Trojan  war.  The 
only  reason  for  supposing  that  the  tragedv  of  Ennius  related 
to  this  latter  person  is,  that  a  play  founded  on  some  part  of 
his  life  was  written  bv  Euripides,  from  whom  the  Roman  poet 
has  borrowed  so  much. 

Tdamon. — This  play,  of  which  no  Greek  original  is  known, 
seems  to  have  been  devoted  to  a  representation  of  the  misfor- 
tunes of  Telamon,*  particularly  the  concluding  period  of  his 
life,  in  which  he  heard  of  the  death  of  his  eldest  son  Ajax, 
and  the  exile  of  his  second  son  Teucer.  To  judge  from  the 
fragments  which  remain,  it  must  have  been  by  rar  the  finest 
drama  of  Ennius.  He  thus  happily  versifies  the  celebrated 
sentiment  of  Anaxagoras,  and  puts  it  into  the  mouth  of  Tela- 
mon,  when  he  hears  of  the  death  of  his  son — 

«( Ego  fjuom  eenui,  turn  moritmum  sdvi,  et  ei  rei  sustuli ; 
Pneterea  ad  Trojam  quom  misi  ad  defendendam  Qrcciam, 
Sdbam  nie  in  mor^enim  bellum,  non  in  epulas  mitteref*" 

Ennius  being  an  inhabitant  of  Magna  Chrada^  probably 
held  the  Tuscan  soothsayers  and  diviners  in  great  contempt. 

*  Osannufl,  Analecta  Cfiitieat  6. 5. 

t  **  I  reaPd  him,  subject  to  death's  equal  IawB« 

And  when  to  Troy  I  tent  him  in  our  cause,  • 

I  knew  t  VBtged  him  into  morttd  fight. 

And  not  to  feasts  or  banquets  of  delight." 


ENNIU8.  7o 

There  is  a  long  passage  cited  by  the  grammarians  as  from 
this  tragedy,  (but  which,  I  think,  must  rather  have  belonged 
to  his  satires,) /directed  against  that  learned  body,  and  calcu- 
lated to  give  them  considerable  oifence —  '    . 

**  Nod  habeo  deoique  naucl  Manam  augarem, 
Non  vicanos  haruspices,  Don  de  cireo  astrologos, 
Non  Isiacofl  conjectores,  Don  interiiretes  somniCbn : 
Non  enim  siibt  li,  aut  scientift,  aut  arte  divine! ; 
Sed  auperatitiosi  vates,  impudentesque  hariotei» 
Aut  inertea,  aut  insanei,  aut  quibua  egestas  imperat : 
Qid  sibi  semitam  non  sapiunt,  alterl  monstrant  viam ; 
Quibus  divitiaa  poUicentur  ab  iis  drachmam  ipaei  petunt : 
De  his  divitSis  libi  deducant drachmam;  reddant  cetera*." 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  wit  and  archness  in  the  two  conclu- 
ding lines,  and  the  whole  breathes  a  spirit  of  free-thinking, 
such  as  one  might  expect  from  the  translator  of  EuUemerus. 
In  another  passage,  indeed,  but  which^^  I  presume,  was  attri- 
buted to  an  impious  character,  or  one  writhing  under  the 
stroke  of  recent  calamity,  it  is  roundly  declared  that  the  gods 
take  DO  concern  in  human  affairs,  for  if  they  did,  the  good 
would  prosper,  and  the  wicked  suffer,  whereas  it  is  quite  the 
contrary : 

X  Ego  Deftm  geniis  esse  semper  dud,  et  dicam  coefitum ; 

8ed  eoe  oon  cunure  opinor,  quid  agat  humanum  eenus; 

Nam  n  curent,  bene  bonis  sit,  male  malis ;  quod  nunc  abestf." 

Telephus  is  probiably  taken  from  a  lost  play  of  Euripides, 
ridiculed  by  Aristophanes  in  his  ^charrienses,  from  a  scene  of 
which  it  would  seem  that  Telephus  had  appeared  on  the  stage 
in  tattered  garments.  The  passages  of  the  Latin  play  which 
remain,  exhibit  Telephus  as  an  exile  from  his  kingdom,  wan- 
dering about  in  ragged  habiliments.  The  lines  of  Horace,  in 
his  Art  of  Poetry,  (a  work  which  js  devoted  to  the  subject  of 
the  Roman  drama,)  are  probably  in  allusion  to  this  tragedy  : 

«  «  For  no  Marsiaa  augur  (whom  fools  view  with  awe,) 

Nor  diviner  nor 'star-gazer,  care  I  a  straw ; 

The  Egyptian  quack,  an  expounder  of  dreams. 

Is  ndther  in  sciefice  nor  art  what  he  seems ; 

Superstitioufl  and  shameless,  they  prowl  through  our  streets, 

Some  hungry,  some  crazy,  but  aU  of  them  cheats. 

ImpostOfsT  who  yaunt  that  to  others  they'll  show 

A  padi,  which  themselves  neither  travel  nor  know. 

Since  Uiey  promise  us  wealth,  if  we  pay  for  their  pains. 

Let  them  take  from  that  wealth,  and  bestow  what  remains." 
).  <*  Yes !  there  are  gods ;  butthey^  no  thought  bestow 

On  homAn  deeds-H>n  mortal  bhss  or  woe — 

Else  would  such  ills  our  wretched  race  assail  P 

Would  die  good  sufiar  ?-*would  the  bad  prevaU  ?" 


76  ENNIUS. 

*<  Telephuf  et  Peleus,  cum  pauper  et  exmil,  uterque 
Projicit  ampuUas  et  aesquipedaJu  verba.** 

Thyestes.-^^The  loose  and  familiar  numbers  in  which  the 
tragedy  of  Telephus  was  written,'  were  by  no  means  suitable  to 
the  atrocious  subject  of  the  Supper  of  Thyestes.  Ennius 
accordingly  has  been  censured  by  Cicero,  in  a  passage  of  his 
Orator  J  for  employing  them  in  this  drama.— ^^^  Similia  sunt 
quaadam  apud  nostros ;  velut  ilia  in  Thyeste, 

'  Quemnam  te  esse  dicam !  qui  tarda  in  senectute/ 

Et  quse  sequuntur :  quae,  nisi  cum  tibicen  accesserit,  orationi 
sunt  solutsB  simillima."  There  can  therefore  be  little  doubt 
that  the  passage  in  Horace's  Art  of  Poetry,  in  which  a  tragedy 
on  the  subject  of  Thyestes  is  blamed  as  flat  and  prosaic,  and 
hardly  rising  above  the  level  of  ordinary  conversation  in 
comedy,  alluded  to  the  work  of  Ennius — 


"  Indignatur  item  privatis,  ac  prope  sooco 
DigDis  carmixiibus,  narrari  coena  Thyests.* 


Yet  this  spiritless  tragedy,  was  very  popular  in  Rome,  and 
continued  to  be  frequently  represented,  till  Varius  treated  the 
same  subject  in  a  manner,  as  we  are  informed  by  Quintilian, 
equal  to  the  Greeks*. 

It  thus  appears  that  Ennius  has  little  claim  to  originality  or 
invention  as  a  tragic  author.  Perhaps  it  may  seem  remark- 
able, that  a  poet  of  his  powerful  genius  did  not  rather  write 
new  plays,  than  copy  servilely  from  the  Greeks.  But  nothing 
is  ever  invented  where  borrowing  will  as  well  serve  the  purpose. 
Rome  had  few  artists,  in  consequence  of  the  facility  with  which 
the  finest  specimens  of  the  arts  were  procured  by  plundering 
the  towns  of  Sicily  and  Greece.  Now,  at  the  period  in  which 
Ennius  flourished,  the  productions  of  Grecian  literature  were 
almost  as  new  to  the  Romans  as  the  roost  perfectly  original 
compositions.  Thus,  the  dramatic  works  of  Ennius  were 
possessed  of  equal  novelty  for  his  audience  as  if  wholly  his 
own ;  while  a  great  deal  of  trouble  was  saved  to  himself.  The 
example,  however,  was  unfortunate,  as  it  communicated  to 
Roman  literature  a  character  of  servility,  and  of  imitation,  or 
rather  of  translation,  from  tlie  Greek,  which  so  completely 
pervaded  it,  that  succeeding  poets  were  most  faultless  wlien 
they  copied  most  closely,  and  at  length,  when  they  abandoned 
the  guides  whom  they  had  so  long  followed,  they  fell  into 
declamation  and  bombast.    Probably,  had  the  compositions  of 

•  InsiU.  Orator,    Lib.  X.  c.  1. 


ENNIUS.  '      77 

Ennius  bcTen  original,  they  would  have  been  less  perfect,  than 
by  being  thus  imitated^  or  nearly  translated,  from  the  master- 
pieces of  Greece.  But  the  literature  of  his  country  might 
ultimately  have  attained  a  higher  eminence.  The  imitative 
productions  of  Ennius  may  be  likened  to  those  trees  which  are 
transplanted  when  far  advanced  in  growth.  Much  at  first 
appears  to  have  been  gained ;  but  it  is  certain,  that  he  who 
sets  the  seedling  is  more  useful  than  the  tiansplanter,  and 
that,  while  the  trees  removed  from  their  native  soil  lose  their 
original  beauty  and  luxuriance  without  increase  in  magnitude, 
the  seedling  swells  in  its  parent  earth  to  immenisity  oi  size-^ 
fresh,  blooming,  and  verdant  in  youth,  vigorous  in  maturity, 
and  venerable  in  old  age. 

Nor,  although  Ennius  was  the  first  writer  who  introduced 
satiric  composition  into  Rome,  are  his  pretensions,  in  this 
respect,  to  originality,  very  distinguished.    He  adapted  the 
ancient  satires  of  the  Tuscan  and  Oscshu  stage  to  the  closet, 
by  refining  their  grossneiss,  softening  their  asperity,  and  intro-  . 
ducing  railleries  borrowed  from  the  Greek  poets,  with  whom 
lie  was  familiar.    His  satires  thus  appear  to  have  been  a 
species  of  centos  made  up  from  passages  of  various  poems, 
which,  by  slight  alterations,  were  humorously  or  satirically  ap- 
plied, and  chiefly  to  the  delineation  of  character :  '^  Carmen," 
says  Diomedes  the  grammarian, "  quod  ex  variis  poematibus  con- 
stabat  satira  vocabatur,  quale  scripserunt  Pacuvius  et  Ennius." 
The  fingments  which  remain  of  these  satires  are  too  short  and 
broken  to  allow  us  even  to  divine  their  subject.    That  entitled 
J$oiu8  vel  Sotadicus^  is  the  representation  of  a  luxurious, 
dissolute  man,  and  was  so  termed  from  Sotades,  a  voluptuous 
Cretan  poet.     Quintilian  also  mentions,  that  one  of  his  satires 
contained  a  Dialogue  between  Life  and  Death,  contending 
with  each  other,  a  mode  of  composition  suggested  perhaps  by 
the  celebrated  allegory  of  Prodicus.     We  are  farther  informed 
by  Aulus  Gellius,  that  he  introduced  into  another  satire,  with 
great  skill  and  beauty,  iEsop's  fable  of  the  Larks'^,  now  well 
known  through  the  imitation  of  Fontainef .     The  lark  having 
built  her  nest  among  some  early  com,  feared  that  it  might  be 
reaped  before  her  young  ones  were  fit  to  take  wing.     She 
therefore  desired  them  to  report  to  her  whatever  conversation* 
they  might  hear  in  the  fields  during  her  absence.    They  first 
informed  her,  that  the  husbandman  had  come  to  the  spot,  and 
desired  his  son  to  summon  their  neighbours  and  friends  to 
assist  in  cutting  the  crop  the  next  morning.    The  lark,  on 

*  ^ToeiesAttiaB,  Lib.  II.  c.  29. 

t  lib.  IV.  Fab.  22.    VMouetU  et  ses  petiU  avee  le  maitre  d^tin  champ. 


78  ENNIUS. 

hearing  this,  declares,  that  there  is  no  occasion  to  be  in  any 
haste  in  removing.  On  the  following  day,  it  is  again  reported, 
that  the  husbandman  had  desired  that  his  relations  should  be 
requested  to  assist  him ;  and  the  lark  is  still  of  opinion  that 
there  is  no  necessity  to  hurry  away.     At  length,  however,  the . 

Joung  larks  relate;  that  the  husbandman  had  announced  that 
e  would  execute  the  work  himself.  On  hearing  this,  the  old 
lark  said  it  was  now  time  to  be  gone.  She  accordingly  re- 
moved her  younglings,  and  the  com  was  immediately  cut 
down  by  the  master.  From  this  tale  Ennius  deduces  as  the 
moral, 

**  Roc  erit  tibi  argamentnm  gemper  in  promptu  titum ; 
Ne  quid  expectes  unicos,  ijaod  tute  agere  possifl." 

It  is  certainly  much  to  be  regretted  that  we  possess  so 
scanty  fragments  of  fhese  satires,  which  would  have  been 
curious  as  the  first  attempts  at  a  species  of  composition  which 
was  carried  to  such  perfection  by  succeeding  Latin  poets,  and 
which,  has  been  regarded  as  almost  peculiar  to  the  Romans. 

The  great  work,  however,  of  Ennius,  and  of  which  we  have 
still  considerable  remains,  was  his  Annals,  or  metrical  chroni- 
cles, devoted  to  the  celebration  of  Roman  exploits,  from  the 
earliest  periods  to  the  conclusion  of  the  Istrian  war.  These 
Annals  were  written  by  our  poet  in  his  old  age ;  at  least, 
Aulus  Gellius  informs  us,  on  the  authority  of  Varro,  that  the 
twelfth  book  was  finished  by  him  in  his  sixty-seventh  year*. 

It  may*  perhaps  appear  strange,  that,  when  the  fabulous 
exploits,  the  superstitions,  the  characters  and  the  manners^  of 
the  heroic  ages,  were  so  admirably  adapted  for  poetical 
imagery,  and  had  been  so  successfully  employed  in  Greece, 
the  chief  work  of  the  Father  of  Roman  Song  should  have  been 
a  sort  of  versified  newspaper,  like  the  Hemiade  of  Voltaire, 
or  the  ^raucana  of  Alonco  de  Ercilla :  For  in  other  countries 
poetry  has  been  earliest  devoted  to  the  decoration  of  those 
marvels  in  which  the  amantes  mira  CanuBna  chiefly  rejoice. 
In  most  lands,  however,  the  origin  of  poetry  was  coeval  with 
the  rise  of  the  nation,  and  every  thing  seems  wondrous  to  an 
ignorant  and  timid  race.  The  Greeks,  in  their  first  poetical 
age,  peopled  every  grove  and  lake  with  fauns  and  naiads,  or 
personified  the  primeval  powers  of  nature.  They  sung  the 
fables  concerning  their  gods,  and  the  exploits  of  heroes,  in 

'  *  ./Vbef.  Jittic,  Lib.  XVII.  c.  21.  Quibus  coDsdUbiu  natum  esse  Q.  Enniiim 
poetam,  M.  Tarro,  in  primo  de  Poetis  tibro,  scripsit :  eumque  quum  aeptimum  et 
s^zagerimum  annum  ageiet  dttodecimim  Aimalem  scripdase :  idque  iprom  Enniuai 
in  eodem  libro  dicare. 


ENNIUS.  79 

those  ancient  venes  which  have  been  combined  in  the  Theo- 
gony  attributed  to  Hesiod,  and  those  immortal  rhapsodies 
which  have  formed  the  basis  of  the  Homeri.c  poems.  The 
manrellous  vision  of  Dante  was  the  earliest  effort  of  the  Italian 
muse;  and  some  of  the  first  specimens  of  verse  in  France  and 
England  were  wild  adventures  in  love  or  arms,  interspersed 
with  stories  of  demons  and  enchanters.  But  in  Rome,  though 
the  first  effort  of  the  language  was  in  poetry,  five  hundred 
years  had  elapsed  from  the  foundation  of  the  city  before  this 
effort  was  made.  At  that  period,  the  Romans  were  a  rude 
but  rational  race.  The  locks  of  Curius  were  perhaps  un- 
combed ;  but  though  the  Republic  had  as  yet  produced  no 
character  of  literary  elegance,  she  had  given  birth  to  Cincin- 
natus,  and  Fabricius,  and  Camillus.  Her  citizend  had  neither 
been  rendered  timid'  nor  indolent  by  their  superstitions,  but 
were  actively  employed  in  agriculture  or  in  arms.  They  were 
a  less  contemplative  and  imaginative  race  than  the  Greeks. 
Their  spirit  was  indeed  sufficiently  warlike ;  but  that  peculiar 
spirit  of  adventure,  (which  characterised  the  early  ages  of 
Greece,  and  the  middle  ages  of  modern  Europe,)  had,  if  it 
ever  existed,  long  ago  ceased  in  Rome.  By  this  time,  the 
Roman  armies  were  too  well  disciplined,  and  the  system  of 
warfiire  too  regular,  to  admit  a  description  of  the  picturesque 
combats  of  the  Greek  and  Trojan  charioteers.  Poetry  was 
thus  too  late  in  its  birth  to  take  a  natural  flight.  In  such 
circumstances,  the  bard,  however  rich  or  lofty  might  be  his 
conceptions,  would  not  listen  to  his  own  taste  or  inspiration, 
but  select  the  theme  which  was  likely  to  prove  most  popular ; 
and  the  Romans,  being  a  national  and  ambitious  people, 
would  be  more  gratified  by  the  jejune  relation  of  their  own 
exploits,  than  by  the  spedoaa  ndracula  of  the  most  sublime 
or  romantic  invention.  . 

The  Annals  of  Ennius  were  partly  founded  on  those  ancient 
traditions  and  old  heroic  ballads,  which  Cicero,  on  the  au- 
thority of  Gate's  Origines^  mentions  as  having  been  sung  at 
feasts  by  the  guests,  many  centuries  before  the  age  of  Cato, 
in  praise  of  the  heroes  of  Rome^.  Niebuhr  has  attempted  to 
show,  that  all  the  memorable  events  of  Roman  history  had 
been  versified  in  ballads,  or  metrical  chronicles,  in  the  Satur- 
nian  measure,  before  the  time  of  Ennius ;  whoj  according  to 
him,  merely  expressed  in  the  Greek  hexameter,  what  his  pre- 
decessord  had  delivered  in  a  ruder  strain,  and  then  maliciously 
depreciated  these  ancient  compositions,  in  order  that  he  him- 
self might  be  considered  as  the  founder  of  Roman  poetryf. 

"  Scesbove,  p.  4<l.  t  R»mi$che  €^$chichte,  Tom.  I.  p.  179. 


80  ENNIUS. 

The  devotion  of  the  Decii,  and  death  of  the  Fabian  family, — 
the  stories  of  Scsevola,  Cocles,  and  Coriolanus, — Niebuhr  be- 
lieves to  have  been  the  subjects  of  romantic  ballads.  Even 
Fabius  Pictor,  according  to  this  author,  followed  one  of  these 
old  legends  in  his  narrative  concerning  Mars  and  the  Wolf, 
and  his  whole  history  of  Romulus.  Livy,  too,  ii>  his  account 
of  the  death  of  Lucretia,  has  actually  transcribed  from  one  of 
these  productions ;  since  what  Sextus  says,  on  entering  the 
chamber  of  Lucretia,  is  nearly  in  the  Saturnian  measure  : — 

"  Tace,  Lucretia,  inquit,  dextiu  Tarqutnius  sum, 
FeiTum  in  manu  est,  moriere  si  emiseiis  vocem*." 

But  the  chief  work,  according  to  Niebuhr,  from  which  Ennius 
borrowed,  was  a  romantic  epopee,  or  chronicle,  made  up  from 
these  heroic  ballads  about  the  end  of  the  fourth  century  of 
Rome,  commencing  with  the  accession  of  Tarquinius  Priscus, 
and  ending  with  the  battle  of  Regillus.  The  arrival,  says 
Niebuhr,  of  that  monarch  under  the  name  of  Lucumo— his 
exploits  and  victories — his  death — then  the  history  of  Servius 
Tullius — the  outrageous  pride  of  Tullia — the  murder  of  the 
lawful  monarch — ^the  fall  of  the  last  Tarquin,  preceded  by  a 
supernatural  warning — Lucretia — Brutus  and  the  truly  Ho- 
meric battle  of  Regillus— compose  an  epic^  which,  in  poetical 
incident,  and  splendour  of  fancy,  surpasses  everything  pro- 
duced in  the  latter  ages  of  Rx)mef .  The  battle  of  Regillus, 
in  particular,  as  described  by  the  annalists,  bears  evident 
marks  of  its^ poetical  origin.  It  was  not  a  battle  between  two 
hosts,  but  a  struggle  of  heroes.  As  in  the  fights  painted  in 
the  Iliad,  the  champions  meet  in  single  combat,  and  turn  by 
individual  exertions  the  tide  of  victory.  The  dictator  Posthu- 
mius  wounds  King  Tarquin,  whom  he  had  encountered  at  the 
first  onset.  The  Roman  knight  Albutius  engages  with  the 
Latin  chief  Mamilius,  but  is  wounded  by  him,  and  forced  to 
quit  the  field.  Mamilius  then  nearly  breaks  the  Roman  line, 
but  is  slain  by  the  Consul  Herminius,  which  decides  the  fate  of 
the  day.  After  the  battle  of  Regillus,  all  the  events  are  not  so 
completely  poetical;  but  in  the  siege  of  Yeii  we  have  a  repre- 
sentation of  the  ten  years  war  of  Troy.  The  secret  introduc- 
tion of  the  troops  by  Camillus  into  the  middle  of  the  city  re- 
sembles the  story  of  the  wooden  horse,  and  the  Etruscan  statue 
of  Juno  corresponds  to  the  Trojan  Palladium]:. 

Any  period  of  history  may  be  thus  exhibited  in  the  form  of 
an  epic  cycle ;  and,  though  there  can  be  little  doubt  of  the 

*  Romiaehe  GetchichtCy  Tom.  I.  p.  318.  f  Id.  Tom.  I.  p.  178. 

X  Romiaeke  Geschichte,  Tom.  I.  p.  364,  &c. 


ENNIUS.  81 

existence  of  ancient  Saturnian  ballads  at  Rome,  I  do  not  think 
that  Niebuhr  has  adduced  sufficient  proof  or  authority  for  his 
magnificent  epopee,  commencing  with  the  accession  of  Tar- 
quin,  and  ending  with  the  battle  of  Regillus.  With  regard 
to  the  accusation  against  Ennius,  of  depreciating  the  ancient 
materials  which  he  had  employed,  it  is  founded  on  the  con- 
tempt which  he  expresses  for  the  verses  of  the  Fauns  and  the 
Prophets.  His  obligations,  if  he  owed  any,  he  has  certainly 
nowhere  acknowledged,  at  least  in  the  fragments  which  remain; 
and  he  rather  betrays  an  anxiety,  at  the  commencement  of  his 
poem,  to  carry  away  the  attention  of  the  reader  from  the  Sa- 
turnian muses,  and  direct  it  to  the  Grecian  poets, — to  Pindus, 
and  the  nymphs  of  Helicon. 

He  begins  his  Annals  with  an  invocation  to  the  nine  Muses, 
and  the  account  of  a  vision  in  which  Homer  had  appeared  to 
him,  and  related  the  story  of  the  metamorphosis  already  men- 
tioned : — 

"  Yisus  Homeras  adesse  poeta : 
Hei  mihi  qualb  erat,  quantum  mutatus  ab  illo ! 


Septingeiiti  sunt,  paulo  plus  vel  minuB,  anni 
Quom  memini  fieri  me  pavom/' 


>» 


Ennius  afterwards  invokes  a  great  number  of  the  Gods,  and 
then  proceeds  to  the  hfstory  of  the  Alban  kings.  The  dream 
of  the  Vestal  Virgin  Ilia,  which  announced  her  pregnancy  by 
Mars,  and  the  foundation  of  Rome,  is  related  in  verses  of  con- 
siderable beauty  and  smoothness,  by  Ilia  to  her  -sister  Eu- 
rydice. — 

**  Talia  commemorat  lacnimans,  exterrita  somno ; 
*  Euridica  prognata,  pater  quara  noster  amavit, 
Tivens  vita  meum  corpus  nunc  deseril  omne. 
Nam  me  visus  homo  polcer  per  amcena  salicta 
£t  lipas  raptare,  locosque  novos :  ita  sola 
Post  iUa,  germana  soror,  errare  videbar ; 
Tardaque  vestigare,  et  quserere,  neque  posse 
Corde  capessere :  semita  nulla  pedcm  stabilibat. 
£xin  compellare  pater  me  voce  videtur 
Heis  verbis — O  gnata,  tibi  sunt  antegerende 
i£rumn« ;  post  ex  fluvio  fortuna  resistet. 
Hcc  pater  edatus,  germana,  repente  recessit ; 
Necsese  dedit  in  conspectum  corde  cupitus : 
Quamquam  roulta  manus  ad  coeli  cserula  Tcmpla 
Tendebam  lacrumans,  et  blanda  voce  vocabam. 
Viz  cgro  turn  corde  meo  me  sonmus  reliquit*.' " 


*  ** '  Eurydice,  my  sister,'  thus  she  spoke, 
When  roused  from  .oleep  she,  weeping,  silence  broke—' 
'  Thou  whom  my  father  loved !  of  life  bereft. 
Though  yet  H&ve,  all  sense  this  frame  hath  left. 

Vol.  I.— X 


82  ENNIUS- 

In  these  lines  there  is  considerable  elegance  and  pathos ; 
and  the  contest  which  inunediatelv  succeeds  between  Romulus 
and  Remus  for  the  sovereignty  of  Rome,  is  as  remarkable  for 
dignity  and  animation : 

"  Cunntaifl  magnA  cum  cuHl,  concupienteia 
RegDei,  dant  operam  aimul  auspicio,  augorioque : 
Hinc  Remua  auspido  se  devovet,  atque  secundam 
8olua  avem  aervat:  at  Romolus  polcer  in  alto 
Querit  Aventino,  aervans  genus  idtilyolantum. 
Onmia  curavireis,  Uter  esaet  Eodoperator. 
Exspectant,  veluti  conso],  quom  mittere  signum 
Volt,  omneis  avidei  spectant  ad  carceiis  oratf. 
Qua  mox  emittat  picteia  ez  (aucibua  currus. 
Sic  exspectabat  populua,  atque  ore  timebat 
Rebus,  utrei  magnei  victoria  sit  data  regncJ. 
Interea  Soi  albus  recesait  in  infera  nocus: 
Ezin  Candida  ae  radiis  dedit  icta  foras  lux : 
Et  simol  ex  alto  longe  polcerrima  prcpea 
LasvA  Tolavit  avis :  simol  aureus  exoritur  sol. 
Cedunt  ter  quatuor  de  celo  corpora  sancta 
Avium,  prspetibiis  sese,  polcreisque  loceis  dant. 
Conspictt  inde  sibei  data  Romolus  esse  priora, 
Auapicio  regnS  ataUHta  acamna,  aolumque*." 


• 


A  fonn  endowed  with  more  than  mortal  grace, 

Mysterious  led  me,  and  with  hurried  pace, 

'Mid  ever  varying  scenes,  as  wild  as  new, 

O'er  banks  and  meads  where  pliant  osiers  grew. 

Then  left  to  wander  pathless  and  alone, 

I  vainly  sought  thee  amid  scenes  unknown. 

My  father  called,  his  child  foriom  addiess'd, 

And  in  these  words  prophetic  thoughts  expreasM : 

*  O  Daughter,  many  sorrows  yet  abide, 

Ere  fortune's  stream  upbears  thee  on  its  tide.* 

Thus  spoke  my  &ther ;  but  his  form  withdrew ; 

No  longer  ofiered  to  my  eager  view. 

Though  oft  in  vain  witn  soothine  voice  I  call. 

And  stretch  my  hands  to  heaven  s  cerulean  hall. 

Oppressed,  and  struggling,  and  with  sick'ning  heart, 

At  once  the  vision  and  my  sleep  depait.'  " 

"  With  ceaseless  care,  eager  alike  to  reign, 

Both  anxious  watch  some  favouring  sign  to  gain, 

Remus  with  prescient  gaze  observes  tne  sky 

Apart,  and  marks  where  birds  propitious  fly. 

His  godlike  brother  on  the  sacred  height. 

Observant  traced  the  soaring  eagle's  flight : 

And  now  the  anxious  tribes  expect  from  fate 

The  future  monarch  of  their  infant  state  \ 

Even  as  the  crowd  await  at  festal  games 

The  consul's  signal,  which  the  sports  proclaims, 

Their  eyes  directed  to  the  painted  goal. 

Eager  to  see  the  rival  chariots  roll. 

Meanwhile  the  radiant  sun  sinks  down  to  night,     . 

But  soon  he  sheds  again  tlie  yellow  light; 

And  while  the  golden  orb  ascends  the  sky, 

The  fowls  of  heaven  on  wing  propitious  ny. 

Twelve  sacred  birds,  which  gods  as  omens  send, 

With  flight  precipitate  on  earth  descend. 

The  sign,  Quirinus  knew,  to  him  alone  ' 

Preaaged  dominion,  and  the  Roman  throne." 


ENNIUS.  83 

The  reigns  of  the  kings,  and  the  contests  of  the  republic 
with  the  neighbouring  states  previous  to  the  Punic  war,  occupy 
the  metrical  annals  to  the  end  of  the  sixth  book*,  which  con- 
cludes with  the  following  noble  answer  of  Pyrrhus  to  the 
Roman  ambassadors,  who  came  to  ransom  the  prisoners  taken 
from  them  by  that  prince  in  battle : — 

'*  Nee  ml  aunim  posco,  nee  m!  pretiam  dederitif ; 
Nee  cauponantes  bellum,  aed  belUgerantes ; 
FeiTo,  Don  auro,  vitam  eemamus  utrique, 
Voane  velit,  an  me  regnar^  Hera ;  qiiidve  ferat  son 
Virtute  experiamur ;  et  hoe  simol  accipe  dictum : 
Qaorum  virtutei  beUi  fortima  peperdt, 
Horumdem  me  libertatei  pareere  certum  eat : 
Dono  ducite,  doque  velentibus  cum  magneis  ntsf.** 


Cicero,  in  his  BruiuSy  says,  that  Ennius  did  not  treat  of  the 
first  Punic  war,  as  Nsevius  had  previously  written*  on  that  sub- 
ject| ;  to  which  prior  work  Ennius  thus  alludes : — 

**  Scfipaere  alii  rem, 


**  Scfipaere  alii  rem, 
Teffiibos,  qooa  olun  Faunei,  yataeqne  caneteat" 


P.  Merala,  however,  who  edited  the  fragments  of  Ennius,  is  of 
opinion,  that  this  passage  of  Cicero  can  only  mean  that  he  had 
not  entered  into  much  detail  of  its  events,  as  he  finds  several 
lines  in  the  seventh  book,  which,  he  thinks,  evidently  apply 
to  the  first  Carthaginian  war,  particularly  the  description  of 
naval  preparation^,  and  the  building  of  the  first  fleet  with 
which  the  Carthaginians  were  attacked  by  the  Romans.  In 
some  of  the  editions  of  Ennius,  the  character  of  the  friend  and 
military  adviser  of  Servilius,  generally  supposed  to  be  intended 
as  a  portrait  of  the  poet  himself^,  is  ranged  under  the  seventh 
bode: — 

"  Hocce  locutufl  yoeat,  quicom  bene  lape  Bbenter 
Menaam,  sermonesque  auos,  reramqae  auanmi 


*  The  Annala  were  not  separated  by  Ennius  himself  into  books ;  but  were  so  di- 
vided, long  after  his  death,  by  the  gnunmarian  Q.  Varguntelus. — (Suet,  de  lUuit. 
Chwn.  c.  2. )  The  fiagments  of  them  are  arranged  under  difierent  books  in  di£forent 
ediiiona.  In  the  passages  quoted,  I  have  followed  the  distribution  in  the  edition  of 
Merala,  Lu^.  Bat.  1574.' 

t  **  Nor  gift  I  seek,  nor  shall  ye  ransom  yield ; 
Let  us  not  trade,  but  combat  in  the  fidd : 
Steel  and  not  cold  our  being  must  mainiaiB, 
And  prove  whtch  nation  Fortune  wills  to  reign. 
Whom  chance  of  war,  despite  of  valour,  spared* 
I  giant  them  freedom,  and  without  reward. 
Conduct  them  then,  by  all  the  mighty  Gods ! 
Conduct  tfiem  iieely  to  their  own  abodes.'* 
X  Cap.  19. 
^QMSm,de8tr^,LaHm$nonE€ck$ia9t.    Tom.  1.  p.  171. 


84  ENNIUS. 

Comiter  impertit ;  mag^Da  quum  lapsa  dies  jam 
Parte  fuif<set  de  parvis  summisque  gerendis, 
Consilio,  induforo  lato,  sasctoque  scDatu ; 
Cui  res  audacter  magnas,  parvasque,  jocurnqne   . 
Eloqueret,  que  tincta  roaleis,  et  quae  bona  dictu 
Evomeret,  si  quid  vellet,  tutoque  locaret. 
QfDocura  multa  volup  ac  gaudia  clamque  palamque, 
logenium  coi  nulla  malum  sententia  suadet, 
Ut  faceret  (acinus ;  lenis  tamen,  haud  malus  ;  idem 
Doctus,  fidelis,  suavis  homo,  iacundus,  suoque 
Contentus,  scitus,  atque  beatus,  secunda  loquens  in 
Tempore  commodus,  et  verboruro  vir  paucorum. 
MuJta  tenens  antiqua  sepiiUa,  et  ?aepe  vetustas 
Qute  facit,  et  mores  veterenque  novosque  tcnentem 
Multorum  veterum  leges,  divumque  hominumque 
Prudentem,  qui  multa  loquive,  tacereve  possit. 
Hunc  inter  pugnas  comprllat  Servilius  sic*." 

The  eighth  and  ninth  books  of  these  Annals,  which  are  much 
mutilated,  detailed  the  events  of  the  second  Carthaginian  war 
in  Italy  and  Africa.  This  was  by  much  the  most  interesting 
part  of  the  copious  subject  which  Ennius  had  chosen,  and  a 
portion  of  it  on  which  he  would  probably  exert  all  the  force  of 
his  genius,  in  order  the  more  to  honour  his  friend  and  patron 
Scipio  Africanus.  The  same  topic  was  selected  by  Silius 
Italicus,  and  by  Petrarch  for  his  Latin  poem  Africa,  which  ob- 
tained him  a  coronation  in  the  Capitol.  *'  Ennius,"  says  the 
illustrious  Italian,  '^has  sung  fully  of  Scipio;  but,  in  the  opin- 
ion of  Valerius  Maximus,  his  style  is  harsh  and  vulgar,  and 
there  is  yet  no  elegant,  poem  which  has  for  its  subject  the  glo- 
rious exploits  of  the  conqueror  of  Hannibal."  None  of  the 
poets  who  have  chosen  this  topic,  have  done  full  justice  to 
the  most  arduous  struggle  in  which  two  powerful  nations  had 
ever  engaged,  and  which  presented  the  most  splendid  display 
of  military  genius  on  the  one  hand,  and  heroic  virtue  on  the 
other,  that  had  yet  been  exhibited  to  the  world.     Livy's  bisto- 

• 

*  *'  His  friend  he  called — who  at  his  table  fared. 
And  all  his  counsels  and  his  converse  shared ; 
With  whom  he  oft  consumed  the  day's  decline 
In  talk  of  petty  schemes,  or  great  design, — 
To  him,  with  ea/>e  and  freedom  uncontrouled. 
His  jests  and  thoughts,  or  good  or  ill,  were  told ; 
Whatever  concerned  his  fortunes  was  disclosed. 
And  safely  in  that  faithful  breast  reposed.* 
This  chosen  friend  possessed  a  stedfast  mind. 
Where  no  base  purpose  could  its  harbour  find ; 
Mild,  courteous,  learned,  with  knowledge  blest,  and  sense ; 
A  soul  serene,  contentment,  eloquence ; 
Fluent  in  words  or  sparing,  well  he  knew 
All  things  to  speak  in  place  and  season  due  ; 
His  mind  was  amply  graced  with  ancient  lore, 
Nor  less  enriched  with  modem  wisdom's  store : 
Him,  while  the  tide  of  battle  onward  pressed, 
Servilius  called,  and  in  these  words  addressed.*' 


ENNIUS.  85 

rical  account  of  the  second  Punic  war  possesses  more  real 
poetry  than  any  poem  on  the  subject  whatever. 

The^ tenth,  eleventh,  and. twelfth  book^  of  the  Annals  of 
Ennius,  contained  the  war  with  Philip  of  Macedon.  In  the 
commencement  of  the  thirteenth,  Hannibal  excites  Antiochus 
to  a  war  against  the  Romans.  In  the  fourteenth  book,  the 
Consul  Scipio,  in  the.  prosecution  of  this  contest,  arrives  at 
Ilium,  which  he  thus  apostrophizes : 


« 


• .» 


O  patria !  O  divOm  domus  Ilium,  et  incluta  bello 
Pergaraa  J'* 

Several  Latin  writers  extol  the  elegant  lines  of  Ennius  imme- 
diately following,  in  which  the  Roman  soldiers,  alluding  to  its 
magnificent  revival  in  Rome,  exclaim  with  enthusiasm,  that 
Ilium  could  not  be  destroyed ; 

**  Quai  Deque  Dardaneeis  campeis  potuere  perire, 
Nee  quom  capta  capei,  nee  quom  combu8ta  cremari* ; 

a  passage  which  has  been  closely  imitated  in  the  seventh  lK>ok 
of  Virgil : 

"  Num  SigeU  occumbere  campis, 
Num  capti  potuere  capi  I  num  incensa  cremayit 
Troja  viros  ?" 

The  fifteenth  book  related  the  expedition  of  Fulvius  No- 
bilior  to  iEtolia,  which  Ennius  himself  is  said  to  have  accom- 
panied. In  the  two  following  books  he  prosecuted  the  Istrian 
war;  which  concludes  with  the  following  animated  description 
of  a  single  hero  withstanding  the  attack  of  an  armed  host : — 

'*  Undique  conveniunt,  velut  imber,  tela  Tribune. 
Configunt  parmam,  tiimit  hastilibus  umbo, 
^ratae  sonitant  galeae :  sed  nee  pote  quisquam 
Undique  nitendo  corpus  discerpere  ferro. 
Semper  abundanteis  hastas  frangitque,  quatitque  \ 
Totum  sudor  habet  corpus,  moltumque  laborat ;    * 
Nee  respirandi  fit  copia  praepete  ferro. 
Istrei  tela  manu  jacientes  soDicitabant. 
Occumbunt  moltei  leto,  ferroque  lapique, 
Attt  intra  moeros,  aut  extra  pr»cipi  casut*" 


*  "  Sacked,  but  not  captive, — ^burned,  yet  not  conmimed ; 
Nor  on  tb*  Dardan  plains  to  moulder  doomed." 

t  "  From  every  side  the  javelins  as  a  shower 
Rush,  and  unerring  on  the  Tribune  pour ; 
Struck  by  the  spears  his  helm  and  shield  reseund, 
Though  pierced  his  shield,  no  shaft  inflicts  a  wound. 
Their  missile  darts  th'  embattled  Istrians  throw» 
fiat  all  are  hurled  in  vain  against  their  foe; 


86  ENNIUS. 

The  concluding,  or  eighteenth^  book  geems  to  have  been  b 
a  great  measure  personal  to  the  poet  himself.  It  eiplains  his 
motive  for  writing : — 

..«  Omnefl  moitBles  mm  laiuUrier  optant  ;** — 

and  he  seemingly  compares  himself  to  a  Courser,  who  rests 
after  his  triumphs  in  the  Olympic  games : — 

''  Sic  ut  ibrtis  Equiu,  spatio  qui  sep«  nipiemo 
Vicit  Olumpiaco,  nunc  Mnio  confectus  <|piie8cit*." 

Connected  with  his  Annals,  there  wais  a  poem  of  Ennius 
devoted  to  the  celebration  of  the  exploits  of  Scipio,  in  which 
occurs  a  much-admired  description  of  the  calm  of  Evening, 
where  the  flow  of  the  versification  is  finely  modulated  to  the 
still  and  solenm  imagery : — 

<*  Mundus  codi  vMtot  eonatitit  atentio, 
Et  NeptunuB  scvut  undeis  aspereis  pauaam  dedit: 
Sol  equeia  iter  lepreaat  unculela  volantibua, 
Conadtere  amneia  perennefe— arbotea  yento  vacantf.** 

With  this  first  attempt  at  descriptive  poetry  in  the  Latin  lan- 
guage, it  may  be  interesting  to  compare  a  passage  produced 
m  the  extreme  old  age  of  Roman  literature,  which  also  paints^ 
by  nearly  the  same  images,  the  profound  repose  of  Nature : — 

— ■«**  Tacet  omne  pectta»  yolueresque  feneqae, 
£t  aimuiant  feasos  curvata  cacumina  aomnoa ; 
Nee  trucilMia  fluviis  idem  aonua ;  ocddit  horror 
iEquoria»  et  terria  maria  aoclinata  quieMunt'* 

Horace,  in  one  of  his  odes,  strongly  expresses  the  glory  and 
honour  which  the  Calabrian  muse  of  Ennius  had  conferred  on 
Scipio  by  this  poem,  devoted  to  his  praise : 

*<  Non  incendia  Cartbaginia  impie* 
EJjoa  qui  domiti  nomen  ab  Afitici 


He  pants,  and  aweata,  and  labouxa  o'er  the  field. 
The  flying  ahafta  no  pauM  for  breathii]^  yield; 
Smote  by  hia  awOfd  or  aline,  th*  aaaailanta  &D 
Within,  or  headlong  thrust  bevond  the  wall.*' 

*  **  Even  aa  the  genenma  Steed,  whoM  yoaAfid  foaee 
Was  oft  victoiiouB  in  th'  OlyaoiNc  couiae. 
Unfit,  fiom  age,  to  triumph  in  auch  fielda. 
At  length  to  leat  hia  time-worn  membera  yielda." 

t  **  O'er  Heeven'a  wide  arch  a  aolenm  iUenee  retgpMd, 
And  the  fierce  Ocean  hia  wild  wavea  reetiained ; 
Hie  Son  repraaaed  hia  ataeda'  impetuooa  force ; 
The  wiDda  wwe  iMihed ;  te  atmaaa  all  atayied  Iheir 


ENNIUS.  87 


Locmtus  radiit,  cluiiw  indicant 

Ilaudefl  quam  CaUbre  Pierides*. 


>• 


The  historical  poems  of  Ennius  appear  to  haire  been  written 
without  the  introduction  of  much  machinery  or  decorative  fic- 
tion ;  and  whether  founded  on  ancient  ballads,  according  to 
one  opinionf  9  or  framed  conformably  to  historical  truth,  ac- 
cording to  another^,  they  were  obviously  deficient  in  those 
embellishments  of  imagination  which  form  the  distinction  be- 
tween a  poem  and  a  metrical  chronicle.  In  the  subject  which 
he  had  chosen,  Ennius  wanted  the  poetic  advantages  of  dis- 
tance in  place  or  of  time.  It  perhaps  matters  little  whether 
the  ground-work  of  a  heroic  poem  be  historical  or  entirely 
fictitious,  if  free  scope  be  given  for  the  excursions  of  faney. 
But,  in  order  that  it  may  sport  with  advantage,  the  event  must 
be  remote  in  time  or  in  place ;  and  if  this  rule  be  observed, 
such  subjects  as  those  chosen  by  Camoens  or  Tasso  admit  of 
as  much  colouring  and  embellishment  as  the  Faery  ^tieen.  It 
is  in  this  that  Lucan  and  Voltaire  have  erred ;  and  neither  the 
soaring  genius  of  the  one,  nor  brilliancy  of  the  other,  could 
nuse  their  themes,  Splendid  as  they  were,  from  the  dust,  or 
steep  the 'mind  in  those  reveries  in  which  we  indulge  on  sub- 
jects where  there  is  no  visible  or  known  bound  to  credulity 
and  imaginings.  Still  the  Annals  of  Ennius,  as  a  national 
work,  were  highly  gratifying  to  a  proud  ambitious  people,  and, 
in  consequence,  continued  long  popular  at  Rome.  They  were 
highly  relished  in  the  age  of  Horace  and  Virgil ;  and,  as  far 
down  as  the  time  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  they  were  recited  in 
theatres  and  other  public  places  for  the  amusement  of  the 
people^.  The  Romans,  indeed,  were  so  formed  on  his  style, 
that  Seneca  called  them  popuius  Ennianus — an  Ennian  race, 
— and  said,  that  both  Cicero  and  Virgil  were  obliged,  con- 
trary to  their  own  judgment,  to  employ  antiquated  terms,  in 
compliance  with  the  reigning  prejudice)].  From  his  example, 
too,  added  to  the  national  character,  the  historical  epic  be- 
came in  fiiture  times  the  great  poetical  resource  of  the  Romans, 
who  versified  almost  every  important  event  in  their  history. 
Besides  the  Phartalia  of  Lucan,  and  Punica  of  Silius  Italicus, 
which  still  survive,  there  were  many  works  of  this  description 
which  are  now  lost.  Varro  Attacinus  chose  as  his  subject 
Caesar's  war  with  the  Sequani — Varius,  the  deeds  of  Augustus 
and  Agrippa — Valgius  Rufiis,  the  battle  of  Actium — Albino- 
vanos,  the  exploits  of  Germanicus — Cicero,  those  of  Marius, 
and  the  events  of  his  own  consulship. 


•  Lib.  IV.  Ode  S.  f  Niebuhr,  Rotnische  GeschicJite. 

VoMhtt,  de  ^itosieis  LoHnii^  Lib.  I.  c.  2. 
An.  OeHiis,  JVbet.  Attic.  Lib.  XVIII.  c.  5.  ||  Ibid.  Lib.  XII.  c.  2. 


I 


88  ENNIUS. 

We  have  already  seen  Ennius's  imitation  of  the  Greeks  in 
his. tragedies  and  satires;  and  even  in  the  above-mentioned 
historical  poems,  though  devoted  to  the  celebration  of  Roman 
heroes  and  subjects  exclusively  national,  he  has  borrowed 
copiously  from  the  Greek  poets,  and  has  often  made  his  Roman 
consuls  fight  over  again  the  Homeric  battles.  Thus  the  de- 
scription of  the  combat  of  Ajax,  in  the  I6th  Book  of  the  Iliad, 
beginning  Aiag  S*o\)xsr^  JjULijuive,  has  suggested  a  passage,  above 
quoted,  from  the  fragments  of  the  Istrian  war ;  and  the  picture 
of  a  steed  breaking  from  his  stall,  and  ranging  the  pastures, 
is  imitated  from  a  similar  description,  in  the  6th  Book  of  the 
Iliad— 

"  Et  tunc  sicut  Equus,  qui  de  pnesepibus. actus, 
Vincla  sua  magneiii  animeis  abnimpit,  et  inde 
Fert  sese  campi  per  cocrula,  laetaque  prata ; 
Cebo  pectore,  sspe  jubam  qua^^sat  simul  altam : 
Spiritus  ex  aniioa  caJida  spunias  agit  albas*." 

Homer's  lines  are  the  following  : — 

"*nc  J"  oTf  T<c  0-TeiToc  i^nroc,  axorn^-^  tin  ^etrFN 
'£iaida»c  Xcvfff'dtti  «v^2«foc  ff'orat/uoio^ 

Kl///C«|r*  v-^w  /i  »flt^|f  t;^tl,  AfA^t  S»  ^AtTAt 

In  order  to  afford  an  opportunity  of  judging  of  Ennius's  talents 
for  imitation,  I  have  subjoined  from  the  two  poets,  who  car- 
ried that  art  to  the  greatest  perfection,  corresponding  passages, 
which  are  both  evidently  founded  on  the  same  Greek  origi- 
nal— 


c< 


Quails,  ubi  abruptis  fugit  presepia  vinclis, 
Tandem  liber,  Equus,  campoque  potitus  aperto  ; 
Aut  iUe  in  pastus  armentaque  tendit  equanim, 
Aut,  assuetus  aque  perfundi  fiumine  noto, 
Emicat,  arrectisque  fremit  cervicibus  alte 
Luxurians ;  luduntque  jube  per  coUa,  per  armo8|. 


if 


The  other  parallel  passage  is  in  Tasso's  Jerusalem  Delivered — 

**  Come  Destrier,  che  dalle  reggiestalle, 
Ove  al  uso  deir  arme  si  riserba, 


*  Even  as  the  generous  steed,  with  reins  unbound, 
Bursts  from  the  stall,  and  scours  along  the  ground,    < 
With  lofty  chest  he  seeks  the  joyous  plain. 
And  ofl,  exulting,  shakes  his  crested  mane ; 
The  fiery  spirit  in  his  breast  prevails. 
And  the  warm  heart  in  sprinkling  foam  exhales." 

t  Uiad,  Lib.  VI.  v.  506.  t  ^S^neid,  Lib.  XL 


ENNIUS.  '  89 


Fugge,  e  libero  alfin,  per  largo  calle 

Va  tra  gti  armend,  o  al  fiume  iisato,  o  all*  erba ; 

Scherzan  sul  collo  i  ciini,  e  sulle  spalle : 

Si  Bcuote  la  cervice  alta  e  auperba : 

Suonano  i  pie  nel  corso,  e  par  ch'avvampi, 

Di  aonori  nitriti  empieodo  i  cainpi*.* 


>» 


To  these  parallel  passages  may  be  added  a  very  similar, 
though  perhaps  not  a  borrowed  description,  from  the  earliest 
production  of  the  most  original  of  all  poets,  in  which  the 
horse  of  Adonis  breaks  loose  during  the  dalliance  of  A^nus 
with  his  master : — 


*'  The  stroDg-necked  steed »  beiog  tied  unto  a  tree, 
Breaketh  his  rein,  and  to  her  straight  goes  he. 
Imperiously  he  leaps,  he  neighs,  he  bounds, 

And  now  his  woven  sirts  he  breaks  asunder, 
The  bearing  earth  with  his  hard  hoof  he  wounds. 

Whose  hollow  womb  resounds  like  heaven's  thunder. 
His  ears  up-prick'd,  his  braided  hanging  mane. 

Upon  his  compass'd  crest,  now  stands  an  end ; 
His  nostrils  drink  the  air,  and  forth  again. 
As  from  a  furnace,  vapours  doth  he  send. 
His  eye  which  glisters  scomfuUv,  like  fire. 
Shows  his  hot  courage  and  his  high  desiref." 

The  poem  of  Ennius,  entitled  Phagetica,  is  curious, — as 
one  would  hardly  suppose,  that  in  this  early  age,  luxury  had 
made  such  progress,  that  the  culinary  art  should  have  been 
systematically  or  poetically  treated.  All  that  we  know,  how- 
ever, of  the  manner  in  which  it  was  prepared  or  served  up,  is 
from  the  Apologia  of  Apuleius.  It  was,  which  its  name  im- 
ports, a  didactic  poem  on  eatables,  particularly  fish,  as  Apu- 
leius testifies. — "  Q.  Ennii  edes  phagetica,  quae  versibus 
scripsit,  innumerabilia  piscium  genera  enumerat,  quse  scilicet 
curiose  cognorat."  It  is  well  known,  that  previous  to  the 
time  of  Ennius,  this  subject  had  been  discussed  both  in  prose 
and  verse  by  various  Greek  authors];,  and  was  particularly 
detailed  in  the  poem  of  Archestratus  the  Epicurean — 

« The  bard 

Who  sang  of  poultry,  venison,  and  lard. 
Poet  and  cook " 

It  appears  from  the  following  passage  of  Apuleius,  that  the 
work  of  Ennius  was  a  digest  of  all  the  previous  books  on  this 
subject , — ^^  Alios  etiam  multis  versibus  decoravit,  et  ubi  gen- 
tium quisque  eorum  inveniatur,  ostendit  qualiter^assus,  aut 
jussulentus  optime  sapiat;  nee  tamen  ab  eruditis  reprehendi- 

•  C.  ix.st.75. 

t   Venui  and  Adonu^  p^  18.    Shakespeare's  Poems,  Ed.  1778. 

t  Vofagtd^JSnacharnB.    T.U.  c.25. 

Vol.  L— M 


M  ENNIUS. 

tur."  The  eleven  lines  which  remain,  and  which  have  been 
preserved  by  Apuleius,  mention  the  places  where  ditferent 
sorts  of  fish  are  found  in  greatest  perfection  and  abundance — 

«<  BnmdusU  Surgiu  bonus  eit ;  hunc,  magnus  erit  sd, 
Sume :  Aprichim  piscem  scite,  piimum  esse  Tareoti ; 
SuiTCDtAi  nc  emaa  Glaucum,  &c. 

Another  poem  of  Ennius,  entitled  Epichannus^  was  so  called 
because  it  was  translated  from  the  Greek  work  of  Epicharmus, 
the  Pythagorean,  on  the  Nature  of  Things,  in  the  same  manner 
as  Plato  gave  the  name  of  Tinuma  to  the  book  which  he 
translated  from  Timaeus  the  Locrian.  This  was  the  same 
Epicharmus  who  invented  Greek  comedy,  and  resided  in  the 
court  of  Hiero  of  Sjrracuse.  The  fragments  of  this  work  of 
Ennius  are  so  broken'  and  corrupted,  that  it  is  impossible  to 
follow  the  plan  of  his  poem,  or  to  discover  the  system  of  phi- 
losophy which  it  inciilcated.  It  appears,  however,  to  have 
contained  many  speculations  concerning  the  elements  of  which 
the  world  was  primarily  composed,  and  which,  according  to 
him,  were  water,  earth,  air,  and  fire* ;  as  also  with  regard  to 
the  preservative  powers  of  nature.  Jupiter  seems  merely  to 
have  been  considered  by  him  as  the  air,  the  clouds,  and  the 
storm : 

•<  Isteic  is  est  Jupiter,  qoem  (fico,  Gred  Tocuit 
Aera ;  quique  ventus  est,  et  aubes,  imber  postea, 
Atque  et  imbre  frigus ;  ventus  post  fit,  aer  denuo : 
Isttfc  propter  Jupiter  suntista,  qu»  dico  tibei. 
Qui  mortales  urbeb,  atque  belluas  omneis  juvatf ." 

This  system,  which  had  been  previously  adopted  by  the  Etrus- 
cans, and  had  been  promulgated  in  some  of  the  Orphic  hymns, 
nearly  corresponds  with  that  announced  by  Cato,  in  Lucan's 
PkoarBdlia — 

<*  Jupiter  est  quodcunque  vides,  quocunque  moyeiis  ;** 

and  is  not  far  different  firom  the  Spinozism,  in  Pope^s  Essay 
on  Man — 

"  Warms  in  the  sun,  refreshes  in  the  breeze. 
Glows  in  the  stars,  and  blossoms  in  the  trees ; 


*  Vano,  Be  Be  thuHca,  lib.  I.  c.  4.    Ed.  Gesoer. 

t  Hiis  is  tHb  Jupiter  whom  all  revere. 
Whom  I  name  Jupiter,  and  Greelcs  call  Air : 
He  also  is  the  Wind,  the  Clouds,  the  Rain ; 
Cold,  after  Showers,  th^  Wind  and  Air  a|^ : 
AU  these  are  Jove,  who  soetal  life  maintains. 
And  the  huge  moosteia  of  the  wild  sustains. 


ENNIUS.  91 

Liv^s  Ihroupfa  all  life,  extends  thnnidi  aU  extent. 
Spreads  undivided,  operates  unspent?* 

Ennius,  however,  whose  compositions  thus  appear  to  have 
been  formed  entirely  on  Greek  originals,  has  not  more  availed 
himself  of  these  writings  than  Virgil  has  profited  by  the  works 
of  Ennias.  The  prince  of  Latin  Poets  has  often  imitated  long 
passages,  and  sometimes  copied  whole  lines,  from  the  Father 
of  Roman  Song.  This  has  been  shown,  in  a  close  comparison, 
by  Macrobius,  in  his  Saturnalia!*. 

EiTHiirs,  Book  1. 
«  Qui  eoefaim  venat  stellis  fiilgeatibus  aptum." 

V»oix*,  Boole  6. 
*'  Azem  bumero  torquet  steUis  ardenttbus  aptum,'* 

Eirinus,  1. 
**  Est  locus  Hespeiiam  quam  mortaias  peihibebant' 

Virgil,  1. 
*'  Est  locus  Hespeiiam  Graii  cognontine  dieunt" 

Eifirius,  12. 
<*  Unus  homo  nobis  cunctando  restituit  ram ; 
Non  pooebftt  enim  rumores  ante  salutem. 
Eifpo  postqne  magisque  viii  nunc  gloria  daretf.'' 

YinoiL,  6. 
«  Unus  qui  nobis  cunctando  restituis  rem." 

ENNitrs. 
**  Quod  per  ammnam  urbem  lem  fioit  agmioe  flomML" 

VlBOIL,  2. 

**  Inter  opima  virum  leni  fluit  agmine  Tybris." 

Eirifiirs,  1. 
«  Hei  mihi  qualis  eiat  quantum  mutatus  ab  iOo." 

ViKOIL,  2. 

*'  Hei  milu  qualis  erat !  quantum  mutatus  ab  illo.** 

ElTHIVS. 

"  Postquam  discordia  tetra 
BelK  ferratofi  postes  portasque  refre^tt*'* 

Viiu3ii<,  7. 

<*  ImpuUt  ipsa  manu  portas,  et  caidine  Teiso 
Belli  ferratos  rupit  Satumia  postes." 

•lib.VI.  c.  1.  «l2. 

t  '*  He  first  restored  the  state  by  wise  delay, 
Heedless  of  what  a  censuring  worid  might  say ; 
Hence  time  has  hallowed  his  immortal  name. 
And,  as  the  years  succeed,  still  spreads  his  fame." 
IW  Vne  of  Ennlus,  **  Unus  homo,'*  &e.  was  applied,  with  an  alteration  of  liie  wori 
tmuUmdo  into  vigUando,  by  Aujnistus,  in  a  complimentary  letter  to  Tiberius,  oo 
his  good  conduct  in  restoring  a&rs  in  Germany,  after  the  unfortunate  defeat  of 
Varus.    (Sueton.  in  Tiberio.  c.  21.) 

X  It  is  of  tiiese  two  lines  of  Ennius  that  Horace  says,  the  dUfeeta  membra  poetm, 
dnt  is,  the  poetical  force  and  spirit,  would  remain,  tnough  the  arrangement  of  the 
words  were  changed,  and  the  measure  of  the  verse  destroyed;  whiai»  he  admiti, 
would  not  be  the  case  with  his  own  satires,  or  those  of  LuciUus. 


1 


92  ENNIUS. 

In  the  longer  passages,  Virgil  has  not  merely  selected  the 
happiest  thoughts  and  expressions  of  his  predecessor,  but  in 
borrowing  a  great  deal  from  Ennius,  he  has  added  much  of 
his  own.  He  has  thrown  on  common  images  new  lights  of 
fancy ;  he  has  struck  out  the  finest  ideas  from  ordinary  senti- 
ments, and  expunged  all  puerile  conceits  and  absurdities. 

Lucretius  and  Ovid  have  also  frequently  availed  themselves 
of  the  works  of  Ennius.  His  description  of  felling  the  trees 
of  a  forest,  in  order  to  fit  out  a  fleet  against  the  Carthaginians, 
in  the  seventh  book,  has  been  imitated  by  Statins  in  the  tenth 
book  of  the  TTkebaid.  The  passage  in  his  sixth  satire,  in  which 
he  has  painted  the  happy  situation  of  a  parasite,  compared 
with  that  of  the  master  of  a  feast,  is  copied  in  Terence's 
Phormio*.  The  following  beautiful  lines  have  been  imitated 
by  innumerable  poets,  both  ancient  and  modem  : 


"  Jupiter  htc  risit,  tempestatesque  serensB 
Riaenmt  omnes  lisu  Jovw  omnipotentist.* 


Near  the  commencement  of  his  AnnalB,  Ennius  says, 

"  Audire  est  opcne  pretium,  procedere  racte 
Qui  rem  Romanam  Latiumque  augescere  yultis  ;'* 

which  solemn  passage  has  been  parodied  by  Horace,  in  the 
second  satire  of  th^  first  book : 

"  Audire  est  opere  pretium,  procedere  recte 
Qui  moechis  oon  vultis,  ut  omni  parte  labor6nt." 

Thus  it  appears  that  Ennius  occasionally  produced  verses 
of  considerable  harmony  and  beauty,  and  that  his  conceptions 
were  frequently  expressed  with  energy  and  spirit.  It  must  be 
recollected,  however,  that  the  lines  imitated  by  Virgil,  and 
the  other  passages  which  have  been  here  extracted  from  the 
works  of  Ennius,  are  very  favourable  specimens  of  his  taste 
and  genius.  Sometimes  poems,  which  have  themselves  been 
lost,  and  of  which  only  fragments  are  preserved,  in  the  cita- 
tions of  contemporary  or  succeeding  authors,  are  now  believed 
to  have  been  finer  productions  than  they  perhaps  actually 
were.  It  is  the  best  passages  which  are  quoted,  and  imitated, 
and  are  thus  upborne  on  the  tide  of  ages,  while  the  grosser 
parts  have  sunk  and  perished  in  the  flood.  We  are  in  this 
manner  led  to  form  an  undue  estimate  of  the  excellence  of 

•  Act.  II.  sc.  2. 

t  **  The  Olympian  Father  smiled  ;  and  for  a  while 
Nature's  calmed  elements  returned  the  smile." 


ENNIDS.  93 

the  whole,  in  the  same  manner  as  we  doubtless  conceive  an 
exaggerated  idea  of  the  ancient  magnificence  of  Persepolis  or 
Palmyra,  where,  while  the  humble  dwellings  have  mouldered 
into  dust,  the  temples  and  pyramids  remain,  and  all  that  meets 
the  eye  is  towering  and  majestic.  A  few,  however,  even  of 
the  verses  of  Ennius  which  have  been  preserved,  are  very 
harsh,  and  defective  in  their  mechanical  construction ;  others 
are  exceedingly  prosaic,  as, 

'*  Egregie  cordatus  homo  Catus  JSlius  Sextus  ;'* 

and  not  a  few  are  deformed  with  the  most  absurd  conceits, 
not  so  much  in  the  idea,  as  in  a  jingle  of  words  and  extrava- 
gant  alliteration.     The  ambiguity  of  the  celebrated  verse, 


"  Aio  te  ^acida  Romanos  vincere  posse," 

may  be  excused  as  oracular,  but  what  can  be  said  for  such 
lines  as, 

'<  Haud  doctis  dictis  certantes  sed  maledictis. 
O  Tite  tute  Ta^e  tibi  tanta  tyranne  tulisti. 
Stultus  est  qui  cupida  cupiens  cupienter  cupit." 


This  species  of  conceit  was  rejected  by  the  good  taste  of  sub- 
sequent Latin  poets,  even  in  the  most  degraded  periods  of 
literature;  and  I  know  no  ps^rallel  to  it,  except  in  some  pas- 
sages of  Sidney^s  Arcadia.  Nothing  can  be  a  greater  mistake, 
than  to  suppose  that  false  taste  and  jingle  are  peculiar  to  the 
latter  ages  of  poetry,  and  that  the  early  bards  of  a  country 
are  free  from  concetti. 

On  the  whole,  the  works  of  Ennius  are  rather  pleasing  and 
interesting^  as  the  early  blossoms  of  that  poetry  which  after- 
wards opened  to  such  perfection,  than  estimable  from  their 
own  intrinsic  beauty.  To  many  critics  the  latter  part  of  Ovid's 
observation, 

<*  Ennius  ingenio  mazimus — arte  radis," 

has  appeared  better  founded  than  the  first.  Scaliger,  however, 
has  termed  him,  "  Poeta  antiquus  magnifico  ingenio :  Utinam 
hunc  haberemus  integrum,  et  amisissemus  Lucanum,  Statium, 
Silium  Italicum,  et  toua  cea  garcons  la^"  Quintilian  has 
happily  enough  compared  the  writings  of  Ennius  to  those 
sacred  groves  hallowed  by  their  antiquity,  and  which  we  do 
not  so  much  admire  for  their  beauty,  as  revere  with  religious 

*  Scaligeranay  p.  136.    Ed.  Cologne,  1695. 


94  ENNIUS. 

awe  and  dread*.  Hence,  if  we  cannot  allow  Ennitts  to  be 
crowned  with  the  poetical  laurel,  we  may  at  least  grant  the 
privilege  conceded  to  him  by  Propertius — 

«  Eoniut  hiimtA  ciogut  «ua  tempora  queicu." 

Politian,  in  his  AWrtcta,  has  recapitulated  the  events  of  the 
life  of  Ennius,  and  has  given  perhaps  the  most  faithful  summary 
of  his  character,  both  as  a  man  and  a  poet — 

*'  Bella  horrendt  tonat  Romanoramque  triumphof , 
Inque  vicem  nexos  per  carmina  degerit  annos : 
Arte  nidifl,  sed  mente  potens,  pareMmuf  oiii, 
Paoper  opum,  fidens  animi,  morumque  probatus, 
Cootentiuque  8U0»  nee  bello  ignaxus  et  armis.'* 

But  whatever  may  have  been  the  merits  of  the  works  of  Ennius^ 
of  which  we  are  now  but  incompetent  judges,  they  were  at 
least  sufficiently  various.  Epic,  dramatic,  satiric,  and  didactic 
poetry,  were  all  successively  attempted  by  him ;  and  we  also 
learn  that  he  exercised  himself  in  lighter  sorts  of  verse,  as  the 
epigram  and  acrosticf .  For  this  novelty  and  exuberance  it  is 
not  difficult  to  account.  The  fountains  of  Greek  literature,  as 
yet  untasted  in  Latium,  were  to  him  inexhaustible  sources. 
He  stood  in  very  different  circumstances  from  those  Greek 
bards  who  had  to  rely  solely  on  their  own  genius,  or  from  bis 
successors  in  Latin  poetry,  who  wrote  after  the  best  produc- 
tions of  Greece  had  become  familiar  to  the  Romans.  He  was 
placed  in  a  situation  in  which  he  could  enjoy  all  the  popularity 
and  applause  due  to  originality,  without  undergoing  the  labour 
of  invention,  and  might  rapidly  run  with  success  through  every 
mode  of  the  lyre,  without  possessing  incredible  diversity  of 
genius. 

The  above  criticisms  apply  to  the  poetical  productions  of 
Ennius ;  but  the  most  curious  point  connected  with  hia  lite- 
rary history  is  his  prose  translation  of  the  celebrated  work  of 
Euhemerus,  entitled,  *If^  Ava^^^.  Euhemerus  is  generally 
supposed  to  have  been  an  inhabitant  of  Messene,  a  city  of 
Peloponnesus.  Being  sent,  as  he  represented,  on  a  voyage  of 
discovery  by  Cassander,  King  of  Macedon,  he  came  to  an 
island  called  Panchaia,  in  the  capital  of  which,  Panara,  he 
found  a  temple  of  the  Tryphilian  Jupiter,  where  stood  a  co- 
lumn inscribed  with  a  register  of  the  births  and  deaths  of  many 
of  the  gods.  Among  these,  he  specified  Uranus,  his  sons  Pan 
and  Saturn,  and  his  daughters  Rhea  and  Ceres;  as  also  Jupiter, 
Jono,  and  Neptune,  who  were  the  offspring  of  Saturn.     Ac- 


^imiUvL  Oirvl.  Lib.  X.  e.  1.  f  Cicaio,  J)e  JWwititwr,  lib.  O.  c  S4 


ENNIUS.  95 

eordingly,  the  design  of  Euhemenis  was  to  show,  by  investi- 
gating their  actions,  and  recording  the  places  of  their  births 
and  burials,  that  the  mythologies  deities  were  mere  mortal 
men,  raised  to  the  rank  of  gods  on  account  of  the  benefits 
which  they  had  conferred  on  mankind, — a  system  which,  ac« 
cording  to  .Meiners  and  Warbnrton,  formed  the  grand  secret 
re^-ealed  at  the  initiation  into  the  Eleusinian  mysteries*.  The 
translation  by  Ennius,  as  well  as  the  original  work,  is  lost ;  but 
many  particulars  concerning  Euhemenis,  and  the  object  of  his 
history,  are  mentioned  in  a  fragment  of  Diodorus  Siculus, 
preserved  by  Eusebius.  Some  passages  have  also  been  saved 
by  St.  Augustine;  and  long  quotations,  have  been  made  by' 
Lactantius,  in  his  treatise  De  Falsa  Rdigiane.  These,  so  far 
as  they  extend,  may  be  regarded  as  the  truest  and  purest 
sources  of  mythological  history,  though  not  much  followed  in 
our  modern  PanttiMM, 

Plutarch,  who  was  associated  to  the  priesthood^  and  all  who 
were  interested  in  the  support  of  the  vi^lgar  creed,  maintained, 
that  the  whole  work  of  Euhemerus,  with  his  vc^age  to  Pan* 
cbaia,  was  an  impudent  fiction;  and,  in  particular,  it  was 
urged,  that  no  one  except  Euhemerus  had  ever  seen  or  heard 
of  the  land  of  Panchaiaf :  that  the  Panchaia  Tellus  had 
indeed  been  described  in  a  flowery  and  poetical  style,  both  by 
Diodorus  Siculus  and  Virgil— 

'*  Totaque  thurifeiis  Panchaia  pinguli  areiiis|." 

but  not  in  such  a  manner  as  to  determine  its  geographical 
position. 

The  truth,  however,  of  the  relation  contained  in  the  work 
of  Euhemerus,  has  been  vindicated  by  modern  writers;  who 
bare  attempted  to  prove  that  Panchaia  was  an  island  of  the 
Red  Sea,  wnich  Euhemertkl  had  actually  visited  in  the  course 
of  his  voyage^.  But  whether  Euhemerus  merely  recorded 
what  he  baa  seen,  or  whether  the  whole  book  was  a  device 
and  contrivance  of  his  own,  it  seems  highly  probable  that  the 
translation  of  Ennius  gave  rise  to  the  belief  of  many  Roman 
philosophers,  who  maintained,  or  insinuated,  their  conviction 
of  the  mortality  of  the  god^,  and  whose  writings  have  been  so 
frequently  appealed  to  by  Farmer,  in  his  able  disquisition  on 
the  prevalence  of  the  Worship  of  Human  Spirits. 

It  is  clear,  that  notwithstanding  their  observance  of  prodi- 
gies^ and  religious  ceremonies,  there  prevailed  a  considerable 
spirit  of  free-thinking  among  tfie  Romans  in  the  age  of  Ennius* 


Legation  ofMout.  f  De  ItHe  et  Osmie, 

X  Qeofg,  Lib.  II.  V.  189.  §  Mem.  de  VJkod,  dee  M$ariptum$,  Tom.  XY, 


1 


96  PLAUTUS. 

This  is  apparent,  not  merely  from  his  translation  of  Eiiheme-* 
rus,  and  defiiiTtion  of  the  nature  of  Jupiter,  in  his  Epicharmus^ 
but  from  various  passages  in  dramas  adapted  for  public  repre- 
sentation, which  deride  the  superstitions  of  augurs  and  sooth- 
sayers, as  well  as  the  false  ideas  entertained  of  the  worshipped 
divinities.  Pulybius,  too,  who  flourished  shortly  after  Ennius, 
speaks  of  the  fear  of  the  gods,  and  the  inventions  of  augury, 
merely  as  an  excellent  political  engine,  at  the  same  time  that 
he  reprehends  the  rashness  and  absurdity  of  those  who  were 
endeavouring  to  extirpate  such  useful  opinions'^. 

The  dramatic  career  which  had  been  commenced  by  Livius 
Andronicus  and  Ennius,  was  most  successfully  prosecuted  by 


PLAUTUS, 

who  availed  himself,  still  more  even  than  his  predecessors,  of 
the  works  of  the  Greekp.  The  Old  Greek  comedy  was  exces- 
sively satirical,  and  sometimes  obscene.  Its  subjects,  as  is 
well  known,  were  not  entirely  fictitious,  but  in  a  great  measure 
real ;  and  neither  the  highest  station,  nor  the  brightest  talents, 
were  any  security  against  the  unrestrained  invectives  of  the 
comic  muse  in  her  earliest  sallies..  Cratinus,  Eupolis,  and 
Aristophanes,  were  permitted  to  introduce  on  the  stage  the 
philosophers,  generals,  and  magistrates  of  the  state  with  their 
true  countenances,  and  as  it  were  in  propria  persona;  a  license 
which  seems,  in  some  measure,  to  have  been  regarded  as  the 
badge  of  popular  freedom.  It  is  only  from  the  plays  of  Aris- 
tophanes that  we  can  judge  of  the  spirit  of  the  ancient  comedy. 
Its  genius  was  so  wild  and  strange,  that  it  scarcely  admits  of 
definition:  and  can  hardly  be  otherwise  described,  than  as 
containing  a  great  deal  of  allegorical  satire  on  the  political 
measures  and  manners  of  the  Athenians,  and  parodies  on  their 
tragic  poets.  ' 

When  in  Athens  the  people  bejgan  to  lose  their  political 
influence,  and  when  the  management  of  their  aflairs  was  vest- 
ed in  fewer  hands  than  formerly,  the  oligarchical  government 
restrained  this  excessive  license;  but  while  the  poets  were 
prohibited  from  naming  the  individuals  whose  actions  they 
exposed,  still  they  represented  real  characters  so  justly,  though 
under  fictitious  appellations,  that  there  could  be  no  mistake 
with  regard  to  the  persons  intended.  This  species  of  drama, 
which  conprehends  some  of  the  later  pieces  of  Aristophanes, 
— for  example,  his  Plutus, — and  is  named  the  Middle  comedy, 

*  Polyb.Lib.V. 


PLAUTUS.  91 

was  soon  discorered  to  be  as  offensive  and  dangerous  as  th^ 
old.  The  dramatists  being  thus  at  length  forced  to  invent 
their  subjects  and  characters,  comedy  became  a  general  yet 
lively  imitation  of  the  common  actions  of  life.  All  personal 
allusion  was  dropped,  and  the  Chorus,  which  had  been  the 
great  vehicle  of  censure  and  satire,  was  ren^oved.  The  new 
comedy  was  thus  so  different  in  its  features  from  the  middle 
or  the  old,  that  Schlegel  lias  been  induced  to  think,  that  it 
was  formed  on  the  model  of  the  latest  tragedians,  rathei  than 
on  the  ancient  comedy*.  In  the  productions  of  Agathon,  and 
eren  in  some  dramas  of  Euripides,  tragedy  had  descended 
from  its  primeval  height,  and  represented  the  distresses  of 
domestic  life,  though  still  the  domestic  Jife  of  kings  and 
heroes.  Though  Euripides  was  justly  styled  by  Aristotle  the 
most  tragic  of  all  poets,  his  style  possessed  neither  the  energy 
and  sublimity  of  JEschylus,  nor  the  gravity  and  stateliness  cl* 
Sophocles,  and  it  was  frequently  not  much  elevated  above  the 
language  of  ordinary  conversation.  His  plots,  too,  like  the 
Ruden$  of  Plautus,  often  hinge  on  tlie  fear  of  women,  lest 
they  be  torn  from  the  shrines  or  altars. to  which  they  had  fled 
for  protection  ;  and  what  may  be  regarded  as  a  confirmation 
of  this  opinion  is,  that  Euripides,  who  had  been  so  severely 
satirized  by  Aristophanes,  was  extravagantly  extolled  by  Phi- 
lemon, in  his  own  age  the  most  popular  writer  of  the  new 
comedy. 

While  possessing,  perhaps,  both  less  art  and  fire  than  the 
old  satirical  drama,  produced  in  times  of  greater  public  free- 
dom, the  new  comedy  is  generally  reputed  to  have  been  supe- 
rior in  delicacy,  regularity,  and  decorum.  But  although  it 
represented  the  characters  and  manners  of  real  life,  yet  ilk 
these  characters  and  manners — to  judge  at  least  from  the 
fragments  which  remain,  and  from  the  Latin  imitations — ^there 
do^  not  appear  to  have  been  much  variety.  There  is  always 
an  old  frither,  a  lover,  and  a  courtezan  ;  as  if  formed  on  each 
other,  like  the  Platonic  and  licentious  lover  in  the  Spanish 
romances  of  chivalry.  "  Their  plots,*'  says  Dryden,  "  were 
commonlv  a' little  girl,  stolen  or  wandering  from  her  parents, 
brought  back  unknown  to  the  city, — there  got  with  child  by 
some  one,  who,  by  the  help  of  his  servant,  cheats  his  father,-— 
and  when  her  time  comes  to  cry  Juno  Lucina,  one  or  other 
sees  a  little  box  6r  cabinet  which  was  carried  away  with  her, 
and  so  discovers  her  to  her  friends ; — if  some  god  do  not  pre- 
vent it,  by  coming  down  in  a  machine,  and  taking  the  thanks 
of  it  to  himself.    By  the  plot  you  may  guess  much  of  the  cha- 

*  CiwndeLUteraHireDramaii^ue,  Tern,  X. 
Vol*  I.— N 


98  PLAUTU3. 

racters  of  the  persons;  an  old  father,  who  would  willingly 
before  he  dies  see  his  son  well  married ;  a  debauched  sod, 
kind  in  his  nature  to  his  mistress,  but  miserably  in  want  of 
money ;  and  a  servant,  or  slave,  who  has  so  much  art  as  to 
strike  in  with  hini,  and  help  to  dupe  his  father  ;  a  braggadocio 
captain ;  a  parasite ;  a  lady  of  pleasure.  As  for  the  poor 
honest  maid,  on  whom  the  story  is  built,  and  who  ought  to  be 
one  of  the  principal  actors  in  the  play,  she  is  commonly  mute 
in  it.  She  has  the  breeding  of  the  old  Elizabeth  way  :  which 
was,  for  maids  to  be  seen  and  not  to  be  heard/'  Sometimes, 
however,  her  breeding  appears  in  being  heard  and  not  seen  ; 
and  Donatus  remarks,  that  invocations  of  Juno  behind  the 
scenes  were  the  only  way  in  which  the  severity  of  the  Corner 
dia  paUiata  allowed  young  gentlewomen  to  be  introduced. 
Were  we  to  characterize  the  ancient  drama  by  appellations  o( 
modern  invention,  it  might  be  said,  that  the  ancient  comedy 
was  what  we  call  a  comedy  of  character,  and  the  modern  a 
comedy  of  intrigue. 

Nsevius,  while'  inventing  plots  of  his  own,  had  tried  to 
introduce  on  the  Roman  stage  the  style  of  the  old  Greek  co- 
medy ;  but  his  dramas  did  not  succeed,  and  the  fate  of  their 
author  deterred  others  from  following  his  dangerous  career.  The 
government  of  Athens,  which  occupies  a  chief  part  in  the  old 
comedy,  was  the  most  popular  of  all  administrations ;  and  hence 
not  only  oratory  but  comedy  claimed  the  right  of  ridiculing  and 
exposing  it.  The  first  state  in  Greece  became  the  subject  of 
merriment.  In  one  play,  the  whole  body  of  the  people  was 
represented  under  the  allegorical  personage  of  an  old  doting 
driveller ;  and  the  pleasantry  was  not  only  tolerated  but  en- 
joyed by  the  members  of  the  state  itself.  Cleon  and  Lama- 
chus  could  not  have  repressed  the  satire  of  Aristophanes,,  as 
the  Metelli  checked  the  invectives  of  Neevius.  Under  pretence 
of  patriotic  zeal,  the  Greek  comic  writers  spared  no  part  of  the 
public  conduct, — councils,  revenues,  popular  assemblies,  judi- 
cial proceedings,  or  warlike  enterprizes.  Such  exposure  was 
a  restraint  on  the  ambition  of  individuals,-^-a  matter  of  impor- 
tance to  a  people  jealous  of  its  liberties.  AU  this,  however, 
was  quite  foreign  to  the  more  serious  taste,  and  more  aris- 
tocratic government,  of  the  Romans,  to  their  estimation  of 
heroes  and  statesmen,  to  their  respect  for  their  legitimate 
chiefs,  and  for  the  dignity  even  of  a  Roman  citizen.  The  pro- 
found reverence  and  proud  affection  which  they  entertained 
for  all  that  exalted  the  honour  of  their  country,  and  their  ex- 
treme sensibility  to  its  slightest  disgrace,  must  have  interdicted 
any  exhibition,  in  which  its  glory  was  humbled,  or  its  misfor- 
tunes held  up  to  mockery.    They  would  not  have  laughed  so 


PLAUTUS.  99 

heartily  at  the  disasters  of  a  Carthaginian,  as  the  Athenians 
did  at  those  of  a  Peloponnesian  or  Sicilian  war.  The  dispo- 
sition which  led  them  to  return  thanks,  to  Varro,  after  the  bat- 
tle of  Cannse,  that  he  had  not  despaired  of  the  republic,  was 
very  different  from  the  temper  which  excited  such  contume- 
lious laughter  at  the  promoters  of  the  Spartan  war,  and  the 
advisers  of  the  fatal  expedition  to  Syracuse^.  When  the 
Roman  people  ^ere  seriously  offended,  the  Tarp^ian  rock, 
and  not  the  stage,  was  the  spot  selected  for  their  vengeance. 
Accordingly,  Plautus  fqund  it  most  prudent  to  imitate  the 
style  of  the  new  comedy,  which  had  been  brought  to  perfec- 
tion, about  half  a  century  before  his  birth,  by  Menander.  All 
his  comedies,  however,  are  not  strictly  formed  on  this  model, 
as  a  few  partake  of  the  nature  of  the  middle  comedy  :  not  that, 
like  Nasvius,  he  satirized  the  senators  or  consuls ;  but  I  have 
little  doubt  that  many  of  his  dramatis  persoruB,  such  as  the 
miser  and  braggart  captain,  were  originally  caricatures  of 
citizens  of  Athens.  In  borrowing  from  the  Greek,  he  did  not, 
like  modem  writers  of  comedy  who  wish  to  conceal  their  pla- 
giarisms, vary  the  names  of  his  characters,  the  scene  of  action, 
and  other  external  circumstances,  while  the  substance  of  the 
drama  remained  the  same ;  on  the  contrary,  he  preserved  every 
circumstance  which  could  tend  to  give  his  dramatic  pieces  a 
Greek  air : — 


*'Atque  hoc  poeta  fiiciunt  in  comoediis; 
Omiies  res  g^estas  esse  Athtfnis  autumant. 
Quo  Qlud  Yobis  Gnecum  videalur  magis." 

Plautus  was  the  son  of  a  freedman,  and  was  born  at  Sarsina, 
a  town  in  Umbria,  about  the  year  525.  He  was  called  Plau- 
tus from  his  splay  feet,  a  defect  common  among  the  Umbrians. 
Having  turned  his  attention  to  the  stage,  he  soon  realized  a 
considerable  fortune  by  the  popularity  of  his  drama9 ;  but  by 
risking  it  in  trade,  or  spending  it,  according  others,  on  the 
splendid  dresses  which  he  wore  as  an  actor,  and  theatrical 
amusements  being  little  resorted  to,  on  account  of  the  famine 
then  prevailing  at  Rome,  he  was  quickly  reduced  .to  such 

*  In  this  feature  of  their  character  the  Athenians  had  a  considerable  resemblance 
to  die  French,  during  ^ir  most  brilliant  and  courtly  era.  *'  Comment,"  said  a 
French  courtier  of  me  age  of  Louis  XIV.,  on  hearing  of  a  good  joke  which  had 
been  uttered  on  occasion  of  a  great  national  calamity ; — **  Comment,  ne  serait  on 
cbarme  des  grands  evenemens,  des  bouleversemeos  mSmes  qui  font  dire  de  si 
jolis  mots." — **  On  suivit,'*  sasrs  Chamfort,  **  cette  id^e,  on  repassa  les  mots,  let 
chansons,  bites  sur  toos  les  desastres  de  la  France.  La  chanson  sur  la  bataille  de 
Hochstet  lut  trouv^  mauvaise,  et  quelquea  uns  dirent  a  ce  sujet :  Je  suis  faebe  de 
iaperte  de  cette  bataille ;  la  chanson  ne  vaut  rien.'*— ^onmet,  PeM^cs,  4rc.  par 
CbamfiMt,  p.  190. 


10(1  PLAUTUS. 

necessity  as  farced  him  to  labour  at  a  hand-mill  for  his  daily 
support*'  an  employment  which  at  Rome,  was  the  ordinary 
punishment  of  a  worthless  slave.  Many  of  his  plays  were 
written  in  these  unfavourable  circumstances,  and  ofcourse 
have  not  obtained  all  the  perfection  which  miffht  gtherwiae 
have  resulted  from  his  knowledge  of  life,  and  his  long  prac* 
tice  in  the  dramatic  art. 

Of  the  performances  of  Plautus,  the  first,  in  that  alphabe- 
tical order  in  which,  for  want  of  a  better,  they  are  usually 
arranged,  is, 

AmphUryon. — Personal  resemblances  are  a  most  fertile 
subject  of  comic  incidents,  and  almost  all  nations  have  had 
their  Amphitryon.  The  Athenians  in  particular  gladly  availed 
themselves  of  this  subject,  as  it  afforded  an  opportunity  of 
throwing  ridicule  on  the  dull  Boeotians.  It  is  not  certain,  how- 
ever,  from  what  Greek  author  the  play  of  Plautus  was  taken. 
Being  announced  as  a  tragi-comedy,  some  criticsf  have 
conjectured  that  it  was  most  probably  imitated  from  an  Am* 
phitryon  mentioned  by  AthensBUs,^  which  was  the  work  of 
Ri^inton,  a  poet  of  Tarentum,  who  wrote  mock-tragedies  and 
tragi-comedies  styled  BhirUonica  or  HUarotragiJBdiiB*  M. 
Schlegel,  however,  alleges  that  it  was  borrowed  from  a  play 
of  Epicjiarmus  the  Sicilian.  The  subjects  indeed  of  the  an- 
cienjt  Greek  comedy,  particularly  in  the  hands  of  Epicharmus, 
its  inventor,  were  n-equently  derived  from  mythology.  Even 
in  its  maturity,  these  topics  were  not  renounced,  as  appears 
from  the  titles  of  several  lost  pieces  of  Aristophanes  and  his 
contemporaries.  Such  fabulous  traditions  continued  some- 
times to  occupy  the  scenes  of  the  middle  comedy,  and  it  was 
not  till  the  new  was  introduced  that  the  sphere  of  the  comic 
drama  was  confined  to  the  representation  of  private  and  do- 
mestic life.  Euripides  also  is  said  to  have  written,  a  play 
entitled  Alcmena,  on  the  story  of  Amphitryon,  but  how  far 
Plautus  may  have  been  indebted  to  him  for  his  plot  cannot  be 
now  ascertained.  It  is  probable  enough,  however,  that  some 
of  the  serious  parts  may  have  been  copied  from  the  Alcmena 
of  Euripides.  The  catastrophe  of  Plautus's  Amphiiryon  is 
brought'  about  by  a  storm ;  and  we  learn  from  the  BudenSj 
another  play  of  Plautus,  that  a  tempest  was  introduced  by  the 
Greek  tragedian — 

**  Non  ventus  fiiit,  verum  Alcmena  Euripidis." 


*  Au.  G«inu8,  JVM.  Jitt.  Lib.  III.  c.  8. 

t  SigiioreUi,  iS^orta<it  3Wi/r».    Tom.  II.  p.  32. 

X  lib.  UL 


PLAUTUS-  im 

Th^  Latia  piny  is  mtroduced  by  a  prologue  which  is  spoken 
by  the  God  Mercury,  and  was  explanatory  to  the  audience  of 
the  circumstances  preceding  the  opening  of  the  piece,  and  the 
situation  of  the  principal  c&racters.    The  term  prologue  has 
been  very  arbitrarily  used.    In  one  sepse  it  merely  signified 
the  induction  to  the  dramatic  action,  which  informed  the 
spectator  of  what  was  necessary  to  be  known  for  duly  under- 
standing it.  Aristotle  calls  that  part  of  a  tragedy  the  prologue, 
which  precedes  the  first  song  of  the  chorus.^     In  the  Greek 
tragedies,  the  prologue  was  often  a  long  introductory  and 
narrative  monologue.    Sophocles,  however,  so  ditUogued  this 
part  of  the  drama,  that  it  has  no  appearance  of  a  contrivance 
to  instruct,  but  seems  a  natural  conversation  of  the  dramaiia 
persons.    Euripides,  on  the  other  hand,  fell  more  into  the 
style  of  the  formal  narrative  prologue,  since,  before  entering 
on  the  action  or  dialogue,  one  of  the  persons  destined  to  bear 
a  part  in  the  drama  frequently  explained  to  the  audience,  in 
a  continued  discourse,  what  things  seemed  essential  for  under- 
standing  the  piece.     Sometimes,  however,  in  the  Greek  tra- 
gedies, the  speaker  of  this  species  of  prologue  is  not  a  person 
of  the  drama.     In  general,  these  artificial  prologues  of  expla^ 
natory  narration  are  addressed  directly  to  the  spectators,  and 
hence  approach  nearly  to  the  prologue,  in  our  acceptation  of 
the  term.    The  poets  of  the  ancient  comedy,  as  we  see  from 
Aristophanes,  usually  adopted,  like  Sophocles,  the  mode  of 
explaining  preliminary  circumstances  in  the  course  of  the 
action,  whence  it  has  been  coiisidered  that  the  old  Greek 
comedies  have  no  prologue ;  and  they  certainly  have  none  in 
the  strict  modem  sense,  though  the  method  of  Euripides  has 
been  employed  to  a  certain  degree  in  the  Wasps  and  BirdSy 
in  the  fi:>rmer  of  which  Xanthias,  interrupting  the  dialogue 
with  Sosias,  turns  abruptly  to  the  spectators,  and  unfolds  the 
argoment  of  the  fable.     The  poets  of  the  middle  and  new 
comedy,  while  departing  from  Aristophanes  in  many  things, 
foUowed  him  in  the  form  of  the  prologue ;  and,  as  they  im* 
proved  in  refinement,  interwove  still  closer  the  requisite  ex- 
position  of  the  fable  with  its  action.  The  Romans  thus  found 
among  the  Greeks,  prologues  in  a  continued  narrative,  and 
and  prologues  where  the  exposition  was  mixed  with  the  action. 
From  these  models  they  formed  a  new  species,  peculiar  to 
themselves,  which  is  entirely  separated  from  the  action  of  the 
drama,  and  which  generally  contains  an  explanation  of  cir- 
cumstances and  characters^  with  such  gentle  recommendation 
of  the  piece  as  spited  the  purpose  of  the  author.     We  shall 

•  Poet.  XII. 


102  PLAUTUS. 

find  that  the  Latin  prologues,  dressed  up  in  the  form  of  nar- 
rative, sometimes  preceded  the  dramatic  induction  of  the 
action,  and  at  other  times,  as  in  the  MUes  GUniosus,  followed 
it.  The  prologue  of  the  Moatellaria  is  on  the  plan  adopted 
by  Aristophanes,  and  that  of  the  Ciatellaria  is  conformable  to 
the  practice  of  our  own  theatre.  To  other  plays,  such  as  the 
Epidicus  and  Bacdiides,  there  Were  originally  no  prologues, 
but  they  were  prefixed  after  the  death  of  the  author,  in  order 
to  explain  the  reasons  for  bringing  them  forward  anew.  It 
thus  appears  that  in  his  prologues  Plautus  approached  nearer 
to  Euripides  than  to  those  comic  writers  whom  in  his  argu- 
ment and  all  other  respects  he  chiefly  followed.  The  pro- 
logues of  Terence,  again,  seldom  announce  the  subject.  In 
the  manner  of  the  Greeks,  his  induction  is  laid  in  the  first 
scene  of  the  play,  and  the  prologues  seem  chiefly  intended  to 
acknowledge  the  Greek  original  of  his  drama,  and  to  explain 
matters  personal  to  himself.  They  rather  resemble  the  cho- 
ruses of  Aristophanes,  which  in  the  Wasps  and  other  plays 
directly  address  the  audience  in  favour  of  the  poet,  and  com- 
plain of  the  unjust  reception  which  his  dramas  occasionally 
experienced. 

In  the  prologue  to  the  Amphitryon^  Plautus  calls  his  play 
a '  tragi-comedy * ;  probably  not  so  much  that  there  is  any 
thing  tragical  in  the  subject,  (although  the  character  of  Alc- 
mena  is  a  serious  one,)  as,  because  it  is  of  that  mixed  kind  in 
which  the  highest  as  well  as  lowest  characters  are  introduced. 
The  plot  is  chiefly  founded  on  the  well-known  mythological 
incident  of  Jupiter  assuming  the  figure  of  Amphitryon,  general 
of  the  Thebans,  during  his  absence  with  the  army,  and  by  that 
means  imposing  on  his  wife  Alcmena.  The  play  opens  while 
Jtpiter  is  supposed  to  be  with  the  object  of  his  passion.  Sosia, 
the  servant  of  Amphitryon,  who  had  been  sent  on  before  by 
his  master,  from  the  port  to  announce  his  victory  and  approach, 
is  introduced  on  the  stage,  proceeding  towards  the  palace  of 
Amphitryon.  While  expressing  his  astonishment  at  the  length 
of  the  night,  he  is  met,  in  front  of  his  master's  house,  by 
Mercury,  who  had  assumed.his  form,  and  who,  partly  by  blows 
and  threats,  and  partly  by  leading  him  to  doubt  of  his  own 
identity,  succeeds  in  driving  him  back.  This  gives  Jupiter 
time  to  prosecute  his  amour,  and  he  departs  at  dawn.     The 

*  "  Faciam  ut  commixta  sit  tragico  comocdia ; 
Nam  me  perpetoo  facere  ut  sit  comoedia. 
Reives  <|uo  veniant  et  Dii^non  par  arbitror. 
Quid  igitur  ?  quoniam  hic  servus  quoque  parteia  habet, 
Faciam  sit,  proinde  ut  dizi,  tragi-comoedia." 


PLAUTUS.  103 

improbable  story  related  by  Sosta  is  not  believed  by  his  master, 
who  himself  now  advances  towards  his  house,  from  which 
Alcmeoa  comes  forth,  lamenting  the  departure  of  her  supposed 
husband;  but  seeing  Amphitryon,  she  expresses  her  surprise 
at  his  speedy  return.  The  jealousy  of  Amphitryon  is  thus 
excited,  and  he  quits  the  stage,  in  order  to  bring  evidence 
that  he  had  never  till  that  time  quitted  his  army.  Jupiter  then 
returns,  and  Amphitryon  is  afterwards  refused  access  to  his 
own  house  by  Mercury,  who  pretends  that  he  does  not  know 
him.  At  length  Jupiter  and  Amphitryon  are  confronted.  They 
are  successively  questioned  as  to  the  events  of  the  late  war  by 
the  pilot  of  the  ship  in  which  Amphitryon  had  returned.  As 
Jupiter  also  stands  this  test  of  identity,  the  real  Amphitryon 
is  viTought  up  to  such  a  pitch  of  rage  and  despair,  that  he 
resolves  to  wreak  vengeance  on  his  whofe  family,  and  is  pro- 
voked even  to  utter  blasphemies,  by  setting  the  gods  at  defi- 
ance. He  is  supposed  immediately  after  this  to  have  been 
struck  down  by  lightning,  as,  in  the  next  scene,  Bromia,  the 
attendant  of  Alcmena,  rushes  out  from  the  house,  alarmed  at 
the  tempest,  and  finds  Amphitryon  lying  prostrate  on  the 
earth.  When  he  has  recovered,  she  announces  to  him  that 
during  the  storm  Alcmena  had  given  birth  to  twins : — 


**  Jtmph.  Ain'  tu  Geminoe?  Srom,  Qemmos.  Amph,  Dii  me  servent*' 

Jupiter  then,  in  propria  persona^  reveals  the  whole  mystery, 
and  Amphitryon  appears  to  be  much  flattered  by  the  honour 
which  had  been  paid  him. 

In  this  play  the  jealousv  and  perplexity  of  Amphitryon  are 
well  portrayed,  and  the  whole  character  of  Alcmena  is  beau- 
tifully drawn.  She  is  represented  as  an  affectionate  wife,  full 
of  innocence  and  simplicity,  and  her  distress  at  the  suspicions 
of  the  real  Amphitryon  is  highly  interesting.  The  English 
translator  of  Plautus  has  remarked  the  great  similarity  of 
manners  between  her  and  Desdemona,  while  placed  in  similar 
circomstances.  Both  express  indignation  at  being  suspected, 
but  love  for  their  husbands  makes  them  easily  reconciled.  The 
reader,  however,  feels  that  Amphitryon  and  Alcmena  remain 
in  an  awkward  situation  at  the  conclusion  of  the  piece.  It 
muBt  also  be  confessed,  that  the  Roman  dramatist  has  as- 
signed a  stranse  part  to  Jupiter  Optimus  M aximus,  at  whose 
festivals  this  play  is  said  to  have  been  usually  performed ;  but, 
as  Voltaire  has  remarked,  "  II  n'y  a  que  ceux  qui  ne  savent 
point  combien  les  hommes  agissent  peu  consequemment,  qui 
puissent  etre  surpris,  qu'on  se  moqua  publiquement  au  theatre, 
des  memes  dieux  qu'on  adorait  dans  les  temples.'' 


104  PLAUTUS. 

Mistakes  are  a  most  fruitfai  subject  of  comic  incident,  and 
never  could  there  be  such  mistakes  as  those  which  arise  from 
two  persons  being  undistinguishable :  but  then,  in  order  to 
give  an  appearance  of  verisimilitude  cm  the  stage,  it  was 
almost  necessary  that  the  pfay  should  be  represented  with 
masks,  which  could  alone  exhibit  the  perfect  resemblance  of 
the  two  Amphitryons  and  the  two  Sosias ;  and  even  with  this 
advantage,  such  errors,  in  order  to  possess  dramatic  plausi- 
bility,  must  have  been  founded  on  some  mythological  tradi- 
tion. The  subject,  therefore,  is  but  an  indifferent  one  for 
the  modern  stage.  Accordingly,  Ludovico  Dolce,  who  first 
imitated  this  comedy  in  his  play  entitled  Marito,  has  grossly 
erred  in  transporting  the  scene  from  Thebes  to  Padua,  and 
assigning  the  parts^  of  Jupiter  and  Amphitryon  to  Messer 
Muzio  and  Fabrizio,'  two  Italian  citizens,  who  were  so  similar 
in  appearance,  that  the  wife  of  one  of  them,  though  a  sensible 
and  virtuous  woman,  is  deceived  night  and  day,  during  her 
husband's  absence,  by  the  resemblance,  and  the  deception  is 
aided  by  the  still  more  marvellous  likeness  of  their  domestica. 
In  place  of  Jupiter  appearing  in  the  clouds,  and  justifying 
Alcmena,  the  Italian  has  introduced  a  monk,  called  Fra  Giro- 
lamo,  who  is  bribed  to  persuade  the  foolish  husband  that  a 
spirit  (FoIIetto)  had  one  night  transported  him  to  Padua,  during 
sleep,  which  satisfectorily  accounts  to  him  for  the  situation  in 
which  he  finds  his  wife  on  his  return  home. 

These  absurdities  have  been  in  a  great  measure  avoided  in 
the  imitation  by  Rotrou,  who  may  be  regarded  as  the  fiitfaer  of 
the  French  drama,  having  first  exploded  the  bad  taste  which 
pervades  tlie  pieces  of  Hardy.  His  comedy  entitled  Les  Deux 
Sosies,  is  completely  framed  on  the  Amphitryon  of  Plautus, 
only  the  prologue  is  spoken  by  the  inveterate  Juno,  who  de- 
claims agaipst  her  rivals,  and  enumerates  the  labours  which 
she  has  in  store  for  the  son  of  Alcmena. 

But  by  far  the  most  celebrated  imitation  of  Plautus  is  the 
jlmphUrioH  of  Moliere,  who  has  managed  with  much  delicacy 
a  subject  in  itself  not  the  most  decorous.  He  has  in  general 
followed  the  steps  of  the  Roman  dramatist,  but  where  he  has 
departed  from  them,  he  has  improved  on  the  original.  Instead  of 
the  dull  and  inconsistent  prologue  delivered  by  Mercury,  which 
explains  the  subject  of  the  piece,  he  has  introduced  a  scene 
between  Mercury  and  Night,  (probably  suggested  by  the  Dia- 
logues of  Lucian  between  Mercury  and  the  Sun  on  the  same 
occasion,)  in  which  Mercury  announces  the  state  of  matters 
while  requesting  Night  to  prolong  her  stay  on  earth  for  the  sake 
of  Jupiter.  At  the  commencement  of  the  piece,  Plautus  has 
made  Sosia  repeat  to  himself  a  very  minute,  though  picturesque 


PLAUTUS.  105 

account  of  the  victory  of  the  Thebans,  as  preparatory  to  a  pro- 
per description  of  it  to  Alcmena.  This  Moliere  has  formed  into 
a  sort  of  dialogued  soliloquy  between  Sosia  and  his  Lantern, 
which  rehearses  the  answers  anticipated  from  Alcmena,  till 
the  discourse  is  at  length  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  Mer- 
cury, when  the  speaker  has  lost  himself  among  the  manoeuvres 
of  the  troops.  In  the  Latin  Amphitryon^  Mercury  threatens 
Sosia,  and  he  replies  to  his  rodomontade  by  puns  and  quib- 
bles, which  have  been  omitted  by  the  French  poet,  who  makes 
the  spectators  laugh  by  the  excessive  and  ridiculous  terror  of 
Sosia,  and  not  by  pleasantries  inconsistent  with  his  feelings 
and  situation.  Moliere  has  copied  from  Plautus  the  manner 
in  which  Sosia  is  gradually  led  to  doubt  of  his  own  identity  : 
his  consequent  confusion  of  ideas  has  been  closely  imitated, 
as  also  the  ensuing  scenes  of  the  quarrel  and  reconciliation 
between  Jupiter  and  Alcmena.  He  has  added  the  part  of 
Cleanthes,  the  wife  of  Sosia,  suggested  to  him  by  a  line  put 
into  the  mouth  of  Sosia  by  Plautus — 

'*  Quid  me  expectatum  dod  lere  amice  mee  irenturam." 

It  was  certainly  ingenious  to  make  the  adventures  of  the  slave 
a  parody  an  those  of  his  m^ter,  and  this  new  character  pro- 
duces an  agreeable  scenfe  between  her  and  Mercury,  who  is 
little  pleased  with  the  cai  esses  of  this  antiquated  charmer. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  French  dramatist  has  omitted  the 
examination  of  the  double  Amphitryons,  and  nearly  introduces 
them  in  the  presence  of  two  Thebans :  Amphitryon  brings  his 
friends  to  avenge  him,  by  assaulting  Jupiter,  when  that  god 
appears  in  the  clouds  and  announces  the  fliture  birth  of  net^ 
cuies.  Through  the  whole  comedy,  Moliere  has  given  a  "dif- 
ferent colour  to  the  behaviour  of  Jupiter,  from  that  thrown 
over  it  by  Plautus.  In  the  Latin  play  he  assumes,  quite  the 
character  of  the  husband;  but  with  Moliere  he  is  more  of  a 
lover  and  gallant,  and  pays  Alcmena  so  many,  amorous  com- 
pliments, that  she  exclaims, 

**  AmphitrioD,  en  yeiite, 
VoOB  VOI0  moquez  de  tenir  ce  langage !" 

Moliere  evidently  felt  that  Alcmena  and  Amphitryon  were 
placed  in  an  awkward  situation,  in  spite  of  the  assurances  of 
Jupiter — 


{( 


A]cmene  est  toute  a  toi,  quel^ue  soin  qn'oa  employe ; 
Et  eedoit  a  tea  feux  etre  uo  objet  bieo  doux, 
De  ▼oir,qiie  pourhii  plaire,  il  n'est  point  d'antre  voie, 
Que  de  paraitre  son  epoux. 
8one,  Le  seicneur  Jupiter  mitdorer  sa  pilule.*' 

Voii.  L— O 


106  PLAUTUS. 

In  these,  and  several  other  lines,  Moliere  has  availed  himself 
of  the  old  French  play  oif  Rotroii.  The  lively  expression  of 
Sosia, 


<*  Le  veiiteble  Amphitiyon  est  TAmphitiyoa  ou  Ton  dine,'* 

which  has  passed  into  a  sort  of  proverb,  has  been  suggested 
by  a  similar  phrase  of  Rotrou's  Sosia^— 


«  Point  point  d'Amphitryon  ou  Ton  ne  dine  point  r 

and  the  lines, 

'*  J*etids  renu,  je  voos  jure, 
Avant  que  je  daae  wwrit* 

are  nearly  copied  from  Rotrou's 

*'  J*etai8  chez-nou8  avant  mon  arrive  ;'^ 

and  Sosia's  boast,  in  the  older  French  play, 

"  n  m'ett  coofonne  en  tout-— il  est  grand,  il  est  foit>" 

has  probably  suggested  to  Moliere  tlie  lines, 

**  Des  piedsy  jusqu'  a  la  tete  il  est  coimne  moi  fait. 
Beau,  I'air  noble,  bienpris,  lea  manieres  charmantes. 


The  •^n^hitrUm  of  Moliere  was  published  in  1668,  so  that 
Dryden,  in  his  imitation  of  Plautus's  Amphitryon^  which  first 
appeared  in  1690,  had  an  opportunity  of  also  availing  himself 
of  Ihe  French  piece.  But,  even  with  this  assistance,  he  has 
done  Plautus  less  justice  than  his  predecessor.  He  has  some- 
times borrowed  the  scenes  and  incidents  of  Moliere;  but  has 
too  frequently  given  us  ribaldry  in  the  low  characters,  and 
bombast  in  the  higher,  instead  of  the  admirable  grace  and 
liveliness  of  the  French  dramatist.  His  comedy  commences 
earlier  than  either  the  French  or  Latin  play,  f^hoebus  makes 
his  appearance  at  the  opening  of  the  piece.  The  first 
arrival  of  Jupiter  in  the  shape  of  Amphitryon  is  then  repre- 
sented, apparently  in  order  to  introduce  Phaadra/the  attendant 
of  Alcmenai  exacting  a  promise  from  her  mistress,  before  she 
knew,  who  had  arrived,  that  they  should  that  night  be  bed* 
fellows  as  usual  since  Amphitryon's  absence.  To  this  Phaedra, 
Dryden  has  assigned  an  amour  with  Mercury,  to  the  great 
jealousy  of  Sosia's  wife,  Bromia ;  and  has  mixed  up  the  whole 
play  with  pastoral  dialogues  and  randeauSf  to  which,  as  he 


PLAUTIJS.  *         107 

in&nns  ag  in  his  dedication,  **  the  numeroiis  choir  of  fair 
ladies  gave  so  just  an  applause."  The  scenes  of  a  higher 
description  are  those  which  have  been  best  managed.  The 
latest  editor,  indeed,  of  the  works  of  Dryden,  thinks  that 
in  these  parts  he  has  surpassed  both  the  French  and  Roman 
dramatist.  **  The  sensation  to  be  expressed,"  he  remarks,  '^  is 
not  that  of  sentimental  affection,  which  the  good  father  of 
Oljmpus  was  not  capable  of  feeling;  but  love  of  that  grosser 
sod  subordinate  kind,  which  prompted  Jupiter  in  his  intrigues, 
has  been  expressed  by  none  of  the  ancient  poets  in  more 
beautiful  verse,  than  that  in  which  Dryden  has  clothed  it,  in 
the  scenes  between  Jupiter  and  Alcmena."  >  Milbourne,  who 
sAerwards  so  violently  attacked  the  English  poet,  highly  com* 
pliments  him  on  the  success  of  this  effort  of  his  dramatic 
muse— 

"  Not  ^oebus  could  with  gentler  words  pufsuB 
His  flying  Daphne ;  not  Uie  morning  dew 
Falls  sofwr,  than  the  words  of  amorous  Jove, 
Wheo  melting,  dying,  for  Alcaena's  love." 

The  character,  however,  of  Alcmena  is,  I  think,  less  interest- 
ing in  the  English  than  in  the  Latin  play.  She  is  painted  by 
Plaotos  as  delighted  with  the  glory  of  her  husband.  In  the 
second  scene  of  the  second  act,  after  a  beautiful  complaint 
on  account  of  his  absence,  she  consoles  herself  with  the 
thoaghts  of  his  military  renown,  and  concludes  with  an  eulogy 
on  valour,  which  would  doubtless  be  highly  popular  in  a  Ro- 
man theatre  during  the  early  ages  of  the  Republi 

-<■  Virtu  premium  eet  optimum. 


Virtus  omnibus  rebus  anteit  profecto. 

Llbertas,  salus,  vita,  res,  parenteis, 

Patria,  et  prosnati  tutantur,  servantur : 

Virtus  oraoia  m  se  habet ;  omnia  adsunt  bona,  quem  pen'est  Tiitoi." 

Diyden's  Alcmena  is  represented  as  quite  different  in  her 
sentiments :  She  exclaims,  on  parting  with  Jupiter, 


«  Curse  nn  this  honour,  and  this  public  fame ! 
Would  you  had  less  of  both,  and  more  of  love ! 


» 


Lady  M«  W.  Montague  gives  a  curious  account,  in  one  of 
her  letters,  of  a  German  play  on  the  subject  of  Amphitryon, 
which  she  saw  acted  at  Vienna.—^*  Ab  that  subject  had  been 
^ready  handled  by  a  Latin,  Freneh,  and  English  poet,  I  was 
Gorious  to  see  what  an  Austrian  author  could  make  of  it.  I 
understand  enough  of  that  language  to  comprehend  the  great* 
^it  part  of  it;  and,  besides,  I  took  with  me  a  lady  that  had  the 


108         ♦  PLAUTUS. 

goodness  to  explain  to  me  every  word.  I  thought  the  house 
very  low  and  dark ;  but  the  comedy  admirably  recompensed 
that  defect.  I  never  laughed  so  much  in  my  life.  It  began 
with  Jupiter  falling  in  love  out  of  a  peep-hole  in  the  clouds, 
and  ended  with  the  birth  of  Hercules.  But  what  was  most 
pleasant  was,  the  use  Jupiter  made  of  his  metamorphosis ;  for 
you  no  sooner  saw  him  under  the  figure  of  Amphitryon,  but, 
instead  of  flying  to  Alcmena  with  the  raptures  Dryden  puts 
into  his  mouth,  he  sends  for  Amphitryon's  tailor,  and  cheats 
him  of  a  laced  coat,  and  his  banker  of  a  bag  of  money — a  Jew 
of  a  diamond  ring,  and  bespeaks  a  great  supper  in  his  name; 
and  the  greatest  part  of  the  comedy  turns  upon  poor  Amphi- 
tryon's being  tormented  by  these  people  for  their  debts.  Mer- 
cury uses  Sosia  in  the  same  manner;  but  I  could  not  easily 
pardon  the  liberty  the  poet  had  taken  of  larding  his  play  with 
not  only  indecent  expressions,  but  such  gross  words  as  I  do 
not  think  our  mob  would  suflTer  from  a  mountebank." 

In  nothing  can  the  manners  of  different  ages  and  countries 
be  more  distinctly  traced,  than  in  the  way  in  which  the  same 
subject  is  treated  on  the  stage.  In  Plautus,  may  be  remarked 
the  military  enthusiasm  and  early  rudeness  of  the  Romans — 
in  the  Marito  of  L.  Dolce,  the  intrigues  of  the  Italians,  and 
the  constant  interposition  of  priests  and  confessors  in  domes- 
tic affairs— in  Dryden,  the  libertinism  of  the  reign  of  Charles 
the  Second — and  in  Moliere,  the  politeness  and  refinement  of 
the  court  of  Louis. 

AHnaria^  is  translated  from  the  Greek  of  Demophilus,  a 
writer  of  the  Middle  comedy.  The  subject  is  the  trick  put 
on  an  ass-driver  by  two  roguish  slaves,  in  order  to  get  hold 
of  the  money  which  he  brought  in  payment  of  some  asses  he 
had  purchased  from  their  master,  that  they  might  employ  it  in 
supplying  the  extravagance  of  their  master's  son.  The  old 
man,  however,  is  not  the  dupe  in  this  play :  On  the  contrary, 
he  is  a  confederate  in  the  plot,  which  was  chiefly  devised 
against  his  wife,  who,  having  brought  her  husband  a  great 
portion,  imperiously  governed  his  house  and  family.  By  this 
means  the  yquth  is  restored  to  the  possession  of  a  mercenary 
mistress,  from  whom  he  had  been  excluded  by  a  more  wealthy 
rival.  The  fiither  stipulates,. as  a  reward  for  the  part  which 
he  had  acted  in  this  stratagem,  that  he  also  should  have  a 
share  in  the  favours  of  his  son's  mistress;  and  the  play  con- 
cludes with  this  old  wretch  being  detected  by  his  wife,  ca- 
rousing at  a  nocturnal  banquet,  a  wreath  of  flowers  on  his 
head,  with  his  son  and  the  courtezcui.  It  would  appear,  firom 
the  concluding  address  to  tlie  spectators,  that  neither  the 
moral  sense  of  the  author,  nor  of  his  audience,  was  very  strong 


PLAUTUS.  109 

or  correct,  as  the  bystanders  on  the  stage,  so  far  from  con- 
demning these  abandoned  characters,  declare  that  the  most 
guilty  of  the  three  had  done  nothing  new  or  surprising,  or 
more  than  what  was  customary : 

**  Orex.  Hie  9enex,  ri  quid,  clam  uxorem,  9uo  antmo  fedt  volup,    ^ 
Neque  novum,  neque  ininmi  fecit,  nee  aecxiA  quam  alii  solent : 
Nee  quisqua  'st  tam  in  genio  duro ;  nee  tairi  firmo  pectore, 
Qum  ubi  quicquam  occasionia  sit,  aibi  fitciat  bene." 

Lucilius,  while  remarking  in  one  of  his  fragments,  that  the 
Chremes  of  Terence  had  preserved  a  just  medium  in  morals 
by  his  obliging  demeanour  towards  his  son,  had  ample  grounds 
for  observing,  that  the  Demesnetus  of  Plautus  had  run  into  an 
extreme — 


"  Chremes  in  medium,  in  summum  ire  Ademsnetus*.'* 

However  exceptionable  in  point  of  morals,  this  play  possesses 
much  comic  vivacity  and  interest  of  character.  The  courte- 
zan and  the  slaves  are  sketched  with  spirit  and  freedom,  and 
the  rapacious  disposition  of  the.  female  dealer  in  slave-girls, 
is  well  developed. 

It  is  curious  that  this  immoral  comedy  should  have  been 
80  frequently  acted  in  the  Italian  convents.  In  particular,  a 
translation  in  terza  rima  was  represented  in  the  monastery  of 
St  Stefano  at  Venice,  in  ldl4f.  It  was  not  of  a  nature  to  be 
often  imitated  by  modern  writers,  but  Moliere,  who  has  bor- 
rowed so  many  of  the  plots  of  other  plays  of  Plautus,  has 
extracted  from  this  drama  several  situations  and  ideas.  Cleas- 
reta,  in  the  third  scene  of  the  first  Act  of  the  JtsifwriOf  gives, 
as  her  advice,  to  a  gallant — 

«  Neque  ille  seit  quid  det,  quid  damni  faciat :  illi  rei  studet ; 
Vult  placere  seae  amice,  tuU  mihi,  vult  pediaaeque, 
Vult  fiunulia,  Tult  etiam  anciQis ;  et  quoque  catulo  meo 
Sublanditur  aovua  amator.'* 

In  like  manner,  in  the  Femmes  Savantes,  Henriette,  while 
counselling  Clitandre  to  be  complaisant,  says — 

«<  tin  toant  fait  sa  eour  ou  8*attache  son  eoeur, 
U  veut  de  toutle  monde  y  gagner  la  fiiveur; 
£t  pour  n*avoir  penonne  a  sa  flamme  contraire, 
Juaqu'au  ehien  du  logis  il  s'efforce  de  plaire.** 


Jluhdafia. — It  is  not  known  from  what  Greek  author  this 
play  has  been  taken ;  but  there  can  be  no  doiibt  that  it  had 

'  Sat.  lib.  XXVni.    t  Walker's  Eiioy  on  the  lUvwal  of  the  Drama  in  Raiy, 


r 


110  PLAUTUS. 

iU  archetype  in  the  Greek  drama.  The  festivals  of  Ceres 
and  Bacchus,  which  in  their  origin  were  innocent  institu- 
tions, Intended  to  celebrate  the  blessings  of  harvest  and 
vintage,  having  degenerated  by  means  of  priestcraft,  became 
schools  of  superstition  and  debauchery.  From  the  adven- 
ventures  and  intrigties  which  occurred  at  the  celebration  of 
religious  mysteries,  the  comic  poets  of  Greece  frequently  drew 
the  incidents  of  their  dramas*,  which  often  turned  on  damsels 
having  been  rendered,  on  such  occasions,  the  mothers  of  chil- 
dren, without  knowing  who  were  the  fathers.  In  like  manner, 
the  intrigue  of  the  Aidularia  has  its  commencement  in  the 
daughter  of  Euciio  being  violated  during  the  celebration  of 
the  mysteries  of  Ceres,  without  being  aware  from  whom  she 
bad  received  the  injury.     The  AultjUariay  however,  is  princi- 

Eilly  occupied  with  the  display  of  the  character  of  a  Miser* 
o  vice  has  been  so  often  pelted  with  the  good  sentences  of 
moralists,  or  so  often  ridiculed  on  the  stage,  as  avarice  ;  and 
of  all  the  characters  that  have  been  there  represented,  that  of 
the  miser  in  the  Aulularia  of  Plautus,  is  perhaps  the  most 
entertaining  and  best  supported.  Comic  dramas  have  been 
divided  into  those  of  intrigue  and  character,  and  the  JlukUaria 
is  chiefly  of  the'latter  description.  It  is  so  termed  from  .iuUt, 
or  OUa^  the  diminutive  of  which  is  Aidula,  signifying  the  little 
earthen  pot  that  contained  a  treasure  which  had  been  con- 
cealed by  bis  grandfather,  but  had  been  discovered  by  Euciio 
the  miser,  who  is  the  principal  character  of  the  play.  The 
prologue  is  spoken  by  the  Lor  Familiaris  of  the  house  ;  and 
as  the  play  has  its  origin  in  tlie  discovery  of  a  treasure  depo- 
sited under  a  hearth,  the  introduction  of  this  imaginary  Being, 
if  we  duly  consider  the  superstitions  of  the  Romans,  was 
happy  and  appropriate.  The  account  given  by  the  Lar  of 
the  successive  generations  of  misers,  is  also  well  imagined,  as 
it  convinces  us  that  Euciio  was  a  genuine  miser,  and  of  the 
true  breed.  The  household  god  had  disclosed  the  long-con- 
cealed treasure,  as  a  reward  for  the  piety  of  Euclio's  daughter, 
who  presented  him  with  offerings  of  frankincense  and  of  wine^ 
which,  however,  it  is  not  very  probable  the  miser's  daughter 
could  have  procured,  especially  before  the  discovery  of  the 
treasure.  The  story  of  the  precious  deposit,  of  which  the 
spectators  could  not  possibly  have  been  informed  without  this 
supernatural  interposition,  being  thus  related,  we  are  intro- 
duced at  once  to  the  knowledge  of  the  principal  character^ 
who,  having  found  the  treasure,  employs  himself  in  guarding 
it,  and  lives  in  continual  apprehension,  lest  it  should  be  di$- 

*  Fabricias,  BibUoih.  Qrmc.  lib.  II.  c.  22. 


PLAUTtJS.  Ill 

cofered  that  he  pMsesses  it.  Accordingly,  he  is  brought  oa 
the  stage  driying  off  his  servant,  that  she  may  not  spy  him 
while  visiting  this  hoard,  and  afterwards  giving  directions  of 
the  strictest  economy.  He  then  leaves  home  on  an  errand 
very  happily  imagined — an  attendance  at  a  public  distribu- 
tion of  money  to  the  poor.  Megadorus  now  proposes  to  marry 
his  daughter,  and  Euclio  comically  enough  supposes  that  he 
has  discovered  something  concerning  his  newly  acquired 
wealth ;  but  on  his  offering  to  take  her  without  a  portion,  he 
is  tranquillized,  and  agrees  to  the  match.  Knowing  the  dis- 
position of  his  intended  father-in-law,  Megadorus  sends  provi- 
«ons  to  his  house,  and  also  cooks,  to  prepare  a  marriage-feast, 
but  the  miser  turns  them  out,  and  keeps  what  they  had  brought. 
At  length  his  alarm  for  discovery  rises  to  such  a  height,  that 
lie  hides  his  treasure  in  a  grove,  consecrated  to  Sylvanus, 
which  lay  beyond  the  walls  of  the  city.  While  thus  employed, 
he  is  observed  by  the  slave  of  Lyconides,  the  young  man  who 
had  violated  the  miser's  daughter.  Euclio  coming  to  recreate 
himself  with  the  sight  of  his  gold^  finds  that  it  is  goile.  Re- 
turning home  in  despair,  he  is  met  by  Lyconides,  who,  hearing 
of  the  projected  nuptials  between  his  uncle  and  the  miser's 
daughter,  now  apologizes  for  his  conduct;  but  the  miser 
applies  all  that  he  says  concerning  his  daughter  to  his  lost 
treasure.  This  play  is  unfortunately  mutilated,  and  ends 
with  the  slave  of  Lyconides  confessing  to  his  master  that  he 
has  found  the  miser's  hoard,  and  offering  to  give  it  up  as  the 
price  of  his  freedom.  It  may  be  presumed,  however,  that,  in 
the  original,  Lyconides  got  possession  of  the  tresisiire,  and  by 
its  restoration  to  Euclio,  so  far  conciliated  his  favour,  that  he 
obtained  bis  daughter  in  marriage.  This  conclusion,  accord- 
ingly, has  been  adopted  by  those  who  have  attempted  to 
finish  the  comedy  in  the  spirit  of  the  Latin  dramatist.  It  is 
completed  on  this  plan  by  Thornton,  the  English  translator  of 
Plautus,  and  by  Antonius  Codnis  Urceus,  a  professor  in  the 
University  of  Bologna,  who  died  in  the  year  1 500.  Urceus 
has  also  made  the  miser  suddenly  change  his  nature,  and 
liberally  present  his  new  son-in-hiw  with  the  restored  trea- 
sure. 

The  restless  inquietude  of  Euclio,  in  concealing  his  gold  in 
many  different  places — his  terror  on  seeing  the  preparations 
for  the  feast,  lest  the  wine  brought  in  was  meant  to  intoxicate 
him,  that  he  might  be  robbed  with  greater  facility — his  dilemma 
at  being  obliged  to  miss  the  distribution  to  the  poor — are  all 
admirable  traits  of  extreme  and  habitual  avarice.  Even  bis 
recollection  of  the  expense  of  a  rope,  when,  in  despair  at  the 
loss  of  his  treasure,  he  resolves  to  hang  himself,  though  a  little 


112  •      PLAUTUS. 

overdone,  is  sufficiently  characteristic.  But  while  the  part  of 
a  confirmed  miser  has  been  comically  and  strikingly  repre- 
sented in  these  touches,  it  is  stretched  in  others  beyond  all 
bounds  of  probability.  When  Euclio  entreats  his  female 
servant  to  spare  the  cobwebs-^when  it  is  said,  that  he  com- 
plains of  being  pillaged  if  the  smoke  issue  from  his  house — 
and  that  he  preserves  the  parings  of  his  nails — we  feel  this  to 
be  a  species  of  hoarding  which  no  miser  could  think  of  or 
enjoy*. 

One  of  the  earliest  imitations  of  the  Aukdaria  was,  La 
Sportii^  a  prose  Italian  comedy,  printed  at  Florence  in  1 543, 
under  the  name  of  Giovam-Battista  Grelli,  but  attributed  by 
some  to  Machiavel.  It  is  said,  that  the  great  Florentine  his- 
torian left  this  piece,  in  an  imperfect  state,  in  the  hands  of  his 
friend  Bernardino  di  Giordano  of  Florence,  in  whose  house  his 
comedies  were  sometimes  represented,  whence  it  passed  into 
the  possession  of  Gelli,  a  writer  of  considerable  humour,  who 
prepared  it  for  the  press ;  and,  according  to  a  practice  not 
unfrequent  in  Italy  at  different  periods,  published  it  as  his  own 
productionf .  The  play  is  called  Sporta^  from  the  basket  in 
which  the  treasure  was  contained.  The  plot  and  incidents  in 
Plautus  have  been  closely  followed,  in  so  far  as  was  consistent 
with  modem  Italian  manners;  and  where  they  varied,  the 
circumstances,  as  well  as  names,  have  been  adapted  by  the 
author  to  the  customs  and  ideas  of  his  country.  Euclio  is 
called  Ghirorgoro,  and  Megadorus,  Lapo;  the  former  being 
set  up  as  a  satire  on  avarice,  the  latter  as  a  pattern  of  proper 
economy. 

The  principal  plot  of  The  com  is  altered^  a  comedy  attributed 
to  Ben  Jonson,  has  been  taken,  as  shall  be  afterwards  shown 
from  the  Captwi  of  Plautus;  but  the  character  of  Jaques  is 

*  A  Latin  prose  comedy,  entitled  Queruku  $eu  AukdariOt  having  Wn  loumi 
in  one  of  the  most  ancient  MSS.  of  Plantus  discoveifed  in  the  Vatican,  was  by  some 
erroneously  attributed  to  that  dramatist ;  though,  in  his  proloeue,  its  author  quotes 
Cicero,  and  expressly  declares,  that  he  purposed  to  imitate  Plautus !  It  was  fifst 
edited  in  1564  by  Peter  Daniel;  and  is  now  believed  to  have  been  written  in  the 
time  of  the  Emperor  Theodosius.  In  some  respects  it  has  an  affinity  to  the 
genuine  AtUukaia  of  Plautus.  The  prologue  is  spoken  by  the  Lar  FamiUarisf 
and  a  miser,  called  Euclio,  on  going  abroad,  had  concealed  a  txeasure,  con- 
tained in  a  pot,  in  some  part  of  his  house.  While  dyiiui;,  in  a  foreign  land*  he 
bequeathed  to  a  parasite,  who  had  there  insinuated  himselfinto  his  favour,  one  half 
of  his  fortune,  on  condition  that  he  should  inform  his  son  Querulus,  so  called  from 
his  querulous  disposition,  of  the  place  where  his  treasure  was  deposited.  The 
parasite  proceeds  to  the  miser's  native  country,  and  attempts,  though  unsuccess- 
foll\'«  to  defraud  the  son  of  tlie  whole  inheritance. 

From  a  curious  mistake,  first  pointed  out  by  Archbishop  Usher,  in  his  Eceieai- 
OBtkal  Antiquities,  this  drama  was  attributed  to  Gildas,  the  Brhish  Jeremiah,  mm 
G'lhUou  calls  him;  who  entitled  one  of  his  complaints  couceming  the  affidn  of 
Britain,  Queruhu, — ^Vossius,  de  Poet.  Lot.  Lib.  I.  c.  6.  §  9. 

t  Walker's  E$$ay  en  the  UaUan  Drama,  p.  224. 


PLAUTUS-  118 

more  closely  formed  on  that  of  Euclio,  than  any  miser  on  the 
modero  stage.  Jaques  having  purloined  the  treasure  of  a 
French  Lord  Chamont,  whose  steward  he  had  been,  and  hav- 
ing also  stolen  his  infant  daughter,  fled  with  them  to  Italy. 
The  girl,  when  she  grew  up,  being  very  beautiful,  had  many  ^ 
suitors;  whence  her  reputed  father  suspects  it  is  discovered 
that  he  possesses  hidden  wealth,  in  the  dame  manner  as  Euclio 
does  in  the  scene  with  Megadorus.  We  have  a  representation 
of  his  excessive  anxiety  lest  he  lose  this  treasure — his  conceal- 
ment of  it — ^and  his  examination  of  Juniper,  the  cobbler,  whom 
he  suspects  to  have  stolen  it ;  which  corresponds  to  Euclio's 
examination  of  Strobilus.  Most  other  modern  dramatists  have 
made  their  miser  in  love ;  but  in  the  breast  of  Jaques  all 
passions  are  absorbed  in  avarice,  which  is  exhibited  to  us  not 
80  much  in  ridiculous  instances  of  minute  domestic  economy, 
as  in  absolute  adoration  of  his  gold : 

*^  111  take  DO  leave,  sweet  prince,  sreat  emperor ! 
But  see  thee  every  minute,  king o? kings!" 

It  is  thus  he  feasts  his  senses  with  his  treasure :  and  the  very 
ground  in  which  it  is  hidden  is  accounted  hallowed : 

"  This  is  the  palace,  where  the  god  of  gold 
Shines  like  the  sun  of  sparkling  majesty !" 

But  the  most  celebrated  imitation  of  the  Aidularia  is  Mo- 
liere's  Avare^  one  of  the  best  and  most  wonderful  imitations 
over  produced.  Almost  nothing  is  of  the  French  dramatist's 
own  invention.  Scenes 'have  been  selected  by  him  from  a 
number  of  different  plays,  in  various  languages,  which  have  no 
relation  to  each  other;  but  every  thing  is  so  well  connected, 
that  the  whole  appears  to  have  been  invented  for  this  single 
comedy.  Though  chiefly  indebted  to  Plautus,  he  has  not  so 
closely  followed  his  original  as  in  the  Amphitryon.  One 
difference,  which  materially  affects  the  plots  of  the  two  plays' 
and  characters  of  the  misers,  is,  that  Euclio  was  poor  till  he 
unexpectedly  found  the  treasure.  He  was  not  known  to  be 
rich,  and  lived  in  constant  dread  of  his  wealth  being  discovered. 
When  any  thing  was  said  about  riches,  he  applied  it  to  himself; 
and  when  well  received  or  caressed  by  any  one,  he  supposed 
that  he  was  ensnared.  Harpagon,  on  the  other  hand,  had 
amassed'  a  fortune,  and  was  generally  known  to  possess  it, 
^hich  gives  an  additional  zest  to  the  humour,  as  we  thus  enter 
into  the  merriment  of  his  family  and  neighbours;  whereas  the 
penury  of  Euclio  could  scarcely  have  appeared  unreasonable 
to  the  bystanders,  who  were  not  in  the  secret  of  the  acquired 
Vol,.  I.— P 


114  PLAUTUS. 

treasure.  M oliere  has  also  made  his  miser  in  love,  or  at  least 
resolved  to  marry,  and  amuses  us  with  his  an|:iety,  in  believing 
himself  under  the  necessity  of  giving  a  feast  to  his  intended 
bride;  which  is  still  better  than  Euclio's  consternation  at  the 
•  supper  projected  by  his  intended  son-in-law.  Euclio  is  con- 
E(tantly  changing  the  place  where  he  conceals  his  casket; 
Harpagon  allows  it  to  remain,  but  is  chiefly  occupied  with  its 
security.  The  idea,  however,  of  so  much  incident  turning  on 
a  casket,  is  not  so  happily  imagined  in  the  Frepch  as  in  the 
Latin  comedy ;  since,  in  the  latter,  it  was  the  whole  treasure 
of  which  the  miser  was  possessed,  and  there  was  at  that  time 
no  mode  of  lending  it  out  safely  and  to  advantage.  Harpagon 
gives  a  collation,  but  orders  the  fragments  to  be  sent  back  to 
those  who  had  provided  it;  Euclio  retains  the  provisions, 
which  had  been  procured  at  another's  expense.  From  the 
restraint  imposed  by  modern  manners,  and  the  circumstance 
of  Harpoon  being  known  to  be  rich,  Moliere  has  been  forced 
to  omiv  the  amusing  dilemmas  in  which  Euclio  is  placed  with 
regard  to  his  attendance  on  the  distributions  to  the  poor.  In 
recompense,  he  has  wonderfully  improved  the  scene  about  the 
dowry,  as  also  that  in  which  the  miser  applies  what  is  said 
concerning  his  daughter  to  his  lost  treasure ;  and,  on  the  whole, 
he  has  displayed  the  passion  of  avarice  in  more  of  the  incidents 
and  relations  of  domestic  life  than  the  Latin  poet.  Plautus 
had  remained  satisfied  with  exhibiting  a  miser,  who  deprived 
himself  of  all  the  comforts  of  life,  to  watch  night  and  day  over 
an  unproductive  treasure ;  but  Moliere  went  deeper  into  the 
mind.  He  knew  that  avarice  is  accompanied  with  selfishness, 
and  hardness  of  heart,  and  falsehood,  and  mistrust,  and  usury; 
and  accordingly,  all  these  vices  and  evil  passions  are  amalga- 
mated with  the  character  of  the  French  miser. 

The  ^ulnlairia  being  a  play  of  character,  I  have  been  led 
to  compare  the  most  celebrated  imitations  of  it  rather  in  the 
exhibition  of  the  miserly  character  than  in  the  incidents  of 
the  piece.  Many  of  the  latter  which  occur  in  the  Avare,  have 
not  been  borrowed  from  Plautus,  yet  are  not  of  Moliere's  in- 
vention. Thus  he  has  added  from,  the  Pedant  Joue  of  Cyrajio 
Bergerac  that  part  of  the  plot  which  consists  in  the  love  of 
the  miser  and  his  son  for  the  same  woman,  as  also  that  which 
relates  to  Valere,  a  young  gentleman  in  love  wjth  the  miser^s 
daughter,  who  had  got  into  his  service  in  disguise,  and  who^ 
when  the  miser  lost  his  money,  which  his  son's  servant  had 
stolen,  was  accused  by  another  servant  of  having  purloined  it. 
Moliere's  notion  of  the  miser's  prodigal  son  borrowing  money 
from  a  usurer,  and  the  usurer  afterwards  proving  to  be  his  father. 
is  from  La  Belle  Plaidemey  a  comedy  of  Bois-Robert.    In  an 


PLAUTUS.  115 

Italian  piece,  Le  Case  Svcdigiate,  prior  to  the  time  of  Moliere, 
and  in  the  harlequin  taste,  Scapin  persuades  Pantaloon  that 
the  young  beauty  with  whom  he  is  captivated  returns  his  love, 
that  she  sets  a  particular  value  on  old  age,  and  dislikes  youthful 
admirers,  whence  Pantaloon  is  induced  to  give  his  purse  to 
the  flatterer.  Frosine  attacks  the  vanity  of  Harpagon  in  the 
same  manner,  but  he,  though  not  unmoved  by  the  flattery, 
retains  his  money.  Moliere  has  availed  himself  of  a  number 
of  other  Italian  dramas  of  the  same  description  for  scattered 
remarks  and  situations.  The  name  of  Harpagon  has  been 
suggested  to  him  by  the  continuation  of  Codrus  Urceus,  where 
Strobilus  says  that  the  masters  of  the  present  day  are  so  ava- 
ricious, that  they  may  be  called  Harpies  or  Harpagons : 

**  Tenaces  nimium  dominos  nostra  etas 
Tulit,  quos  Harpagones  vocare  soleo." 

I  do  not  know  where  Moliere  received  the  hint  of  the  denoue- 
ynent  of  his  piece.  The  conclusion  of  the  Avlxdaria,  as 
already  mentioned,  is  not  extant,  but  it  could  not  have  been 
so  improbable  and  inartificial  as  the  discovery  of  Valere  and 
Marianne  for  the  children  of  Thomas  D'Alburci,  who,  under 
the  name  of  Anselme,  had  courted  the  miser's  daughter. 

Shadwell,  Fielding,  and  Goldoni,  enjoyed  the  advantage  of 
studying  Moliere's  Harpagon  for  their  delineations  of  Golding- 
ham,  Lovegold,  and  Ottavio.  In  the  miser  of  Shadwell  there 
is  much  indecency  indeed  of  his  own  invention,  and  some  dis- 
gusting representations  of  city  vulgarity  and  vice;  but  still  he 
is  hardly  entitled  to  the  praise  of  so  much  originality  as  he 
claims  in  his  impudent  preface. — "The  foundation  of  this 
play,^  says  he,  "  I  took  from  one  of  Moliere's,  called  L'Avare, 
but  that  having  too  few  persons,  and  too  little  action  for  an 
English  theatre,  I  added  to  both  so  much,  that  I  may  call 
more  than  half  of  this  play  my  own;  and  I  think  I  may  say, 
without  vanity,  that  Moliere's  part  of  it  has  not  suffered  in  my 
hands.  Nor  did  I  ever  know  a  French  comedy  made  use  of 
by  the  worst  of  our  poets  that  was  not  bettered  by  them.  It 
is  not  barrenness  of  art  or  invention  makes  us  borrow  from  the 
French,  but  laziness;  and  this  was  the  occasion  of  my  making 
use  of  VAvare.'' 

Fielding's  Miser^  the  only  one  of  his  comedies  which  does 
him  credit,  is  a  much  more  agreeable  play  than  Shadwell's. 
The  earlier  scenes  are  a  close  imitation  of  Moliere,  but  the 
concluding  ones  are  somewhat  different,  and  the  deMmement 
»s  perhaps  improved.  Mariana  is  in  a  great  measure  a  new 
character,  and  those  of  the  servants  are  rendered  more  promi- 
lient  and  important  than  in  the  French  original. 


HO  PLAUTUS. 

The  miser  Ottavio,  in  Goldoni's  Vera  Amieo^  is  entirely 
copied  from  Plautus  and  Moliere.  In  the  Italian  play,  how- 
ever, the  character  is  in  a  great  measure  episodical,  and  the 
principal  plot,  which  gives  its  title  to  the  piece,  and  corre* 
sponds  with  that  of  Diderot's  FUs  JVaiurdy  has  been  invented 
by  the  Italian  dramatist. 

On  the  whole,  Moliere  has  succeeded  best  in  rendering  the 
passion  of  avarice  hateful:  Plautus  and  Goldoni  have  only 
made  it  ridiculous.  The  profound  and  poetical  avarice  of 
Jaques  possesses  something  plaintive  in  its  tone,  which  almost 
excites  our  sympathy,  and  never  our  laughter;  he  is  repre* 
sented  as  a  worshipper  of  gold,  somewhat  as  an  old  Persian 
might  be  of  the  sun,  and  he  does  not  raise  our  contempt  by 
the  absurdities  of  domestic  economy.  But  Harpagon  is 
thoroughly  detestable,  and  is  in  fact  detested  by  his  neigh- 
bours, domestics,  and  children.  AH  these  dramatists  are 
accused  of  having  exhibited  rather  an  allegorical  representa- 
tion of  avarice,  than  the  living  likeness  of  a  human  Being 
influenced  by  that  odious  propensity.  "  Plautus,"  says  Hurd, 
*^  and  also  Moliere,  offended  in  this,  that  for  the  picture  of 
the  avaricious  man  they  presented  us  with  a  fantastic  unpleas- 
ing  draught  of  the  passion  of  avarice — I  call  it  a  fantastic 
draught,  because  it  hath  no  archetype  in  nature,  and  it  is 
farther  an  unpleasing  one ;  from  being  the  delineation  of  a 
simple  passion,  unmixed,  it  wants 

*  The  li^ts  and  shades,  whose  well  accorded  strife 
Gives  an  the  strength  and  colour  of  our  life.' " 

This  may  in  general  be  true,  as  there  are  certainly  few  un- 
mingled  passions ;  but  I  suspect  that  avarice  so  completely 
engrosses  the  soul,  that  a  simple  and  unmixed  delineation  of 
it  is  not  remote  from  nature.  "  The  Euclio  of  Plautus,"  says 
King,  in  his  Anecdotes^  "  the  Avare  of  Moliere,  and  Miser  of 
Shadwell,  have  been  all  exceeded  by  persons  who  have  existed 
within  my  own  knowledge*." 

Bacchides: — is  so  called  from  two  sisters  of  the  name  of 
Bacchis,  who  are  the  courtezans  in  this  play.  In  a  prologue, 
which  is  supposed  to  be  spoken  by  Silenus,  mounted  on  an 
ass,  it  is  said  to  be  taken  from  a  Greek  comedy  by  Philemon. 
This  information,  however,  cannot  be  implicitly  relied  on,  as 
the  prologue  was  not  written  in  the  time  of  Plautus,  and  is 

*  P.  10l5.  Ed.  1819.— I  have  often  wondered,  that  while  the  character  of  a  Mifier 
has  been  exhibited  so  frequently,  and  with  such  success,  on  the  stage,  it  should 
scarcely  have  been  well  delineated,  so  far  as  I  remember,  in  any  novel  of  note, 
except,  perhaps,  in  the  person  of  Mr.  Briggs^  in  Cecilia. 


PLAUTUS.  in 

evidently  an  addition  of  a  comparatively  recent  date.  Some 
indeed  have  supposed  that- it  was  prefixed  by  Petrarch  ;  but 
at  all  events  the  following  lines  could  not  have  been  anterior 
to  the  conquest  of  Greece  by  the  Romans  : — 

"  Samos  que  terra  sit,  nota  est  ooiDibus : 
Nam  maria,  tenas,  moiiteis,  atque  insulas 
Vostne  legioDes  reddidcre  pervias." 

The  leading  incident  in  this  play — a  master's  folly  and  inad- 
vertence counteracting  the  deep-laid  scheme  of  a  slave  to 
fomard  his  interest,  has  been  employed  by  many  modern 
dramatists  for  the  groundwork  of  their  plots ;  as  we  find  fi-om 
the  Inavertito  of  Nicolo  Barbieri,  sirnamed  Behramo,  the 
AmarU  Indiscrei  of  Quinault,  Moliere's  Etourdi,  and  Dry- 
den's  Sir  Martin  JMaraU. 

The  third  scene  of  the  third  act  of  this  comedy,  where  the 
father  of  Pistoclerus  speaks  with  so  much  indulgence  of  the 
follies  of  youth,  has  been  imitated  in  Moliere's  Fourberies  de 
Scapin,  and  the  fifth  scene  of  the  fourth  act  has  suggested 
one  in  Le  Marriage  Interrampu*,  by  Cailhava.  If  it  could 
be  supposed  that  Dante  had  read  Plautus,  the  commencement 
of  Lydas'  soliloquy  before  the  door  of  Bacchis,  might  be 
plausibly  conjectured  to  have  suggested  that  thrilling  inscrip- 
tion ovei  the  gate  of  hell,  in  the  third  Canto  of  the  Inferno — 

"  Pandite,  atque  aperite  propere  januam  hanc  Oici,  obsecro ! 
Nam  equidem  baud  aliter  esse  duco ;  quippe  cui  nemo  advenit. 
Nisi  quern  spes  reliquere  omnes 

Per  me  si  va  ueHa  citt&  dolente : 
Per  me  si  va  oel)  etemo  dolore : 
Per  me  si  va  tra  la  perduta  gente. 

•  •  •  •  «  * 

Lasciale  ogni  speranza,  voi,  che  entrate." 

Captivi. — ^The  subject  and  plot  of  the  Captivi  are  of  a  dif- 
ferent description  firom  those  of  Plautus'  other  comedies. 
No  female  characters  are  introduced ;  and,  as  it  is  said  in  the 
epilogue,  or  concluding  address  to  the  spectators, 


_M 


Ad  pudicos  mores  facta  haec  fabula  est : 


Neque  in  h.ic  suhagitationes  flunt,  ullave  ainatio, 

Nee  pueii  suppositio,  ncc  argeoU  circumductio ; 

Neque  ubi  amans  adolescens  scortum  liberct,  dam  suum  patrem/' 

Though  no  females  are  introduced  in  it,  the  Captivi  is  the 
most  tender  and  amiable  of  Plautus'  plays,  and  may  be  regarded 

♦  Act  IT.  8c.  7. 


118  PLAUTUS. 

as  of  a  higher  description  than  his  other  comedies,  since  it 
hinges  on  paternal  affection  and  the  fidelity  of  friendship. 
Many  of  the  situations  are  highly  touching,  and  exhibit  actions 
of  generous  magnanimity,  free  from  any  mixture  of  burlesque. 
It  has  indeed  been  considered  by  some  critics  as  the  origin  of 
that  class  of  dramas,  which,  under  the  title  of  Comedies  Lar- 
moyantes,  was  at  one  time  so  much  admired  and  so  fashion- 
able in  France*,  and  in  which  wit  and  humour,  the  genuine 
offspring  of  Thalia,  are  superseded  by  domestic  sentiment 
and  pathos. 

Hegio,  an  iEtolian  gentleman,  had  two  sons,  one  of  whom, 
when  only  four  years  old,  was  carried  off  by  a  slave,  and  sold 
by  him  in  Elis.  A  war  having  subsequently  broken  out  between 
the  Elians  and  iEtolians,  Hegio's  other  son  was  taken  captive 
by  the  Elians.  The  father,  with  a  view  of  afterwards  ran- 
soming his  son,  by  an  exchange,  purchased  an  Elian  prisoner, 
called  Philocrates,  along  with  his  servant  Tyndarus ;  and  the 
play  o]>ens  with  the  master,  Philocrates,  personating  his  slave, 
while  the  slave,  Tyndarus,  assumes  the  character  of  his  master. 
By  this  means  Tyndarus  remains  a  prisoner  under  his  master's 
name,  while  Hegio  is  persuaded  to  send  the  true  Philocrates, 
under  the  name  of  Tyndarus,  to  Elis,  in  order  to  effect  the 
exchange  of  his  son.  The  deception,  however,  is  discovered 
by  Hegio  before  the  return  of  Philocrates;  and  the  father, 
fearing  that  he  had  thus  lost  all  hope  of  ransoming  his  child, 
condemns  Tyndarus  to  labour  in  the  mines.  In  these  circum- 
stances, Philocrates  returns  from  Eljis  with  Hegio's  son,  and 
also  brings  along  with  him  the  fugitive  slave,  who  had  stolen 
his  other  son  in  infancy.  It  is  then  discovered  that  Tyndarus 
is  this  child,  who,  having  been  sold  to  the  father  of  Philo- 
crates, was  appointed  by  him  to  wait  on  his  son,  and  had  been 
gradually  admitted  to  his  young  master's  confidence  and 
friendship. 

There  has  been  a  great  dispute  among  critics  and  commen- 
tators, whether  the  dramatic  unities  have  been  strictly  observed 
in  this  comedy.  M.  De  Coste,  in  the  preface  to  his  French 
translation  of  the  Captivi^  maintains,  that  the  unities  of  place, 
and  time,  and  action,  have  been  closely  attended  to.  Lessing, 
who  translated  the  play  into  German,  adopted  the  opinion  of 
De  Coste  with  regard  to  the  observance  of  the  unities,  and  he 
has  farther  pronounced  it  the  most  perfect  comedy  that,  in  his 
time,  had  yet  been  represented  on  the  stagef.  .  A  German 
critic,  whose  letter  addressed  to  Lessing  is  published  in  that 

•  Cailhava,  L'JIrt  de  la  Comedic,  Liv.  II.  c.  9.  Ed.  Paris,  1772. 
t  Beytrage,  zur  Historic  und  ^vfnahme  des  Theaters. 


PLAUTUS.  119 

author^s  works'*^,  has  keenly  opposed  these  opinions,  discuss- 
ing at  considerable  length  the  question  of  the  unities  of  action, 
time,  and  place,  as  also  pointing  out  many  supposed  inconsis- 
tencies and  improbabilities  in  the  conduct  of  the  drama.  He 
objects,  in  point  of  verisimilitude,  to  the  lon^  and  numerous 
apart9 — the  soliloquies  of  the  parasite,  which  begin  the  first 
three  acts,^ — the  frequent  mention  of  the  market-places  and 
streets  of  Rome,  while  the  scene  is  laid  in  a  town  of  Greece, 
— and  the  sudden  as  well  as  unaccountable  appearance  of 
StaJagmus,  the  fugitive  slave,  at  the  end  of  the  drama.  The 
most  serious  objection,  however,  is  that  which  relates  to  the 
violation  of  the  dramatic  unity  of  time.  The  scene  is  laid  in 
Calyd^n,  the  capital  of  iEtoIia;  and,  at  the  end  of  the  second 
act,  Philocrates  proceeds  from  that  city  to  Elis,  transacts  there 
a  variety  of  affairs,  and  returns  before  the  play  is  cqncluded. 
Between  these  two  places  the  distance  is  fifty  miles ;  and  in 
going  from  one  to  the  other  it  was  necessary  to  cross  the  bay 
of  Corinth.  It  is  therefore  impossible  (contends  this  critic,) 
Jthat  De  Coste  can  be  accurate  in  maintaining  that  the  dura- 
tion of  the  drama  is  only  seven  or  eiffht  hours.  Allowing  the 
poet,  however,  the  greatest  poetical  license,  and  giving  for 
his  play  the  extended  period  of  twenty-four  hours,  it  is  scarcely 
possible  that  the  previous  parts  of  the  drama  could  have  been 
gone  through,  and  the  long  voyage  accomplished,  in  this  space 
of  time.  But  it  farther  appears,  that  Plautus  himself  did  not 
wish  to  claim  this  indulgence,  and  intended  to  crowd  the 
journey  and  all  the  preceding  dramatic  incidents  into  twelve 
hours  at  most.  He  evidently  means  that  the  action  should  be 
understood  as  commencing  with  the  morning :  Hegio  says,  in 
the  second  scene  of  the  first  act, 

'*  Ego  iboad  fratrem,  ad  alios  captivos  meos, 
Visum  DO  ncfcte  Mc  quippiam  turbaveriiU ;" 

and  it  is  evident  that  the  action  terminates  with  the  evening 
meal,  the  preparations  for  which  conclude  the  fourth  act.  To 
all  this  Lessing  replied,  that  there  was  no  reason  to  suppose 
that  the  scene  was  laid  in  Calydon,  or  that  the  journey  was 
made  to  the  town  of  Elis,  and  that  it  might  easily  have  been 
accomplished  within  the  time  prescribed  by  the  dramatic  rule 
of  unities,  if  nearer  points  of  the  iEtolian  and  Elian  territo- 
ries be  taken  than  their  capitals. 

Some  of  the  characters  in  the  Captivi  are  very  beautifully 
drawn.     Hegio  i»an  excellent  representation  of  a  respectable 

*  Samtliehe  Schriften.Tom,  XXII.  p.  816. 


120  PLAUTUS. 

rich  bid  citizen :  He  is  naturally  a  humane  good-humoured 
man,  but. his  disposition  is  warped  by  excess  of  paternal  ten- 
derness.    There  is  not  in  any  of  the  comedies  of  Plautus,  a 
more  agreeable  and  interesting  character  than  Tyndarus ;  and 
no  delineation  can  be  more  pleasing  than  that  of  his  faithful 
attachment  to  Philocrates,  by  whom  he  was  in  return  implicitly 
trusted,  and  considered  rather  in  the  light  of  a  friend  than  a 
slave.     In  this  play,  as  in  most  others  of  Plautus,  the  parasite 
is  a  character  somewhat  of  an  episodical  description :  He  goes 
about  prowling  for  a  supper,  and  is  associated  to  the  main 
subject  of  the  piece  only  by  the  delight  which  he  feels  at  the 
prospect  of  a  feast,  to  honour  the  return  of  Hegio's  son.     The 
parasites  of  Plautus  are  almost  as  deserving  a  dissertation  as 
Shakspeare's  clowns.     Parasite,  as  is  well  known,  was  a  name 
originally  applied  in  Greece  to  persons  devoted  to  the  service 
of  the  gods,  and  who  were  appointed  for  the  purpose  of  keep- 
ing the  consecrated  provisions  of  the  temples.     Diodorus  of 
Sinope,  as  quoted  by  Athenseus*,  after  speaking  of  the  dignity 
of  the  sacred  parasites  of  Hercules,  (who  was  himself  a  noted 
gaufjnand,)  mentions  that  the  rich,  in  emulation  of  this  demi- 
god, chose  as  followers  persons  called  parasites,  who  were 
not  selected  for  their  virtues  or  talents,  but  were  remarkable 
for  extravagant  flattery  to  their  superiors,  and  insolence  to 
those  inferiors  who  approached  the  persons  of  their  patrons. 
This  was  the  character  which  came  to  be  represented  on  the 
stage.     We  learn  from  Athenseusf ,  that  a  parasite  was  intro- 
duced in  one  of  his  plays  by  Epicharmus,  the  founder  of  the 
Greek  comedy.     The  parasite  of  this  ancient  dramatist  lay  at 
the  feet  of  the  lich,  eat  the  offals  from  their  tables,  and  drank 
the  dregs  of  their  cups.     He  speaks  of  himself  as  of  a  person 
ever  ready  to  dine  abroad  when  invited,  and  when  any  one  is 
to  be  married,  to  go  to  his  house  without  an  invitation — ^to 
pay  for  his  good  cheer  by  exciting  the  merriment  of  the  com- 
pany, and  to  retire  as  soon  as  he  had  eat  and  drunk  sufiiciently, 
without  caring  whether  or  not  tie  was  lighted  out  by  the 
slaves^.     In  the  most  ancient  comedies,  however,  this  charac- 
ter was  not  denominated  parasite,  and  was  first  so  called  in 
the  plays  of  Araros,  the  son  of  Aristophanes,  and  one  of  the 
earliest  authors  of  the  middle  comedy.     Antiphanes,  a  drama- 
tist of  the  same  class,  has  given  a  very  full  description  of  the 
vocation  of  a  parasite.     The  part,  however,  did  not  become 

•  Lib.  VI.  c.  9.  t  H.  Lib.  VI.  c.  7. 

X  The  best  notioo  of  the  Greek  parasite  is  to  be  got  in  the  fragmentB  of  the  Greek 
poets  quoted  by  Atbeoeusi  and  iD  the  Letters  of  Alciphron,  a  great  number  of  which 
are  supposed  to  be  addressed  by  parasites  to  their  brethren,  and  relate  the  particulans 
of  the  injurious  treatment  which  thirf  lud  teceived  at  the  tables  of  the  Great. 


PLAUTUS,  121 

extremely  common  till  the  introduction  of  the  new  comedy, 
when  Diphilus,  whose  woiks  were  frequently  imitated  on  the 
RomaD  stage,  particularly  distinguished  himself  by  his  delinea- 
tion of  the  patasiticai  character^.  In  the  Greek  theatre,  the 
part  was  usually  represented  by  young  men,  dressed  in  a  black 
or  brown  garb,  and  wearing  masks  expressive  of  malignant 
gaiety.  Tbey  carried  a  goblet  suspended  round  their  waists, 
probably  lest  the  slaves  of  their  patrons  should  fill  to  them  in. 
too  small  caps ;  and  also  a  vial  of  oil  to  be  u^ed  at  the  bath, 
which  was  a  necessary  preparation  before  sitting  down  to 
table,  for  which  the  parasite  required  to  be  always  ready  at  a  . 
moment's  warningf . 

It  was  thus,  too,  that  the  character  was  represented  on  .the 
Roman  stage ;  and  it  would  farther  appear,  that  the  parasites, 
in  the  days  of  Plautus,  carried  with  them  a  sort  of  Joe  Miller, 
as  a  manual  of  wit,  with  which  they  occasionally  refreshed 
their  vivacity.     Thus  the  parasite,  in  the  iMchi$Sy  says, 

**  Ifoo  intro  ad  libros,  et  diBcam  de  dictis  melioribus ;" 

^d  again — 

♦ 

'<  Librofl  inspexi,  tam  confido,  quam  potest. 
Me  meiim  obteotarum  ridlculis  meis. 

The  parasite  naturally  became  a  leading  character  of  the 
Roman  stage.  In  spite  of  the  pride  and  boasted  national  in- 
dependence of  its  citizens,  the  whole  system  of  manners  at 
Rome  was  parasitical.  The  connection  between  patron  and 
client,  which  was  originally  the  cordial  intercourse  of  reci- 
procal services,  soon  became  that  of  haughty  superiority  on 
the  one  side,  and  sordid  adulation  on  the  other.  Every  client 
*'as  in  fact  the  parasite  of  some  patrician,  whose  litter  he 
often  followed  like  a  slave,  conforming  to  all  his  caprices,  and 
submitting  to  all  his  insults,  for  the  privilege  of  being  placed 
at  the  lowest  seat  of  the  patron's  table,  and  there  repaying 
this  indelicate  hospitality  by  the  most  servile  flattery.  On  the 
stage,  the  principal  use  of  the  parasite  was  to  bring  out  the 
other  characters  from  the  canvass.  Without  Gnatho,  the 
Thraso  of  Terence  would  have  possessed  less  confidence ;  and 
without  his  flatterer,  Pyrgopolinices  would  never  have  recol- 
lected breaking  an  elephant's  thigh  by  a  blow  of  his  fist. 

The  parasite,  in  the  CaptM^  may  be  considered  as  a  fair 
enough  representative  of  his  brethren  in  the  other  plays  of 

•  Alhenaeas,  Lib.  VI.  c.  17.  t  Jul.  PoHux,  Onoma$Hcony  Lib.  IV.  c.  1«. 

Vol.  I.— a 


122  PLAUTUa 

Plautus.  He  submits  patiently  to  all  manner  of  ignominioiur 
treatment^ — ^his  spirits  rise  and  sink  according  as  his  prospects 
of  a  feast  become  bright  or  clouded — he  speaks  a  great  deal  in 
soliloquies,  in  which  he  talks  much  of  the  jests  by  which  he 
attempted  to  recommend  himself  as  a  guest  at  the  feasts  of  the 
Greatf  but  we  are  not  favoured  with  any  of  these  jests.  lo 
such  ^Soliloquies,  too,  he  rather  expresses  what  would  justly  be 
thought  of  him  by  pthers,  than  what  even  a  parasite  was  likely 
to  say  of  himself. 

The  parasite  is  not  a  character  which  has  been  very  frequently 
represented  on  the  modern  stage.  It  is  not  one  into  which  an 
Italian  audience,  who  are  indifferent  to  good  cheer,  would 
heartily  enter.  Accordingly,  the  parasite  is  not  a  common 
character  in  the  native  drama  of  Italy,  and  is  chiefly  exhibited 
in  the  old  comedies  of  Ariosto  and  Aretine,  which  are  directly 
imitated  from  the  plays  of  Plautus  or  Terence ;  but  even  in 
them  this  character  does  not  precisely  coincide  with  the  older 
and  more  genuine  school  of  parasites.  Ligurio,  who  is  called 
the  parasite  in  the  Mandragara  of  Machiavel,  rather  corre- 
sponds to  the  intriguing  slave  than  to  the  parasite  of  the  Roman 
drama;  or  at  least  he  resembles  the  more  modem  parasites, 
who,  like  the  Phormio  of  Terence,  ingratiated  themselves  with 
4heir  patrons  by  serviceable  roguery,  rathei  than  by  flattery. 
Ipocrito,  who,  in  Aretine's  comedy  of  that  name,  is  also  styled 
the  parasite,  is  a  sort  of  Tartufie,  with  charitable  and  religious 
maxims  constantly  in  his  mouth.  He  does  not  insinuate 
himself  into  the  confidence  of  his  patrons  by  a  gaping  admi- 
ration of  their  foolish  sayings,  but  by  extolling  their  virtues, 
and  smoothing  over  their  vices;  and  so  far  from  being  treated 
with  any  sort  of  contumely,  he  is  held  in  high  consideration, 
and  interposes  in  all  domestic  arrangements. 

It  is  still  more  difficult  to  find  a  true  parasite  on  the  English 
stage.  Sir  John  Falstaff,  though  something  of  a  parasite,  is  as 
original  as  he  is  inimitable.  Lazarillo,  the  hungry  courtier  in 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Woman  Ilater^  and  Justice  Greedy, 
in  Massinger's  JVew  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts,  to  whom  Sir 
Giles  Overreach  gives  the  x^ommand  of  the  kitchen,  and  ab- 
solute authority  there,  in  respect  of  the  entertainment,  are 
rather  epicures  in  constant  quest  of  delicacies,  than  hungry 
parasites,  who  submit  to  any  indignity  for  the  sake  of  a  meal. 
Lazarillo's  whole  intrigue  consists  of  schemes  for  being  invited 
to  dine  where  there  was  an  umbrana's  head,  and  we  are  told 
that 

*  Hole  denique  manducaDti  barba  vellitur ;  illl  bibenti  sedilia  nibtnhimtar ;  hk 
ligno  8cusUi»  ille  fragili  vitro  pascitur. 


PLAUTUS.  12S 

<^  He  haib  a  courtly  kind  of  himger» 

And  doth  hunt  more  for  novelty  than  plenty ;"  • 

and  Justice  Greedy's  delight  is  placed  in  rich  canary,  a  larded 
pheasant,  or  a  red  deer  baked  in  puff  paste.  Mosca,  in  Ben 
Jonson's  FoIjKme,  who  grasps  at  presents  made  to  him  by  the 
legacy-hunters  of  his  patron,  and  who  at  length  attempts  to 
defraud  the  patron  himself,  is  a  parasite  of  infinitely  greater 
artifice  and  villainy  than  any  of  those  in  Plautus ;  and  in  the 
opimon  of  the  late  editor  of  Jonson,  outweighs  the  aggregate 
ment  of  all  Plautus's  parasites.  Colax,  who,  in  the  Museff 
Lookmg'Glass  of  Randolph,  chimes  in  with  the  sentiments  of 
each  character,  approving,  by  an  immense  variety  of  subtle 
arguments,  every  extreme  of  vice  and  folly,  appears  to  flatter 
all  those  allegorical  representations  of  the  passions  exhibited 
in  this  drama,  rather  from  courtesy  than  want*  He  tells  us, 
indeed,  that 


« 


Tb  gold  gives  Flatter^  a]\  her  eloquence ;" 


but  this  part  of  his  character  is  not  brought  prominently  for- 
ward, nor  is  he  represented  as  a  glutton  or  epicure.  Perhaps 
the  character  which  comes  nearest  to  the  parasite  of  the  Cap- 
tm  is  m  EL  play  not  very  generally  known,  the  CatUerbury 
Gue^^  by  Ravenscroft. 

But  although  it  might  be  difficult  to  find  a  precise  copy  in 
modem  times  of  the  parasite  of  the  CapHviy  its  principal  plot 
has  been  repeatedly  imitated,  particularly  in  an  old  English 
drama.  The  Case  is  altered,  supposed  to  have  been  written  by 
Ben  Jonson,  and  published  in  some  editions  of  his  works. 
Count  Femeze»  a  nobleman  of  Vicenza,  and  who  corresponds 
to  Hegio,  lost  a  son  called  Camillo,  when  Vicenza  was  taken 
by  the  French.  His  other  son,  Paulo,  is  aflerwards  made 
prisoner  by  the  same  enemies.  Chamont,  the  French  general, 
^d  Camillo  Ferneze,  who,  under  the  name  of  Gaspar,  had 
entered  into  the  French  service,  are  taken  prisoners  by, the 
Italians ;  and  while  in  captivity  they  agree  to  change  frames,  and 
apparent  situations.  Camillo,  who  passes  for  Chamont,  is 
carefully  retained  in  confinement  at  Vicenza,  while  that  general 
is  despatched  by  the  Count  Ferneze  to  procure  the  ransom  of 
his  son  Paulo.  The  Count  having  subsequently  detected  the 
imposture,  Camillo  is  put  in  fetters  and  ordered  for  execution. 
Chamont,  however,  returns  with  Paulo,  whom  he  had  now 
redeemed,  and  the  Count  afterwards  discovers,  by  means  of  a 
tablet  hanging  round  his  neck,  that  the  youth  Camillo.  whom 
he  was  treating  with  such  severity,  was  the  son  whom  he  had 
lost  durinj^  the  sack  of  Vicenza. 


124  PLAUTUS. 

The  Captivi  is  also  the  foundation  of  Les  Capttfs^  a  comedy 
of  Rotrou,  where  a  father,  afflicted  by  the  captivity  of  a  son, 
purchases  all  the  slaves  exposed  to  sale  in  iEtolia,  in  the 
hope  of  recovering  his  child.  The  interest  and  vivacity  of 
the  play,  which  is  one  of  the  best  of  its  author,  are  supported 
by  the  pleasantries  of  a  parasite,  and  a  variety  of  ingenious 
incidents.  Ginguene  has  mentioned,  in  the  Hiatoire  Litte- 
raire  (Tltcdie,  ihtii  the  Captivi  must  also  have  suggested  the 
SuppoMiy  a  comedy  by  the  author  of  the  Orlando  Futioso. 
Ariosto,  however,  has  made  the  incidents  of  the  Captivi  sub- 
servient to  a  love  intrigue,  and  not  to  the  deliverance  of  a 
prisoner.  Whilst  Erostrato,  a  young  gentleman,  acts  the  part 
of  a  domestic  in  the  house  of  his  mit^tress's  father,  his  servant, 
Dulippo,  personates  his  master,  and  studies  in  his  place  at  the 
university  of  Ferrara.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  piece,  Dulippo 
is  discovered  to  be  the  son  of  an  old  and  rich  doctor  of  laws, 
who  was  the  rival  in  love  of  Erostrato.  There  is  a  parasite  in 
this  play  as  in  the  Captivi^  but  the  character  of  the  doctor  is 
new,  and  the  scenes  chiefly  consist  of  the  schemes  which  are 
laid  by  the  master  and  servant  to  disappoint  his  views  as  to 
the  lady  of  whom  Erostrato  is  enamoured. 

Casina.  This  play  is  so  called  from  the  name  of  a  female 
slave,  on  whom,  though  she  does  not  once  appear  on  the 
stage,  the  whole  plot  of  the  drama  hinges.  It  is  said  in  the 
prologue  to  have  been  translated  from  Diphilus,  a  Greek 
writer  of  the  new  comedy,  by  whom  it  was  called  KXi}foufiivoi, 
the  Lot  Drawers.  Diphilus  was  a  contemporary  of  M enander ; 
he  was  distinguished  by  his  comic  wit  and  humour,  and  occa- 
sionally by  the  moral  sententious  character  of  his  dramas,  of 
which  he  is  said  to  have  written  a  hundred,  and  from  which 
larger  fragments  have  been  preserved  than  from  any  Greek 
plays  belonging  to  the  new  comedy.  Notwithstanding  what 
is  said  in  the  Delphine  Plautus,  it  is  evident  from  its  terms, 
that  the  prologue  could  not  have  been  prefixed  by  the  dra- 
matist himself,  but  must  have  been  written  a  good  many  years 
after  his  death,  on  occasion  of  a  revival  of  the  Casina.  It 
would  appear  from  it  that  the  plays  of  Plautus  had  rather  gone 
out  of  fashion  immediately  after  his  death ;  but  the  public  at 
length,  tired  with  the  new  comedies,  began  to  call  for  the 
reproduction  of  those  of  Plautus — 

"  Nam,  nunc  nove  que  prodeunt  comoediae, 
Mult'>  sunt  nequlores,  quam  nuinmi  novi. 
Nos  postquam  rumores  populi  intellexiinuB, 
Studiose  expeterc  voa  Phmtinaii  fabulas, 
Antiqttam  ejus  ediraus  comoediam." 


PLAUTUS.  125 

From  the  same  prologue  it  would  seem  that  this  play,  when 
first  represented,  had  surpassed  in  popularity  all  the  dramatic 
productions  of  the  time — 

**  Hcc  quum  primtkm  acta  est,  Ticit  omnes  fabulas.'* 

It  cannot,  indeed,  be  denied,  that,  in  the  Casina^  the  unities 
of  time  and  place  are  rigidly  observed,  and,  in  point  of 
humour,  it  is  generally  accounted  inferior  to  none  of  Plau- 
tus's  dramas.  The  nature,  however,  of  the  subject,  will 
admit  oiily  of  a  very  slight  sketch.  The  female  slave,  who 
gives  name  to  the  comedy,  is  beloved  by  her  master,  Stalino, 
and  by  his  son,  Euthynicus, — the  former  of  whom .  employs 
Olympio,  his  bailiff  in  the  country,  and  the  latter  his  armour- 
bearer,  Chalinus,  to  marry  Casina,  each  being  in  hopes,  by 
this  contrivance,  to  obtain  possession  of  the  object  of  his 
affections.  Cleostrata,  Stalino^s  wife,  suspecting  her  hus- 
band's designs,  supports  the  interests  of  her  son,  and,  after 
much  dispute,  it  is  settled,  that  the  claims  of  the  bailiff  and 
armour-bearer  should  be  decided  by  lot  Fortune  having, 
declared  in  favour  of  the  former,  Stalino  obtains  the  loan  of 
a  neighbour's  house  for  the  occasion,  and  it  is  arranged,  that 
its  mistress  should  be  invited  for  one  evening  by  Cleostrata; 
but  the  jealous  lady  counteracts  this  plan  by  declining  the 
honour  of  the  visit.  At  length  all  concur  in  making  a  dupe 
of  the  old  man.  Chalinus  is  dressed  up  in  wedding  garments 
to  personate  Casina,  and  the  play  concludes  with  the  mortifi- 
cation of  Stalino,  at  finding  he  had  been  imposed  on  by  a  . 
counterfeit  bride. 

The  plan  here  adopted  by  Stalino  for  securing  possession 
of  Casina,  is  nearly  the  same  with  that  pursued  by  the  Count 
Almaviva,  in  Beaumarchais'  prose  comedy,  Le  Marriage  de 
Figaro;  where  the  Count,  with  similar  intentions,  plans  a 
marriage  between  Suzanne  and  his  valet-de-cham.bre,  Figaro, 
but  has  his  best-laid  schemes  invariably  frustrated.  The  con- 
cluding part  of  the  Casina  has  probably,  also,  suggested  the 
whole  of  the  JUarescalco,  a  comedy  of  the  celebrated  Aretine, 
which  turns  on  the  projected  nuptials  of  the  character  who 
gives  name  to  the  piece,  and  whose  supposed  bride  is  disco- 
vered, during  the  performance  of  the  marriage  ceremony,  to 
be  a  page  of  the  Duke  of  Mantua,  dressed  up  in  wedding  gar- 
ments, in  a  frolic  of  the  Duke's  courtiers,  in  order  to  impose 
on  the  Marescalco.  Those  scenes  in  the  Ragazzo  of  Lodo- 
vico  Dolce,  w^here  a  similar  deception  is  practised,  and  where 
Giacchetto,  the  disguised  youth,  minutely  details  the  event 
of  the  trick  of  which  he  was  made   the  chief  instrument, 


126  PLAUTUS. 

have  also  been  evidently  drawn  from  the  tame  productive 
origin.* 

The  closest  imitation,  however,  of  the  Carina^  is  Machia- 
vel's  comedy  Cliiia.  Many  of  its  scenes,  indeed,  have  been' 
literally  translated  from  the  Latin,  and  the  incidents  are 
altered  in  very  few  particulars.  The  Stalino  of  Plautus  is 
called  Nicomaco,  and  his  wife  Sofronia :  their  son  is  named 
Cleandro,  and  the  dependents  employed  to  court  Clitia  for 
behoof  of  their  masters,  Eustachio  and  Pirro.  The  chief 
ditference  is,  that  the  young  lover,  who  is  supposed  to  be 
absent  in  the  Carina^  is  introduced  on  the  stage  by  the  Ita- 
lian author,  and  the  object  of  his  affections  is  a  young  lady, 
brought  up  and  educated  by  his '  parents,  and  originally 
intrusted  to  their  care  by  one  of  their  friends,  which  makes 
the  proposal  of  her  marrying  either  of  the  servants  offered  to 
her  choice  more  absurd  than  in  the  Latin  original.  The 
bridal  garments,  too,  are  not  assumed  by  one  of  the  rival 
servants,  but  by  a  third  character,  introduced  and  employed 
for  the  purpose.  This  comedy  of  Machiavel,  his  MandragolOj 
and  the  renowned  tale  of  Belfegor,  were  the  productions 
with  which  that  profound  politician  and  historian,  who  esta- 
blished a  school  of  political  philosophy  in  the  Italian  seat  of 
the  Muses — ^who  applied  a  fine  analysis  to  the  Roman  history, 
and  a  subtler  than  Aristotle  to  the  theory  of  government — 
attempted,  as  he  himself  has  so  beautifully  expressed  it, 

"  Fare  il  mio  tristo  tempo  piii  soave ; 
Perche  altrove  non  have. 
Dove  voltare  il  viso, 
Che  gli  t  state  interciso 
Moatrar  con  altre  imprese  altn  TUtute." 

CisteUaria,  (the  Casket.) — ^The  prologue  to  this  play  k 
spoken  by  the  god  AuxUium^  at  the  end  of  the  first  act.  It 
explains  the  subject  of  the  piece— compliments  the  Romans 
on  their  power  and  military  glory — and  concludes  with  exhort- 
ing them  to  overcome  the  Carthaginians,  and  punish  them  as 
they  deserve.  Hence  it  is  probable,  that  this  play  was 
written  during  the  second  Punic  war,  which  terminated  in  the 
year  552 ;  and  as  Plautus  was  born  in  the  year  525,  it  may  be 
plausibly  conjectured,  that  the  Cistellaria  was  one  of  his 
earliest  productions.  This  also  appears  from  its  greater  rude- 
ness when  compared  with  his  other  plays,  and  from  the  short- 
ness and  simplicity  of  the  plot.  But  though  the  argument  is 
trite  and  sterile,  it  is  enlivened  by  a  good  deal  of  comic 

*  See  Act  ii.  sc.  2.  and  Act  iv.  ac.  I. 


PLAUTUS.  127 

humour,  particularly  in  the  delineation  of  some  of  the  subor- 
dinate characters.  Like  many  others  of  Plautus's  plays^  it 
turns  on  the  accidental  recognition  of  a  lost  child  by  her 
parents,  in  consequence  of  the  discovery  of  a  casket,  contain- 
ing some  toys,  which  had  been  left  with  her  when  exposed, 
and  by  (neans  of  which  she  is  identified  and  acknowledged. 

In  ancient  times  these  recognitions,  so  frequently  exhibited 
on  the  stage,  were  not  improbable.  The  costoms  of  exposing 
children,  and  of  reducing  prisoners  of  war  to  slavery — the 
little  connection  or  intercourse  between  different  countries, 
from  the  want  of  inns  or  roads— and  the  consequent  difficulty 
of  tracing  a  lost  individual-*-rendered  such  incidents,  to  us 
apparently  so  marvellous,  of  not  unusual  occurrence  ii^  real 
life.  In  Greece,  particularly,  divided  as  it  was  into  a  number 
of  smidl  states,  and.  surrounded  by  a  sea  infested  with  pirates, 
who  carried  on  a  commerce  in  slaves,  free-born  children  were 
frequently  carried  off,  and  sold  in  distant  countries.  By  the 
laws  of  Athens,  marriage  with  a  foreigner  was  null;  or,  at 
least,  the  progeny  of  such  nuptials  were  considered  as  ille- 
gitimate, and  not  entitled  to  the  privileges  of  Athenian  citi- 
zens. Hence,  the  recognition  of  the  supposed  stranger  was 
of  the  utmost  importance  to  herself  and  lover.  In  real  life, 
this  recognition  may  have  been  sometimes  actually  aided  by 
ornaments  and  trinkets.  Parents  frequently  tied  jewels  and 
rings  to  the  children  whom  they  exposed,  in  order  that  such 
as  found  them  might  be  encouraged  to  nourish  and  educate 
them,  and  that  they  themselves  might  afterwards  be  enabled 
to  discover  them,  if  Providence  took  care  for  their  safety*. 
Plots,  accordingly,  which  hinged  on  such  circumstances,  were 
invented  even  by  the  writers  of  the  old  Greek  comedy.  One 
of  the  later  pieces  of  Aristophanes,  now  lost,  entitled  Cocalu^^ 
is  said  to  have  presented  a  recognition ;  and  nearly  the  same 
sort  of  intrigue  was  afterwards  employed  by  Menander,  and, 
from  his  example,  by  Plautus  and  Terence.  From  imitation 
of  the  Greek  and  Latin  comedies,  similar  incidents  became 
common  both  in  dramatic  and  romantic  fiction.  The  pastoral 
romance  of  Longus  hinges  on  a  recognition  of  this  species; 
and  those  elegant  productions,  in  which  the  Italians  have 
introduced  the  characters  and  occupations  of  rural  life  into 
the  drama,  are  frequently  founded  on  the  exposure  of  children, 
who,  after  being  brought  up  as  shepherds  by  reputed  fathers, 
are  recognised  by  their  real  parents,  from  ornaments  or  tokens 
fastened  to  their  persons  when  abandoned  in  infancy  or  child- 
hood. 

*  Potter's  AntiqmH€$  of  Oreeee,  Book  IV.  e.  14. 


I 


/ 


128  PLAUTUS. 

The  Cistdlaria  has  been  more  directly  imitated  in  GU 
Jncantesimi  of  Giovam-Maria  Cecchi,  a  Florentine  dramatist 
of  the  sixteenth  century.  That  part,  however,  of  the  plot 
which  gives  name  to  the  piece,  has  been  invented  by  the 
Italian  author  himself. 

Curcidio. — ^The  subject  of  this  play,  turns  on  a  recognition 
similar  to  that  which  occurs  in  the  Ciatellaria.  It  derives  its 
title  from  the  name  of  a  parasite,  who  performs  the  part 
usually  assigned  by  Plautus  to  an  intriguing  diave ;  and  he  is 
called  Curculio,  from  a  species  of  worm  which  eats  through 
corn. 

It  is  worthy  of  observation,  that  in  the  fourth  act  of  this 
play,  the  Choragus,  who  was  master  of  the  Chorus,  and  stage- 
manager,  or  leader  of  the  band,  is  introduced,  expressing  his 
fear  lest  he  should  be  deprived  of  the  clothes  he  had  lent  to 
Curculio,  and  addressing  to  the  spectators  a  number  of  satiri- 
cal remarks  on  Roman  manners. 

Vossius  has  noticed  the  inadvertency  or  ignorance  of  Plau- 
tus in  this  drama,  where,  though  the  scene  is  laid  in  Epidaurus, 
he  sends  the  parasite  to  Caria,  and  brings  -him  back  in  four 
days.  This  part  of  the  comedy  he  therefore  thinks  has  been 
invented  by  Plautus  himself,  since  a  Greek  poet,  to  whom  the 
geography  of  these  districts  must  have  been  better  known, 
would  not  have  carried  the  parasite  to  so  great  a  distance  in 
so  short  a  period. 

Epidicus. — ^This  play  is  so  called  from  the  name  of  a  slave 
who  sustains  a  principal  character  in  the  comedy,  and  on 
whose  rogueries  most  of  the  incidents  depend.  Its  most 
serious  part  consists  in  the  discovery  of  a  damsel,  who  proves 
to  be  sister  to  a  young  man  by  whom  she  has  been  purchased 
as  a  slave.  The  play  has  no  prologue ;  but,  at  the  beginning, 
a  character  is  introduced,  which  the  ancients  galled  persona 
protaiica^ — that  is,  a  person  who  enters  only  once,  and  at  the 
commencement  of  the  piece,  for  the  sake  of  unfolding  the 
argument,  and  does  not  appear  again  in  any  part  of  the  drama. 
Such  are  Sosia,  in.  the  Andria  of  Terence,  and  Davus,  in  his 
Phormio.  This  is  accounted  rather  an  inartificial  mode  of 
informmg  the  audience  of  the  circumstances  previous  to  the 
opening  of  the  piece.  It  is  generally  too  evident,  that  the 
narrative  is  made  merely  for  the  sake  of  the  spectators ;  as 
there  seldom  appears  a  sufficient  reason  for  one  of  the  parties 
being  so  communicative  to  the  other.  Such  explanations 
should  come  round,  as  it  were,  by  accident,  or  be  drawn  in- 
voluntarily from  the  characters  themselves  in  the  course  of 
the  action. 

The  Epidicus  is  said  to  have  been  a  principal  favourite  of 


PLAUTUS.  129 

the  author  himself;  and,  indeed,  one  of  the  characters  in  his 
Bacchidts  exclaims, 

"  Eciain  Epidicom*  quam  ego  fabulam  eqoe  ac  me  ipsum  amo.'* 

But,  though  popular  in  the  ancient  theatre,  the  Epidicua  does 
not  appear  to  be  one  of  the  plays  of  Plautus  which  has  been 
roost  frequently  imitated  on  the  modern  stage.  There  was, 
however,  a  very  early  Italian  imitation  of  it  in  the  Emiiia^  a 
comedy,  of  Luigi  daGroto,  better  known  by  the  appellation  of 
Cieco  D'Adria,  one  of  the  earliest  romantic  poets  of  his  country. 
The  trick,  too,  of  Epidicus,  in  persuading  his  master  to  buy  a 
slave  with  whom  his  son  was  in  love,  has  suggested  the  first 
device  fidlen  on  by  Mascarelle,  the  valet  in  Moliere's  Etourdi, 
in  order  to  place  the  female,  slave  Celie  at  the  disposal  of  her 
lover,  by  inducing  his  master  to  purchase  her. 

MefUBchmi — hinges  on  something  of  the  same  species  of 
humour  as  the  AmpkUryon-^fL  doubt  and  confusion  with  re- 
gard to  the  identity  of  individuals.  According  to  the  Delphia 
Plautus,  it  was  taken  from  a  lost  play  of  Mensinder,  entitled 
^i&uiuui  but  other  commentators  have  thought,  that  it  was 
more  probably  derived  from  Epicharmus,  or  some  other  Sicilian 
dramatist. 

In  this  play,  a  merchant  of  Syracuse  had  two  sons,  possessing 
so  strong  a  personal  resemblance  to  each  other,  that  they 
could  not  be  distinguished  even  by  their  parents.  One  of 
these  children,  called  Mensechmus,  was  lost  by  his  father  in  a 
crowd  on  the  streets  of  Syracuse,  and,  being  found  by  a  Greek 
merchant,  was  carried  by  him  to  Epidamnum,  (Dyracchium,) 
and  adopted  as  his  son.  Meanwhile,  the  brother,  (whose  name, 
in  consequence  of  this  loss,  had  been  changed  to  Mensechmus,) 
having  grown  up,  had  set  out  from  Syracuse  in  quest  of  his 
relative.  After  a  long  search  be  arrived  at  Epidamnum,  where 
his  brother  had  by  this  time  married,  and  had  also  succeeded 
to  the  merchant's  fortune.  The  amusement  of  the  piece  hinges 
<m  the  citizens  of  Epidamnum  mistaking  the  Syracusan  stranger 
for  his  brother,  and  the  family  of  the  Epidamnian  brother 
foiling  into  a  corresponding  error.  In  this  comedy  we  have 
also  the  everlasting  parasite;  and  the  first  act  opens  with  a 
preparation  for  an  entertainment,  which  Mensechmus  of  Epi- 
damnum had  ordered  for  his  mistress  Erotium,  and  to  which 
the  parasite  was  invited.  The  Syracusan  happening  to  pass, 
is  asked  to  come  in  by  his  brother's  mistress,  and  partakes 
with  her  of  the  feast.  He  also  receives  from  her,  in  order  to 
bear  it  to  the  embroiderer's,  a  robe  which  his  brother  had 
carried  off  from  his  wife,  with  the  view  of  presenting  it  to  this 
Vol.  I.— R 


130  PLAUTUS- 

mifliresv.  Afterwards  he  is  attacked  by  his  brother's  jealous 
wife,  and  her  father;  and,  as  his  answers  to  their  reproaches 
convince  them  that  he  is  deranged,  they  send  straightway  for 
a  physician.  The  Syracusan  escapes;  but  they  .soon  after- 
wards lay  hold  of  the  Epidamnian,  in  order  to  carry  him  to 
ihe  physician's  house,  when  the  servant  of  the  Syracusan,  who 
mistakes  him  for  his  master,  rescues  him  from  their  hands. 
The  Epidamnian  then  goes  to  his  mistress  with  the  view  of 
persuading  her  to  return  the  robe  to  his  wife.  At  length  the 
whole  is  unravelled  by  the  two  Menaechrai  meeting;  when  the 
servant  of  the  Syracusan,  surprised  at  their  resemblance,  dis- 
covers, after  a  few  questions  to  each,  that  Mensechmus  of 
Epidamnum  is  the  twin-brother  of  whom  his  master  had  been 
so  long  in  search,  and  who  now.  agrees  to  return  with  them  to 
Syracuse. 

The  great  number  of  those  Latin  plays,  where  the  merriment 
consists  in  mistakes  arising  from  personal  resemblances,  must 
be  attributed  to  the  use  of  masks,  which  gave  probability  to 
such  dramas;  and  yet,  if  the  resemblance  was  too  perfect,  the 
humour,  I  think,  must  have  lost  its  effect,  as  the  spectators 
would  not  readily  perceive  the  error  that  was  committed. 

No  play  has  been  so  repeatedly  imitated  as  the  Mensechmi  on 
the  modern  stage,  particularly  the  Italian,  where  masks  were 
iailso  frequently  employed.  The  most  celebrated  kalian  imi- 
tation of  the  MeruBchnri  is  Lo  Ipocrito  of  Aretine,  where  the 
twin-brothers,  Liseo  and  Brizio,  had  the  same  singular  degree 
of  resemblance  as  the  Mensechmi.  Brizio  had  been  carried 
off  a  prisoner  in  early  youth  during  the  sack  of  Milan,  and  re- 
turns to  that  city,  after  a  long  absence,  in  the  first  act  of  die 
play,  in  quest  of  his  relatic*  .s.  Liseo's  servants,  and  his  para- 
site, Lo  Ipocrito,  all  mistake  Brizio  for  their  patron,  and  his 
wife  takes  him  to  share  an  entertainment  prepared  at  her  hus- 
band's house,  and  also  intrusts  him  with  the  charge  of  some 
ornaments  belonging  to  her  daughter;  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  Brizio's  servant  mistakes  Liseo  for  his  master.  The 
interest  of  the  play  arises  from  the  same  sort  of  confusion  as 
that  which  occurs  in  the  MeruBchmi;  and  from  the  continual 
astonishment  of  those  who  are  deceived  by  the  resemblance, 
at  finding  an  individual  deny  a  conversation  which  they  were 
persuaded  he  had  held  a  few  minutes  before.  The  play  is 
otherwise  excessively  involved,  in  consequence  of  the  intro- 
duction of  the  amours  and  nuptials  of  the  five  daughters  of 
Liseo.  The  plot  of  the  Latin  comedy  has  also  been  followed 
in  Le  Moglie  of  Cecchi,  and  in  the  Lucidi  of  Agnuolo  Firen- 
zuola;  but  the  incidents  have  been,  in  a  great  measure,  adapted 
by  these  dramatists  to  the  manners  of  their  native  country 


PLADTUS.  131 

IVissino,  in  his  SknilUmij  has  made  little  change  on  his  ori- 
ginal, except  adding  a  chonis  of  sailors;  as^  indeed,  he  has 
himself  acknowledged,  in  his  dedication  to  the  cardinal,  Ales- 
sandro  Famese.  in  GU  due  GemeUit  which  was  long  a 
favourite  piece  on  the  Italian  stage, Car lini  acted  both  brothers; 
the  scenes  being  so  contrived  that  they  were  never  brought 
on  the  stage  together-^in  the  same  n^anner  as  in  our  farce  of 
Three  and  the  Deuce,  where  the  idea  of  giving  different  cha^ 
racters  and  manners  to  the  three  brothers,  with  a  perfect 
personal  resemblance,  by  creating  still  greater  astonishment 
ia  their  frieods  and  acquaintances,  seems  an  agreeable  ad- 
dition. 

TbeMeruBckmiwBB  translated  into  English  towards  the  end 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  by  William  Warner,  the  author  of 
AUrian^s  England.  This  version,  which  was  first  printed  in 
1595,  and  is  entitled,  '^  Menseciimi,  .a  pleasaunt  and  fine  con* 
ceited  comedy,  taken  out  of  the  most  excellent  wittie  poet 
Plautas,  chosen  purposely,  as  least  harmefuU,  yet  most  de- 
lightful," was  unquestionably  the  origin  of  Shakspeare's  Comedy 
if  Errors.  The  resemblance  of  the  two  Antipholis',  and  the 
other  circumstances  which  give  rise  to  the  intrigue,  are  nearly 
the  same  as  in  Plautus.  Some  of  the  mistakes,  too,  which 
occur  on  the  arrival  of  Antipholis  of  Syracuse  at  Ephesus, 
have  been^  suggested  by  the  Ladn  play.  Thus,  the  Syracusan, 
00  coming  to  Ephesus,  dines  with  his  brother's  wife.  This 
lady  had  under  repair,  at  the  goldsmith's,  a  valuable  chain, 
which  her  husband  resolves  to  present  to  his  mistress,  but  the 
goldsmith  gives  it  to  the  Syracusan.  At  length  the  Ephesian 
is  believed  insane  by  his  friends,  who  bring  Doctor  Pinch,  a 
conjurer,  to  exorcise  him.  Shakspeare  has  added  the  cfalu-acters 
of  the  twin  Dromios,  the  servants  of  the  Antipholis's,  who 
have  the  same  singular  resemblance  to  each  oth^  as  their 
masters,  which  has  produced  such  intricacy  of  plot  that  it  is 
hardly  possible  to  unravel  the  incidents. 

The  Comedy  of  Errors  is  accounted  one  of  the  earliest, 
and  is  certainly  one  of  the  least  happy  efforts  of  Shakspeare's 
genius.  I  cannot  agree  with  M.  Schlegel,  in  thinking  it 
better  than  the-  Menaechmi  of  Plautus,  or  even  than  the  best 
modem  imitation  of  that  comedy — Les  Menechmes^  ou  Lea 
JvmeauXj  of  the  French  poet  Regnard,  which  is,  at  least,  a 
more  lively  and  agreeable  imitation.  All  the  scenes,  however, 
have  been  accommodated  to  French  manners ;  and  the  plot 
differs  considerably  from  that  of  Plautus,  being  partly"  fomied 
on  an  old  French  play  of  the  same  title,  by  Kotrou,  which 
appeared  as  early  as  1636.  One  chief  distinction  is,  that  the 
Chevalier  Menecbme  knows  of  the  arrival  of  his  brother  frmn 


132  PLAUTUS. 

the  country,  and  knows  that  be  had  come  to  Paris  in  order  to 
receive  an  inheritance  bequeathed  to  him  by  his  uncle,  as  also 
to  marry  a  young  lady  of  whom  the  Chevalier  was  enamoured. 
The  Chevalier  avails  himself  of  the  resemblance  to  prosecute 
his  love-suit  with  the  lady,  and  to  receive  the  legacy  from  the 
hands  of  an  attorney,  whUe  his  brother  is  in  the  meantime 
harassed  by  women  to  whom  the  Chevalier  had  formerly  paid 
addresses,  and  is  arrested  for  his  debts.  It  was  natural  enough, 
as  in  Plautus,  that  an  infant,  stolen  and  carried  to  a  remote 
country,  should  have  transmitted  no  account  of  himself  to  his 
family,  and  should  have  been  believed  by  them  to  be  dead; 
but  this  can  with  difficulty  be  supposed  of  Regnard's  Che- 
valier, who  had  not  left  his  paternal  home  in  Brittany  till  the 
usual  age  for  entering  on  military  service,  and  had  ever  since 
resided  chiefly  at  Paris.  The  Chevalier  finds,  from  letters 
delivered  to  him  by  mistake,  that  his  brother  had  come  to 
town  to  receive  payment  of  a  legacy  recently  bequeathed  to 
him :  But,  unless  it  was  left  to  any  one  who  bore  the  name  of 
Menechme,  it  is  not  easy  to  see  how  the  attorney  charged 
with  the  payment,  should  have  allowed  himself  to  be  duped 
by  the  Chevalier.  Nor  is  it  likely  that,  suspicious  as  the  elder 
Menechme  is  represented,  he  should  trust  so  much  to  bis 
brother's  valet,  or  allow  himself  to  be  terrified  in  the  public 
street  and  open  day  into  payment  of  a  hundred  louis  d'or.  It 
is  equally  improbable  that  Araminte  should  give  up  the  Che- 
valier to  her  niece,  or  that  the  elder  Mopechme  should  marry 
the  old  maid  merely  to  get  back  half  the  sum  of  which  his 
brother  had  defrauded  him.  That  all  the  adventures,  besides, 
should  terminate  to  the  advantage  of  the  Chevalier,  has  too 
much  an  air  of  contrivance,  and  takes  away  that  hazard  which 
ought  to  animate  pieces  of  this  description,  and  which  excites 
the  interest  in  Plautus,  where  the  incidents  prove  fortunate  or 
unfavourable  indiscriminately  to  the  two  brothers. 

In  Plautus,  the  robe  which  Menaechmus  of  Epidamnum  car- 
ries off  from  his  wife,  suffices  for  almost  the  whole  intrigue. 
It  alone  brings  into  play  the  falsehood  and  avarice  of  the 
courtezan,  the  inclination  of  both  the  Menaechmi  foi  plea- 
sure, the  gluttony  of  the  parasite,  and  rage  of  the  jealous 
wife :  But  in  the  French  Menechmes, — trunks,  letters,  a  por- 
trait, promises  of  marriage,  and  presents,  are  heaped  on  each 
other,  to  produce  accumulated  mistakes.  Regnard  has  also 
introduced  an  agreeable  variety,  by  discriminating  the  cha- 
racters of  the  brothers,  between  whom  Plautus  and  Shaks- 
peare  have  scarcely  drawn  a  shade  of  difference.  The  Che- 
valier is  a  polished  gentleman — very  ingenious  ;  but,  I  think, 
not  very  honest:.  His  brother  is  blunt,  testy,  and  impatient, 


PLAUTUS-  133 

and  not  very  wite.  The  difference,  indeed,  in  their  languaffo. 
and  manners,  is  so  very  marked^  that  it  seems  hardly  possible, 
whatever  might  be  the  personal  resemblance,  that  the  Cheva- 
lier's mistress  could  have  been  deceived.  These  peculiarities 
of  disposition,  however,  render  the  mistakes,  and  the  country 
brother's  impatience  under  them,  doubly  entertaining— 

**  Fandra-t^n  que  toujoun  je  aois  dans  Tembunf 
De  voir  une  furie  attacb^e  k  mes  pas  ?'* 

And  when  assailed  by  Araminte,  the  old  maid  to  whom  his 
brother  had  promised  marriage — 

'*  E9prit  demon,  hitin,  ombre,  femme,  ou  fane,  - 
Qui  que  tu  sois,  enfin  laiase  moi,  je  te  prie." 

When  his  brother  is  at  last  discovered,  and  indubitably  recog- 
nized, be  exclaims, 

'*  Mon  firere  en  verite — Je  m'en  rejouia  fort, 
Mais  j'avais  cependant  compte  sur  votre  mort." 

Boursault's  comedv,  Les  Menteurs  qui  ne  menieni  paint, 
though  somewhat  dif^rent  m  its  fable  from  the  Latin  MetUBch- 
mi^  is  founded  on  precisely  the  same  species  of  humour — 
the  exact  resemblance  of  the  two  Nicandres  occasioning  ludi- 
crous mistakes  and  misunderstandings  among  their  valets  and 
mistresses. 

The  most  recent  French  imitation  of  the  play  of  Plautus  is 
the  Menechmes  Grecs,  by  Cailhava,  in  which  the  plot  is  still 
more  like  the  Latin  comedy  than  the  Menechmes  of  Regnard; 
but  the  characters  are  new.  This  piece  has  been  extremely 
popular  on  the  modern  French  stage. — "Le  public,"  says 
Chenier,  '^  s'est  empresse  de  rendre  justice  a  la  peinture 
piquante  de  roceurs  de  la  Grece,  a  la  verite  des  situations,  au 
naturel  du  dialogue,  au  merite  rare  d'une  gaite  frahche,  qui 
ne  degenere  pas  en  bouffonnerie*." 

AS&s  Gloriosua,  (the  Braggart  Captain.)  This  was  a  cha- 
racter of  the  new  Greek  comedy,  introduced  and  brought^ to 
perfection  by  Philemon  and  Menander.  These  dramatists 
wrote  during  the  reigns  of  the  immediate  successors  of  Alex- 
ander the  Great.  At  that  period,  his  generals  who  bad 
established  sovereignties  in  Syria  and  Egypt,  were  in  the 
practice  of  recruiting  their  armies  by  levying  mercenaries  in 
Greece.  The  soldiers  who  had  thus  served  in  the  wars  of  the 
SeleucidsB  and  Ptolemies,  were  in  the  habit,  when  they  re^ 

*  Tableau  de  la  Utteraiure  Francoise. 


134  PLAUTUS. 

turned  home  to  Greeee  after  their  Gampaigns,  of  astonishing 
their  friends  with  fabulous  relations  of  their  exploits  in  distant 
countries.  Having  been  engaged  in  wars  with  which  Athens 
had  no  immediatie  concern  or  interest,  these  partizans  met 
with  little  respect  or  sympathy  from  their  countrymen,  and 
their  lies  and  bravadoes  having  made  them  detested  in  Athe* 
nian .  society*,  they  became  the  prototypes  of  that  dramatic 
character  of  which  the  constant  attributes  were  the  most 
absurd  vanity,  stupidity,  profusion,  and  cowardice.  This 
overcharged  character,  along  with  that  of  the  slave  and  para- 
site, were  transferred  into  the  dramas  of  Plautus,  the  faithful 
mirrors  of  the  new  Greek  comedy.  The  first  act  of  the 
Miles  Gloriasua  has  little  to  do  with  the  plot :  It  only  serves 
to  acquaint  us  with  the  character  of  the  Captain  Pyrgopoli- 
nices ;  and  it  is  for  this  purpose  alone  that  Plautus  has  intro- 
duced the  parasite,  who  does  not  return  to  the  stage  after  the 
first  scene.  The  boasts  of  this  captain  are  quite  extravagant, 
but  they  are  not  so  gross  as  the  flatteries  of  the  parasite : 
indeed  it  is  not  to  be  conceived  that  any  one  could  swallow 
such  compliments  as  that  he  had  broken  an  elephant^s  thigh 
with  his  fist,  and  slaughtered  seven  thousand  men  in  one  day, 
or  that  he  should  not  have  perceived  the  sarcasms  of  the 
parasite  intermixed  with  his  fulsome  flattery.  Previous,  how- 
ever, to  the  invention  of  gunpowder,  mor^  could  be  performed 
in  war  by  the  personal  prowess  of  individuals,  than  can  be 
now  accomplished;  and  hence  the  character  of  the  biaggart 
captain  may  not  have  appeared  quite  so  exaggerated  to  the 
ancients  as  it  seems  to  us.  One  man  of  peculiar  strength  and 
intrepidity  often  carried  dismay  into  the  hostile  squadrons,  as 
Goliah  defied  all  the  armies'of  Israel,  and,  with  a  big  look, 
and  a  few  arrogant  words,  struck  so  great  a  terror,  that  the 
host  fled  before  him. 

'  Most  European  nations  being  imbued  with  military  habits 
cmd  manners  for  many  centuries  after  their  first  rise,  the  part 
of  a  boasting  coward  was  one  of  the  broadest,  and  most  ob- 
viously humorous  characters,  that  could  be  presented  to  the 
spectators.  Accordingly,  the  braggart  Captain,  though  he 
has  at  length  disappeared,  was  one  of  the  most  notorious  per- 
Bonages  on  the  early  Italian,  French,  and  English  stage. 

Tinea,  the  braggart  Captain  in  La  Talania^  a  comedy  by 
Aretine,  is  a  close  copy  of  Thraso,  the  soldier  in  Terence,  the 
play  being  taken  from  the  EunuckuSj  where  Thraso  is  a  chief 
character.  But  Spampana,  the  principal  figure  in  the  Farsa 
Satira  Morale^  a  dramatic  piece  of  the  fifl^nth  century,  by 


PLAUTUS.  135 

renturino  of  Pesaro,  waB  the  original  and  genuine  Capitano 
Giorioso,  a  character  well  known,  and  long  distinguished  in 
the  Italian  drama.  He  was  generally  equipped  wi£  a  mantle 
and  long  rapier;  and  his  personal  qualities  nearly  resembled 
those  of  the  Count  di  Culagna,  the  hero  of  Tassoni's  mock 
heroic  poem  La  Secckia  Rapita :— ^ 

'*  Quest'  era  tin  Cavalier  bravo  e  galantb, 
Ch'era  fiior  de  perigU  un  Sacripante, 
Ma  ne  peii^  un  pezzo  di  polmone : 
Spesso  ammazzato  avea  qualche  gigante. 
£  si  scopiiva  poi,  ch'era  un  cappone." 

This  military  poltroon  long  kept  possession  of  the  Italian 
stage^  under  the  appellations  of  Capitan  Spavento  and  Spez* 
zafer,  till  about  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  when  he 
yielded  his  place  to  the  Capitano*  Spagnuolo,^  whose  business 
was  to  utter  Spanish  rodomontades,  to  kick  out  the  native 
Italian  Captain  in  compliment  to  the  Spaniards,  and  then 
quietly  accept  of  a  drubbing  from  Harlequin.  When  the 
Spaniards  had  entirely  lost  their,  influence  in  Italy,  the  Capi- 
tan Spagnuolo  retreated  from  the  stage,  and  was  succeeded 
by  that  eternal  poltroouj  Scaramuccio,  a  character  which  was 
invented  by  Tiberio  Fiurilli,  the  companion  of  the  boyhood  of 
Louis  XIV*. 

In  imitation  of  the  Italian  captain,  the  early  French  drama- 
tists introduced  a  personage,  who  patiently  received  blows 
while  talking  of  detnroning  emperors  and  distributing  crowns. 
The  part  was  first  exhibited  in  Le  Brave^  by  Baif,  acted  in 
1567;  but  there  is  no  character  which  comes  so  near  to  the 
Miles  Gloriosus  of  Plautusj  as  that  of  Chasteaufort  in  Cyrano 
Bergerac's  Pedani  J(mk.  In  general,  the  French  captains 
have  mpre  rodomontade  and  solemnity,  with  less  buffoonery, 
than  their  Italian  prototypes.  The  captain  Matamore,  in 
Comeille's  Illusion  Comiqu$,  actually  addresses  the  following 
lines  to  his  va'^et : — 

"  II  est  Vrai  que  je  vkve,  et  ne  sanrois  resoudre, 
Lequel  des  deux  je  dois  le  premier  mettre  en  poudre, 
Du  grand  Soph!  de  Perae,  ou  bleu  du  grand  Mogol.'* 

And  again — 

**  Jj»  seal  bniit  de  mon  nom  lenverse  lea  muniUes, 
Defaities  escadrons,  et  gagne  les  bataiilles ; 
D*un  seul  commandement  que  je  fiiis  aux  trois  Parques, 
Je  depeuple  P^tat  des  plus  hetireuz  mooarques." 


^  Walker's  Eisay  an  the  Retival  of  the  Drama  m  Rdly. 


136  PLAUTUS. 

Corneille's  Matamore  also  resembles  the  Miles  Gloriosos,  in 
his  self-complacency  on  the  subject  of  personal  beauty,  and 
his  belief  that  every  woman  is  in  love  with  him.  Pyrgopo- 
Unices  declares — 

"  Misenim  esse  pulchrum  hominem  nimis." 

And  in  like  manner,  Matamore — 

<*  Ciel  qui  sals  comme  quoi  j'en  suis  persecute. 
Un  peu  plus  de  repos  avec  moios  de  beaute. 
Fais  qu'un  si  long  mepris  enfin  la  desabuse."' 

Scarron,  who  was  nearly  contemporary  with  Corneille,  painted 
this  character  in  Don  Gaspard  de  Padiite,  the  Fa^aron^  as 
he  is  called,  of  the  comedy  Jodelei  DuelHste,  Gaspard,  how- 
ever, is  not  a  very  important  or  prominent  character  of  the 
piece.  Jodelet  himself,  the  valet  of  Don  Felix,  seems  intended 
as  a  burlesque  or  caricature  of  all  the  braggarts  who  had  pre- 
ceded him.  Having  received  a  blow,  he  is  ever  vowing  ven- 
geance against  the  author  of  the  injury  in  his  absence,'  bat  on 
his  appearance,  suddenly  becomes  tame  and  submissive. 

The  braggart  captains  of  the  old  English  theatre  have 
much  greater  merit  than  the  utterers  of  these  nonsensical 
rhapsodies  of  the  French  stage.  FalstaiT  has  been  often  con- 
sidered as  a  combination  of  the  characters  of  the  parasite  and 
Miles  Gloriosus  ;  but  he  has  infinitely  more  wit  than  either; 
and  the  liberty  of  fiction  in  which  he  .indulges,  is  perhaps 
scarcely  more  than  is  necessary  for  its  display.  His  cheer- 
fulness and  humour  are  of  the  most  characteristic  and  capti- 
vating sort,  and  instead  of  sufiering  that  contumely  witii 
which  the  parasite  and  Miles  Gloriosus  are  loaded,  laughter 
and  approbation  attend  his  greatest  excesses.  His  boasting 
speeches  are  chiefly  humorous ;  jest  and  merriment  account 
for  most  of  them,  and  palliate  them  all.  It  is  only  subsequent 
to  the  robberj  that  he  discovers  the  traits  of  a  Miles  Gloriosus. 
Most  of  the  ancient  braggarts  bluster  and  boast  of  distant 
wars,  beyond  the  reach  of  knowledge  or  evidence— of  exploits 
performed  in  Persia  and  Armenia— of  storms  and  stratagems — 
of  falling  pell-mell  on  a  whole  army,  and  putting  thousands 
to  the  sword,  till,  by  some  open  and  apparent  fact,  they  are 
brought  to  shame  as  cowards  and  liars ;  but  FalstafTs  boasts 
refer  to  recent  occurrences,  and  he  always  preserves  himself 
from  degradation  by  the  address  vtcith  which  he  defies  detec- 
tion, and  extricates  himself  from  every  difficulty.  His  cha- 
racter, however,  in  the  Merry  Wwes  of  Windsor^  has  some 
affinity  to  the  captains  of  the  Roman  stagei  from  his  being 


PLAUTUS.  137 

constantly  played  on  in  consequence  of  his  persuasion  that 
women  are  in  love  with  him.  The  swaggering  Pistol  in 
King  Henry  IV.,  is  chiefly  characterized  by  his  inflated  lan- 
guage, and  is,  as  Doll  calls  him,  merely  '^  a  fustian  rascal.'' 
Bessus,  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  King  and  Ab  Aing,  is 
said  by  Theobald  to  be  a  copy  of  Falstatf ;  but  he  has  little 
or  none  of  his  humour.  Bessus  was  an  abusive  wretch,  and 
so  much  contemned,  that  no  one  called  his  words  in  question  ; 
but,  afterwards,  while  flying  in  battle,  having  accidentally 
rushed  on  the  enemy,  hel  acquired  a  reputation  for  valour  ; 
and  being  now  challenged  to  combat  by  those  whom  he  had 
formerly  traduced,  his  great  aim  is  to  avoid  fighting,  and  yet 
to  preserve,  by  boasting,  his  new  character  for  courage. 
However  fine  the  scene  between  Bessus  and  Arbaces,  at  the 
conclusion  of  the  third  act,  the  darker  and  more  infamous 
shades  of  character  there  portrayed  ought  not  to  have  been 
delineated,  as  our  contemptuous  laughter  is  converted,  during 
the  rest  of  the  play,  or,  on  a  second  perusal,  inta  detestation 
and  horror.  Bobadil,  in  Ben  Jonson's  Every  Man  in  his 
Humour,  has  generally  been. regarded  as  a  copy  of  the  Miles 
Gloriosus ;  but  the  late  editor  of  Jonson  thinks  him  a  creation 
Mii  generis,  and  perfectly  original.  ''The  soldiers  of  the 
Roman  stage,"  he  continues, "  have  not  many  traits  in  conmioa 
with  BobadiK  Pyrgopolinices,  and  other  captains  with  hard 
Barnes,  are  usually  wealthy — all  of  them  keep  mistresses,  and 
some  of  them  parasites — but  Bobadil  is  poor.  They  are  pro- 
fligate and  luxurious — but  Bobadil  is  stained  with  no  inordi- 
nate vice,  and  is  so  frugal,  that  a  bunch  of  radishes,  and  a 
pipe  to  close  the  orifice  of  his  stomach,  satis^  all  his  wants- 
Add  to  this,  that  the  vanity  of  the  ancient  soldier  is  accom- 
panied with  such  deplorable  stupidity,  that  all  temptation 
to  mirth  is  taken  away,  whereas  Bobadil  is  really  amusing. 
His  gravity,  which  is  of  the  most  inflexible  nature,  contrasts 
admirably  with  the  situations  into  which  he  is  thrown ;  and 
thoij^h  beaten,  bafiled,  and  disgraced,  he  never  so  far  forgets 
himself  as  to  aid  in  his  own  discomfiture.  He  has  no  solilo- 
quies, like  Bessus  and  Parolles,  to  betray  his  real  character, 
and  expose  himself  to  unnecessary  contempt ;  nor  does  he 
break  through  the  decorum  of  the  scene  in  a  single  instance. 
He  is  also  an  admirer  of  poetry,  and  seems  to  have  a  pretty 
taste  for  criticism,  though  his  reading  does  not  appear  very 
extensive;  and  his  decisions  are  usually  made  with  somewhat 
too  much  pr(»nptitude.  In  a  word,  Bobadil  has  many  distin- 
guishing traits,  and,  till  a  preceding  braggart  shall  be  disco- 
vered, with  something  more  than  big  words  and  beating,  to 
characterize'  him,  it  may  not  be  amis^  to  allow  Jonson  the 
Vol.  I. — S 


138  PLAUTUS. 

credit  of  having -depended  on  his  own  resources."  The  ehs^ 
rftcter  of  the  braggart  captain  was  continued  in  the  Bernardo 
of  Shadwell's  Amaroua  Bigoi^  and  Nol  Bluff,  in  Congreve's  OH 
Backder.  These  are  persons  who  appaieRtly  would  destroy 
every  thing  with  fire  and  sword ;  bat  their  mischief  is  only  in 
their  words,  and  they  ^^  will  not  swagger  with  a  Barbary  hen, 
if  her  feathers  turn  back  with  any  show  of  resistance.^  The 
braggarts,  indeed,  of  OMxlern  dramatists,  have  been  univer- 
sally  represented  as  cowardly,  from  Spampana  down  to  Cap- 
tain Flash.  But  cowardice  is  not  a  striking  attribute  of  the 
Miles  Gloriosus  of  Plautus,  at  least  it  is  not  made  the  principal 
source  of  ridicule  as  with  the  moderns.  We  have  instead,  a 
vain  conceit  of  his  person,  and  his  conviction  that  every  woman 
is  in  love  with  him. 

This  feature  in  the  character  of  the  Miles  Gloriosus,  pro* 
duces  a  principal  part  in  the  intrigue  of  this  amusing  drama, 
which  properly  commences  at  the  second  act,  and  is  said,  in 
a  prologue  there  introduced,  to  have  been  taken  from  the 
Greek  play  AXo^cjv.  While  residing  at  Athens,  the  captain  bad 
purchased  from  her  mother  a  young  girl,  (whose  lover  was  at 
that  time  absent  on  an  embassy .j  and  had  brought  her  with 
him  to  his  house  at  Ephesus.  Tnc  lover's  slave  entered  into 
the  captain's  service,  and,  seeing  the  girl  in  his  possession, 
wrote  to  his  former  master,  who,  on  learning  the  fate  of  his 
mistress,  repaired  to  Ephesus.  There  he  went  to  reside  with 
Periplectomenes,  a  merry  old  bachelor,  who  had  been  a  friend 
of  his  father,  and  now  agreed  to  assist  him  in  recovering  the 
object  of  his  aifections.  The  house  of  Periplectomenes  being 
immediately  adjacent  to  that  of  the  captain,  the  ingenious 
slave  dug  an  opening  between  them ;  and  the  keeper,  who  had 
keen  intrusted  by  the  captain  with  charge  of  the  damsel,  was 
thus  easily  persuaded  by  her  rapid,  and  to  him  unaccountable, 
transition  from  one  building  to  the  other,  that  it  was  a  twin 
sister,  possessing  an  extraordinary  resemblance  to  her,  who 
bad  arrived  Pt  the  house  of  Periplectomenes.  Afterwards,  by 
a  new  contrivance,  a  courtezan  is  employed  to  pretend  that 
she  is  the  wife  of  Periplectomenes,  and  to  persuade  the  cap- 
tain that  she  is  in  love  with  him.  To  facilitate  this  amour,  be 
allows  the  girl,  whom  he  had  purchased  at  Athens,  to  depart 
with  her  twin  sister  and  her  lover,  who  had  assumed  the  cha- 
racter of  the  master  of  the  vessel  in  which  she  sailed.  The 
eaptain  afterwards  goes  to  the  house  of  Periplectopienes  to  a 
supposed  assignation,  where  he  is  seized  and  beat,  but  doe« 
not  discover  how  completely  he  had  been  duped,  till  the 
Athenian  girl  had  got  clear  off  with  her  lover. 

This  play  must,  m  the  representation,  have  been  one  of  the 


PLAUTUS.  139 

most  amasing  of  its  author's  productions.  The  tcenes  nre  full 
of  actioQ  and  bustle,  while  the  secret  communication  between 
the  two  houses  occasions  many  lively  incidents,  and  forms  an 
excellent  jeu  de  theatre. 

With  regard  to  the  characters,  the  one  which  gives  title  to 
the  play  is^  as  already  mentioned,  quite  extravagant ;  and  no 
modern  reader  can  enjoy  the  rodomontade  of  the  Miles  Glo- 
riosus,  or  his  credulity  in  listening  with  satisfaction  to  such 
monstrous  tales  of  his  military  renown  and  amorous  success. 
Flattery  for  potential  qualities  may  be  swallowed  to  any  extent, 
and  a  vain  man  may  wish  that  others  should  be  persuaded  that 
he  had  performed  actions  of  which  he  is  incapable ;  but  no 
man  can  himself  hearken  with  pleasure  to  falsehoods  which 
be  knows  to  be  such,  and  which  in  the  recital  are  not  intended 
to  impose  upon  others.  Pleusides,  the  lover  in  this  drama,  is 
totally  insipid  and  uninteresting,  and  we  are  not  impressed 
with  a  very  favourable  opinion  of  his  mistress  from  the  account 
which  is  given  of  her  near  the  beginning  of  the  play : — 

"  On  habet,  linguam,  perfidiam,  maliliam,  atqiie  audaciam, 
Confidentiam,  coDfinnitatem,  fiaudolentiaiii : 
Qui  areuet  se,  eum  coDtra  vincat  jurejurando  nio. 
Domi  babet  animum  falsUoquum,  falsificum,  fidflljuiium." 

The  principal  character,  the  one  which  is  best  supported,  and 
which  is  indeed  sustained  with  considerable  humour,  is  that 
of  Periplectomenes,  who  is  an  agreeable  old  man,  distinguished 
by  his  frafikness,  jovial  disposition,  and  abhorrence  of  matri- 
mony. There  is  one  part  of  his  conduct,  however,  which  I 
wish  bad  been  omitted,  as  it  savours  too  much  of  cunning,  and 
reminds  us  too  strongly  of  Ben  Jonson's  Volpone.  Talking  of 
bis  friends  and  relations,  he  says — 

'— —  "  Me  ad  se,  ad  prandium,  ad  coenam  vocant. 
lUe  muerrimum  se  retur,  minimum  qui  miftit  mihi. 
Illi  inter  ae  certant  donis ;  eso  hec  mecum  mussito : 
Bona  meainhiant :  certatim  aona  miUunt  et  munera." 

I  have  often  thought  that  the  character  of  Durazzo,  in  Mas- 
singer's  GtMrdian,  was  formed  on  that  of  Periplectomenes. 
Like  him,  Durazzo  is  a  jovial  old  bachelor,  who  aids  his  ne- 

fhew  Caldoro  in  his  amour  with  Calista.     When  the  lover  in 
lautus  apologizes  to  his  friend  for  having  engaged  him  in  an 
enterprize  so  unsuitable  to  his  years,  he  replies — 

'*  Quid  ab  tu  ?  itane  tibi  ego  videor  oppido  Acheronticus, 

Tarn  capularif ;  tamne  tibi  diu  TiU  vivere  ? 

Nam  eqoidem  haud  sum  annos  natuS  pneter  quinquagtnta  et  (|uataor» 

Claxe  oculis  video,  pemiz  sum  manibus,  ram  pedes  mobilia.*' 


140  PLAUTtlS. 

In  .like  manner  Durazzo  exclaimi 


« 


My  Age !  do  not  use 
That  word  again ;  if  you  do,  I  shall  srowyounE, 
And  fwinge  you  soundly.    1  would  nave  you  know. 
Though  1  write  fifty  odd,  I  do  not  carry 
An  almanack  in  my  bones  to  prededare 
What  weather  we  shall  have ;  nor  do  I  kneel 
In  adoration  at  the  spring,  and  fall 
Before  my  doctor.' 


» 


Periplectomenes  boasts  of  his  convivial  talents,  as  also  of  his 
amorous  disposition,  and  his  excellence  at  various  exercises — 

"  Et  ego  amoris  aliquantum  habeo,  humorisque  meo  etiam  in  corpore: 
Nequedum  exarui  ex  amoenis  rebus  et  voluptariis. 

•  «  •  • 

Turn  ad  saltandom  non  Cinedus  magis  usquam  saltat  quam  ego." 

This  may  be  compared  with  the  boast  of  Durazzo — 

"  Bring  me  to  a  fence  school. 
And  crack  a  blade  or  two  for  exercise ; 
Ride  a  barbed  horse,  or  take  a  leap  after  me. 
Following  my  hounds  or  hawks,  and,  (by  yeur  leave,) 
At  a  gamesome  mistress,  you  shall  confess 
Vm  in  the  May  of  my  abilities." 


It  may  be  perhaps  considered  as  a  confirmation  of  the  above 
conjecture  concerning  Massinger's  imitation  of  Plautus,  that 
the  cook  in  the  Guardian  is  called  Cario,  which  is  also  the 
name  of  the  cook  of  Periplectomenes. 

There  is,  however,  a  coincidence  connected  with  this  drama 
of  Plautus,  which  is  much  more  curious  and  striking  than  its 
resemblance  to  the  Guardian  of  Massinger.  The  plot  of  the 
MUes  Glorio8U8  is  nearly  the  same  with  the  story  of  the  Two 
Dreams  related  in  the  Seven  Wise  Masters^  a  work  originally 
written  by  an  Indian  philosopher,  long  before  the  Christian 
sera,  and  which,  having  been  translated  into -Greek  under  the 
title  of  Syntipas,  became  current  during  the  dark  ages  through 
all  the  countries  of  Europe,  by  the  ditferent  names  of  7>ofe- 
paloa^  EraatuSy  and  Seven  Wise  Masters, — the  frame  remain- 
ing substantially  the  same,  but  the  stories  being  frequently 
adapted  to  the  manners  of  different  nations.  In  this  popular 
story-book  the  tale  of  the  Two  Dreams  concerns  a  knight,  and 
a  lady  who  was  constantly  confined  by  a  jealous  husband,  in 
a  tower  almost  inaccessible.  Having  become  mutually  ena- 
moured, in  consequence  of  seeing  each  other  in  dreams,  the 
knight  repaired  to  the  residence  of  the  husband,  by  whom  he 
was  hospitably  received,  and  was  at  length  allowed  to  build  a 
habitation  on  bis  possessions,  at  no  great  distance  from  the 


PLAUTUS.  141 

castle  in  which  his  wife  was  inclosed.  When  the  building 
was  completed,  the  knight  secretly  dug  a  communication 
under  ground,  between  his  new  dwelling  and  the  tower,  by 
which  means  he  enjoyed  frequent  and  uninterrupted  inter- 
views with  the  object  of  his  passion.  At  length  the  husband 
was  invited  to  an  entertainment  prepared  at  the  knight's  resi- 
dence, at  which  his  wife  was  present,  and  presided  in  the  • 
character  of  the  knight's  mistress.  During  the  banquet  the 
husband  could  not  help  suspecting  that  she  was  his  wife,  and 
in  consequence  he  repaired,  aftec  the  feast  was  over,  to  the 
tower,  where  he  found  her  sitting  composedly  in  her  usual 
dress.  This,  and  his  confidence  in  the  security  of  the  tower, 
the  keys  of  which  he  constantly  kept  in  his  pocket,  dispelled 
his  suspicions,  and  convinced  him  that  the  Beauty  who  had 
done  the  honours  of  the  knight'a  table,  had  merely  a  striking 
resemblance  to  his  own  lovely  consort.  Being  thus  gradually 
accustomed  to  meet  her  at  such  entertainments,  he  at  last 
complied  with  his  friend's  request,  and  kindly  assisted  at  the 
ceremony  of  the  knight's  marriage  with  his  leman.  Afler  their 
union,  he  complacently  attended  them  to  the  harbour,  and 
handed  the  lady  to  the  vessel  which  the  knight  had  prepared 
for  the  elopement.  This  story  also  coincides  with  Le  Cneva- 
lier  a  la  Trappe,  one-  of  the  Fabliaux  of  the  Norman  Trou- 
vears*,  with  a  tale  in  the  fourth  part  of  the  Italian  XomUino 
of  Massuccio  Salernitano,  and  with  the  adventures  of  the 
Ftetix  Caiender^  in  Gueulette's  Contes  Tartarea. 

Mercaior — ^is  one  of  the  plays  for  which  Plautus  was  indebt- 
ed to  Philemon,  the  contemporary  and  the  successful  rival  of 
Menander,  over  whom  he  usually  triumphed  by  the  theatrical 
suffrages,  while  contending  for  the  prize  of  comedy.  The 
Roman  critics  unanimously  concur  in  representing  these 
popular  decisions  as  unjust  and  partial.  But  Quintilian,  while 
he  condemns  the  perverted  judgment  of  those  who  preferred 
Philemon  to  Menander,  acknowledges  that  he  must  be  univer- 
sally admitted  to  have  merited  the  next  place  to  bis  great 
riviU. — '^dui  ut  pravis  sui  temporis  judiciis  Menandro  seepe 
prelatus  est,  ita  consensu  tamen  omnium  meruit  credi  secun- 
dusf." 

An  interesting  accoiint  of  Philemon  is  given  in  the  Observer, 
by  Camberland,  who  has  also  collected  the  strange  and  incon- 
sistent stories  concerning  the  manner  of  his  death.  He  is 
represented  to  us  as  having  been-  a  man  of  amiable  character, 
and  cl^eerful  disposition,  seldom  agitated  by  those  furious 
passions  which  distracted  the  mind  of  Menander.    He  lived 

*  Le  Grand,  Contes  et  FabliauK,  Tom.  III.  p.  157. 
t  QointU.  iMt.  Orat  Lib.  X.  c.  I. 


142  PLAUTUS. 

to  the  extraordinary  age  of  a  hundred  and  one,  daring  whicli 
long  period  he  wrote  ninety  comedies.  Of  these,  the  critica 
and  grammarians  have  preserved  some  fragments,  which  are 
generally  of  a  tender  and  sentimental,  sometimes  even  of  a 
plaintive  cast.  Apuleius,  however,  informs  us;  that  Philemon 
mas  distinguished  for  the  happiest  strokes  of  wit  and  humour, 
•  for  the  ingenious  disposition  of  his  plots,  for  his  striking  and 
well  managed  discoveries,  and  the  admirable  adaptation  of 
his  characters  to  their  situations  in  life*.  To  judge  by  the 
Latin  Mercator,  imitated  .or  translated  from  the  Efuro^  of 
Philemon,  it  is  impossible  not  to  consider  him  as  inferior  to 
those  other  Greek  dramatists  from  whom  Plautus  borrowed  his 
Amphitryon^  ^tUularia,  Carina^  and  MUea  Glofioius;  yet  it 

.  must  be  recollected,  that  those  are  the  best  comedies  which 
suffer  most  by  a  transfusion  into  another  language.  The 
English  Hypocrites  and  Misers  would  indeed  be  feeble  records 
of  the  genius  of  Moliere.  Uf  one  point,  however,  we  may 
clearly  judge,  even  through  the  mist  of  translation.  Notwith- 
standing what  is  said  by  Apuleius  concerning  the  purity  of 
Philemon's  dramas,  in  none  of  the  plays  of  Plautus  is  greater 
moral  turpitude  represented.  A  son  is  sent  abroad  by  his 
father,  with  the  view  of  reclaiming  him  from  the  dissolute 
course  of  life  which  he  had  followed.  The  youth,  however, 
is  so  little  amended  by  his  travels,  that  he  brings  a  mistress 
home  in  the  ship  with  him.  The  father,  seeing  the  girl,  falls 
in  love  with  her.  His  son,  in  order  to  conceal  his  paasion, 
proposes  to  sell  its  object,  but  engages  one  of  his  acquaint- 
ances to  purchase  her  for  him.  By  some  mismanagement, 
she  is  bought  by  a  friend  whom  the  father  had  employed  for 
this  purpose,  and  is  carried,  as  had  been  previously  arranged, 
to  the  purchaser's  house.  The  friend's  wife,  however,  being 
jealous  of  this  inmate,  her  husband  is  obliged  to  explain  mat- 
ters for  her  satisfaction,  and  the  old  debauchee,  in  conse- 
quence, incurs,  before  the  conclusion  of  the  comedy,  merited 
shame  and  reproach. 

An  old  libertine  may  be  a  very  fit  subject  for  satire  and 
ridicule,  but  in  this  play  there  is  certainly  too  much  latitude 
allowed  to  the  debaucheries  of  youth.     The  whole  moral  of 

«  the  drama  is  contained  in  three  lines  near  the  conclusion : — 

• 

"Neu  quisquam  posthac  prohibeto  adolescentem  filiutti 

Quin  amet,  et  scortum  ducat  ;,quod  bono  fiat  modo  : 

Si  quis  prohibaerit,  plus  perdet  dam*  quain  si  prBhibuerit  palam/' 

*  Repeiias,  apud  iUum«  multos  sales,  ai^menta  lepide  infleza,  i^^natoa  lucidc 
«zp1icatos,  personas  rebus  compctentes ;  joca  non  infra  Soecum — sena  oon  usque 
ad  Cothurnum.  Rane  apudiUum  eorruptele ;  etuti  errores  coDceaafi  amoree. — k^- 
leiufl,JP7orui.p.  658. 


PLAUTUS.  143 

Nothing  can  be  more  ridiculous  than  the  delays  and  tfifling 
of  the  persons  in  this  piece,  under  circumstances  which  must 
naturallj  have  excited  their  utmost  impatience.  Examples  of 
this  occur  in  the  scene  which  occupies  nearly  the  whole  of 
the  first  act,  between  Charinus  and  his  slave  Acanthio,  and 
the  equally  tedious  dialogue  in  the  fifth  act  between  Eutychus 
and  Charinus. 

The  Mercatar  of  Plautus  is  the  origin  of  La  Stiavaj  an 
Italian  comedy  by  Cecchi^  and  in  the  second  scene  of  the 
second  act,  there  are  two  lines  which  have  a  remarkable  re- 
semblance to  the  conclusion  of  the  celebrated  speech  of 
Jaques,  "  All  the  world's  a  stage,' -  in  Aa  you  Like  it. 

**  Senex  cum  extemplo  est,  jam  neesentlt^  nee  aapit, 
Aiont  aolere  eiu&  mnum  repuerascere.*' 

MoHdlariaf — which  the  English  translator  of  Plautus  has 
rendered  the  Apparition, — represents  a  young  Athenian,  natu- 
rally  of  a  virtuous  disposition,  who,  during  the  absence  of  his- 
&ther  on  a  trading  voyage,  is  led  into  every  sort  of  vice  and 
extravagance,  partly  by  his  inordinate  love  for  a  courtezan^ 
and  partly  by  the  evil  counsels  of  one  of  his  slaves,  called 
Trania  During  an  entertainment,  which  the  youth  is  one 
day  giving  in  his  father's  mansion,  he  is  suddenly  alarmed  by 
the  accounts  which  Tranio  brings,  of  the  unexpected  return 
of  the  old  man,  whom  he  had  just  seen  landing  near  the  har-^ 
hour.  At  the  same  time,  however,  the  slave  undertakes  to 
prevent  his  entering  the  house.  In  prosecution  of  this  design 
he  there  locks  up  his  young  master  and  his  guests,  and,  on  the 
approach  of  the  old  gentleman,  gravely  informs  him  that  the 
bouse  was  now  shut  up,  in  consequence  of  being  haunted  by 
the  apparition  of  an  unfortunate  man,  long  since  murdered  in 
it  by  the  person  from  whom  it  had  been  last  purchased.  Tra* 
nio  has  scarcely  prevailed  on  the  father  to  leave  the  door  of 
the  dwelling,  when  they  unluckily  ineet  a  money-lender,  who 
had  come  to  crave  pajrment  of  a  large  debt  from  the  profligate 
son;  but  the  ingenious  slave  persuades  the  fattier,  that  the 
money  had  been  borrowed  to  pay  for  a  house  which  was  a 
great  bargain,  and  which  his  son  had  bought  in  place  of  that 
which  was  haunted.  A  new  dilemma,  however,  arises,  from 
the  old  gentleman's  asking  to  see  the  house :  Tranio  artfully 
obtains  leave  from  the  owner,  who  being  obliged  to  go  to  the 
Forum,  nothing  is  said  on  this  occasion  with  regard  to  the 
sale.  He  examines  the  house  a  second  time  along  with  the 
owner,  but  Tranio  had  previously  begged  him,  as  from  mo- 
tives ^  delicacy,  to  say  nothing  coacerning  his  purchande ;  and 


144  PLAUTUS. 

the  whole  passes  as  a  visit,  to  what  is  called  a  Show-house. 
The  old  man  highly  approves  of  the  bargain ;  but  at  length 
the  whole  deception  is  discovered,  by  his  accidentally  meeting 
an  attendant  of  one  of  his  son's  companions,  who  is  just  going 
into  the  haunted  house  to  conduct  his  master  home  from  that 
scene  of  festivity.     He  has  thus  occasion  to  exercise  all   his 

Eatience  and  clemency  in  forgiveness  of  the  son  by  whom  he 
as  been  almost  ruined,  and  of  the  slave  by  whom  he  had 
been  so  completely  duped« 

In  this  play,  the  character  of  the  young  man  might  have 
been  rendered  interesting,  had  it  been  better  brought  out; 
but  it  is  a  mere  sketch.  He  is  a  grave  and  serious  character, 
hurried  into  extravagance  by  bad  example,  evil  counsel,  and 
one  fatal  passion.  A  long  soliloquy,  in  which  he  compares 
human  life  to  a  house,  reminds  us,  in  its  tone  of  feeling  and  sen- 
timent, of  ^'  All  the  world's  a  stage."  The  father  seems  a  great 
deal  too  foolish  and  credulous,  and  the  slave  must  have  relied 
much  on  his  weakness,  when  he  ventured  on  such  desperate 
expedients,  and  such  palpable  lies.  Slaves,  it  will  already 
have  been  remarked,  are  principal  characters  in  many  of  the 
dramas  of  Plautus ;  and  a  curious  subject  of  inquiry  is  pre- 
sented in  their  insolence,  effrontery,  triumphant  roguery,  and 
habitual  familiarity  with  their  masters  at  one  moment,  while 
at  the  next  they  are  threatened  with  the  lash  or  crucifixion. 
In  Athens,  however,  where  the  prototype  of  this  character 
was  found,  the  slave  was  treated  by  his  master  with  much 
more  indulgence  than  the  Spartan  Helot,  or  any  other  slaves 
in  Greece.  The  masters  themselves,  who  were  introduced  on 
the  ancient  stage,  were  not  in  the  first  ranks  of  society ;  and 
the  vices  which  required  the  assistance  of  their  slaves  reduced 
them  to  an  equality.  Besides,  an  Athenian  or  Roman  master 
could  hardly  be  displeased  with  the  familiarity  of  those  who 
were  under  such  complete  subjection;  and  the  striking  con- 
trast of  their  manners  and  situation  would  render  their  sallies 
as  poignant  as  the  spirited  remarks  of  Roxalana  in  the  se- 
raglio of  the  Sultan.  The  character,  too,  gave  scope  for 
those  jests  and  scurrilities,  which  seem  to  have  been  indis- 
pensable ingredients  in  a  Roman  comedy,  but  which  would 
be  unsuitable  in  the  mouths  of  more  dignified  persons.  They 
were,  in  fact,  the  buffoons  of  the  piece,  who  avowed  without 
scruple'  their  sensual  inclinations  and  want  of  conscience; 
for  not  only  their  impudence,  but  their  frauds  and  deceptions, 
seem  to  have  been  highly  relished  by  the  spectators.  It  is 
evident  that  both  the  Greeks  and  Romans  took  peculiar  plea- 
sure in  seeing  a  witty  slave  cheat  a  covetous  master,  and  that 
the  ingenuity  of  the   fraud  was  always  thought  sufficient 


PLAUTUS.  ,  145 

atonement  for  its  knavery.  Perhaps  this  unfortunate  class  of 
men  derived  so  few  advantages  from  society,  that  they  were 
considered  as  entitled,  at  least  on  the  stage,  to  break  through 
its  ties.  The  character  of  a  saucy  and  impudent  slave  had 
been  already  portrayed  in  the  old  Greek  comedy.  In  the 
PliUus  of  Aristophanes,  Carion,  the  slave  of  Chremylus-,  is  the 
most  prominent  character,  and  is  distinguished  by  freedom  of 
remark  and  witty  impudence.  To  these  attributes  there  was 
added,  in  the  new  comedy,  a  spirit  of  roguery  and  intrigue ; 
and  in  this  form  the  character  was  almost  universally  adopted 
by  the  Latin  dramatists.  The  slaves  of  Plautus  correspond 
to  the  valets — the  Crispins,  and  Merlins  of  the  French  thea- 
tre, whose  race  commenced  with  Merlin,  in  Scarron's  MarquU 
/tttficttfe.  They  were  also  introduced  in  Mohere's  earliest 
pieces,  but  not  in  his  best;  and  were  in  a  great  measure 
dropped  by  his  successors,  as,  in  fact,  they  had  ceased  to  be 
the  spring  of  any  important  event  o%  intrigue  in  the  world. 
Indeed,  I  agree  with  M.  Schlegel,  in  doubting  if  they  could 
ever  have  been  introduced  as  happily  on  the  modern  as  the 
ancient  stage.  A  wretch  who  was  born  in  servitude,  who  was 
abandoned  for  life  to  the  capricious  will  of  a  master,  and  was 
thus  degraded  below  the  dignity  of  man,  might  excite  laugh- 
ter instead  of  indignation,  though  he  did  not  conform  to  the 
strictest  precepts  of  honegty.  He  was  placed  in  a  state  of 
warfare  with  his  oppressor,  and  cunning  became  his  natural 
arms. 

The  French  dramatist  who  has  employed  the  character  of 
the  intriguing  valet  to  most  advantage,  is  Regnard ;  to  whom, 
^ong  many  other  agreeable  pieces,  we  are  indebted  for  a 
delightful  imitation  of  the  Mosteliaria  of  Plautus,  entitled,  Le 
Rfiour  ImprevUj  comedie  emproae^  et  en  une  acte. 

In  this  play,  the  incidents  of  the  Mosteliaria  have  beeu  in 
general  adopted,  though  they  have  been  somewhat  trans- 
posed. We  have  the  imposture  of  Merlin,  who  corresponds 
with  Plautus's  Tranio,  as  to  the  haunted  house,  and  his  sub- 
terfuge when  the  usurer  comes  to  claim  the  money  which  he 
had  lent.  In  place,  however,  of  asking  to  see  the  new  house, 
the  father  proposes  to  deposit  some  merchandise  in  it.  Mer- 
lin then  persuades  him,  that  the  lady  to  whom  it  formerly 
belonged,  and  who  had  not  yet  quitted  it,  was  unfortunately 
deprived  of  reason,  and,  having  been  in  consequence  inter- 
dicted by  her  relations  from  the  use  of  her  property,  the  house 
iiad  been  exposed  to  sale.  At  the  same  time,  the  artful  valet 
finds  an  opportunity  of  informing  the  real  owner,  that  the  old 
<nan  had  gone  mad  in  consequence  of  having  lost  all  his  mer- 
chandise at  sea.  Accordingly,  when  they  meet,  neither  of 
Vol.  I— T 


146  PLAUTUS. 

them  pays  the  smallest  attention  to  what  each  considers  the 
raving  of  the  other.  Instead  of  a  courtezan,  Regnard  has  in* 
troduced  a  young  lady,  with  whom  Clitandre  is  in  love ;  but 
he  has  given  her  the  manners  rather  of  a  courtezan,  than  a 
young  lady.  There  is  one  incident  mentioned  in  the  Mostelr 
laria  which  is  omitted  in  the  Reiour  tmpreim^  and  of  which 
even  Plautus  has  not  much  availed  himself,  though  it  might 
have  been  enlarged  on,  and  improved  to  advantage :  the  old 
man  mentions,  that  he  had  met  the  person  from  whom  he  bad 
bought  the  haunted  house,  and  that  he  had  taxed  him  with 
the  murder  of  his  guest,  whose  apparition  still  walked,  bat 
that  he  had  stoutly  denied  the  charge. 

The  Fantasmi  of  Ercole  Bentivoglio,  an  Italian  comedy  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  is  formed  on  the  same  original  as  the 
BMtowr  Imprevu.  The  Mostellaria  has  likewise  suggested  the 
plot  of  an  old  traffi-comedy  by  Hey  wood,  printed  in  1 633, 
and  entitled  The  Engj^h  TravdUr.  Fielding's  Intriguing 
Chambermaid  is  also  derived  from  the  MoeteUariOf  but 
through  the  medium  of  Regnard^s  comedy.  Indeed,  it  may 
be  considered  as  almost  a  translation  from  the  French ;  ex- 
cept that  the  author  has  most  absurdly  assigned  the  part  of 
the  Latin  Tranio,  and  French  Merlin,  to  a  chambermaid, 
whom  he  calls  Mrs  Lettice,  and  has  addld  a  great  number  oJi 
songs  and  double  eniendres. '  ^ 

It  has  been  said,  that  the  last  act  of  Ben  Johnson's  Jtlckt- 
mist,  where  Face,  in  order  to  conceal  the  iniquities  committed 
in  his  master's  house  during  his  absence,  tries  to  persuade 
him,  that  it  was  shut  up  on  account  of  being  visited  by  an 
apparition,  has  been  suggested  by  the  MosteUaria*;  but,  as 
there  is  no  resemblance  between  the  two  p}ays  in  other  inci- 
dents, we  cannot  be  assured  that  the  AioeteUaria  was  at  all 
in  the  view  of  the  great  English  dramatist. 

Persa. — In  this  play,  which  belongs  to  the  lowest  order  of 
comedy,  the  characters  are  two  slaves,  a  foot-boy  of  one  of 
these  slaves,  a  parasite,  a  pander,  and  a  courtezan,  with  her 
waiting-maid.  The  manners  represented  are  such  as  might 
be  expected  from  this  respectable  group.  The  incidents  are 
few  and  slight,  hinging  almost  entirely  on  a  deceit  practised 
against  the  pander,  who  is  persuaded  to  give  a  large  sum  for 
a  free  woman,  whom  the  slaves  had  dressed  up  as  an  Arabian 
captive,  and  whom  he  was  obliged  to  relinquish  after  having 
P^id  the  money.  The  fable  is  chiefly  defective  from  the  trick 
of  the  slaves  being  intended  to  serve  their  own  purposes. 

*  Mim^r,  EitUeiiwig  zu  KenntnUi  der  aUen  Lateinisehen  Schr^stetter, 
Tom.  II.  p.  S8. 


PLAUTUS.  147 

But  rach  devices  are  interesting  only  when  undertaken  for 
the  adrantage  of  higher  characters ;  a  comedy  otherwise  must 
degenerate  into  farce. 

Poawdus,  (the  Carthaginian,)  is  one  of  the  longest,  and,  I 
think,  on  the  whole,  the  dullest  of  Piautus'  performances.  It 
turns  on  the  discovery  of  a  lost  child,  who  had  been  stolen 
from  her  Carthaginian  parents  in  infancy,  and  had  been  car- 
ried to  Greece.  In  none  of  those  numerous  plays  which  turn 
on  the  recognition  of  lost  children,  has  Piautus  ever  exhibited 
an  affecting  interview,  or  even  hit  on  an  expression  of  natural 
tenderness.  The  characters  are  either  not  brought  on  the 
stage  at  the  conclusion,  and  we  are  merely  told  by  some  slave 
Of  parasite  that  the  discovery  had  taken  place ;  or,  as  in  the 
instance  of  Hanno  and  his  daughter  in  the  present  drama,  the 
parties  most  interested  teaze  and  torment  each  other  with 
absurd  questions,  instead  of  giving  way  to  any  species  of 
emotion.  It  is  a  high  example,  however,  of  the  noble  and 
generous  spirit  of  the  Romans,  tnat  Hanno,  the  Carthaginian 
introduced  in  this  play,  which  was  represented  in  the  course 
of  the  Punic  wars,  is  more  amiable  than  almost  any  other 
character  in  Piautus.  It  Is  evident,  from  his  quibbles  and 
obscene  jests,  that  the  Latin  dramatist  adapted  his  plays  to 
the  taste  of  the  vulgar ;  and  if  the  picture  of  a  villainous  or 
contemptible  Carthaginian  could  have  pleased  the  Roman 
public,  as  the  Jew  of  Malta  gratified  the  prejudices  of  an 
English  mob,  Piautus  would  not  have  hesitated  to  accommo- 
date himself  to  such  feelings,  and  his  Hanno  would  doubtless 
hare  appeared  in  those  hateful  colours  in  which  the  Jews,  or 
in  that  ridiculous  light  in  which  the  French,  have  usually  been 
exhibited  on  the  British  stage. 

The  employment  of  different  dialects,  or  idioms,  which  baa 
been  so  great  a  resource  of  the  modern  comic  muse,  particu- 
larly on  the  Italian  stage,  had  been  early  resorted  to  in  Greece. 
Aristophanes,  in  one  of  his  comedies,  introduced  the  jargon 
of  a  woman  of  Lacedsemon,  where  the  Doric  dialect  was 
spoken  in  its  rudest  form.  Piautus,  in  a  scene  of  the  PcmuluSf 
has  made  his  Carthaginian  speak  in  his  native  language; 
^  as  the  Carthaginian  tongue  was  but  little  known  in  Greece, 
it  may  be  presumed  that  this  scene  was  invented  by  Piautus 
himself. 

Those  remains  of  the  Punic  language  which  have  been 
preserved,  (though  probably  a  good  deal  corrupted^)  are  re- 
garded as  curious  vestiges  of  philological  antiquity,  and  have 
afforded  ample  employment  for  the  critics,  who  have  laboured 
to  illustrate  and  restore  them  to  the  right  readings.  Com- 
mentators have  found  in  them  traces  of  all  the  ancient  tongues, 


148  PLAUTUS. 

according  to  their  own  fancy ,  or  some  favourite  system  tliey 
had  adopted.  Joseph  Scaliger  considered  them  as  little  re- 
moved from  the  purity  of  original  Hebrew* ;  and  Pareus,  in 
his  edition  of  Plautus,  printed 'them  in  Hebrew  characters,  as 
did  Bochart,  in  his  FhdUg  et  Canaanj[,  Others,  from  the 
resemblance  of  sitigle  letters,  or  syllables,  have  found  in  dif- 
ferent words  the  Chinese,  Ethiopian,  Persian,  or  Coptic  dia- 
lects|.  Plautus,  it  is  well  known,  had  considerable  knowledge 
of  languages.  Besides  writing  his  own  with  the  greatest 
purity,  he  was  well  acquainted  with  Greek,  Persian,  and  Punic. 
The  editor  of  the  Delphin  Plautus  has  a  notable  conjecture 
on  this  point :  He  supposes  that  in  the  mill  in  which  Plautus 
laboured,  (as  if  it  had  been  a  large  mill  on  the  modern  con- 
struction,) there  was  a  Carthaginian,  a  Greek,  and  a  Persian 
slave,  from  whom  alternately  he  acquired  a  knowledge  of  these 
tongues  in  the  hours  of  relaxation  from  work ! 

Fseudolu9 — is  one  of  those  plays  of  Plautus  which  hinge  on 
the  contrivance  of  a  slave  in  behalf  of  his  young  master,  who 
is  represented  at  the  commencement  of  the  play,  as  in  despair 
at  not  having  money  sufficient  to  redeem  his  mistress,  just  then 
sold  by  Ballio,  a  slave-dealer,  to  a  Macedonian  captain  for 
twenty  mina.  Fifteen  of  these  had  been  paid,  and  the  girl 
was  to  be  delivered  up  to  him  as  soon  as  he  sent  the  remaining 
five,  along  with  an  impression  of  a  seal-ring,  which  the  cap- 
tain had  left  behind  as  a  pledge^  Pseudolus,  the  slave,  having 
encountered  the  captain's  messenger,  on  his  way  to  deliver  a 
letter  containing  the  token  and  the  balance  of  the  stipulated 
price,  personates  the  pander's  servant,  and  is  in  consequence 
intrusted  with  the  letter.  While  the  messenger  is  refreshing 
himself  at  a  tavern,  Pseudolus  persuades  one  of  his  fellow- 
slaves  to  assume  the  character  of  the  captain's  emissary,  and 
to  present  the  credentials  (which  Pseudolus  places  in  his 
possession)  to  the  pander,  who  immediately  acknowledges 
their  authenticity,  and,  without  hesitation,  delivers  up  the  girl 
in  return.  When  the  real  messenger  afterwards  arrives,  the 
slave-merchant  treats  him  as  an  impostor  hired  by  Pseudolus. 

Next  to  the  slave,  the  principal  character  in  this  comedy  is 
that  of  the  pander,  which  is  sketched  with  the  strong  pencil 

*  Epist.  862. 

t  cJmto,  Vol.  I.  p.  721. 

X  See  OD  this  subject  three  German  Programmata  by  M.  Bellennann,  published 
1806,  7,  8 ;  also  Schoeil.  Hist  Ahregte  de  la  Litter.  Ram.  Tom.  I.  p.  123.--Col. 
Vallancey,  in  his  Essay  on  the  Antiqttiiy  of  the  hish  Languagty  (which  attracted 
considerable  attention  on  its  first  publication,  and  has  been  recently  reprint#d») 
attempted  to  show  the  affinity  between  these  Punic  remains  and  the  old  Irish  lan- 
guage,— ^both,  according  to  him,  having  been  derived  fit>m  the  PhoBoictiii,  wfaicli 
was  itself  a  dialect  of  the  Hebrew. 


PLAUTUS.  149 

of  a  master,  and  is  an  admirable  representation  of  that  last 
stage  of  human  depravity  and  wretchedness,  in  which  even 
appearances  cease  to  be  preserved  with  the  world,  and  there 
exists  no  longer  any  feeling  or  anxiety  concerning  the  opinion 
of  others.  Calidorus,  the  lover  of  the  girl,  upbraids  him  for 
his  breach  of  faith — 

'*  Jortviitioe  te  iUam  nuOi  vettditurum  nisi  mihi  ? 

BaUb.  Fateor.  Cal.  Nempe  eonceptis  Terbis.  Bal.  Etiam  coosultis  quoque. 

Ccd.  Perjurayisti,  Bceleste.  BcU.  At  arg^ntum  Intro  condidi :       | 
Bgo  Keleftus  nunc  axgentum  promere  poMum  domo." 

M.  Dacier,  however,  is  of  a  different  opinion  with  regard 
to  the  merit  of  this  character.  He  thinks  that  the  PseudduSj 
though  mentioned  by  Cato  in  Cicero's  Dialogue  De  Senectuie^ 
as  a  finished  piece  which  greatly  delighted  its  author*,  and 
though  called,  by  one  of  his  commentators,  OceUua  Fabularum 
Plauiij^  was  chiefly  in  Horace's  view  when  he  spoke,  in  his 
Epistlea,  of  Plautus'  want  of  success  in  the  characters  of  a 
foung  passionate  lover,  a  parsimonious  father,  and  a  cunning 
pimp,— 


**  Aspice,  Plautus 


Quo  pacto  partes  tutetur  amantis  ephebi, 
Ut  patriB  attenti,  lenonis  ut  insidioai." 

These  three  characters  all  occur  in  this  comedy;  and  Dacier 
maintains  that  they  are  very  poorly  supported  by  the  poet. — 
Calidorus  is  a  young  lover,  but  his  character  (says  the  critic,) 
IS  so  cold  and  lifeless,  that  he  hardly  deserves  the  name.  His 
fethet,  Simo,  corresponds  as  little  to  the  part  of  the  Patris 
(Utenli;  for  he  encourages  the  slave  to  deceive  himself,  and 
promises  him  a  recompense  if  he  succeed  in  over-reaching 
tile  slave-merchant,  and  placing  in  the  hands  of  his  son  the 
Kirl  on  whom  he  doated.  BaTlio,  the  slave-dealer,  so  far 
from  sustaining  the  character  lenonis  insidioai,  vfho  should 
deceive  every  one,  very  foolishly  becomes  the  dupe  of  a  lying 
valetj. 

The  scene  between  Calidorus  and  the  pander,  from  which 
some  lines  are  extracted  above,  and  that  by  which  it  is  pre- 
ceded, where  Ballio  gives  directions  to  his  slaves,  seem  to 
have  suggested  two  scenes  in  Sir  Richard  Steele's  comedy  of 
^e  Funeral.  The  play  has  been  more  closely  imitated  by 
papiista  Porta,  the  celebrated  author  of  the  Magia  Naturalis 
^  ^  Trappolariaj  one  of  the  numerous  plays  with  the  com- 

*  C.  14.  f  G.  Dousa,  Ceniur.  Ub.  III.  c.  2. 

;  (Ettoret  irBoraee,parJ)aeier,  Tom.  IX.  p.  93.  £ck  1727. 


160  PLAUTUS. 

poBition  of  which  he  amused  hk  leisure,  after  the  myiteries 
and  chimeras  of  his  chief  work  had  excited  the  suspicion  of 
the  court  of  Rome,  and  he  was  in  consequence  prohibited 
from  holding  those  assemblies  of  learned  men,  who  repaired 
to  his  house  with  their  newly  discovered  secrets  in  medicine 
and  other  arts.  His  play,  which  was  first  printed  at  Bergamo 
in  1 596,  is  much  more  complicated  in  its  incidents  than  the 
Latin  original.  Trappola,  the  Pseudolus  of  the  piece,  feigns 
himself,  as  in  Plautus,  to  be  the  pander's  slave,  and  persuades 
a  parasite  to  act  the  part  of  the  pander  himself:  By  this  strata- 
gem, the  parasite  receives  from  the  captain's  servant  the 
stipulated  money  and  tokens,  but  delivers  to  him  in  return 
his  ugly  wife  Gabrina,  as  the  Beauty  he  was  to  receive ;  and 
there  follows  a  comical  scene,  produced  by  the  consequent 
amazement  and  disappointment  of  the  captain.  The  parasite 
then  personates  the  captain's  servant,  and,  by  means  of  the 
credentials  of  which  he  had  possessed  himself,  obtains  the 
damsel  Filesia,  whom  he  carries  to  her  lover.  With  this  plot, 
chiefly  taken  from  Plautus,  another  series  of  incidents,  invented 
by  the  Italian  dramatist,  is  closely  connected.  The  father 
of  the  young  lover,  Arsenio,  had  left  his  wife  in  Spain ;  and 
also  another  son,  who  had  married  there,  and  exactly  resem- 
bled his  brother  in  personal  appearance.  Arsenio  being 
ordered  by  his  father  to  sail  from  Naples,  where  the  scene  is 
laid,  for  Spain,  in  order  to  convey  home  his  relatives  in  that 
country,  and  being  in  despair  at  the  prospect  of  this  separa- 
tion from  his  mistress,  the  father  is  persusuded,  by  a  device  of 
the  cheat  Trappola,  that  he  bad  not  proceeded  on  the  voyage, 
as  his  brother  had  already  arrived.  Availing  himself  of  his 
resemblance,  Arsenio  personates  his  Spanish  brother,  and 
brings  his  mistress  as  his  wife  to  his  father's  house,  where  ahe 
remains  protected,  in  spite  of  the  claims  of  the  captain  and 
pander,  till  the  whole  artifice  is  discovered  by  the  actual 
anival  of  the  old  lady  from  Spain.  Arsenio's  mistress  being 
then  strictly  questioned,  proves  to  be  a  near  connection  of  the 
family,  who  had. been  carried  off  in  childhood  by  corsairs,  and 
she  is  now,  with  the  consent  of  all,  united  to  her  loyer. 

There  is  also  a  close  imitation  of  the  incidents  of  the  Pseu- 
dohu  in  Moliere's  Etourdi^  which  turns  on  the  stratagems  of 
a  valet  to  place  a  girl  in  possession  of  his  master  Lelie.  His 
first  device,  as  already  mentioned,  was  suggested  by  the  £pi- 
dicus*;  but  this  having  failed,  he  afterwards  contrives  to  get 
into  the  service  of  his  master's  rival,  Leander,  who,  having 
purchased  the  girl  from  the  proprietor,  had  agreed  to  send  a 

*         ♦Bee  above,  p.  129. 


PLAUTUS.  151 

ring  as  a  token,  at  sight  of  which  she  was  to  be  delifered  ap. 
The  valet  receives  the  ring  for  this  very  purpose,  carries  it  to 
the  owner,  and  by  such  means  is  just  on  the  point  of  obtain- 
ing possession  of  the  girl,  when  his  stratagem,  as  usiial,  is 
defeated  by  the  etourderie  of  his  master.  This  notion  of  the 
valet's  best-laid  plans  being  always  counteracted,  was  proba* 
biy  suggested  by  the  Bacchidea  of  Plautus,  where  Mnesilochus 
repeatedly  frustrates  the  well-contrived  schemes  of  his  slave 
Chrysalus;  though,  perhaps  th/bugh  thie  medium  of  the  IfUh 
veriUo  of  the  Italian  dramatist,  Nicolo  Barbieri,  printed  in 
1629,  or  Quinault's  Amaijit  Ind%9cret^  which  was  acted  four 
years  before  Moliere's  Etourdij  and  is  founded  on  the  same 
plan  with  that  drama.  In  the  particular  incidents  the  EtaurM 
is  compounded  of  the  tricks  of  Plautus'  slaves ;  but  Moliere  has 
shown  little  judgment  in  thus  heaping  them  on  each  other  in 
one  piece.  Such  events  might  occur  once,  but  not  six  or 
seven  times,  to  the  same '  person.  In  fact;  the  valet  is  more 
of  an  Etourdi  than  his  master,  as  he  never  forewarns  him  of 
his  plans;  and  we  feel  as  we  advance,  that  the  play  could  not 
be  carried  on  without  a  previous  concert  among  the  charac- 
ters to  connive  at  impossibilities,  and  to  act  in  defiance  of  all 
common  sense  or  discretion. 

Rudens.  —This  play,  which  is  taken  from  a  Greek  comedy 
of  Diphilus,  has  been  called  Rudens  by  Plautus,  from  the  rope 
or  c^le  whereby  a  fisherman  drags  to  shore  a  casket  which 
chiefly  contributes  to  the  solution,  of  the  fable.  In  the  pro- 
logue, which  is  spoken  by  Arcturus,  we  are  informed  of  the 
circumstances  which  preceded  the  opening  of  the  drama,  and 
the  situation  in  which  the  characters  were  placed  at  its  com- 
mencement. Plautus  has  been  frequently  blamed  by  the 
critics  for  the  fulness  of  his  preliminary  expositions,  as  tend- 
ing to  destroy  the  surprise  and  interest  of  the  succeeding 
scenes.  But  I  think  he  has  been  unjustly  censured,  even  with 
regard  to  those  prologues,  where,  as  in  that  of  the  PcenuluSf 
he  has  anticipated  the  incidents,  and  revealed  the  issue  of  the 
plot.  The  comedies  of  Plautus  were  intended  entirely  for 
exhibition  on  the  public  stage,  and  not  for  perusal  in  the 
closet.  The  great  mass  of  the  Roman  people  in  his  age  was 
somewhat  rude :  They  had  not  been  long  accustomed  to  dra- 
matic representations,  and  would  have  found  it  difficult  to 
follow  an  intricate  plot  without  a  previous  exposition.  This, 
indeed,  was  not  necessary  in  tragedies.  The  stories  of  Aga- 
memnon and  (Edipus,  with  other  mythical  subjects,  so  fre- 
quently dramatized  by  Ennius  and  Livius  Andronicus,  were 
sufficiently  known ;  and,  as  Dryden  has  remarked,  <^  the  people, 
as  soon  as  they  heard  the  name  of  CEdipus,  knew  as  well  as 


16^  PLAUTUS. 

the  poet  that  he  had  killed  his  father  by  mistake,  and  com- 
mitted incest  with  his  mother ;  that  .they  were  now  to  hear  of 
a  ^reat  plague,  an  oracle,  and  the  ghost  of  Laius*"  It  was 
quite  different,  however,  in  those  new  inventions  which  formed 
the  subjects  of  comedies,  and  in  which  the  incidents  would 
have  been  lost  or  misunderstood  without  some  introductory 
explanation.  The  attention  necessary  to  unravel  a  plot  pre- 
vents us  from  remarking  the  beauties  of  sentiment  or  poetry, 
and  draws  off  our  attention  from  humour  or  character,  the 
chief  objects  of  legitimate  comedy.  We  often  read  a  new 
play,  or  one  with  which  we  are  not  acquainted,  before  going 
to  see  it  acted.  Surprise,  which  is  everything  in  romance,  is 
the  least  part  of  the  drama.  Our  horror  at  the  midnight 
murders  of  Macbeth,  and  our  laughter  at  the  falsehoods  and 
fiicetiousness  of  Falstaff,  are  not  diminished,  but  increased, 
by  knowing  the  issue  of  the  crimes  of  the  one,  and  the  genial 
festivity  of  the  other.  In  fact,  the  sympathy  and  pleasure  so 
often  derived  from  our  knowledge  outweighs  the  gratification 
of  surprise.  The  Athenians  were  well  aware  that  Jocasta,  in 
the  celebrated  drama  of  Sophocles,  was  the  mother  of  (£di- 
pus ;  but  the  knowledge  of  this  fact,  so  far  from  abating  the 
concern  of  the  spectators,  as  Dryden  supposesf ,  must  have 

freatly  contributed  to  increase  the  horror  and  interest  excited 
y  the  representation  of  that  amazing  tragedy.  The  cele- 
brated scene  of  Ipkigenia  in  Taum,  between  Electra  and 
Orestes,  the  masterpiece  of  poetic  art  and  tragic  pathos, 
would  lose  half  its  effect  if  we  were  not  aware  that  Orestes 
was  the  brother  of  Electra,  and  if  this  were  reserved  as  a  dis- 
covery to  surprise  the  spectators.  Indeed,  so  convinced  of 
all  this  were  the  Greek  dramatists,  that,  in  many  of  their  plays, 
as  the  Hecuba  and  Hippolytus  of  Euripides,  the  issue  of  the 
drama  is  announced  at  its  commencement. 

But,  be  this  as  it  may,  the  prologue  itself,  which  is  pre- 
fixed to  the  RudenSj  is  eminently  beautiful.  Arcturus  descends 
as  a  star  from  heaven,  and  opens  the  piece,  somewhat  in  the 
manner  of  the  Angel  who  usually  delivers  the  prologue  in  the 
ancient  Italian  mysteries — of  the  Mercury  who  frequently 
recites  it  in  the  early  secular  dramas,  and  the  Attendant  Spirit 
in  the  Masque  of  Comus,  who,  by  way  of  prologue,  declares 
his  office,  and  the  missior  'vhich  called  him  to  earth.  In  a 
manner  more  consistent  with  oriental  than  with  either  Greek 
or  Roman  my thology,  Arcturus  represents  himself  as  mingling 
with  mankind  during  day^  in  order  to  observe  their  actions, 


*  Euoy  im  DnunaHe  Poetry,  f  Essay  pn  VramaiU  Poetry 


PLAUTUS.  153 

and  as  presenting  a  record  of  their  ^ood  and  evil  deeds  to  Ju- 
piter, whom  the  wicked  in  vain  attempt  to  appease  by  sacri- 
fice— 


"  Atque  hoc  scelesti  in  animum  inducunt  8uum> 
Jovem  se  placare  posse  donis,  hostiis : 
£t  operam  et  sumptum  perdunt." 

Arcturus  having  thus  satisfactorily  accounted  for  his  know- 
ledge of  the  incidents  of  the  drama,  proceeds  to  unfold  the 
situation  of  the  principal  characters.  Dsemones,  before  whose 
house  in  Cyrene  the  scene  is  laid,  had  formerly  resided  at 
Athens,  where  his  infant  daughter  had  been  kidnapped,  and 
had  been  afterwards  purchased  by  a  ^lave  merchant,  who 
brought  her  to  Cyrene,  A  Greek  youth,  then  living  in  that 
town,  had  become  enamoured  of  her,  and  having  agreed  to 
purchase  her,  the  merchant  had  consented  to  meet  him  and 
fulfil  the  bargain  at  an  adjacent  temple.  But  being  after* 
wards  persuaded  that  he  could  procure  a  higher  price  for 
her  in  Sicily,  the  slave-dealer  secretly  hired  a  vessel,  and  set 
sail,  carrying  the  girl  along  with  him.  The  ship  had  scarcely 
got  out  to  sea  when  it  was  overtaken  by  a  dreadful  tempest 
over  which  Arcturus  is  figured  as  presiding.  The  play  opens 
during  the  storm,  in  a  manner  eminently  beautiful  and  ro- 
mantic— ^an  excellence  which  none  of  the  other  plays  of 
Plautus  possess.  Daemones  and  his  servant  are  represented 
as  viewing  the  tempest  from  land,  and  pointing  out  to  each 
other  the  dangers  and  various  vicissitudes  of  a  boat,  in  which 
were  seated  two  damsels  who  had  escaped  from  the  ship,  and 
were  trying  to  gain  the  shore,  which,  after  many  perils,  they 
at  length  reached.  The  decorations  of  this  scene  are  .^^aid 
to  have  been  splendid,  and  disposed  in  a  very  picturesqe 
manner.  Madame  Dacier  conjectures,  "that  at  the  farther 
end  of  the  stage  was  a ,  prospect  of  the  sea,  intersected  by 
many  rocks  and  cliffs,  which  projected  considerably  forward 
on  the  stage.  On  one  side  the  city  of  Cyrene  was  represented 
as  at  a  distance ;  on  the  other,  the  temple  of  Venus,  with  a 
court  before  it,  in  the  centre  of  which  stood  an  altar.  Adja- 
cent to  the  temple,  and  on '  the  same  side,  was  the  house  of 
Dsemones,  with  some  scattered  cottages  in  the  back  ground.'' 
Pleusidippus,  the  lover,  comes  forward  to  the  temple  during 
the  storm,  and  then  goes  off  in  search  of  Labrax,  the  slave-mer- 
chant, who  had  likewise  escaped  from  the  shipwreck.  The 
damsels,  whose  situation  is  highly  interesting,  having  now  got 
on  shore,  appear  among  the  cliffs,  and  after  having  deplored 
their  misfortunes,  they  are  received  into  the  temple  by  the 
Vol.  I.— U 


164  PLAUTUS. 

priestess  of  Venus,  who  reminds  them,  however,  ihat  they 
should  have  come  clothed  in  white  garments  and  bringing 
victims !  Here  they  are  discovered  by  the  slave  of  Pleusi- 
dippus,  who  goes  to  inform  his  master.  Labrax  then  ap- 
proaches to  the  vicinity  of  the  temple  of  Venus,  and  having 
discovered  that  the  damsels  who  had  saved  themselves  from 
the  wreck  were  secreted  there,  he  rushes  in  to  claim  and 
seize  them.  Thus  far  the  play  is  lively  and  well  conducted, 
but  the  subsequent  scenes  are  too  long  protracted.  They 
are  full  of  tiifling,  and  are  more  loaded  than  those  of  any  other 
comedy  of  Plautus,  with  quaint  conceits,  the  quibbling  wit- 
ticisms, and  the  scurrilities  of  slaves.  The  scene  in  which 
Labrax  attempts  to  seize  the  damsels  at  the  altar,  and  Daemo- 
nes  protects  them,  is  insufferably  tedious,  but  terminates  at 
length  with  the  pander  being  dragged  to  prison.  After  this, 
^  the  fisherman  of  Daemones  is  introduced,  congratulating  him- 
self on  having  found  a  wallet  which  had  been  lost  from  the 
pander's  ship,  and  contained  his  money,  as  well  as  some 
effects  belonging  to  the  damsels.  The  ridiculous  schemes 
which  he  proposes,  and  the  future  grandeur  he  anticipates  in 
consequence  of  his  good  fortune,  is  an  excellent  satire  on  the 
fantastic  projects  of  those  who  are  elevated  with  a  sudden 
success.  Having  been  observed,  however,  by  the  servant  of 
Pleusidippus,  who  suspected  that  this  wallet  contained  ar- 
ticles by  which  Palaestra  might  discover  her  parents,  a  long 
contest  for  its  possession  ensues  between  them,  which  might 
be  amusing  in  the  representation^  but  is  excessively  tiresome 
in  perusal.  This  may  be  also  remarked  of  the  scene  where 
their  dispute  is  referred  to  the  arbitration  of  Daemones,  who 
apparently  is  chosen  umpire  for  no  othei  reason  than  because 
this  was  necessary  to  unravel  the  plot.  Daemones  discovers, 
from  the  contents  of  the  wallet,  that  Palaestra  is  his  daughter. 
The  principal  interest  being  thus  exhausted,  the  remaining 
scenes  become  more  and  more  tedious.  We  feel  no  great 
sympathy  with  the  disappointment  of  the  fisherman,  and  take 
little   amusement  in  the  bargain  which  he   drives  with  the 

Eander  for  the  restoration  of  the  gold,  or  his  stipulation  w^ith 
is  master  for  a  reward,  on  account  of  the  important  service 
he  had  been  instrumental  in  rendering  him.  ^ 

This  play  has  been  imitated  by  Ludovico  Dolce,  in  his  co- 
medy IlRuffiano,  which  was  published  in  1560,  and.whicfa, 
the  author  says  in  his  prologue,  was  "  vestita  di  habito  antica^ 
e  ridrizzato  alia  forma  modej'na.^^  The  Ruffiano  is  not  a  mere 
translation  from  the  Latin :  the  language  and  names  are  alter- 
ed, and  the  scenes  frequently  transposed.  There  is  likewise 
introduced  the  additional  character  of  the  old  man  Lucretio. 


PLAUTUS.  155 

father  to  the  lover ;  also  his  lying  valet  Tagliacozzo,  and  his 
jealous  wife  Simona.  Lucretio  comes  from  Venice  to  the 
town  where  the  scene  of  the  play  is  laid,  to  recover  a  son  who 
had  left  home  in  quest  of  a  girl  in  the  possession  of  Secco  the 
Rudiaoo.  The  first  act  is  occupied  with  the  details  of  Lucre- 
tio's  family  misfo/tunes,  and  it  is  only  in  the  commencement 
of  the  second  act  that  thejshipwreck  and  escape  of  the  damsels 
are  introduced,  so  that  the  play  opens  in  a  way  by  no  means 
so  interesting  and  picturesque  as  the  Rvdena  of  Plautus.  The 
women  having  taken  refuge  in  a  church,  Lucretio  offers  them 
shelter  in  his  own  house,  which  exposes  them  to  the  rage  of 
his  jealous  wife  Simona.  By  the  assistance,  however,  of  one 
of  these  girls,  he  discovers  his  lost  son,  who  was  her  lover ; 
and  the  recognition  of  the  damsel  herself  as  daughter  of  Isi- 
doro,  who  corresponds  to  the  Daemones  of  Plautus,  is  then 
brought  about  in  the  same  manner  as  in  the  Latin  original,  and 
gives  rise  to  the  same  tedious  and  selfish  disputes  among  the 
inferior  characters.  Madame  Riccoboni  has  also  employed 
the  Ritdtns  in  her  comedy  Le  Kaufrage. 

SHckus — is  so  called  from  a  slave,  who  is  a  principal  cha- 
racter in  the  comedy.  The  subject  is  the  continued  determi- 
nation of  two  ladies  to  persist  in  their  constancy  to  their  bus- 
baads,  who,  from  their  long  absence,  without  having  been 
heard  of,  were  generally  supposed  to  be  dead.  In  this  reso- 
lution they  remain  firm,  in  spite  of  the  urgency  of  their  fathers 
to  make  them  enter  into  second  marriages,  till  at  length  their 
conjugal  fidelity  is  rewarded  by  the  safe  arrival  of  their  con- 
sorts. It  would  appear  that  Plautus  had  not  found  this  sub- 
ject sufficient  to  form  a  complete  play ;  he  has  accordingly 
filled  up  the  comic  part  of  the  drama  with  the  carousal  of 
Stichus  and  his  fellow  slaves,  and  the  stratagems  of  the  para- 
site GelasiiBUs,  in  order  to  be  invited  to  the  entertainments 
which  the  husbands  prepared  in  honour  of  their  return. 

TrinutimMM— is  taken  from  the  Thesaurus  of  Philemon; 
but  Plautus  has  changed  the  original  title  into  Trinummus — 
a  jocular  name  given  to  himself  by  one  of  the  characters  hired 
to  carry  on  a  deception,  for  which  he  had  received  three  pieces 
of  money,  as  his  reward.  The  prologue  is  spoken  by  two 
allegorical  personages.  Luxury,  and  her  daughter  Want,  the 
latter  of  whom  had  been  commissioned  by  her  mother  to  take 
up  her  residence  in  the  house  of  the  prodigal  youth  Lesbonicus* 
The  play  is  then  opened  by  a  Protatick  person,  as  he  is  called, 
who  comes  to  chide  his  friend  Callicles  for  behaviour  which 
appeared  to  him  in  some  points  incomprehensible ;  in  conse- 
quence of  which  the  person  accused  explains  his  conduct  at 
once  to  the  spectators  and  his  angry  monitor.    It  seems  Char- 


156  PLAUTUS. 

mides,  an  Athenian,  being  obliged  to  leave  his  own  country 
on  business  of  importance,  intrusted  the  guardianship  of  his 
son  and  daughter  to  his  friend  Callicles.  He  had  also  confided 
to  him  the  management  of  his  affairs,  particularly  the  care  of 
a  treasure  which  was  secreted  in  a  concealed  part  of  his  dwel- 
ling. Lesbonicus,  the  son  of  Charmides,  being'  a  dissolute 
youth,  had  put  up  the  family  mansion  to  sale,  and  his  guardian, 
in  order  that  the  treasure  entrusted  to  him  might  not  pass  into 
other  hands,  had  purchased  the  house  at  a  low  price.  Mean- 
while a  young  man,  called  Lysiteles,  had  fallen  in  love  with 
the  daughter  of  Charmides,  and  obtained  the  consent  of  her 
brother  to  his  marriage.  Her  guardian  was  desirous  to  give 
her  a  portion  from  the  treasure,  but  does  not  wish  to  reveal 
the  secret  to  her  extravagant  brother.  The  person  calling  him- 
self Trinummus  is  therefore  hired  to  pretend  that  he  had  come 
as  a  messenger  from  the  father — to  present  a  forged  letter  to 
the  son,  and  to  feign  that  he  had  brought  home  money  for  the 
daughter's  portion.  While  Trinummus  is  making  towards  the 
house,  to  commence  performance  of  his  part,  Charmides  ar- 
rives unexpectedly  from  abroad,  aid  seeing  this  Counterfeit 
approaching  his  house,  immediately  accosts  him.  A  highly 
comic  scene  ensues,  in  which  the  hireling  talks  of  his  intimacy 
with  Charmides,  and  also  of  being  entrusted  with  his  letters 
and  money ;  and  when  Charmides  at  length  discovers  himself, 
he  treats  him  as  an  impostor.  The  entrance  of  Charmides  into 
his  house  is  the  simple  solution  of  this  plot,  of  which  the  nodus 
is  neither  very  difficult  nor  ingenious.  This  meagre  subject 
is  filled  up  with  an  amicable  contest  between  Lesbonicus  and 
his  sister's  lover,  concerning  her  portion, — the  latter  gener- 
ously offering  to  take  her  without  dowry,  and  the  former  re- 
fusing to  give  her  away  on  such  ignominious  terms. 

The  English  translators  of  Plautus  have  remarked,  that  the 
art  of  the  dramatist  in  the  conduct  of  this  comedy  is  much  to 
be  admired: — "  The  opening  of  it,"  they  observe,  "  is  highly 
interesting  ;  the  incidents  naturally  arise  from  each  other,  and 
the  whole  concludes  happily  with  the  reformation  of  Lesboni- 
cus, and  the  marriage  of  Lysiteles.  It  abounds  with  excel- 
lent moral  reflections,  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  it  with 
equal  justice  as  of  the  Captives: — 

*  Ad  pudicos  mores  facta  €Bt  hafec  fabula/  " 

On  the  other  hand,  none  of  Plautus' plays  is  more  loaded  with 
improbabilities  of  that  description  into  which  he  most  readily 
falls.  Thus  Stasimus,  the  slave  of  Lesbonicus,  in  order  to 
save  a  farm  which  his  master  proposed  giving  as  a  portion  to 


PLAUTUS.  157 

his  sister,  persuades  the  lover's  father  that  a  descent  to  Ache* 
ron  opened  from  its  surface, — ^that  the  cattle  which  fed  on  it  fell 
sick,^and  that  the  owners  themselves,  after  a  short  period, 
invariably  died  or  hanged  themselves.  In  order  to  introduce 
the  scene  between  Charmides  and  the  Counterfeit,  the  former, 
though  just  returned  from  a  sea  voyage  and  a  long  absence, 
waits  in  the  street,  on  the  appearance  of  a  stranger,  merely 
from  curiosity  to  know  his  business  ;  and  in  the  following  scene 
the  slave  Stasimus,  after  expressing  the  utmost  terror  for  the 
lash  on  account  of  his  tarrying  so  long,  still  loiters  to  propound 
a  series  of  moral  maxims, '  inconsistent  with  his  character 
and  situation. 

1  he  plot  of  the  Doiof]/ of  Giovam-mariaCecchi  is  precisely 
the  same  with  that  of  the  Trinummus ;  but  that  dramatist 
possessed  a  wonderful  art  of  giving  an  air  of  originality  to  his 
closest  imitations,  by  the  happy  adaptation  of  ancient  subjects 
to  Italian  manners.  The  '1  resor  Cache  of  Destouches  is  al« 
niost  translated  from  the  TrinummiLa,  only  he  has  brought 
forward  on  the  stage  Hortense,  the  Prodigal's  sister,  and  has 
added  the  character  of  Julie,  the  daughter  of  the  absent  fa- 
ther's friend,  of  whom  the  Prodigal  himself  is  enamoured.  In 
this  comedy  the  character  of  the  two  youths,  arc  meant  to  be 
contrasted,  and  are  more  strongly  brought  out  in  the  imitation, 
from  both  of  them  being  in  love.  A  German  play,  entitled 
Schatz,  by  the  celebrated  dramatist  Lessing,  is  also  borrowed 
from  this  Latin  original.  The  scene,  too,  in  Trinummus,  be- 
tween Charmides  and  the  counterfeit  messenger,  has  given  rise 
to  one  in  the  Suppositi  of  Ariosto,  and  through  that  medium 
to  another  in  Shakspeare's  Taming  of  the  IShrew,  where,  when 
it  is  found  necessary  for  the  success  of  Lucentio's  stratagem  at 
Padua,  that  some  one  should  personate  his  father,  the  pedant 
is  employed  for  this  purpose.  Meanwhile,  the  father  himself 
unexpectedly  arrives  at  Padua,  and  a  comical  scene  in  conse- 
quence passes  between  the  m. 

Trudilentus — is  so  called  from  a  morose  and  clownish 
servant,  who,  having  accompanied  his  master  from  the  country 
to  Rome,  inveighs  against  the  depraved  morals  of  that  city, 
and  especially  against  Phronesium,  the  courtezan  by  whom  his 
niaster  had  been  enticed.  His  churlish  disposition,  however, 
is  only  exhibited  in  a  single  scene.  On  the  sole  other  occasion 
on  which  he  is  introduced,  he  is  represented  as  having  become 
<iuite  mild  and  affable.  For  this  change  no  reason  is  assigned, 
but  it  is  doubtless  meant  to  be  understood  that  he  had  mean- 
while been  soothed  and  wheedled  by  the  arts  of  some  cour- 
tezan. The  characters,  however,  of  the  Truculentus  and  his 
nistic  master,  have  little  to  do  with  the  main  plot  of  the  drama, 


158  PLAUTUS. 

which  18  chiefly  occupied  with  the  fate  of  the  lovers,  whom 
Phronesium  enticed  to  their  ruin.  When  she  had  consumed 
the  wealth  of  the  infatuated  Dinarchus,  she  lays  her  snares 
for  Stratophanes,  the  Babylonian  captain,  to  whom  she  pre- 
tends to  have  borne  a  son,  in  order  that  she  may  prey  on  hini 
with  more  facility.  This  drama  is  accordingly  occupied  with 
her  feigned  pregnancy,  her  counterfeited  solicitude,  and  her 
search  for  a  supposititious  child,  to  which  she  persuades  her 
dupe  that  she  had  given  birth,  but  which  afterwards  proves  to 
be  the  child  of  her  former  lover  Dinarchus,  by  a  young  lady 
to  whom  he  had  been  betrothed. 

In  the  first  act  of  this  play  an  account  is  given  of  the  mys- 
teries of  a  courtezan's  occupation,  which,  with  a  passage  near 
the  commencement  of  the  MosteUariay  and  a  few  fragments  of 
Alexis,  a  writer  of  the  middle  comedy,  gives  us  some  insight 
into  the  practices  by  which  they  entrapped  and  seduced  their 
lovers,  by  whom  they  appear  to  have  been  maintained  in  pro- 
digious state  and  splendour.  In  a  play  of  Terence,  one  of  the 
characters,  talking  of  the  train  of  a  courtezan,  says, 

**  Ducitur  familia  tota, 
Vestispicc,  unctor,  auri  custos,  flabeiliferae,  sandaligenilc, 
Cantrices,  cistellatiices,  nuncii,  renuncii*." 

The  Greek  courtezan  possessed  attainments,  which  the  more 
virtuous  of  her  sex  were  neither  expected  nor  permitted  to 
acquire.  On  her  the  education  whicii  was  denied  to  a  spotless 
woman,  was  carefully  bestowed.    To  sing,  to  dance,  to  play 
on  the  lyre  and  the  lute,  were  accomplishments  in  which  the 
courtezan  was,  from  her  earliest  years,  completely  instructed. 
The  habits  of  private  life  afforded  ample  opportunity  for  the 
display  of  such  acquirements,  as  the  charm  of  convivial  meet- 
ings among  the  Greeks^  was  thought  imperfect,  unless  the 
enjoyments  were  brightened  by  a  display  of  the  talents  which 
belonged  exclusively  to  the  Wanton.     But  though  these  re- 
finements alone  were  sufficient  to  excite  the  highest  admiration 
of  the  Greek  youth,  unaccustomed  as  they  were  to  female 
society,  and  often  procured  a  splendid  establishment  for  the 
accomplished  courtezan,  some  of  that  class  embraced  a  uiach 
wider  range  of  education ;  and  having  added  to  their  attain- 
ments in  the  fine  arts,  a  knowledge  of  philosophy  and  the 
powers  of  eloquence,  they  became,  thus  trained  and  educated, 
the  companions  of  orators,  statesmen,  and  poets.    The  arrival 
of  Aspasia  at  Athens  is  said  to  have  produced  a  change  in  the 
manners  of  that  city,  and  to  have  formed  a  new  and  remark- 

•B^auioniim.  Actlll.  ^.  2. 


PLAUTUS.  .159 

able  epoch  in  the  history  of  society.    The  class  to  which  she 
belonged  was  of  more  political  importance  in  Athens  than  in 
any  other  state  of  Greece ;  and  though  I  scarcely  believe  that 
the  Peloponnesian  war  had  its  origin  in  the  wrongs  of  Aspasia, 
the  Athenian  courtezans,  with  their  various  interests,  were 
ofteo  alladed  to  in  grave  political  harangues,  and  they  were 
considered  as  part  of  the  establishment  of  the  state.     Above 
all,  ^^  comic  poets  were  devoted  to  their  charms,  were  con- 
versant with  their  manners,  and  often  experienced  their  rapa- 
city and  infidelity ;  for,  being  unable  to  support  them  in  their 
habits  of  expense,  an  opulent  old  man,  or  dissolute  youth, 
was  in  consequence  frequently  preferred.     The  passion  of 
Menander  for  Glycerium  is  well   known,  and  Diphilus,  from 
whom  Plautus  borrowed  his  Rudens,  consorted  with  Gnathena, 
celebrated  as  one  of  the  most  lively  and  luxurious  of  Athenian 
Charmers*.     Accordingly,  many  of  the  plays  of  the  new  c6- 
ffledy  derive  their  names  from  celebrated  courtezans ;  but  it 
does  not  appear,  from  the  fragments  which  remain,  that  they 
were  generally  represented  in  a  favourable  light,  or  in  their 
meridian  splendour  of  beauty  and  accomplishmentsf .     In  the 
Latin  plays,  the  courtezans  are  not  drawn  so  highly  gifted  in 
point  of  talents,  or  even  beauty,  as  might  be  expected;  but  it 
was  necessary  to  paint  them  as  elegant,  fascinating,  and  ex- 
pensive, in  order  to  accouht  for  the  in&tuation  and  ruin  of 
their  lovers.     The  Greeks  jand  Romans  were  alike  strangers 
to  the  polite  gallantry  of  Modern  Europe,  and  to  the  enthusi- 
astic love  which  chivalry  is  said  to  have  inspired  in  the  middle 
ages.    Thus  their  hearts  and  senses  were  left  unprotected,  to 
become  the  prey  of  such  women  as  the  Phronesium  of  the 
^^^fwndenius^  who  is  a  picture  of  the  most  rapacious  and  de- 
bauched of  her  class,  and  whose  vices  are  neither  repented  of, 
nor  receive  punishment,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  drama.    Di- 
narchus  may  be  regarded  as  a  representation  of  the  most  pro- 
fligate of  the  Greek  or  Roman  youth,  yet  he  is  not  held  up  to 
^y  particular  censure ;  and,  in  the  end,  he  is  neither  reformed 
nor  adequately  punished.     The  portion,  indeed,  of  the  lady 
whom  he  had  violated,  and  at  last' agrees  to  espouse,  is  threat- 
ened by  her  father  to  be  diminished,  but  this  seems  merely 
said  in  a  momentary  fit  of  resentment. 

This  play,  with  all  its  imperfections,  is  said  to  have  been  a 
great  favourite  of  the  authorf;  and  was  a  very  popular  co- 
medy at  Rome.  It  has  descended  to  us  rather  in  a  mutilated 
^te,  which  may,  perhaps,  have  deprived  us  of  some  fine  sen- 

*  A^naeus,  Lib.  XIII.    Alciphron's  EpisL 

T  De  Pauw,  Heeherehea  PkiioBopkiques  aur  le$  GreeSy  Vol.  I.  p.  188. 

t  Hcero,  tfe  Senectute,  c.  14. 


160  PLAUTUS. 

tences  or  witticisms,  which  the  ancients  had  admired;  for,  v 
a  French  translator  of  Plautus  has  remarked,  their  approbation 
could  scarcely  have  been  founded  on  the  interest  oi  the  sub- 
ject, the  disposition  of  the  incidents,  or  the  moral  which  is 
inculcated. 

The  character  of  Lolpoop,  the  servant  of  Belfond  Senior, 
in  Shadwell's  Squire  of  Jlhatiaj  has  been  evidently  formed 
on  that  of  the  Truculentus,  in  this  comedy.  His  part,  how- 
ever, as  in  the  original,  is  chiefly  episodical;  and  the  principal 
plot,  as  shall  be  afterwards  shown,  has  been  founded  on  the 
Addphi  of  Terence. 

The  above-mentioned  plays  are  the  twenty  dramas  of  Plau- 
tus, which  are  still  extant.     But,  besides  these,  a  number  of 
comedies,  now  lost,  have  been  attributed  to  him.     Aulus 
Gellius*  mentions,  that  there   were   about  a  hundred  and 
thirty  plays,  which,  in  his  age,  passed  under  the  name  of 
Plautus ;  and  of  these,  nearly  forty  titles,  with  a  few  scat- 
tered fragments,  still  remain.     From  the  time  of  Varro  to  that 
of  Aulus  Gellius,  it  seems  to  have  been  a  subject  of  consider- 
able discussion  what  plays  were  genuine ;  and  it  appears,  that 
the  best,  informed  critics  had  come  to  the  conclusion,  that  a 
great  proportion  of  those  comedies,  which  vulgarly  passed  for 
the  productions  of  Plautus,  were  spurious.     Such  a  vast  num- 
ber were  probably  ascribed  to  him,  from  his  being  the  head 
and  founder  of  a  great  dramatic  school ;  so  that  those  piecest 
which  he  had  perhaps  merely  retouched,  came  to  be  wholly 
attributed  to  his  pen.     As  in  the  schools  of  painting,  so  iQ 
the  dramatic  art,  a  celebrated  master  may  have  disciples  who 
adopt  his  principles.     He  may  give  the  plan  which  they  fi)i 
up,  or  complete  what  they  have  imperfectly  executed.  Many 
paintings  passed  under  the  name  of  Raphael,  of  which  Juh^ 
Romano,  and  others,  were  the  chief  artists.     "  There  is  no 
doubt,"  says  Aulus  Gellius,  "  but  that  those  plays,  which  seem 
Hot  to  have  been  written  by  Plautus,  but  are  ascribed  to  him» 
were  by  certain  ancient  poets,  and  afterwards  retouched  and 
polished  by  himf ."     Even  those  comedies  which  were  written 
in  the  same  taste  with  his,  came  to  be  termed  FabviiB  Pto' 
^ifue,  in  the  same  way  as  we  still  speak  of  iGsopian  fable,  and 
Homeric  verse.     "Plautus  quidem,"  says  Macrobius,  "ea  re 
clarus  fuit,  ut  post  mortem  ejus,  comoedise,  quss  incertse  fere- 
bantur,  Plautinse  tamen  esse,  de  jocorum  copia,  agnosceren- 
turj:."     It  is  thus  evident,  that  a  sufficient  number  of  jests 
stamped  a  dramatic  piece  as  the  production  of  Plautus  in  the 

•  J>roct,  Att  Lib.  Iir.  c.  3.  f  J>^ocL  Att  Lib.  III.  c.  8. 

X  Saiur,  Lib.  H.  c.  1. 


PLAUTUS.  161 

Opinion  of  the  multitude.  But  Gellius  farther  mentions,  that 
thete  was  a  certaio  writer  of  cpmedies,  whose  name  was 
Plautius,  and  whose  plays  havipg  the  inscription  '^Plauti,*' 
were  considered  as  by  Plautus,  and  were  named  Plautinae 
from  Pldutus,  though  in  fact  they  ought  to  have  been  called 
Plautiao®  firoln  Plautius.  All  this  sufficiently  accounts  for 
the  vast  number  of  plays  ascribed  to  Plautus,  and  which  the 
most  learned  and  intelligent  critics  have  greatly  restricted. 
They  have  differed,  however,  very  widely,  as  to  the  number 
which  they  have  admitted  to  be  genuine.-  Sonie,  says  Ser- 
vius,  maintain,  that  Plautus  wrote  twenty-one  comedies,  others 
forty,  others  a  hundred*.  .Gellius  informs  us,  that  Lucius 
iElius,  a  most  learned  man,  was  of  opinion  that  not  more  than 
twenty-five  were  of  his  compbsitionf .  Varro  wrote  a  work, 
entitled  Quaestionea  Plautina^  a  considerable  portion.of  which 
was  devoted  to  a  discussion  concerning  the  authenticity  of  the 
plays  commonly  assigned  to  Plautus,  and  the  result  of  his  in- 
vestigation was,  that  twenty-one  were  unquestionably  to  be 
admitted  as  genuine.  These  were  subsequently  termed  Var- 
ronian,  in  consequence  of  haying  been  Separated  by  Varro 
from  the  remainder,  as  no  .  way  doubtful,  and  universally 
Allowed  to  be  by  Plautus.  The  twenty-one  Varronian  plays 
are  the  twenty  still  extant,  and  the  Vidularia.  This  comedy 
appears  to  have  been  originally  subjoined  to  the  Palatine. 
MS.  of  the  still  existing  plays  of  Plautus,  but  to  have  been 
torn  off,  since,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  Truculentua^  we 
find  the  words  ^'  Vidularia  incipit| :"  And  Mai  has  recently 
published  some  fragments  of  it,  which  he  found  in  an  Ambro- 
sian  MS.  Such,  it  would  appear,  had  been  the  high  autho^ 
fity  of  Varro,  that  only  those ,  plays,  which  had  received  his 
indubitable  sanction,  were  transcribed  in  the  MSS.  as  the 
genuine  works  of  Plautus ;  yet  it  would  seem  that  Varro  him- 
self had,  on  some  occasion,  assented  to  the.  authenticity  of 
several  others,  induced  by  their  style  of  humour  correspond- 
ing to  that  of  Plautus.  He  had  somewhere  mentioned,  that 
the  Saturio  (the  Glutton,)  and  the  Addidus,  (the  Adjudged,) 
were  written  by  Plautus  during  the  period  in  which  he  labour- 
ed as  a  slave  at  the  hand-mill.  He  was  also  of  opinion,  that 
the  BceoHa  was  by  Plautus ;  and  Aulus  Gellius  concurs  with 
him  in  this^^,  citing  certain  verses  delivered  by  a  hungry  para- 
site, which,  he  says,  are  perfectly  Plautiniaii)  and  must  satisfy 

*  Nam  Plautum  alii  dicuiit  scripoMe  Fabulas  XXI.  alii  XL.  aUi  C.    9erv.  Jld 
^.  ^neid,    loit. 
t  J>ro€t.  AH.  Lib.  in.  c.  8. 

iFabiiciUs,  Bih,  Latina,  Lib.  I.  c.  1.    OMnniu,  Anaketa  CriHea,  c.  9. 
Jro€t.  AH.  Lib.  IIL  c.  3.  * 

Vol.  I.— V 


162  PLAUTUS. 

every  person  to  whom  Plautus  &  familiar,  of  the  authenticity 
of  that  drama.  From  this  very  passage,  Osannua  derives  an 
argument  unfavourable  to  the  authenticity  of  the  play.  The 
parasite  exclaims  against  the  person  who  first  distinguished 
hours,  and  set  up  the  sun-diais,  of  which  the  towA  was  so 
full.  Now,  Osannus  maintains,  that  there  were  no  sun-dials 
at  Rome  in  the  time  of  Plautus,  and  that  the  day  was  not  then 
distributed  into  hours,  but  into  much  larger  portions  of  timc^ 
The  JVervolaria  was  one  of  the  disputed  plays  in  the  time  of 
Au.  Gellius;  and  also  the  Fretum,  which  Gellius  thinks  the 
most  genuine  of  allf .  Varro,  in  the  first  Book  of  his  Qwt$- 
tiones  PlautiruB,  gives  the  follovwng  words  of  Attius,  which, 
I  presume,  are  quoted  from  his  work  on  poetry  and  poets, 
entitled  Didaacalica.  ''For  neither  were  the  Gemni.  the 
heanea,  the  Conddlmmy  the  JInaa  Plauti,  the  Bu  Campre$$ay 
the  fi(Botia,  or  the  Commorientes,  by  Plautus,  but  by  M. 
Aquilius."  It  appears,  however,  from  the  prologue  to  the 
Mdphi  of  Terence,  that  the  Cammarientes  was  written  by 
Plautus,  having  been  taken  by  him  from  a  Greek  comedy  of 
Diphilus|.  In  opposition  to  the  above  passage  of  Attius,  and 
to  his  own  opinion  expressed  in  the  Qwtatumea  Planting 
Varro,  in  his  treatise  on  the  Latin  Language,  frequently  citd, 
as  the  works  of  Plautus,  the  plays  enumerated  by  Attius,  and 
various  others ;  but  this  was  probably  in  deference  to  c(ND- 
mon  opinion,  or  in  agreement  with  ordinary  language,  and 
w^  not  intended  to  contradict  what  he  had  elsewhere  deli- 
vered, or  to  stamp  with  the  character  of  authenticity  produc- 
tions, which  he  had  more  deliberately  pronounced  to  be  spo- 
rious§. 

From  the  review  which  has  qow  been  giv:en  of  the  comedies 
of  Plautus,  something  may  have  been  gathered  of  their  general 
scope  and  tenor.  In  each  plot  there  is  sufficient  action,  move- 
ment, and  spirit.  The  incidents  never  flag,  but  rapidly 
accelerate  the  catastrophe.  Yet,  if  we  regard  his  plays  in 
ijie  mass,  there  is  a  considerable,  and  perhaps  too  great, 
uniformity  in  their  fables.  They  hinge,  fojr  the  most  part,  on 
the  love  of  some  dissolute  youth  for  a  courtezan,  his  employ- 
ment of  a  slave  to  defraud  a  father  of  a  sum  sufficient  to 
supply  his  expensive  pleasures,  an4  the  final  discovery  that 
his  mistress  is  a  firee-born  citizen.  -  The  charge  against 

•  Jnaleet.  Critic,  c.  8.  f  JVoct,  AtU  Lib.  III.  c.  2. 

I  Sunapothneskonies  DtphOi  Coimsdia  *8t : 
Earn  Ccinimorientes  Plautus  fecit  Fabulam; 

§  We  hu\'»  ih<'  opiniorj"!  of  Varro  concerning  the  plays  of  Pfatutus  only  at*?* 
cond  hand.  1*he  work  in  which  they  are'delivered»  it  lost ;  but  ^ey  are  minuteK 
reported  in  his  Attic  ,Afight$,  by  Aulus  Gellius. 


PLAUTUS.  163 

Plautus  of  uniforinity  in  his  characters,  as  well  as  in  his  fables, 
has  been  echoed  without  much  considerati^Jr  The  portraits 
of  Plautus,  it  must  be  remembered,  were  drawn  or  coi>ied  at 
a  time  when  the  division  of  labour  and  progress  of  refinement 
had  not  yet  given  existence  to  those  various  descriptions  of 
professions  and  artists — the  doctor,  author,  attorney — in  short, 
ail  those  characters,  whose  habits,  singularities,  and  whims^ 
have  supplied  the  modern  Thalia  with  such  diversified  mate- 
rials, and  whose  contrasts  give  to  each  other  such  relief,  that 
no  caricature  is  required  in  any  individual  representation. 
The  characters  of  Alcmena,  Euclio,  and  Periplectomenes,  are 
salficientiy  novel,  and  are  not  repeated  in  any  of  the  other 
dramas ;  but  there  is  ample  range  and  variety  even  in  those 
which  be  h^s  most  frequently  employed — the  avaricious  old 
man — the  debauched  young  fellow — the  knavish  slave — the 
braggart  captain — the  rapacious  courtezan-^the  obsequious 
parasite-^-and  the  ahameiess  pander.  On  most  of  these  parts 
some  observations  have  been  made,  while  mentioning  the 
ditferent  comedies  in  which  they  are  introduced.  The  severe 
father  and  thoughtless  youth,  are  those  in  which  he  has  best 
succeeded,  or  at  least  they  are  those  with  which  we  are  best 
pleased.  The  captain  always  appears  to  us  exaggerated,  and 
the  change  which  has  taken  place  in  society  and  manners 
prevents  us,  perhaps,  from  entering  fully  into  the  characters 
of  the  slave,  the  parasite,  and  pander ;  but  in  the  fathers  and 
sons,  he  has  shown  his  knowledge  of  our  common  nature,  and 
delineated  them  with  the  truest  and  liveliest  touches.  In  the 
formier,  the ,  struggles  of  avarice  and  severity,  with  paternal 
affection,  are  finely  wrought  up  and  blended.  Even  when 
otherwise  respectable  characters,  they  are  always  represented 
as  disUking  their  wives,  which  was  not  inconsistent  with  the 
manners  of  a  Grecian  state,  in  which  n^arriage  was  merely 
regarded  as  a  duty  ;  and  was  a  feature  naturally  enough  ex- 
hibited on  the  theatre  of  a  nation,  one  of  whose  most  illus- 
trious characters  declared  in  the  Senate,  as  a  received  maxim, 
that  Romans  married,  not  for  the  sake  of  domestic  happiness, 
but  to  rear  up  soldiers  for  the  repu[>lic. 

The  Latin  style  of  Plautus  excels  in  briskness  of  dialogue, 
as  well  as  purity  of  expression,  and  has  been  highly  extolled 
by  the  learned  Roman  grammarians,  particularly  by  Varro, 
who  declares,  that  if  the  Muses  were  to  speak  Latin  they 
would  employ  his  diction*  ;  but  as  M.  Schlegel  has  remarked, 
»t  is  necessary  todistinguish  between  the  opinion  of  philologers, 
^d  that  of  critics  and  poets.     Plautus  wrote  at  a  period  when 

*  Ap.  Quintiliao,  bUu  Orat  Lib.  X.  c.  1. 


164  PLAUTUS. 

his  country  as  j^t  possessed  no  written  or  literary  language* 
Every  phrase  ^ftHy  rawn  from  the  living  source  of  conversation^ 
This  early  simplicity  seemed  pleasing  and  artless  to  those'  Ko' 
mans,  who  lived  in  an  age  of  excessive  refinement  and  culti- 
vation ;  but  this  apparent  merit  was  rather  accidental  than  the 
effect  of  poetic  art.  Making,  however,  some  allowance  for 
this,  there  can  be  no  doubt  thatPlautus  woi.derfully  improved 
and  refined  the  Latin  language  from  the  rude  form  in  which  it 
had  been  moulded  by  Ennius.  That  he  should  have  effected 
such  an  alteration  is  not  a  little  remarkable.  Plautus  was 
nearly  contemporary  with  the  Father  of  Roman  song — accord- 
ing to  most  accounts  he  was  born  a  slave — he  was  condemned, 
during  part  of  his  life,  to  the  drudgery  of  the  lowest  manual 
labour — and,  so  far  as  we  learn,  he  was  not  distinguished  by 
the  patronage  of  the  Great,  or  admitted  into  Patrician  society. 
Ennius,  on  the  other  hand,  if  he  did  not  pass  his  life  in  aflhi- 
ence,  spent  it'  in  the  exercise  of  an  honourable  profession,  and 
was  the  chosen  familiar  friend  of  Cato,  Scipio  Africanus,  Ful- 
vius  Nobilior,  and  Lselius,  the  most  learned  as  well  as  polished 
citizens  of  the  Roman  republic,  whose  conversation  in  their 
unrestrained  intercourse  must  have  bestowed  on  him  advan- 
tages which  Plautus  never  enjoyed.  But  perhaps  the  circum- 
stance of  his  Greek  original,  which  contributed  so  much  to  his 
learning  and  refinement,  and  qualified  him  for  such  exalted 
society,  may  have  been  unfavourable  to  that  native  purity  of 
Latin  diction,  which  the  Umbi;ian  slave  imbibed  from  the  un- 
mixed fountains  of  conversation  and  nature. 

The  chief  excellence  of  Plautus  is  generally  reputed  to 
consist  in  the  wit  and  comic  force  of  his  dialogue  ;  and^  ac- 
cordingly, the  lines  in  Horace's  Art  of  Foetry,  in  which  he 
derides  the  ancient  Romans  for  having  foolishly  admired  the 
''  PUiutinoa  sales^^^  has  been  the  subject  of  much  reprehen- 
sion among  critics^.  That  the' wit  of  Plautus  often  degene- 
rates into  bufibonery,  scurrility,  and  quibbles,-^8ometimes 
even  into  obscenity, — and  that,  in  his  constant  attempts  at 
merriment,  he.too  often  tries  to  excite  laughter  by  exaggera- 
ted expressions,  as  well  a^by  extravagant  actions,  cannot,  in- 

* 

i 

*  "  Immo  iUi proavi,^'  says  Camerarius,  {DisaerL  de  Comad.  PUnuiiy}  "  merit6,  et 
recte,  ac  sapieoter  Plautum  laudurunt  et  admirati  fueruot :  tuque  ad  Gredtatem, 
omnia,  quasi  regulam,  poeiuata  gentis  tuas  cxigens^  immerito,  et  perperam,  atque 
in^ogitanter  cuTpas." — (See  also  J.  C.  Scaliger  and  Ljpsius,  Antiq.  LecL  Lib.  il. 
c.  1. ;  Tumehua,  Mvera.  xxv.  16) ;  Flor.  SabinuSjMversus  Calumniatores  PlauH, 
Basil;  1540.  Dan.  Heinsius  attempted  to  defend  the  sentiment  of  Horace,  in  his 
JHssirtatio  \id  Horatii  de  Plauio  et  Ttientio  judicium,  printed  at  Aoisteniam, 
1618,  with  his  edition  of  Terence ;  and  wa.s  answereti  by  Benetiict  Fioretti,  in  his 
Jipologiamro  Plauto,  oppoaita  stevojudicio  Horaiiano  et  HeinHano. — See,  fimJIy, 
JO.  J.  Tr.  Danz,  De  Virtute  Comica  Plauti,  in  DtMsert,  PhiUflog.  Jene,  1800. 


PLAUTUS.  166 

deed,  be  denied.  This,  I  think,  was  partly  owing  to  the  im- 
meusity  of  the  Roman  theatres,  and  to  the  masks  and  trumpets 
of  the  actors,  which  must  have  rendered  caricature  and  gro- 
tesque inventions  essential  to  the  production  of  that  due  etiect, 
which,  with  such  scenic  apparatus,  could  not  be  created,  unless 
by  overstepping  the  modesty  of  naturae.  It  must  be  always  be 
recollected,  that  the  plays  of  Plautus  were  written  solely  to  be 
represented,  and  not  to  be  read.  Even  in  modern  times,,  and 
subsequently  to  the  invention  of  printing,  the  greatest  drama- 
tists— Shakspeare,  for  example — cared  little  about  the  publi- 
cation of  their  plays)  and  in  every  age  or  country,  in  which 
dramatic  poetry  has  flourished,  it  h^s  been  intended  for  public 
representation,  and  has  been  adapted  to  the  taste  of  a  pro- 
miscuous audience.  It  is  the  most  social  of  all  sorts  of  com- 
position ;  and  he  who  aims  at  popularity  or  success  in  it,  must 
leave  the  solitudes  of  inspiration  for  the  bustle  of  the  world. 

The  contemplative  poet  may  find  his  delight,  and  his  re- 
ward, in  the  mere  etlbrt  of  imagination,  but  the  poet  of  the 
drama  must  seek  them  in  the  applause  of  the  multitude.  He 
must  stoop  to  men — be  the  mover  of  human  heafts — and  tri- 
umph by  the^Fiving  and  hourly  passions  of  our  nature.  Now, 
in  the  days  of  Plautus,  the  smiles  of  the  polite  critic  were  not 
enough  for  a  Latin  comedian,  because  in  those  days  there 
were  few  polite  critics  at  Rome ;  he  required  the  shouts  and 
laughter  of  the  multitude,  who  could  be  fully  gratified  only 
by  the  broadest  grins  of  comedy.  Accordingly,  many  of  the ' 
jests  of  Plautus  are  such  as  might  be  expected  from  a  writer 
anxious  to  accommodate  himself  to  the  taste  of  the  times,  and 
naturally  catching  the  spirit  of  ribaldry  which  prevailed. 

During  the  age  of  Plautus,  and  indeed  long  after  it,  the  ge- 
neral character  of  RoAian  wit  consisted  rather  in  a  rude  and 
not  very  liberal  satire,  than  a  just  and  temperate  ridicule,  re- 
strained within  the  bounds  of  decency  and  good  manners.  A 
fiivourite  topic,  for  example,  of  ancient  raillery,  was  corporal 
defects  ; — a  decisive  proof  of  coarseness  of  humour,  especially 
as  it  was  recommended  by  rule,  and  enforced  by  the  authority 
of  the  greatest  masters,  as  one  of  the  moi^t  legitimate  sources 
of  ridicule. — *^  Est  deformitatis  et  corporis  vitiorum  satis  bella 
materies  ad  jockndum,"  si^ys  Cicero,  in  his  treatise  De  Orata^ 
fe*.  The  innumerable  jest3  there  recorded  as  haviiig  pro- 
duced the  happiest  effects  at  the  bar,  are  the  most  miserable 
puns  and  quibbles,  coarse  practical  jpkes,  or  personal  reflec- 
tions. The  cause  of  this  defect  in  elegance  of  wit  and  rail- 
lery, has  been  attributed  by  Hurd  to  the  free  and  popular  con- 
stitution of  Rome.    This,  by  placing  all  its  citizens,  at  least 

♦  Lib.  II.  c.  58. 


166  PLAUTUS- 

during  certain  periods,  on  a  level,  and  diffusing  a  general 
spirit  of  independence,  took  off  those  restra.uls  of  ctvttity 
which  are  imposed  by  the  dread  of  displeasing,  and  wiiich 
can  alone  curb  the  licentiousness  of  ridicule.  The  only  court 
to  be  paid  was  from  the  orators  to  the  people,  iu  the  continual 
and  immediate  applications  to  jthem  which  were  reaciered 
necessary  by  the  form  of  government.  On  such  occasions,  the 
popular  assemblies  had  to  be  entertained  with  those  gross  ban- 
ters, which  were  likely  to  prove  most  acceptable  to  them. 
Design  growing  into  habit,  the  orators,  and  after  them  tiie  na- 
tion, accustomed  themselves  to  coarse  ridicule  at  all  times,  till 
the  humour  paAsed  from  the  rostrum,  or  forum,  to  the  theatre, 
where  the  amusement  and  laughter  of  the  people  being  the 
direct  and  immediate  aim,  it  was  heightened  to  sliU  farther 
extravagance.  This  taste,  says  Hurd,  was  also  fostered  and 
promoted  at  Rome  by  the  festal  license  which  prevailed  in  the 
seasons  of  the  Bacchanalia  and  Saturnalia*'.  Quintilian 
thinks,  that,  with  some  regulation,  those  days  of  periodical  li- 
cense might  have  aided  the  cultivation  of  a  correct  spirit  of 
raillery ;  but,  as  it  was,  they  tended  to  vitiate  and  corrupt  it 
The  Roman  muse,  too,  had  been  nurtured  aiftid  satiric  and 
rustic  exhibitions,  the  remembrance  of  which  was  still  che- 
rished, and  a  recollection  of  them  kept  alive,  by  the  popular 
Exodia  and  FabukB  MellatUB, 

Such  being  the  taste  of  tiie  audience  whom  he  had  to  please, 
and  who  crowded  to  the  theatre  not  to  acquire  purity  of  taste, 
but  to  relax  their  minds  with  merriment  and  jest,  it  became 
the'great  object  of  Plautus  to  make  his  audience  laugh;  and 
for  this  he  sacrificed  every  other  consideration.  '^  Nee  quic- 
quam,"  says  Scaliger,  '^  veritus  est,  modo  auditorem  excitaret 
risu."  With  this  view,  he  must  haver  felt  that  he  was  more 
likely  to  succeed  by  emulating  the  broader  mirth  of  the  old 
or  middle  comedy,  than  by  the  delicate  railleries  and  exqui- 
site painting  of  Menander.  Accordingly,  though  he  gene- 
rally borrowed  his  plots  from  the  writers  of  the  new  comedy, 
his  wit  and  humour  have  more  the  relish  of  the  old,  and  they 
have  been  classed  by  Cicero  as  of  the  same  description  with 
the  drollery  which  enlivei^d  its  scenesf .  The  audience^  for 
whom  the  plays  of  Plautus  were  written,  could  understand  or 
enjoy  only  a  representation  of  the  manners  and  witticisms  to 
which  they  were  accustomed.    To  the  fastidious  critics  of  the 

*  Kurd's  fforace.    Gibbon's  JiRsceVaneout  WotHs,  Vol.  IV. 

t  "  Duplex  omnino  est  jocandi  genus  ;  unqm  illiberale,  petulans,  obscQenuniy  aHe- 
mm  elegans,  urbauum,  ingeniosum,  facetum ;  quo  genere  non  modo  Plautus  no«- 
ter,  et  Atticonun  antiqua  comoedia,  sed  etiam  Phiiosophonim  SocnUcorum  lihri  sunt 
referU."— De  Qffiem,  Lib.  I.  c.  29. 


PLAUTUS.  167 

court  of  Augustus,  an  admirer  of  Plautus  might  have  replied 
in  the  words  of  Antiphanes,  a  Greek  dramatist  of  the  middle 
comedy,  who  being  commanded  to  read  one  of  his  plays  to 
Alexander  the  Great,  and  finding  that  the  production  was  not 
relished  by  the  royal  critic,  thus  addressed  him :  ''  I  cannot 
wonder  that  you  disapprove  of  my  comedy,  for  he  who  could 
be  entertained  by  it  must  have  been  present  at  the  scenes  it 
represents.  He  must  be  dcquainted  with  the  public  humours 
of  our  vulgar  ordinaries — have  been  familiur  with 'the  impure 
manners  of  our  courtezans — a  party  in  the  breaking  up  of  . 
many  a  brothel — and  a  sufferer,  as  well  as  actor,  in  those  un- 
seemly riots.  Of  all  these  things  you  are  not  informed ;  and 
the  fault  lies  more  in  my  presumption  in  intruding  them  on 
your  hearing,  than  in  any  want  of  fidelity  with  which  I  have 
portrayed  them*." 

Indeed,  this  practice  of  consulting  the  tastes  of  the  people, 
if  it  be  a  fault,  is  one  which  is  common  to  all  comic  writers. 
Aristophanes,  who  was  gifted  with  far  higher  powers  than 
Plautus,  and  who  was  no  less  an  elegant  poet  than  a  keen  sati- 
rist, as  is  evinced  by  the  lyric  parts  of  his  Frogs^  often  pros- 
tituted his  talents  to  the  lowest  gratifications  of  the  multitude. 
Shakspeare  regarded  the  drama  as  entirely  a  thing  for  the 
people,  and  treated  it  as  such  throughout.  He  took  the  po- 
pular comedy  as  he  found  it ;  and  whatever  enlargements  or 
improvements  he  introduced  on  the  stage,  were  still  calculated 
and  contrived  according  to  the  spirit  of  his  predecessors,  and 
the  taste  of  a  London  audience.  When,  in  Charles's  days,  a 
ribald  taste  became  universal  in  England,  '^  unhappy  Dryden'* 
bowed  down  his  genius  to  the  times.  Even  in  the  refined  age 
of  Louis  XIV. 9  it  was  said  of  the  first  comic  genius  of  his 
country,  that  he  would  have  attained  the  perfection  of  his  art, 

■*  8i  fnoin$  ami  du  peupte  en  ses  doctes  peinturM, 
II  n'eAt  point  fait  souvent  griroacer  ses  figures, 
Qoitt^,  pour  le  bouffoBy  I'agreable  etle  &, 
Ety  tans  honte^  a  Terence  ^e  Tabarin.*' 

BoiLKAr. 

Lopez  de  Vega,  in  his  Arte  de  hacer  Comedias,  written,  in 
1609,  at  the  request  of  a  poetical  academy,  and  containing  a 
code  of  laws  for  the  modern  drama,  admits,  that  when  he  was 
about  <o  write  a  comedy,  he  laid  aside  all  dramatic  precepts, 
and  wrote  solely  for  the  vulgar,  who  had  to  pay  for  their 
amusement : 

*  Athen«U8,  Lib.  XIII.  c.  1. 


168  CJX3ILIUS. 

^'  Qitando  he  de  eacribir  unji  comediat 
Encierro  los  preceptos  con  seis  Haves ; 
*  8aco  a  Terencio  y  Plauto  de  mi  studio 
Para  que  no  den  voces,  porque  suele 
Dar  gritos  la  verdad  en  libros  inudos ; 
Y  escribe  per  el  arte  que  inventaron 
Los  que  el  vulgar  aplauso  pretendieron, 
Porque  cemo  los  paga  el  vulgo,  es  justo 
Hablarle  in  necio  pare  darle  gusto«'* 

His  indulgent  conformity,  however,  to  the  unpolished  taste 
of  his  age,  ought  not  to  be  admitted  as  ah  excuse  for  the  ob- 
scenities which  Plautus  has  introduced.  JSut  though  it  must 
be  confessed,  that  he  is  lijable  to  some  censure,  in  this  particu- 
lar, he  is  not  nearly  so  culpable  as  has  been  generally  ima- 
gined; The  commentators,  indeed,  have  been  often  remarkably 
industrious  in  finding  out  allusions,  which  do  not  consist  very 
clearly  with  the  plain  and  obvious  meanii^  of  the  context 
The  editor  of  the  Delphin  Plautus  has  not  rejected  above  five 
pages  from  the  twenty  plays  on  this  account;. and  many  pas- 
sages even  in  those  could  hardly  offend  the  most  scrupulous 
reader.  Some  of  the  comedies,  indeed^  as  the  Captivi  and 
TYinummua,  are  free  from  any  moral  objection ;  and,  with  the 
exception  of  the  Carina,  none  of  them  are  so  indelicate  as  many 
plays  of  Massinger  and  Ford,  in  the  time  of  James  I.,  or  Ethe- 
ridge  and  Shadwell,  during  the  reigns  of  Charles  II.  and  his 
successor. 

\  It  being  the  great  aim  of  Plautus  to  excite  the  merriment  of 

%  the  rabble,  he,  of  course,  was  little  anxiouR  about  the  strict 

preservation  of  the  dramatic  unities ;  and  it  was  a  more  impor- 
tant object  with  him  to  bring  a  striking  scene  into  view,  than 
to  preserve  the  unity  of  place.    In  the  Aululariaj  part  of  the 

tion  is  laid  in  the  miser's  dwelling,  and  part  in  the  various 
places  where  he  goes  to  conceal  his  treasure  :  in  the  Mosid^ 
Uxria  and  Trucuiefntua;  the  scene  changes  from  the  street  to 
apartments  in  different  houses. 

But,  notwithstanding  these  and  other  irregularities,  Plautus 
so  enchanted  the  people  by  the  drollery  of  his  wit,  and  the 
buffoonery  of  his  scene?,  that  he  continued  the  reigning  fa- 
vourite of  the  stage  long  after  the  more  correct  plays  of  Cae- 
cilius,  Afranius,  and  even  Terence,  were  first  represented. 


CiECILIUS, 

who  was  originally  a  slave,  acquired  this  name  with  his  free- 
dom, having  been  at  first  called  by  the  servile  appellation  of 


C^CILIUS.  169 

I 

Statius*.  He  was  a  native  of  Milan,  and  flourished  towards 
the  end  of  the  sixth  century  of  Rome,  having  survived  Ennius, 
whose  intin^ate  friend  he  was,  about  one  year,  which  places 
bis  death  in  586.  We  learn  from  the  prologue  to  the  Hecyra 
of  Terence,  spoken  in  the  person  of  Ambivius,  the  principal 
actor,  or  rather  manager  of  the  theatre,  that,  when  he  first 
brought  out  the  plays  of  Csecilius,  some  were  hissed  off  the 
stage,  and  others  hardly  stood  their  ground ;  but  knowing  the 
fluctuating  fortunes  of  dramatic  exhibitions,  he  had  again 
attempted  to  bring,  them  forward.  HU  per^veranCe  having 
obtained  for  them  a  full  and  unprejudiced  hearing,  they  failed 
not  to  please ;  and  this  success  excited  the  author  to  new 
efforts  in  the  poetic  art,  which  he  had  nearly  abandoned  in  a 
fit  of  despondency.  The  comedies  of  Csecilius,  which  amount* 
ed  to  thirty,  are  ail  lost,  so  that  6ur  opinion  of  tl)eir  merits  can 
be  formed  only  from  the  criticisms ,of  those  Latin  authors  who 
wrote  before  they  had  perished.  Cicero  blames  the  impro- 
prieties of  his  style  and  languagef.  From  Horace's  Epistle 
to  Augustus,  we  may  collect  what  was  the  popular  sentiment 
concerning  Csecilius — 

'*  Vineere  Ci^ciHus  graTitate— TerentiuB  art*." 

It  is  not  easy  to  see  how  a  comic  author  could  be  more  grave 
than  Terence ;  and  the  quality  applied  to  a  writer  of  this  cast 
appears  of  rather  difficult  interpretation.  But  the  opinion 
which  had  been  long  before  given  by  Varro  affords  a  sort  of 
commentary  on  Horace's  expression — <^  In  argumentis,''  says 
he,  '*  Csecilius  pahnam  poscit ;  in  ethesi  Terentius."  By  griP- 
vUas,  therefin'e,  as  applied  to  Csecilius,  we  may  properly 
enough  understand  the* grave  and  affecting  plots  of  his  come- 
dies ;  which  is  farther  confirmed  by  what  Varro  elsewhere 
observes  of  him — ^<  Palhe  Trabea,  Attilius,  et  Csecilius  facile 
moverunt.."  Velleius  Paterculus  joins  him  with  Terence  and 
Afranius,  whom,  he  reckons  the  most  excellent  comic  writers 
of  Rome-— ^'Dulcesque  Latini  leporis  facetiae  per  Ccecilium, 
Terentiumque,  et  Afranium,  sub  pari  setate,  nituerunt|. 

A  great  many  of  the  plays  of  Csecilius  were  taken  fitMn 
Menander;  and  Aulus  Gellius  informs  us  that  they  seemed 
a^eeable  and  pleasing  enough,  till,  being  compared  with 
their  Greek  models,  they  appeared  quite  tame  and  disgusting, 
and  the  wit  of  the  original,  which  they  were  unable  to  imitate, 

*  AxL  GeDiut,  JVbet.  AU,  Ub.  IV.  c.  20. 

t  Mrutut,  c.  74.    CaBcifiiim  et  Pacuvium  male  locutM  Tldftmui. 

I  JSttor.  R§man,  Lib.  I.  c.  17. 

Vol.  I.— W 


170  AFRANIUS. 

totally  vanished*.  He  accordingly  contrasts  a  scene  in  the 
Plocvus  (or  Necklace,)  of  Caecilius,  with  the  corresponding 
scene  in  Menander,  and  pronounces  them  to  be  as  different 
in  brightness  and  value  as  the  arms  of  Diomed  and  Glaucus. 
The  scenes  compared  are  those  where  an  old  husband  com- 
plains that  his  wife,  who  was  rich  and  ugly,  had  obliged  him 
to  sell  a  handsome  female  slave,  of  whom  she  was  jealous. 
This  chapter  of  Aulus  Gellius  is  very  curious,  as  it  gives  us  a 
more  perfect  notion  than  we  obtain  from  any  other  writer,  of 
the  mode  in  which  the,  Latin  comic  poets  copied  the  Greeks. 
To  judge  from  this  single  comparison,  it  appears  that  though 
the  Roman  dramatists  imitated  the  incidents,  and  caught  the 
ideas  of  their  great  masters,  their  productions  were  not  en- 
tirely translations  or  slavish  versions:  A  different  turn  is 
frequently  given  to  a  thought — ^the  sentiments  are  often  dif- 
ferently expressed,  and  (ometimes  much  is  curtailed,  or 
altogether  omitted. 


AFRANIUS, 

though  he  chose  Roman  subjects,  whence  his  comedies  were 
called  TogatiB,  was  an  imitator  of  the  manner  of  Menander— 

"  Dicitnr  Afiaol  toga  conveoisse  Meoaodio." 

Indeed  he  himself  admits,  in  his  Compitalea,  that  he  derived 
many  even  of  his  plots  from  Menander  and  other  Greek 
writers— 

"  Fateor,  sumpBi  ood  a  Menandio  modo, 
Sed  ut  quisque  habuit,  quod  conveniret  mlhi ; 
Quod  me  non  posse  meUus  fa6ere  eredidi.*' 

Cicerof  calls  Afranius  an  ingeiiious  and  eloquent  writer. 
Ausonius,  in  one  of  his  epigrams,  talks  ^^facundi  AfiranL^ 
He  is  also  praised  by  Quintilian,  who  censures  him,  howeveri 
'  for  the  flagitious  amours  which  he  represented  on  the  stage|, 
on  account  of  which,  perhaps,  his  writings  were  condemned  to 

*  J^oei.  Attic.  Lib.  II.  c.  28. 

t  Brutus,  c.  45.  L.  Afranius  poeta,  homo  perargutus ;  In  (abulis  quMem  etiam, 
utscitid,  disertu^ 

X  inttU,  OiOt,  Lib.  X.  c.  1.    To  this  charge  Ausonios  also  alltides,  though  wid> 
little  reprehension, 

"  Pneter  legitimi  genitalia  foedera  coetiis, 
,N.  Repperit  obscxnas  veneres  vitiosa  libido ; 

Herculis  heredi  quam  Lemnia  suastt  eg^stas, 
Quam  toga  &cundi  sceols  agitavit  Afnml." 

Epigram.  71. 


LU8CIUS  LAVINIUS.  171 

the  fttmei  by  Pope  Gregory  I.  The  titles  of  forty-six  of  hk 
plays  have  been  collected  by  Fabricius,  and  a  few  fragments 
baTe  been  edited  by  Stephens.  One  of  these,  in  the  play 
eotkied  Sdia^  where  it  is  said  that  wisdom  is  the  child  of  expe- 
rience and  memory,  has  been  commended  by  Aiilus  Geliius, 
aad  is  plausibly  conjectured*  to  have  been  introduced  in  a 
prologue  spoken  in  the  person  of  Wisdom  herself — 

- ,  '*  Usus  me  geauit,  mater  peperit  Memoria : 
Sophiam  vocant  me  Grail ;  vos  Sapientiam." 

The  following  lines  from  the  Vopiscum  have  also  been  fre- 
quently quoted : 

**  Si  possent  homines  delinimentif  capi, 
Omitts  lytberent  nunc  amatores  anus. 
iEtas,  et  corpus  tenerum,  et  morigeratio, 
Hec  sunt  venena  formosarum  mmierumf  .** 


LUSCIUS  LAVINIUS, 

also  a  follower  of  Menander,  was  the  contemporary  and  enemy 
of  Terence,  who,  in  his  prologues,  has  satirized  his  injudicious 
translations  from  the  Greek— ^ 

*<  Qui  bene,  Tortendo  et  eat  deseribendo  male,  ^ 
Ez.GnecIs  bonis,  Latioas  fecit  non  bonast." 

In  particular,  we  learn  from  the  prologue  to  the  PhormiOf 
that  he  was  fond  of  bringing  on  the  stage  frantic  youths,  com- 
mitting all  those  excesses  of  folly  and  distraction  which  are 
supposed  to  be  produced  by  violent  love.  Donatus  has 
afforded  us  an  account  of  the  plot  of  his  Phasma^  which  was 
taken  from  Menander.  A  lady,  who,  before  marriage,  had  a 
daughter,  the  fruit  of  a  secret  amour  with  a  person  now  living 
in  a  house  adjacent  to  her  husband's,  made  an  opening  in  the 
w^all  of  her  own  dwelling,  in  order  to  communicate  with  that 
in  which  her  former  paramour  and  daughter  resided.  That 
this  entrance  might  appear  a  consecrated  spot  to  her  husband's 
family,  she  decked  it  with  garlands,  and  shaded  it  with 
branches  of  trees.  To  this  passage  she  daily  repaired  as  if  to 
pay  her  devotions,  but  in  fact,  to  procure  interviews  with  her 

*  Spence*s  PolymeHs: 

t  "  Could  men  to  love  be  lured  by  mi^c  rites. 

Each  crone  would  with  a  lover  sootn  her  nights : 

A  tender  form,  and  youth,  and  gentle  soyies. 

Axe  the  sweet  poti<Nii  whicb  the  heart  beguiles. 
X  £imiich«e»  Prohg, 


i» 


173  LUSCIUS  LAVINIUS- 

illegitimate  daughter.  Her  husbaiid  also  had,  by  a  former 
wiie,  a  son,  who  dwelt  in  his  father's  house,  and  who,  haviog 
one  day  accidentally  peeped  through  the  aperture^  beheld  the 
girl;  and,  as  she  was  possessed  of  almost  supernatural  beauty, 
he  was  struck  with  awe,  as  at  the  sight  of  a  Spirit  or  divinity, 
whence  the  play  received  the  name  of  Phasma.  The  young 
man,  discovering  at  length  that  she  is  a  mortal,  conceives  for 
her  a  violent  passion,  and  is  finally  united  to  her,  with  the  con- 
sent of  his  father,  and  to  the  great  satisfaction  of  the  mother. 
There  is  another  play  of  Menander,  which  has  also  been 
closely  imitated  by  Luscius  Lavinius.  Plautus,  we  have  seen, 
borrowed  his  Trinumrnus  from  the  Thesaurus  of  Philemon. 
But  Menander  also  wrote  a  Thesaurus^  which  has  been  copied 
by  Lavinius.  An  old  man,  by  his  last  will,  had  commanded, 
that,  ten  years  after  his  death,  his  son  sjjiould  carry  libations 
to  the  monument  under  which  he  was  to  be  interred.  The 
youth,  having  squandered  his  fortuoe,  sold  the  ground  on 
which  this  monument  stood  to  an  old  miser.  At  the  end  of 
ten  years,  the  prodigal  sent  a  servant  to  the  tomb  with  due 
offerings,  according  to  the  injunctions  of  his  deceased  father. 
The  servant  applied  to  the  new  proprietor  to  assist  him  in 
opening  the  monument,  in  which  they  discovered  &  hoard  of 
gold.  The  miserly  owner  of  the  soil  seized  the  treasure,  and 
retained  it  on  pretence  of  having  deposited  it  there  for  safety 
during  a  period  of  public  commotion.  It  is  claimed,  however, 
by  the  young  man,  who  goes  to  law  with  him ;  and  the  plot  of 
the  comedy  chiefly  consists  in  the  progress  of  the  suit* — the 
dramatic  management  of  which  has  been  ridiculed  by  Terence, 
in  the  prologue  to  the  Eunuehus^  since,  contrary  to  the  cus- 
tom and  rules  of  all  courts  of  justice,  the  author  had  intro- 
duced the  defend^nt  pleading  his  title  to  the  treasure  before 
the  plaintiff  had  explained  his  pretensipns,  and  entered  on  the 
grounds  of  his  demand.  Part  of  the  old  Scotch  ballad,  The 
ileir  of  Linne,  has  a  curious  resemblance  to  the  plot  of  this 
play  of  Luscius  Lavinius. 

Turpilius,  Trabea,  and  Attilius,  were  the  names  of  comic 
writers  who  lived  towards  the  end  of  the  sixth  and  beginning 
of  the  seventh  century,  firom  the  building  of  Rome.  Of  these, 
and  other  contemporary  dramatists,  it  would  now  be  difficult 
to  say  more  than  that  their  works  have  perished,  and  to  repeat 
a  few  scattered  incidental  criticisms  delivered  by  Varro  or 
Cicero.  To  them  probably  may  be  attributed  the  Bacchanal 
CacuSj  Camiculariay  ParasituSf  and  innumerable  other  co- 
medies, of  which  the  names  have  been  preserved  by  gramma- 

*  Donatuf,  Comment,  in  Terent,  JSunuch.  PrQlag.' 


TRABEA.  178 

riam*  Of  sach  works,  once  the  favourites  of  the  Roman  stage^ 
few  memorials  survive,  and  these  only  to  be  found  separate 
and  imperfect '  in  the  quotations  of  scholiast^.  Sometimes 
from  a  single  play  numerous  passages  have  been  preserved; 
but  they  are  so  detached,  that  they  neither  give  us  any  insight 
into  the  fable  to  which  they  appertain,  nor  enable  us  to  pro- 
nounce on  the  excellence  of  the  dramatic  characters.  In 
general,  they  comprise  so  small  a  portion  of  uninterrupted 
dialogue,  that  we  can  scarcely  form  a  judgment  e.ven  of  the 
style  and  manner  of  the  poet,  or  of  the  beauty  of  his  versification.. 
All  that  is  now  valuable  in  these  fragments  is  a  few  brief 
inoral  maxims,  and  some  examples  of  that  via  comica,  which 
consists  in  an  ingenious  and  forcible  turn  of  expi^^sion  in  the 
original  language. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  account  for  the  vast  number  of  dramatic 
productions  which  we  thus  see  were  brought  forward  at  Rome 
in  the  early  ages  of  the  Republic.  There  are  two  ways  in 
which  literature  may  be  supported, — By  the  patronage  of 
distinguished  individuals,  as  it  was  in  the  time  of  Maecenas 
and  the  age  of  Lorenzo  de  Medici ;  or,  By  the  encouragement 
of  a  great  literary  public,  as  it  is  now  rewarded  in  modern 
Europe*  But,  in  R<nne,  literature  as  yet  had  not  obtained  the 
protection  of  an  emperor  or  a  favourite  minister;  and  previous 
to  the  invention  of  printing,  which  alone  could  give  extensive 
circulation  to  his  productions,  a  poet  could  hardly  gain  a 
h'velihood  by  any  means,  except  by  supplying  popular  enter- 
tainments for  the  stage.  These  were  always  liberally  paid  for 
by  the  iEdiles,  or  other  directors  of  the  public  amusements. 
To  this  species  of  composition,  accordingly,  the  poet  directed 
his  almost  undivided 'attention ;  and  a  prodigious  facility  was 
afforded  to  his  exertions  by  the  inexhaustible  dramatic  stores 
which  he  found  prepared  for  him  in  Greece. 


TRABEA. 

• 

The  plays  of  Quintus  Trabea,  supposed  to  belong  chiefly 
to  the  class  called  TogatiB,  are  frequently  cited  by  the  gram- 
niarians,  and  are  mentioned  with  approbation  by  Cicero.  He 
in  particular  commends  the  lines  w-nere  this  poet  so  agreeably 
describes  the  credulity  and  overweening  satisfaction  of  a 
lover-^ 

'*  Tmtft  letitiA  auctus  sum  ut  mihi  non  constem : 

Nunc  demum  miM  aiuinus  ardet. 

Lena,  delinita  argento,  nutum  observabit  meum — 

Quid  Telini  quid  ■tndeam :  adveniens  digito  impellam  januam; 


174  TRABEA. 

♦ 

F^fM  {latebimt — de  w^roTito  Chiyflis,  ubi  ne  MpMit, 
Alacris  obviam  mihi  veniet,  complexum  exoptaos  meum; 
"MSu  86  dedet. — Foitunam  ipsam  anteibo  foitunis  mma*. 

The  name  of  Trabea  was  made  use  of  in  a  well  known  d^ 
eeption  practised  on  Joseph  Scaliger  by  Muretus.  Scaliger 
piqued  himself  on  his  fiiculty  of  distinguishing  the  characte- 
ristic styles  of  ancient  writers.  In  order  to  entrap  him,  Mu- 
retus showed  him  some  verses,  pretending  that  he  had  received 
them  from  Germany,  where  they  had  been  transcribed  from 
an  ancient  MB.  attributed  to  Q.  Trabea — 

"  Here,  n  querelis,  ejulatu,  fletibus, 

^uro  pamnde  lachrymae  contra  forent : 
Nunc  hec  ad  minuenda  mala  Don  magis  valent 
Qaam  Nenia  praeficflB  ad  excitandoe  mortuos : 
Res  turbidae  consiUum,  non  fletum,  espetuntt*" 

Scaliger  was  so  completely  deceived,  that  he  afterwards  cited 
these  verses,  as. lines  from  the  play  of  IZaYpooe,  by  Q.  Trabea, 
in  the  first  edition  of  his  Commentary  on  Varro's  Dialogues 
De  Re  Rustica^  in  order  to  illustrate  some  obscure  ezpressioa 
of  his  author — ^^  Cluis  enim,"  says  he,  '^  lam  aversus  a  Musis, 
tamque  humanitatis  expers,  qui  horum  publicatione  offenda- 
tur."  Muretus,  not  content  with  this  malicious  trick,  after- 
wards sent  him  some  other  verses,  to  which  he  affiled  the 
name  of  Attius,  expressing,  but  more  diffusely,  the  same  idea. 
Scaliger,  in  his  next  edition  of  Varro,  published  them,  aioog 
with  the  former  lines,  as  fragments  from  the  (Eiumum^)  & 
tragedy  by  Attius,  and  a  plagiarism  from  Trabea — observing) 
at  the  end  of  his  note,  ^^  Fortasse  de  hoc  nimis."  Maretos 
said  nothing  for  two  years;  but,  at  the  end  of  that  period,  h^ 
published  a. volume  of  his  own  Latin  poems,  and,  along  with 
them,  under  the  title  42^a  TrabetBf  both  sets  of  verses  which 

■> 

*  '<  I  swell  with  iuch  gladness  my  brain  almost  turns. 
And  my  bosom  with  thouebts  of  my  happiness  bums. 
The  portress  compliant— -Ime  way  cleared  before-^ 
A  touch  of  my  fineer  throws  open  ^e  door : 
Then,  Chrysis — fslr  Chrysts,  will  rtnh  to  my  arms. 
Will  court  my  caresses,  and  yield  all  her  charms. 
Such  transport  will  seize  me  when  (his  comes  to  pass, 
I'D  Fortune  herself  ixf  good  fortune  surpass." 
t  "  0,  could  com]^aint§  or  tears  avail 

To  cure  those  ills  which  life  assail, 

Even  gold  would  not  be  price  too  dear 

At  which  to, win  a  healing  tear. 
.  But,  since  tlie  tears  by  sorrow  shed 

Are  vain  as  dirge  to  wake  the  dead, 

In  prudent  care,  and  not  in  grief, 

All  human  ills  must  find  relief." 


TERENCE.  17d 

he  bad  thus  palmed  on  Scaliger  for  undoubted  remnants  of 

antiquity.  The  whole  history  of  the .  imposture  was  fully 
disclosed  in  a  note :  Both  poems,  it  was  acknowledged,  were 
renioos  of  a  fragment,  attributed  by  some  to  Menander,  and 
by  others  to  Philemon,  beginning, — £i  ra  daxgua  ^v,  x.r.X. 
They  have  been  also  translated  into  Latin  by  Naugerius*. 

The  progress  of  time,  the  ravages  of  war,  and  the  interven- 
tion of  a  period  of  barbarism,  which  have  deprived  us  of  so 
many  dramatic  works  of  the  Romans,  have  fortunately  spared 
six  plays  of  •  ' 


TERENCE, 

which  are  perhaps  the  most  valuable  remains  that  have  de- 
scended to  us  among  the  works  of  antiquity.     This  celebrated 
dramatist,  the  delight  and  ornament  of  the  Roman  stage,  was 
born  at  Garthage,  about  the  560tA  year  of  Rome.     In  what 
manner  he  came  or  was  brought  thither. is  uncertain.     He 
was,  in  early  youth,  the  freedman  of  one  Terentius  Lncanus 
'n  that  city,  whose  name  has  been  ^perpetuated  only  by  the 
sIoryx>f  his  slave.     After  he  had  obtained  his  freedom,  he 
became  th^friend  of  Lselius,  and  of  the  younger  Scipio  Afri- 
canusf .    His  Andria  was  not  acted  till  the  year  587 — two 
ye^s,  according  to  the  Eusebian  Chronicle,  after  the  death  of 
Cecilius;  which  unfortunately   throws   some  doubt  on  the 
Sfreeable  anecdote  recorded  bv  Donatus,  of  his  introduction, 
in  a  wretched  garb,  into  the  nouse  of  Ceecilius,  in  order  to 
read  his  comedy  to  thdt  poet,  by  whom,  as  a  mean  person,  he 
was  seated  on  a  low  stool,  till  he  astonished  him  with  the 
QMitchless  grace  and  elegance  of  the  Andria,  when  he  was 
placed  on  the  couch,  and  invited  to  partake  the  supper  of  the 
veteran  dramatist.     Several  writers  have  conjectured,  it  might 
oe  to  another  than  to  Cascilius  that  Terence  read  bis  comedy  J ; 
or*  as  the  Andria  is  not  indisputably  his  first  comedy,  that  it 
aiight  be  one  of  the  others  vthich  he  read  to  Caecilius^.     Sup- 
Posing  the  Eusebian  Chronicle  to  be  accurate  in  the  date 
which  it  fixes  for  the  death  of  Caecilius,  it  is  just  possible, 
that  Terence  may  have  written  and  read  to  him  his  Andria  two 


*  Ovmma,  46.  Ed.  1718.  t  Donatiu,  Fit.  Terent. 

,  I  TinboMlii,  JSiarr,  DeU.  Lett.  RaL  Part  III.  Lib.  II.  c.  1.    Amaud,  GazeMe 
Utitrnrt,  1766. 

^Goojet,  BSb.  f)rant.  Tom.  IV.  Snixer  rotates  this  story  of  Terooco  and  die 
*^  Cedus,  to  whose  review  the  JMbna  had  beeo  subjected.— T^^me  der  Scho- 
')n»irmi<e,Toin.  IV.  Ttrenz, 


ne  TERENCE- 

years  previous  to  its  representation.  After  be  had  given  six 
comedie9  to  the  stage,  Terence  left  Rome  for  Greece,  whence 
he  never  returned.  The  manner  of  his  death,  however,  is 
altogether  uncertain.  According  to  one  report,  he  perished 
at  sea,  while  on  his  voyage  from  Greece  to  Italy,  bringing 
with  him  an  hundred  and  eight  comedies,  which  he  had  trans- 
.  lated  from  Menander :  according  to  other  accounts,  he  died  in 
Arcadia  for  grief  at  the  loss  of  those  comedies,  which  he  had 
sent  before  him  by  sea  to  Rome.  In  whatever  way  it  was 
occasioned,  his^eath. happened  when  he  was  at  the  early  age 
of  thirty-four,  and  in  the  year  594  from  the  building  of  the 
city. 

Andria, — acted  in  587,  is  the  first  in  point  of  time,  and  is 
usually  accounted  the  first  in  merit,  of  the  productions  of 
Terence.     Like  most  of  his  other  comedies,  it  hasi*.a  double 

Slot.  It  is  compounded  of  the  Andfian  and  Perinthian  of 
[enander ;  but  it  does  not  appear,  that  Terence  took  his 
principal  plot  from  one  of.  those  Greek  plays,  and  the  under- 
plot from  the  other.  He  employed  both  to  form  his  chief 
fable ;  and  added  the  characters,  oq  which  the  under  plot  is 
founded,  from  his  own  invention,  or  from  some  third  play  now 
unknown  to  us. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  play,  Simo,  the  father  of 
Pamphilus,  informs  Sosia  oi^his  son^s  love  for  Glyterium.  In 
consequence  of  a  report  of  this  attachment  spreading  abroad, 
Chremes  refuses  his  daughter,  who  had  previously  been  pro- 
mised to  Pamphilus  in  marriage :  Simo,  however,  still  pre- 
tends to  make  preparations  for  the  nuptials,  in  order  more 
accurately  to  ascertain  the  state  of  his  son's  affections.  Cha- 
rinus,  the  lover  of  Chremes'  daughter,  is  in  despair  at  the 
prospect  of  this  union ;  but  he  is  comforted  by  the  assurances 
of  Pamphilus,  that  he  would  do  every  thing  in  his  power  to 
retard  it.  By  this  time,  Davus,  the  slave  of  Pamphilus,  dis- 
covers, that  it  is  not  intended  his  master's  marriage  should  in 
reality  proceed ;  and,  perceiving  it  is  a  pretext,  he  advises 
Pamphilus  to  declare  that  he  is  ready  to  obey  his  father's 
commands.  Glycerium,  meanwhile,  gives  birth  to  a  child; 
but  Simo  believes,  that  her  reported  delivery  was  a  stratagem 
of  Davus,  to  deter  Chremes  from  acceding  to  his  daughter's 
marriage  with  Pamphilus.  Simo,  however,  at  length  prevails 
on  him  to  give  his  consent.  Pamphilus  is  thus  placed  in  a 
most  perplexing  dilemma  with  all  parties.  His  mistress,  Gly* 
cerium,  and  her  attendants,  believe  him  to  be  false ;  while 
Charinus  thinks  that  he  had  deceived  him;  and,  as-  he  had 
given  his  consent  to  the  marriage,  he  can  form  no  excuse  to 
bis  father  or  Chremes  for  not  concluding  it.    Hence  his  rage 


TERENCE.  177 

against  Davus,  and  new  stratagems  on  the  part  of  the  slave 
to  prevent  the  nuptials.  He  contrives  that  Chremes  should 
overbear  a  conversation  between  him  and  Mysis,  Glycerium's 
attendant,  concerning  the  child  which  her  mistress  bore  to 
Pamphilus,  and  Chremes  in  consequence  instantly  breaks  off 
from  bis  engagement.  In  this  situation,  Crito  arrives  to  claim 
heirship  to  Chrysis,  the  reputed  sister  of  Glycerium.  He 
discloses,  that  Gl]ccerium  having  been  shipwrecked  in  infancy, 
had  been  preserved  by  his  kinsman,  the  father  of  Chrysis; 
and,  from  his  detail,  it  is  discovered,  that  she  is,  the  daughter 
of  Chremes.  There  is  thus  no  farther  obstacle  to  her  mar- 
riage with  Pamphilus ;  and  the  other  daughter  of  Chremes  is 
of  course  united  to  Charinus. 

The  long  narrative  with  which  the  ^ndria,  like  several 
other  plays  of  Terence,  commences,  and  which  is  a  compo- 
neat  part  of  the  drama  itself,  is  beautiful  in  point  of  style, 
and  does  not  fail  to  excite  our  interest  concerning  the  cha- 
racters. We  perceive  the  compassion  and  even  admiration 
of  Simo  for  Glycerium,  and  we  feel  that,  if  convinced  of  her 
respectable  birth  and  character,  he  would  have  preferred  her 
to  all  others,  even  to  the  daughter  of  Chremes.  Glycerium, 
indeed,  does  not  appear  on  the  stage ;  but  her  actual  appear- 
ance could  scarcely  have  added  to  the  interest  which  her 
hapless  situation  inspires.  Simo  is  the  model  of  an  excellent 
father.  He  is  not  so  easily  duped  by  his  slaves  as  most  of 
the  old  men  in  Plautus ;  and  his  temper  does  not  degenerate, 
like  that  of  many  other  characters  in  the  plays  of  Terence, 
either  into  excessive  harshness,  or  criminal  indulgence.  Hib 
observations  are  strikingly  just,  and  are  the  natural  language 
of  age  and  experience.  Chremes,  the  other  old  man,  does 
not  divide  oar  interest  with  Simo ;  yet  we  see  just  enough  of 
his  good  disposition,  to  make  us  sympathize  with  his  happiness 
in  the  discovery  of  a  daughter.  Pamphilus  is  rendered  inte- 
resting by  his  tenderness  for  Glycerium,  and  respect  for  his 
father.  Davus  supports  the  character  of  a  shrewd,  cunning, 
penetrating  slave ;  he  is  wholly  devoted  to  the  interests  of 
Pamphilus,  but  is  often  comically  deterred  from  executing 
his  stratagems  by  dread  of  the  lash  of  his  old  master.  The 
part  of  Crito,  too,  is  happily  imagined :  His  apprehension 
lest  he  be  suspected  of  seeking  an  inheritance  to  which  he 
has  no  just  title,  and  his  awkward  feelings  on  coming  to  claim 
the  wealth  of  a  kinswoman  of  suspicious  character,  are  art- 
fully unfolded.  Even  the  go^ip  and  absurd  flattery  of  the 
midwife,  Lesbia,  is  excellent.  The  poet  has  also  shewn  con- 
siderable address  in  portraying  the  character  of  Chrysis,  who 
was  supposed  to  be  the  sister  of  Glycerium,  but  had  died 
Vol.  I.— X 


178  TERENCE. 

previous  to  the  commeocement  of  the  action.  In  the  first 
scene,  he  represents  her  as  having  for  a  long  while  virtuously 
struggled  with'  adverse  fortune,  and  having  finally  been  pre- 
cipitated into  vice  rather  by  pressure  of  poverty  than  depra- 
vity of  will ;  and  afterwards,  in  the  pathetic  account  which 
Pamphilus  gives  of  his  last  conference  with  her,  we  insensibly 
receive  a  pleasing  impression  of  her  character,  and  forget  her 
errors  for  the  sake  of  her  amiable  qualities.  All  this  was 
necessary,  in  order  to  prevent  our  forming  a<  disadvantageous 
idea  of  Glycerium,  who  had  redded  with  Chrysis,  but  was 
.  afterwards  to  become  the  wife  of  Pamphilus,  and  to  be  ac- 
knowledged as  the  daughter  of  Chremes. 

This  play  has  been  imitated  in  the  Andrienne  of  Baron, 
the  celebrated  French  actor.  The  Latin  names  are  preserved 
in  the  dramatis  persome,  and  the  first,  second,  and  fifth  acts, 
have  been  nearly  translated  from  Terence.  In  the  fourth, 
however,  instead  of  the  marriage  being  interrupted  by  Davus^s 
stratagem,  Glycerium,  hearing  a  report  of  the  falsehood  of 
her  lover,  rushes  on  the  stage,  throws  herself  at  the  feet  of 
Chremes,  and  prevails  on  him  to  break  off  the  intended 
match  between  his  daughter  and  Pamphilus.  But,  though 
the  incidents  are  nearly  the  same,  the  dialogue  is  ill  written, 
and  is  very  remote  from  the  graceful  ease  and  simplicity  of 
Terence. 

Steele's  Conscious  Lovers  is  the  best  imitation  of  the  An- 
dria.  The  English  play,  it  will  be  remembered,  commences 
in  a  similar  manner  with  the  Latin  comedy,  by  Sir  John 
Bevil  relating  to  an  old  servant,  that  he  had  discovered  the 
love  of  his  son  for  Indiana,  an  unknown  and  stranger  girl, 
by  his  behaviour  at  a  masquerade.  The  report  of  this  attach- 
ment ne&rly  breaks  off  an  intended  marriage  between  young 
Bevil  and  Lucinda,  Sealand's '  daughter.  Young  Bevil  re- 
lieves the  mind  of  Myrtle,  the  lover  of  Lucinda,  by  assuring 
him  that  he  is  utterly  averse  to  the  match.  Still,  however, 
he  pretends  to  his  father,  that  he  is  ready  to  comply  with  his 
wishes;  and,  meanwhile,  writes  to  Lucinda,  requesting  that 
she  would  refuse  the  offer  of  his  hand.  Myrtle,  hearing  of 
this  correspondence  having  taken  place,  without  knowing  its 
import,  is  so  fired  with,  jealousy  that  he  sends  Bevil  a  cbal* 
lenge.  Sealand,  being  still  pressed  by  Sir  John  to  bestow 
his  daughter  in  marriage,  waits  on  Indiana,  in  order  to  disco- 
ver the  precise  nature i>f  her  relations  with  Bevil.  She  details 
to  him  her  story ;  and,  on  his  alluding  to  the  probability  of 
the  projected  nuptials  being  soon  concluded,  she  tears  off,  in 
a  transport  of  passion,  a  bracelet,  by  which  Sealand  disco- 
vers, that  she  is  a  daughter  whom  he  had  lost,  and  who,  while 


TERENCE.  179 

proceeding  to  join  him  in  the  East  Indies,  had  been  carried 
into  a  French  harbour,  where  she  first  met  with  young  Bevil. 

Aq  English  translator  of  Terence  remarks,  ^<  Tbkt  Steele  has 
unfolded  his  plot  with  more  art  than  his  predecessor,  but  is 
greatly  his  inferior  in  delineation  of  character  Simo  is  the 
most  finished  character  in  the  Latin  piece,  but  Sir  John  Bevil, 
who  corresponds  to  him,  is  quite  insignificant.  Young  Bevil 
is  the  most  laboured  character  in  the  Gonsdoua  I.jovers,  but  he 
is  inferior  to  Pamphilus.  His  deceit  is  better  managed  by  Te- 
rence than  Steele.  Bevil's  supposed  consent  to  marry  is  (oU 
lowed  by  no  consequence;  and  his  honest  dissimulation,  as  he 
calU  it,  is  less  reconcilable  to  the  philosophic  turn  of  his 
character,  than  to  the  natural  sensibility  of  Pamphilus.  Be- 
sides, the  conduct  of  the  latter  is  palliated,  by  being  driven 
to  it  by  the  artful  instigations  .of  Davus,  who  executes  the 
lower  part  of  the  stratagems,  whereas  Bevil  is  left  entirely  to 
his  own  resources."  Bevil,  indeed,  in  spite  of  his  refinement 
and  formality,  his  admiration  of  the  moral  writers,  and,  ^^  the 
charming  vision  of  Mirza  consulted  in  a  morning,"  is  a  good 
deal  of  a  PUxto-Scapin.  Indiana,  who  corresponds  to  Glyce- 
rium,  is  introduced  with  more  effect  than  the  ladies  in  the 
French  plays  imitated  from  Terence.  Her  tearing  off  her 
(Mnaments,  however,  in  a  fit  of  despair,  at  the  conclusion,  is 
too  violent.  It  is  inconsistent  with  the  rest  of  her  character; 
and  we  feel  that  she  would  not  have  done  so,  had  not  the  au- 
thor found  that  the  bracelet  was  necessary  for  her  recognition 
as  the  daughter  of  Sealand.  The  under  plot  is  perhaps  bet- 
ter managed  in  the  English  than  in  the  Latin  play.  Myrtle 
sustains  a  part'more  essential  to  the  principal  fable  than  Cha- 
rinas ;  and  his  character  is  better  discriminated  firom  that  of 
Bevil  than  those  of  the  two  lovers  in  the  Jlndria.  The  part 
of  Ctmberton,  the  other  lover  of  Lucinda,  favoured  by  Mrs 
Sealand,  is  of  Steele's  own  contrivance;  and  of  course,  also,, 
the  stratagem  devised  by  Bevil,  in  which  Myrtler  and  Tom 
pretend  to  be  lawyers,  and  Myrtle  afterwards  personates  Sir 
Geoffry  Ctmberton,  the  uncle  of  his  rival. 

The  Andria  has  also  suggested  those  scenes  of  Moore's 
FotcndKng,  which  relate  to  the  love  of  young  Belmont,  and 
the  recognition  qf  Fidelia  as  the  daughter  of  Sir  Charles  Ray- 
mond. 

Eunuchus. — ^Though,  in  modem  times,  the  Andria  has 
b^n  the  most  admired  play  of  Terence,  in  Rome  the  Eunth 
chus  was  by  much  the  most  popular  of  all  his  performances, 
fnd  he  received  for  it  8000  sesterces,  the  greatest  reward 
which  poet  had  ever  yet  obtained*.    In  the  Andria^  indeed, 

*  Donativ,  VU.  Tereni. 


180  TERENCE. 

there  is  much  grace  and  delicacy,  and  some  tenderness ;  but 
the  Eunuchua  is  so  full  of  vivacity  and  fire,  as  almost  to  re* 
deem  its  author  from  the  well*known  censure  of  Csesar,  that 
there  was  no  via  camica  in  his  dramas. 

The  chief  part  of  the  Eunuchua  is  taken  from  a  play  of  the 
same  title  by  Menander;  but  the  characters  of  the  parasite 
and  captain  have  been  transferred  into  it  from  another  play  of 
Menander,  called  Kclax.  There  was  an  old  play,  too,  by 
Naevius,  founded  on  the  Kolax;  but  Terence,  in  his  prologue, 
denies  having  been  indebted  to  this  performance. 

The  scenes  of  the  Eunuchua  are  so  arranged,  that  the 
main  plot  is  introduced  by  that  which  is  secondary,  and  which 
at  first  has  the  appearance  of  being  the  principal  one.     Phee- 
dria  is  brought  on  the  stage  venting  his  indignation  at  being 
excluded  from  the  house  of  the  courtezan  Thais,  for  the  sake 
of  Thraso,  who  is  the  sole  braggart  captain  exhibited  in  the 
plays  of  our  author.     Thais,  however,  succeeds  in  persuading 
Phaedria  that  she  would  admit  Thraso  only  for  two  days,  in 
order  to  obtain  from  him  the  gift  of  a  damsel  who  had  origi- 
nally belonged  to  the  mother  of  Thais,  but  after  her  death 
had  been  sold  to  the  captain.     Pha&dria,  vying  in  gifts  with 
Thraso,  presents  his  mistress  with  an  Ethiopian  eunuch.     The 
younger  brother  of  Phsedria,  who  is  called  Chserea,  having 
accidentally  seen  the  maid  presented  to  Thais  by  Thraso,  falk 
in  love  with  her,  and,  by  a  stratagem  of  his  father's  slave  Par- 
meno,  he  is  introduced  as  the  enuuch  to  the  house  of  Thais, 
where  he  does  not  in  all  respects  consistently  support  the  cha- 
racter he  had  assumed.  After  Chaerea  had  gone  off,  his  adven- 
ture was  discovered ;  and  Pythias,  the  waiting  nta\d  of  Thais,  in 
revenge  for  Parmeno's  fraud,  tells  him  that  Chaerea,  having 
been  detected,  was  about  to  be  made  precisely  what  he  had 
pretended  to  be.     Parmeno,   believing  this   report,  informs 
the  father  of  Chaerea,  who  instantly  rushes  into  the  house  of 
Thais,  (to  which,  by  this  time,  his  son  had  ventured  to  return,) 
and  being  there  relieved  from  his  sudden  apprehension,  he 
consents  the  more  readily  to  the  marriage  of  Chserea  with  the 
girl  whom  he  had  deluded,  and  who  is  now  discovered  to  be 
an  Athenian  citizen,  and  the  sister  of  Chremes.     In  this  par- 
oxysm of  good  humour,  he  also  agrees  that  Phsedria  should 
retain  Thais  as  his  mistress.     Thraso  and  his  parasite,  Gnatho, 
having  been  foiled  in  an  attack  on  the  house  of  Thais^  enter 
into  terms,  and,  at  the  persuasion  of  Gnatho,  Thraso  is  admitted 
into  the  society  of  Phaedria,  and  is  allowed  to  share  \%ith  him 
the  favours  of  Thais. 

There  are  thus,  strictly  speaking,  three  plots  in  the  Eunu- 


TERENCE.  181 

ci^,  but  they  are  blended  with  inimitable  art.  The  quarrel 
and  reconciliation  of  Thais  and  Phsdria  promote  the  mar- 
riage of  Chaerea  with  Pamphila,  the  girl  presented  by  Thraso 
to  Thais.  This  gift  again  produces  the  dispute  between 
Phaedria  and  Thais,  and  gives  room  for  the  imposture  of 
Cbffirea.  It  is  unfortunate  that  the  regard  in  which  the  ancient 
dramatists  held  the  unity  of  place,  interposed  between  the 
spectators  and  the  representation  of  what  would  have  been 
highly  comical — the  father  discovering  his  son  in  the  eunuch's 
habit  in  the  house  of  Thais,  the  account  of  which  has  been 
thrown  into  narrative.  At  the  conclusion  Thraso  is  permitted, 
with  consent  of  Phsedria,  to  share  the  good  graces  of  Thais ; 
but,  as  has  been  remarked  by  La  Uarpe'*  and  Colmanf ,  and 
as  indeed  must  be  felt  by  every  one  who  reads  the  play^  this 
termination  is  scarcely  consistent  with  the  manners  of  gen- 
tlemen, and  it  implies  the  utmost  meanness  in  Phaedria  to 
admit  him  into  his  society,  or  to  allow  him  a  share  in  the 
favours  of  his  mistress,  merely  that  he  may  defray  part  of  the 
expense  of  her  establishment. 

The  drama,  however,  is  full  of  vivacity  and  intrigue. 
Through  the  whole  piece  the  author  amuses  us  with  his 
pleasantries,  and  in  no  scene  discovers  that  his  fund  of  enter- 
tainment is  exhausted.  Most  of  the  characters,  too,  are  happily 
sketched.  Under  Thais,  Menander  is  supposed  to  have  given 
a  representation  of  his  own  mistress  Glycerium.  On  the  ge- 
neral nature  of  the  parts  of  the  parasite  and  braggart  captain, 
something  has  been  said  while  treating  of  the  dramas  of 
Piantus ;  but  Terence  has  greatly  refined  and  improved  on 
these  favourite  characters- of  his  predecessor.  Gnatho  is  master 
of  a  much  more  delicate  and  artful  mode  of  adulation  than 
former  flatterers,  and  supports  his  consequence  with  his  patron, 
at  the  same  time  that  he  laughs  at  him  and  lives  on  him.  He 
boasts,  in  the  second  scene  of  the  second  act,  that  he  is  the 
founder  of  a  new  class  of  parasites,  who  ingratiated  them- 
selves with  men  of  fortune  and.  shallow  understandings,  solely 
by  humouring  their  fancies  and  admiring  whnt  they  said,  in- 
stead of  earning  a  livelihood  by  submitting  to  blows,  the 
ridicule  of  the  company,  and  all  manner  of  indignities,  like  the 
antiquated  race  of  parasites  whom  Plautus  describes  as  beaten, 
kicked,  and  abused  at  pleasure : — 

**  £t  hie  quidem,  hercle,  nisi  qui  colaphos  perpeti 

Potis  parasitos,  frangique  aulas  in  caput, 

Yel  ire  extra  portain  trigeminam  ad  saecum  libet." 


'  Cncr»  de  Litterahtre.  t  Colman's  Terence. 


182  TERENCE. 

The  new  parasite,  of  whom  Gnatho  may  be  considered  bm  the 
representative,  bad  been  delineated  in  the  ctiaracters  of 
Theophrastusy  and  has  more  resemblance  to  Shakspeare':} 
Osrick,  or  to  the  class  of  parasites  described  by  Juvenal  as 
•  infesting  the  families  of  the  Great  in  the  latter  ^ges  of  Rome*. 
Thraso,  the  braggart  captain,  in  the  Eunuchua,  is  ridiculous 
enough  to  supply  the  audience  with  mirth,  without  indulging 
in  the  extravagant  bluster  of  Pyrgopolinices.  A  scene  in  the 
fourth  act  gives  the  most  lively  representation  of  the  conceit 
and  ridiculous  vanity  of  this  soldier,  who,  calling  together  a 
few  slaves,  pretends  to  marshal  and  draw  them  up  as  if  they 
formed  a  numerous  army,  and  assumes  all  the  airs  of  a  general. 
This  part  is  so  contrived,  that  nothing  could  have  more  hap- 
pily tended  to  make  him  appear  ridiculous  though  he  says 
nothing  extravagant,  or  beyond  what  might  naturally  be  ex- 
pected from  the  mouth  of  a  coxcomb.  One  new  feature  in 
Tfaraso's  character  is  his  fondness  for  repeatiij^  his  jests,  and 
passion  for  being  admired  as  a  wit  no  less  than  a  wariior. 
There  is,  perhaps,  nowhere  to  be  found  a  truer  picture  of  the 
fond  and  froward  passion  of  love,  than  that  which  is  given  os 
in  the  character  of  Phsedria.  Horace  and  Persius,  when  they 
purposely  set  themselves  to  expose  and  exaggerate  its  foUies, 
could  imagine  nothing  beyond  it.  The  former,  indeed,  in 
the  third  satire  of  his  second  book,  where  he  has  given  a  pic- 
ture of  the  irresolution  of  lovers,  has  copied  part  of  the 
dialogue  introduced  near  the  commencement  of  the  £ti- 
fiuchua. 

The  love,  however,  both  of  Phaedria  and  Ch&erea  is  more 
that  of  temperament  than  sentiment:  Of  consequence,  the 
Eunuchus  is  inferior  to  the  Andria  in  delicacy  and  tenderness; 
but  there  are  not  wanting  passages  which  excel  in  these  higher 
qualities.  Addison  has  remarkedf ,  that  Phaedria's  request  to 
his  mistress,  on  leaving  her  for  a  few  days,  is  inimitably  beau- 
tiful and  natural — 

**  Egone  quid  veUm  ? 
Cum  Milite  isto  pneseDs,  absens  ut  sies ; 
Dies  Doctesque  me  ames :  me  desideres : 
Me  somnies :  me  expectes :  de  me  cogites : 
Me  speres :  me  te  oblectes :  mecum  tota  sis : 
Meus  fac  sis  postremo  animus,  quando  ego  sum  tuus." 

This  demand  was  rather  exorbitant,  and  Thais  had  some  reason 
to  reply — Me  miaeram ! 

There  is  an  Italian  imitation  of  the  Eunuchus  in  La  To- 
lanta,  a  c(»nedy  by  Aretine,  in  which  the  courtezan  who  gives: 

"  Sathr.  III.  t  ^Metafor,  No«  170. 


TERENCE.  183 

the  name  to  the  play  corresponds  with  Thais,  and  her  lover 
Orfinio  to  Phaedria, — the  characteristic  dispositions  of  both 
the  originals  being  closely  followed  in  the  copy.  A  youth, 
from  bis  disguise  supposed  to  be  a  girl,  is  piesented  to  La 
Taianta  by  Tinea,  the  Thraso  of  the  piece,  who,  being  exas- 
perated at  the  treatment  he  had  received  fronf  the*courtezan, 
meditates,  like  Thraso,  a  noilitary  attack  on  her  dwelling- 
house;  and,  though  easily  repulsed,  he  is  permitted  at  the 
conclusion,  in  respect  of  his  wealth  and  bounty,  to  continue 
to  share  with  Orfinio  the  favours  of  La  Taianta. 

There  is  more  lubricUy  in  the  EunuchiM  of  Terence,  than 
in  any  of  his  other  performances ;  and  hence,  perhaps,  it  has 
heeo  selected  by  Fontaine  as  the  most  suitable  drama  for  his 
uaitation.  His  Eunuqise,  as  he  very  justly  remarks  in  his 
advertisement  prefixed,  "  n'est  qu'une  mediocre  copie  d'un 
excelleDt  original."  Fontaine,  instead  of  adapting  the  in- 
cidents to  Parisian  manners,  like  Moliere  and  Regnard,  in 
their  delightful  imitations  of  Plautus,  has  retaiiied  the  ancient 
names,  and  scene  of  action.  The  earlier  part  is  ^  mere  trans- 
lation firom  the  Latin,  except  that  the  character  of  Thais  is 
softened  down  from  a  courtezan  to  a  coquette.  The  next 
deviation  from  the  original  is  the  omission  of  the  recital  by 
Chaerca,  of  the  success  of  his  audacious  enterprize — instead  of 
^hich,  Fontaine  has  introduced  his  Chsrea  professing  honour- 
^le  and  respectful  love  to  Pamphile.  In  the  unravelling  of 
the  dramatic  plot,  the  French  author  has  departed  widely 
from  Terence.  There  is  nothing  of  the  alarm  concerning 
Chaerea  given  by  Thais'  maid  to  Parmeno,  and  by  him  com* 
nmnicat^  to  the  father :  The  old  man  merely  solicits  Parmeno 
to  prevail  on  his  sons  to  marry : — 

"Dm  veut  deeormais  tenir  clos  et  couv€rt» 
Caresser,  les  pteds  chauds,  quelque  Bra  qui  ]ui  plaice, 
Conter  son  jeime  temps,  et  banqueter  a  son  aise." 

l^is  wish  is  doubly  accomplished,  by  the  discovery  that  Pam- 

'lile  is  of  reputable  birth,  and  by  Phsedria's  reconciliation 

ith  Thais.     While  making  such  changes  on  the  conclusion, 

\i  accommodating  it  in  some  measure  to  the  feelings  of  the 

je,  1  am  surprised  that  the  French  author  retained  that  part 

If  the  compact  with  Thraso,  by  which  he  is  to  remain  in  the 

Iciety  of  Phaedria  merely  to  be  fleeced  and  ridiculed. 

p'he  EunuchtM  is  also  the  origin  of  Le  Muet  by  Bruyes  and 

laprat,  who  laboured  in  conjunction,  like  our  Beaumont  and 

etcher,  and  who  have  made  such  alterations  on  the  Latin 

m  as  they  thought  advisable  in  their  age  and  country.     In 

^9  play,  which  was  first  acted  in  1 69 1 ,  a  young  man,  who 


184  TERENCE. 


feigns  to  be  dumb,  is  introduced  as  a  page  in  a  house  where 
his  mistress  resided.  But  although  an  Ethiopian  eunuch, 
which  was  an  article  of  state  among  the  ancients,  may  have 
attracted  the  fancy  of  Thais,  it  is  not  probable  that  the  Erench 
countess  should  have  been  so  desirous  to  receive  a  present  of 
a  dumb  page.  Those  scenes  in  which  the  credulous  father  is 
made  to  believe  that  his  son  had  lost  the  power  of  speech, 
from  the  effects  of  love  and  sorcery,  and  is  persuaded,  by  a 
valet  disguised  as  a  doctor,  that  the  only  remedy  for  his 
dumbness  is  an  immediate  union  with  the  object  of  his  pas- 
sion, are  improbable  and  overcharged.  The  character  of  the 
parasite  is  omitted,  and  instead  of  Thraso  we  have  a  rough 
blunt  sea  captain,  who  bad  protected  Zayde  when  lost  by  her 
parents. 

The  only  English  imitation  of  the  Eunuckus  is  BeUanAra, 
or  the  Mistress^  an  unsuccessful  comedy  by  Sir  Charles  Sedley, 
first  printed  in  1687.  In  this  play  the  scene  lies  in  London, 
but  there  is  otherwise  hardly  any  variation  in  the  incidents; 
and  there  is  no  novelty  introduced,  except  Bellamira  and 
Merryman's  plot  of  robbing  Dangerfield,  the  braggart  captain 
of  the  piece,  ian  incident  evidently  borrowed  from  Shakspeare's 
Henry  IV. 

Heautontimarumenos.    The  chief  plot  of  this  play,  which  I 
think  on  the  whole  the  least  happy  eflTort  of  Terence's  imita- 
tion, and  which,  of  all  his  plays,  is  the  most  foreigh  from  our 
manners,  is  taken,  like  the  last-mentioned  drama,  from  Menan- 
der.     It  derives  its  Greek  appellation  from  the  voluntary  pun- 
ishment inflicted  on  himself  by  a  father,  who,  having  driven 
his  son  into  banishment  by  excess  of  severity,  avenges  him^ 
by  retiring  to  the  country,  where  he  partakes  only  of  the  hard- 
est fare,  and  labours  the  ground  with  his  own  hands.    The 
deep  parental  distress,  however,  of  Menedemus,  with  which 
the  play  opens,  forms  but  an  inconsiderable  part  of  it,  as  the 
son,  Clinia,  returns  in  the  second  act,  and  other  incidents  of 
a  comic  cast  are  then  interwoven  with  the  drama.     The  plan 
of  Clitopho's  mistress  bein^  brought  to  the  house  both    of 
Menedemus  and  his  neighbour  Chremes,  in  the  character  of 
Clinia's  mistress,  has.  given  rise  to  some  amusing  situations  : 
but  the  devices  adopted  by  the  slave  Syrus,  to  deceive    and 
cheat  the  two  old  men,  are  too  intricate,  and  much  less  inge- 
nious ^han  those  of  a  similar  description  in  most  other   Latin 
plays.     One  of  his  artifices,  however,  in  order  to  melt   the 
heart  of  Chremes,  by  persuading  him  that  Clitopho  thinks  he  i^ 
not  his  son,  has  been  much  applauded ;  particularly  the    pre 
paration  for  this  stratagem,  where,  wisely  concluding  th^t  on« 
would  best  contribute  to  the  imposition  who  was  himselr  do< 


TERENCE  ISf) 

ceiled,  he,  m  the  first  place,  makes  Clitopho  believe  that  he 
18  not  the  son  of  his  reputed  father. 

Terence  himself,  in  his  prologue,  has  called  this  play  double, 
probably  in  allusion  to  the  two  plots  which  it  contains.  Julius 
Scaliger  absurdly  supposes  that  it  was  so  termed  because  one 
baJf  of  the  play  was  represented  in  the  eyeoing,  and  the  other 
half  on  the  following  morning*.  It  has  been  more  plausibly 
conjectured,  that  the  original  plot  of  the  Greek  play  was  sim- 
ple, ponsisting  merely  of  the  character  of  the  Self-tormentor 
Menedemus,  the  love  of  his  son  CUnia  for  Antiphila,  and  the 
discovery  of  the  real  condition  of  his  mistress;  but  that  Te- 
rence had  added  to  this  single  fable,  either  from  his  own 
invention,  or  from  some  other  Greek  play,  the  passion  of  Cli- 
topho for  Bacchis,  and  the  devices  of  the  slave  in  order  to 
extract  money  from  old  Chremesf .  These  two  fables  are 
connected  by  the  poet  with  much  ort,  and  form  a  double 
intrigue,  instead  of  the  simple  argument  of  the  Greek  original. 

Diderot  has  objected  strongly  to  the  principal  subject  which 
gives  name  to  this  play,  and  to  the  character  of  the  self-tor- 
menting father.  Tragedy,  he  says,  represents  individual  cha- 
racters, Uke  those  of  Regulus,  Orestes,  and  Cato ;  but  the 
chief  characters  io  comedy  should  represent  a  class  or  spe- 
cies, and  if  they  only  resemble  individuals,  the  comic  drama 
would  revert  to  what  it  was  in  its  infancy. — ^'  Mais  on  peut 
dire,"  continues  he,  *^  que  ce  pere  la  n'est  pas  dans  la  nature. 
Vne  grande  ville  foumiroit  a  peine  dans  un  siecle  I'example 
<)W  afiiictioii  aussi  bizarre."  It  is  observed  in  the  Specter 
^^f  on  the  other  hand,  that  though  there  is  not  in  the  whole 
drama  one  passage  that  could  raise  a  laugh,  it  is  from  begin- 
ning to  end  the  most  peffect  picture  of  human  life  that  ever 
was  exhibited.  '  • 

There  has  been  a  great  contest,  particularly  among  the 
French  critics,  whether  theninities  of  time  and  place  be  pre- 
served in  EkauUmtimorumenos.  In  the  year  1640,  Menage 
had  a  conversational  dispute,  on  this  subject,  with  the  Abbe 
D'AubignaCy  with  whom  he  at  that  period  lived  on  terms  of 
the  most  intimate  friendship.  The  latter,  who  contended  for 
the  strictest  interpretation  of  the  unities,  first  put  his  argu- 
ments in  writing,  but  without  his  name,  in  his  "  Discours  sur 
la  troisieme  comedie  de  Terence ;  contre  ceux  qui  pensent 
<iu'elle  n'est  pas  dans  les  regies  anciennes  du  poeme  drama- 
tique."  Menage  answered  him  in  his  "Reponse  au  discours,' 
^•;  and,  in  1-650,  he  published  both  in  his  Miscellanea^ 

*  Pod,  Lib.  y I.  c.  3.  t  Signorem.  Storia  de  I^atri,  Tom.  11.  p.  129. 

t  No.  562. 

Vol.  I.— Y 


186  TERENCE. 

without  leave  6f  the  author  of  the  Discaurs.  This,  and  some 
disrespectful  expressions  employed  in  the  Repan^e^  gave  mor- 
tal offence  to  the  Abbe,  who,  in  1655,  wrote  a  reply  to  the 
answer,  entitled  "  Terence  Justifie,  &c.  contre  les  Erreurs  de 
Maistre  Gilles  Menage,  Avocat  en  Parlement."  This  desig- 
nation of  Maistre,  proved  intolerable  to  the  feelings  of  Me- 
nage. Hearing  that  the  tract  was  full  of  injurious  expressions, 
he  declared  publicly  and  solemnly,  that  he  never  would  read 
it;  but  being  afterwards  urged  to  peruse  it  by  some  good- 
natured  friends,  he  consulted  the  casuists  of  the  Sorbonne, 
and  the  College  of  Jesuits,  on  the  point  of  conscience ;  and 
having  at  last  read  it  with  their  approval ,  he  wrote  a  full 
reply,  which  was  not  published  till  after  the  death  of  his 
opponents 

In  these  various  tracts,  it  was  maintained  by  the  Abbe, 
that  unity  of  time  was  most  strictly  preserved  in  the  Heauton- 
timorumenoa,  as  a  less  period  than  twelve  hours  was  supposed 
to  pass  during  the  representation,  the  longest  space  to  which, 
by  the  rules  of  the  drama,  it  could  be  legitimately  prolonged. 
Of  course  he  adduces  arguments  and  citations,  tending  to 
restrict,  as  far  as  possible,  the  period  of  the  dramatic  action. 
In  the  third  scene  of  the  second  act,  it  is  said  vespera$citf 
and  in  the  first  scene  of  the  third  act,  Luciacii  hoc  jam. 
Now  the  Abbe,  giving  to  the  term  vesperascU  the  significa- 
tion, '<  It  is  already  night,"  was  of  opinion,  that  the  action 
commenced  as  late  as  seven  or  eight  in  the  evening,  when 
Menedemus  returned  to  Athens  from  his  farm ;  that  the  scene 
of  the  drama  is  supposed  to  pass  during  the  Pithoegia,  or  fes- 
tivals of  Bacchus,  held  in  April,,  at  which  season  not  more 
than  nine  hours  intervened  between  twilight  and  dawn  ;  that 
the  festival  eontinued  the  whole  rtight,  and  that  none  of  the 
characters  went  to  bed,  so  that  the  continuity  of  action  was 
no  more  broken  than  the  unity  of  time.     Menage,  on  the 
other  hand,  contended  that  at  least  fifteen  hours  must  be 
granted  to  the  dramatic  action,  but  that  this  extension  implied 
no  violation  of  the  dramatic  unities,  which,  according  to  the 
precepts  of  Aristotle,  would  not  have  been  broken,  even  if 
twenty-four  hours  had  been  allotted.     He  successfully  shews, 
however,  that  fifteen  hours,  at  least,  mu^t  be  allowed.     Ac- 
cording to  him,  the  play  opens  early  in  the  evening,  while 
Menedemus  is  yet  labouring  in  his  field.     The  festivals  were 
in  February ;  and  he  proves,  from  a  minute  Examination,  that 
the  incidents  which  foUow  after  it  is  declared  -  that  luciscit^ 
must  have  occupied  fully  three  hours.     Some  of  the  charac- 
ters, he  thinks,  retired  to  rest,  but  no  void  was  thereby  left 
in  the  action,  as  the  two  lovers,  Bacchis,  and  the  slaves,  sat 


TERENCE.  187 

tip  arranging  their  amorous  stratagems.  Madame  Dacier 
adopted  the  opinion  of  Aubignac,  which  she  fortified  by  re- 
ference to  a  wood  engraving  in  a.  very  ancient  M^.  in  the 
Rojal  Library,  which  represents  Menedemus  as  having  quit- 
ted his  ivork  in  the  fields,  and  as  bearing  away  his  implements 
of  husbandry. 

The  poet  bein^  perhaps  aware  that  the  action  of  this  co- 
medy was  exceptionable,  and  that  the  dramatic  unities  were 
not  preserved  in  the  most  rigid  sense  of  the  term,  has  appa- 
rently exerted  himself  to  compensate  for  these  deficiencies  by 
the  introduction  of  many  beautiful  moral  maxims :  and  by 
that  purity  of  style,  which  distinguishes  all  his  productions, 
but  which  shines,  perhaps,  most  brightly  in  the  Ueautontimo^ 

That  part  of  the  plot  of  this  comedy,  where  Clitopho's  mis- 
tress is  introduced  as  Clinia's  mistress,  into  the  house  of  b(ith 
the  old  men,  has  given  rise  to  Chapman's  comedy,  Ml  FooUa^ 
which  was  first  printed  in  1605,  4to.,  and  was  a  favourite 
production  in  its  day.  In  this  play,  by  the  contrivance  of 
Rynaldo,  the  younger  son  of  Marc  Antonio,  a  lady  called 
Gratiana,  privately  married  to  his  elder  brother  Fortunio,  is 
introduced,  and  allowed  to  remain  fqr  some  time  at  the  house 
of  their  father,  by  persuading  him  that  she  is  the  wife  of 
Valeric,  the  son  of  one  of  his  neighbours,  who  had  married 
her  against  his  parent's  inclination,  and  that  it  would  be  an 
act  of  kindness  to  give  her  shelter,  till  a  reconciliation  could 
be  effected.  By  this  means  Fortunio  enjoys  the  society  of  his 
bride,  and  Valeric,  her  pretended  husband,  has,  at  the  same 
time,  an  admirable  opportunity  of  continuing  his  courtship  of 
BelJonora,  the  daughter  of  Marc  Antonio. 

Addphi. — ^1  he  principal  subject  of  this  drama  is  usually 
supposed  to  have  been  taken  from  Menander's  Addphoi;  but 
it  appears  that  Alexis,  the  uncle  of  Menander,  also  wrote  a 
comedy,  entitled  Addphoi  ;  so  that  perhaps  the  elegant  Latin 
copy  may  have  been  as  much  indebted  to  the  uncle's  as  to  the 
nephew's  performance,  for  the  delicacy  of  its  characters  and 
the  charms  of  its  dialogue.  We  are  informed,  however,  in 
the  prologue,  that  the  part  of  the  drama  in  which  the  music 
girl  is  carried  off  from  the  pander,  has  been  taken  from  the 
^yyMpo^Anescon^ea  of  Diphilus.  That  comedy,  though  the 
version  is  now  lost,  had  been  translated  by  Plautus,  under  the 
title  of  Ccmmorientes.  He  had  left  out  the  incidents,  how- 
ever, concerning  the  music  girl,  and  Terence  availed  himself 
of  this  omission  to  interweave  them  with  the  principal  plot  of 
his  delightful  drama — *'  Minus  existimans  laudis  proprias  scri- 
bere  quam  Graecas  transferre.'^ 


188  TERENCE 

The  title,  which  is  supposed  to  be  imperfect,  is  deriTed 
from  two  brothers,  on  whose  contrasted  characters  the  chief 
subject  and  amusement,  of  the  piece  depend.  Demea,  the 
elder,  who  lived  in  the  country,  had  past  his  days  in  thrift  and 
labour,  and  was  remarkable  fot  his  severe  penurious  disposi- 
tion. Micio,  the  younger  brother,  was,  on  the  contrary,  dis- 
tinguished by  his  indulgent  and  generous  temper.  Being  a 
bachelor,  he  had  adopted  iEschinus,  his  brother's  eldest  son, 
whom  he  brought  up  without  lay  ins  much  restraint  on  his 
conduct.  Ctesipho,  the  other  son  of  Demea,  was  educated 
with  great  strictness  by  his  father,  who  boasted  of  the  regular 
and  moral  behaviour  of  this  child,  which,  as  he  thought,  was 
so  strongly  contrasted  with  the  excesses  of  him  who  had  been 
reared  under  the  charge  of  his  brother.  iEschinus  at  length 
carries  off  a  music  girl  from  the   slave-merchant,  in  whose 

Kssession  she  was.  Hence  fresh  indignation  on  the  part  of 
imea,  and  new  self-congratulation  on  the  system  of  educa- 
tion he  had  pursued  with  Ctesipho :  Hence,  too,  the  deepest 
distress  on  the  part  of  an  unfortunate  girl,  to  whom  ^schinus 
had  promised  marriage ;  and  also  of  her  relations,  at  this  proof 
of  his  alienated  affections.  At  last,  however,  it  is  discovered 
that  JBschinus  had  run  off  with  the  music  girl,  for  the  sake, 
and  at  the  instigation,  of  his  brother  Ctesiphp.  The  play  ac- 
cordingly concludes  with  the  union  of  ^schinus  and  the  girl 
to  whom  he  was  betrothed,  and  the  total,  change  of  disposi- 
tion on  the  part  of  Demea,  who  now  becomes  so  complete  a 
convert  to  the  system  of  Micio,  that  he  allows  his  son  to  re- 
tain the  music  girl  as  his  mistress. 

The  plot  of  the  ^ddphi  msty  thus  be  perhaps  considered  as 
double ;  but  the  interest  which  iEschinus  takes  in  Ctesipho's 
amour,  combines  their  loves  so  naturally,  that  they  can  hardly 
be  considered  as  distinct  or  separate  ;  and  the  details  by  which 
the  plot  is  carried  on,  are  managed  with  such  infinite  skill, 
that  the  intrigue  of  at  least  four  acts  of  the  Addphi  is  more 
artfully  conducted  than  that  of  any  other  piece  of  Terence. 
At  the  conunencement  of  the  play,  Micio  summons  his  ser- 
vant Storax,  whom  he  had  sent  to  find  out  ^schinus ;  but  as 
the  servant  does  not  appear,  Miqio  concludes  that  the  youth 
had  not  yet  returned  from  the  place  where  he  had  supped  on 
the  preceding  evening,  and  is  in  consequence  overwhelmed 
with  all  the  tender  anxiety  of  a  father  concerning  an  absent 
son.  This  alarm  gives  us  some  insight  into  the  character  of 
the  young  man,  and  explains  the  interest  Micio  takes  in  his 
welfare,  without  shewing  too  plainly  the  art  and  design  of  the 
author.  His  uneasiness,  by  naturally  leading  him  to  reflect  on 
the  situation  of  the  family,  and  the  doubtful  part  he  had  him- 


TERENCE.  189 

self  acted,  brings  in  less  awkwardly  than  usual  one  of  those 
long  goliloqutes,  in  which  the  domestic  affairs  of  the  speaker 
are  explained  by  him  for  the  sake  of  the  audience.  .  Demea  is 
then  introduced,  having  just  learned,  on  his  arrival  in  the  city, 
that  .£9chinus  had  carried  off  the  music  girl.     His  character 
and  predominant  feelings  are  finely  marked  in  the  account 
which  he  gives  of  this  outrage,  dwelling  on  every  minute  par- 
ticular, and  exaggerating  the  offences  of  iEschinus.     This 
passage,  too,  acquires  additional  zest  and  relish,  on  a  second 
pemsalof  the  play,  when  it  is  known  that  the  son  so  much  com- 
mended is  chiefly  in  fault.     The  grief  of  the  mother  of  the 
girl,  who  was  betrothed  to  iEschinus,  and  the  honest  indigna- 
tion of  her  faithful  old  servant  Geta,  are  highly  interesting. 
The  interview  of  Micio  with  his  adopted  son,  after  he  had  dis- 
corered  the  circumstances  of  this  connection,  is  eminently 
beantiful.    His  delicate  reproof  for  the  young  man's  want  of 
confidence,  in  not  communicating  to  him  the  state  of  his  heart 
—the  touches  of  good  humour,  mildness,  and  affection,  which 
may  be  traced  in  every  line  of  Micio's  part  of  the  dialogue,  as 
well  as  the  natural  bursts  of  passion,  and  ingenuous  shame,  in 
iGschinus,  are  perhaps  more  characteristic  of  the  tender  and 
elegant  genius  of  Terence,  than  any  other  scene  in  his  dramas. 
But  the  triumph  of  comic  art,  is  the  gradation  of  Demea's  an- 
ger and  distresses — his  perfect  conviction  of  the  sobriety  of 
his  son,  who,  he  is  persuaded  by  Syrus,  had  shewn  the  utmost 
indignation  at  the  conduct  of  iEschinus,  and  had  gone  to  the 
country  in  disgust,  when  in  fact  he  was  at  that  moment  seated 
at  a  feast — then  his  perplexity  on  not  finding  him  at  the  farm, 
and  his  learning  that  ^schinus,  having  violated  a  free  citizen, 
was  about  to  be  married  to  her,  though  she  had  no  portion. 
Even  his  meeting  Syrus  intoxicated  augments  his  rage,  at  the 
general  libertinism  and  extravagance  of  the  family.     At  length 
the  climax  of  events  is  finally  completed,  by  discovering  that 
the  music  girl  had  been  carried  off  for  the  sake  of  his  favourite 
^n,  and  by  finding  him  at  a  carousal  with  his  brother's  disso- 
lute family. 

With  this  incident  the  fable  naturally  concludes,  and  it  is 
perhaps  to  be  regretted  that  Terence  had  not  also  ended  the 
dnuna  with  the  third  scene  of  the  fifth  act,  where  Demea 
breaks  in  upon  the  entertainment.  The  conversion  of  De- 
niea,  indeed,  with  which  the  remaining  scenes  are  occupied, 
grows  out  of  the  preceding  events.  He  had  met,  during  the 
course  of  the  play,  with  many  mortifications — hi?  anger,  com- 
plaints, and  aidvice,  had  been  all  neglected  and  slighted — he 
had  seen  his  brother  loved  and  followed,  and  found  himself 
shunned ;  but  such  a  change  in  long-cqnfirmed  habits  could 


190  TERENCE. 

bardljr  have  been  effected  in  so  short  a  period,  or  by  a  single 
lesson,  however  striking  and  important.  His  complaisancei 
too,  is  awkward,  and  his  generosity  is  evidently  about  to  run 
into  profusion. 

But  if  ail  this  be  an  impropriety,  what  shall  we  say  of  the 
gross  absurdity  of  Micio,  a  bachelor  of  sixty-five,  marrying  an 
old  woman,  the  mother  of  iEschinus'  bride,  (and  whom  he  had 
never  seen  but  once,)  merely  out  of  complaisance  to  his  friends^ 
who  seemed  to  have  no  motive  in  making  the  request,  except 
that  she  was  quite  solitary,  had  nobody  to  care  for  her,  and 
was  long  past  child-bearing — 


-— ***  Parere  jam  diu  hmc  per  annoa  non  potest : 
Nee,  qui  earn  reapiciat,  quisquam  eat;  sola  est.' 


i> 


Micio  had  all  along  been  represented  as  possessed -of  so  muck 
iudgnient,  good  sense,  and  knowledge  of  the  world,  that  this 
last  piece  of  extravagance  destroys  the  interest  we  had  pre- 
viously felt  in  the  character.  Donatus,  who  has  given  us  some 
curious  information  in  his  excellent  commentary  on  Terence^ 
with  regard  to  the  manner  in  which  he  had  altered  his  come- 
dies from  the  original  Greek,  says,  that  in  the  play  of  M enao- 
der,  the  old  Bachelor  has  no  reluctance  at  entering  into  a  state 
of  matrimony. — ^^  Apud  Menandrum,  Senex  de  nuptiis  non 

Savatur."  The  English  translatpr  of  Terence  thinks,  that 
e  Latin  poet,  by  making  Micio  at  first  express  a  repugnance 
to  the  proposed  match,  has  improved  on  his  model ;  but  it  ap- 
pears to  me,  that  this  only  mcdces  his  unbounded  complaisance 
more  improbable  and  ridiculous.  Indeed  the  incongruity  and 
inconsistence  of  the  concluding  scenes  of  the  Adelphi^  have 
been  considered  so  great,  that  a  late  Germah  translator  of 
Terence  has  supposed  that  they  did  not  form  a  component  part 
of  the  regular  comedy,  but  were  in  fact  the  Exodiunit  a  sort 
of  afterpiece,  in  which  the  characters  of  the  preceding  play 
were  usually  represented  in  grotesque  situations,  and  with 
overcharged  colours^. 

So  much  for  the  plot  of  the  Addphi,  and  the  incidents  by 
which  the  conclusion  is  brought  about.  With  regard  to  the 
characters  of  the  piece,  iEschinus  is  an  excellent  delineation 
of  the  elegant  ease  and  indifference  of  a  fine  gentleman.  In 
one  scene,  however,  he  is  represented  as  a  lover,  full  of  tender- 
ness, and  keenly  alive  to  all  the  anxieties,  fears,  and  emotions 
of  the  passion  by  which  he  is  aflected.  In  the  parts  of  Demea 
and  Micio,  the  author  has  violated  the  precept  of  Horace  with 
regard  to  a  dramatic  character : 

*  Schmeider^Terenz.  Halle>  1794. 


TERENCE.  191 

"  Servetarid'iffifu 

ab  ]|icepto  pioceneiit,  et  sibi  constat" 

During  four  acts,  however,  the  churlishness  of  Demea  is  well 
contrasted  with  the  mildness  of  Micio,  whose  fondness  and  par- 
tiality for  his  adopted  son  are  extremely  pleasing.  ^'  One 
great  theatrical  resource,"  says  Gibbon,  '*  is  the  opposition 
and  contrast  of  characters  which  thus  display  each  otner.  The 
severity  of  Demea,  and  easiness  of  Micio,  throw  mutual  light ; 
and  we  could  not  be  so  well  acquainted  with  the  misanthropy 
of  Alceste,  were  it  not  for  the  fashionable  complaisant  cha- 
racter of  Philinte*."  Accordingly,  in  the  modern  drama,  we 
often  find,  that  if  one  of  the  lovers  be  a  gay  companion,  the 
other  is  grave  and  serious  ;  like  Frankly  and  Bellamy,  in  the 
Suspicious  Hnaband,  or  Absolute  and  Faulkland  in  the  Rivals. 
Yet  in  the  Adelphi^  the  contrast,  perhaps,  is  too  direct,  and  too 
constantly  obtruded  on  the  attention  of  the  audience.  It  has 
the  appearance  of  what  is  called  antithesis  in  writing,  and,  in 
the  conduct  of  the  drama,  has  the  same  effect  as  that  figure  in 
composition  Diderot,  in  his  Essay  on  Dramatic  Poetry^  also 
objects  to  these  two  contrasted  characters,  that,  being  drawn 
with  equal  force,  the  moral  intention  of  the  drama  is  rendered 
equivocal ;  and  that  we  have  something  of  the  same  feeling 
which  every  one  has  experienced  while  reading  the  Misan- 
thrope of  Moliere,  in  which  we  can  never  tell  whether  Aloeste 
or  Philinte  is  most  in  the  right,  or,  more  properly  speaking, 
farthest  in  the  wrong. — "On  diroit,"  continues  he,  "  au  com- 
mencement do  cinquieme  acte  des  Addphes,  que  I'auteur,  em- 
barasse  du  contraste  qu'il  avoit  etabli,  a  etc  contraint  d'aban- 
donner  son  but  et  de  renverser  I'interet  de  sa  piece.  Mais 
qu'est  il  arrive  :  c'est  qu'on  ne  scait  plus  a  qui  s'interesser ;  et 
qu'apres  avoit  ete  pour  Micion  centre  Demea,  on  finit  sans 
savoir  pour  qui  Ton  est.  On  desireroit  presque  un  troisieme 
pere  qui  tint  le  milieu  entre  ces  deux  personnages,  et  qui  en  fit 
connoitre  le  vice."  \* 

It  is  not  unlikely,  however,  that  this  sort  of  uncertainty 
was  just  the  intention  of  Terence,  or  rather  of  Menander.  It 
was  probably  their  design  to  show  the  disadvantages  resulting 
from  each  mode  of  education  pursued,  and  hence,  by  an  easy 
inference,  to  point  out  the  golden  mean  which  ought  to  be 
preserved  by  fathers ;  for,  if  Demea  be  unreasonably  severe, 
the  indulgence  of  Micio  is  excessive,  and  his  connivance  at 
the  disorders  of  Ctesipho,  which  he  even  assisted  him  to  sup^ 
port,  is  as  reprehensible,  as  the  extraordinary  sentiment  which 
^  utters  at  the  commencement  of  the  comedy : — 

*  MUeeUaneoua  WMt$,  Vol.  IV.  p.  140. 


192  TERENCE.    . 

<*  Non  eft  flagUiiim,  mihi  erede,  adolesoentuhiiB 
ScortM>  neque  potare ;  non  e«t :  n«que  fores  eAlnfere." 

This,  though  the  breaking  doors  was  an  ordinary  piece  of 
gallantry,  is,  it  must  be  confessed,  rather  loose  morality.  Bat 
some  of  the  sentiments  in  the  drama  are  equally  •remarkable 
for  their  propriety,  and  the  knowledge  they  discover  of  the 
feelings  and  circumstances  of  mankind;  as, 

"  Omnes,  quibus  res  fliint  minus  secundae,  magls  sunt,  nescio  quomodo, 
Suspiciosi :  ad  contumeliam  omnia  acdpiunt  magis ; 
Propter  suam  impotentiam  so  temper  credunt  negKgi.'* 

And  afterwards, — 

"  Ita  vita  *flt  hominum,  quasi,  quum  ludas  tesseris ; 
Si  iUud,  quod  maxime  opus  est  jactu,  non  cadit, 
Illud,  quod  cecidit  forte,  id  arte  ut  corrigas. 

m  *  0  0  * 

Nunquam  ita  quisquam  bene  subducta  ratione  ad  vitam  fuit, 
Quin  res,  etas,  usus,  semper  aliquid  adportet  novi, 
Aliquid  moneat,  ut  iUa,  que  te  scire  credas,  nesdas ; 
Etque  tibiputaiis  prima,  in  ezpeiiundo  lepudies.' 


n 


A  play  possessing  so  many  excellencies  as  the  Addpkit 
could  scarcely  fail  to  be  frequently  imitated  by  modern  dra- 
matists. It  has  generally  been  said,  that  Moliere  borrowed 
from  the  Adelphi  his  ccxnedy  UEccie  des  Maria,  where  the 
brothers  Sganarelle  and  Ariste,  persons  of  very  opposite  dis- 
positions, bring  up  two  young  ladies  intrusted  to  their  care  on 
different  systems ;  the  one  allowing  a  proper  liberty — ^the  other, 
who  wished  to  marry  his  ward,  employing  a  constant  restraint, 
which,  however,  did  not  prevent  her  from  contriving  to  elope 
with  a  favoured  lover.  The  chief  resemblance  consists  in  the 
characters  of  the  two  guardians — in  some  of  the  discussions, 
which  they  hold  together  on  their  opposite  systems  of  ma- 
nagement— and  some  observations  in  soliloquy  on  each  other's 
folly.  Thus,  for  example,  ^emea,  the  severe*  brother  in  Te- 
rence, exclaims : 


-«« O  Jupiter, 


Hancdne  yitam !  hosdne  mores !  banc  dementiam ! 
Uxor  sine  dote  veniet :  intus  Psaltiia  est : 
Domus  sumptuosa :  adolescens  luxu  perditus : 
Senez  delirans.    Ipsa,  si  cupiat,  Salus, 
Servare  proreus  non  potest  banc  lamiliam*.' 


9> 


In  like  manner,  Sganarelle,  the  corresponding  character  A 
Moliere : — 

*  MelpK  Act  4.  flc.  7. 


TERENCte.  193 

"  Quelle  belle  famiUe !  an  Tieillard  iDseiis^ ! 
Une  fille  maitresse  et  coquette  suptftuie ! 
Dee  valets  impudente  f  Nod,  la  Sagesse  mdme 
N'en  vieDdroit  pas  ^  bout,  perdroit  seus  et  raiion, 
A  vouloir  coniger  une  telle  maison*.'* 

Indeed,  were  it  not  for  the  minute  reflemblance  of  particular 
passages,  I  would  think  it  as  likely,  that  Moliere  had  been 
indebted  for  the  leading  idea  of  his  comedy  to  the  second 
tale  of  the  eighth  night  of  Straparola,  an  Italian  novelist  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  from  whom  he  unquestionably  borrowed 
the  plot  of  his  admirable  comedy,  VEcole  des  Femmes,  Tlie 
principal  amusement,  however,  in  the  Ecole  des  Maria,  which 
consists  of  Isabelle  complaining  to  her  guardian,  Sganarelle, 
of  her  lover,  Valere,  has  been  suggested  by  the  third  novel, 
in  the  third  day  of  Boccaccio's  Decameron. 

A  much  closer  imitation  of  the  Adelphi  than  the-  Ecole  des 
Maris  of  Moliere  may  be  found  in  the  Ecole  des  Peres,  by 
Baron,  author  of  the  Jlndrienne,  The  genius  of  this  cele* 
brated  actor  seems  to  have  been  constrained  by  copying  from 
Terence,  which  has  deprived  his  drama  of  all  air  of  originality, 
while,  at  the  same  time,  his  alterations  are  such  as  to  render 
it  but  an  imperfect  image  of  the  Adelphi.  It  were,  therefore, 
to  be  wished,  that  he  had  adhered  more  closely  to  the  Roman 
poet,  or,  like  Moliere,  deviated  from  him  still  farther.  His 
exhibition  of  Clarice  and  Pamphile,  the  mistresses  of  the  two 
yoang  men,  on  the  stage,  has  no  better  effect  than  the  intro* 
doction  of  Glycerium  in  his  Andrienne.  The  characters  of 
TeiaiQon  and  Alcee  are  so  altered,  as  to  preserve  neither  the 
strength  nor  delicacy  of  those  of  Micio  and  Demea;  while  the 
change  of  disposition,  which  the  severe  father  undergoes  in 
the  fifth  act,  has  been  neither  rejected  nor  retained :  He  ac- 
cedes to  the  proposals  for  his  children's  happiness,  but  his 
complaisance  is  evidently  forced  and  sarcastic ;  and  he  ulti- 
lately,  in  a  fit  of  bad  humour,  breaks  off  all  connection  with 
his  family: 

*<  J'abandomie  lea  Bnis,  lea  Enftos,  et  le  Frere ; 
Je  oe  saurois  deja  les  soufinr  sans  horreur, 
Et  je  lea  donne  tous  au  diable  de  bon  coeur." 


Diderot  had  evidently  his  eye  on  the  characters  of  Micio 
and  Demea  in  drawing  those  of  M.  d'Orbesson  and  Le  Coro- 
mandeur,  in  his  Comedie  LarmoyatUe,  entitled  Le  Pere  de 
Pamille.  The  scenes  between  the  Pere  de  Famille  and  his 
^n,  St  Albin,  who  had  long  secretly  visited  Sophie,  an  un- 


*  EeoU  des  MarUf  Act  1.  sc.  2. 

Vol.  I.— Z 


184  TERENCE. 

known  girl  in  indigent  circumstances,  seem  formed  on  the 
beautiful  dialogue,  already  mentioned,  which  passes  between 
Micio  and  his  adopted  child. 

The  Addphi  is  also  the  origin  of  ShadwelPs  comedy,  the 
Squire  of  Alsatia,    Spence,  in  his  Anecdotes* y  says,  on  the 
authority  of  Dennis  the  critic,  that  the  story  on  which  the 
Squire  ofAlaatia  was  built,  was  a  true  fact.     That  the  whole 
plot  is  founded  on  fact,  I  think  very  improbable,  as  it  coincides 
most  closely  with  that  of  the  Adelphi.     Sir  William  and  Sir 
Edward  Belfond  are  the  two  brothers,  while  Belfond  senior 
and  junior  correspond  to  ^schinus  and  Ctesipho.    The  chief 
alteration,  and  that  to  which  Dennis  probably  alluded,  is 
the  importance  of  the  part  assigned  to  Belfond  senior;  who, 
having  come  to  London,  is  beset  and  cozened  by  all  sorts  of 
bankrupts  and  cheats,  inhabitants  of  Alsatia,  (Whitefriars,) 
and  by  their  stratagems  is  nearly  inveigled  into  a  marriage 
with  Mrs  Termagant,  a  woman  of  infamous  character,  and 
furious  temper.     The  part  of  Belfond  junior  is  much  less 
agreeable  than  that  of  iElschinus.     His  treatment  of  Lucia 
evinces,  in  the  conclusion,  a  hard-hearted  infidelity,  which  we 
are  little  disposed  to  pardon,  especially  as  we  feel  no  interest 
in  his  new  mistress,  Isabella.     On  the  whole,  though  the  plots 
be  nearly  the  same,  the  tone  of  feeling  and  sentiment  are  ?erf 
different,  and  the  English  comedy  is  as  remote  from  the  Latin 
original,  as  the  grossest  vulgarity  can  be  from  the  most  simple 
and  courtly  elegance.    The  Squire  of  Alsatia,  however,  took 
exceedingly  at  first  as  an  occasional  play.    It  discovered  the 
cant  terms,  that  were  before  not  generally  known,  except  to 
cheats  themselves ;  and  was  a  good  deal  instrumental  towards 
causing  the  great  nest  of  villains  in  the  metropolis  to  be  regu- 
lated by  public  authbrityf . 

In  Cumberland's  Chderic  Mariy  the  chief  characters,  though 
he  seems  to  deny  it  in  his  dedicatory  epistle  to  DetractioD, 
have  also  been  traced  after  those  of  the  Adelphi.  The  love 
intrigues,  indeed,  are  difl'erent;  but  the  parts  of  the  half- 
brothers,  Manlove  and  Nightshade,  (the  choleric-man,)  are 
evidently  formed  on  those  of  Micio  and  Demea ;  while  the 
contrasted  education,  yet  similar  conduct,  of  the  two  sons  of 
Nightshade,  one  of  whom  had  been  adopted  by  Manlove,  and 
the  father's  rage  on  detecting  his  favourite  son  in  an  amorous 
intrigue,  have  been  obviously  suggested  by  the  behaviour  of 
£schinus  and  Ctesipho. 

The  philanthropic  speeches  of  Micio  have  been  a  constant 

•  Page  116.  I  Spencc's  Anec,  p.  116. 


TERENCE.  195 

resource  both  to  the  French  dramatists  and  our  own,  and  it 
would  be  endless  to  specify  the  various  imitations  of  his  sen- 
tiraents.  Those  of  Kno'weil,  in  Ben  Jonson's  Every  Man  in 
Hi  Humour  J  have  a  particular  resemblance  to  them.  His 
speech,  beginning— 

'<  There  is  »  way  of  winnliig  more  by  lore*,'' 

is  evidently  formed  on  the  celebrated  passage  in  Terence,— 

**  Pudote  et  liberaUtite  llberos,"  lie. 

Beeyra — Several  of  Terence's  plays  can  hardly  be  account- 
ed comedies,  if  by  that  term  be  understood,  dramas  which 
excite  laughter.     They  are  in  what  the  French  call  the  genre 
9trieux^  and  are  perhaps  the  origin  of  the  comedie  larmayanU. 
The  events  of  human  life,  for  the  most  part,  are  neither  deeply 
distressing  nor  ridiculous ;  and,  in  a  dramatic  representation 
of  such  ipcidents,  the  action  must  advance  by  embarrassments 
and  perplexities,  which,  though  below  tragic  pathos,  are  not 
calculated  to  excite  merriment.     Diderot,  who  seems  to  have 
been  a  great  student  of  the  works  of  Terence,  thinks  th^  ifd- 
cyra,  or  Mother-in-law,  should  be  classed  among  the  serious 
dramas.    It  exhibits  no.  buffoonery,  or  tricks  of  slaves,  or  ridi- 
culous parasite,  or  extravagant  braggart  captain ;  but  contains 
a  beautiful  and  delightful  picture  of  private  life,  and  those 
distresses  which  ruflle  '^  the  smooth  current  of  domestic  joy." 
It  was  taken  from  a  play  of  Apollodorus;  but,  as  Donatus  in- 
forms us,  was  abridged  from  the  Greek  comedy, — many  things 
having  been  represeirted  in  the  original,  which,  in  the  imita- 
tion, are  only  related.     In  the  Hecyra^  a  young  man,  called 
Pamphilus,  had  long  refused  to  marry,  on  account  of   his 
attachment  to  the  courtezan  Bacchis.     He  is  at  length,  how- 
e/er,  constrained  by  his  father  to  choose  a  wife,  whose  gentle- 
ness and  modest  behaviour  soon  wean  his  affections  from  his 
mistress.     Pamphilus  being  obliged  to  leave  home  for  some 
time,  his  wife,  on  pretence  of  a  quarrel  with  her  mother-in- 
law,  quits  his  father's  house ;  and  Pamphilus,  on  his  return 
home,  finds,  that  she  had  given  birth  to  a  child,  of  which  he 
supposed  that  he  could  not  have  been  the  father.     His  wife^ 
mother  begs  him  to  conceal  her  disgrace,  which  he  promises; 
and  affecting  extraordinary  filial  piety,  assigns  as  his  reason 
for  not  bringing  her  home,  the  capricious  behaviour  of  which 
^be  had  been  guilty  towards  bis  mother.    That  lady,  in  con- 

^  Act  1.  fc.  1. 


i_« 


19G  TERENCE. 

seqaence,  offers  to  retire  to  the  country*  Pamphilus  is  thus 
reduced  to  the  utmost  perplexity ;  and  all  plausible  excuses  for 
not  receiving  his  wife  having  failed,  his  father  suspects  that 
he  had  renewed  his  intercourse  with  Bacchis.  He,  accord- 
ingly, sends  for  that  courtezan,  who  denies  the  present  exis- 
tence of  any  correspondence  with  his  son ;  and,  being  eager 
to  clear  the  character  as  well  as  to  secure  the  happiness  of 
her  former  lover,  she  offers  to  confian  her  testimony  before 
the  family  of  the  wife  of  Pamphilus.  During  the  interview 
which  she  in  consequence  obtains,  that  lady's  mother  per- 
ceives  on  her  hand  a  ring  whic^  had  once  belonged  to  her 
daughter,  and  which  Bacchis  now  acknowledges  to  have 
received  from  Pamphilus,  as  one  which  he  had  taken  from  a 

Sirl  whom  he  had  violated,  but  had  never  seen.     It  is  thus 
iscovered  by  Pamphilus,  that  the  lady  to  whom  he  had  offered 
this  injurv  before  marriage  was  his  own  wife,  and  that  he  him- 
self was  father  of  the  child  to  whom  she  had  just  given  birth. 
The  fable  of  this  play  is  more  simple  than  that  of  Terence's 
other  performances,  in  all  of  which  he  had  recourse  to  the 
expedient  of  double  plots.     This,  perhaps,  was  partly  the 
reason  of  its  want  of  success  on  its  first  and  second  represen- 
tations.    When  first  brought  forward,  in  the  year  589,  it  was 
interrupted  by  the  spectators  leaving  the  theatre,  attracted  by 
the  superior  interest  of  a  boxing-match,  and  rope-dancers.    A 
combat  of  gladiators  had  the  Tike  unfortunate  effect  when  it 
was  attempted  to  be  again  exhibited,  in  694.    The  celebrated 
actor,  L.  Ambivius,  encouraged  by  the  success  which  he  had 
experienced  in  reviving  the  condemned  plays  of  Ccecilius, 
ventured  to  produce  it  a  third  time  on  the  stage*,  when  it 
reco'ved   a  patient  hearing,  and   was   frequently  repeated. 
Still,  however,  most  of  the  old  critics  and  commentators  speak 
of  it  as  greatly  inferior  to  the  other  plays  of  Terence.     Bishop 
Hurd,  on  the  contrary,  in  his  notes  on  Horace,  maintains,  that 
it  is  the  only  one  of  his  comedies  which  is  written  in  the  true 
ancient  Grecian  style ;  and  that,  for  the  genuine  beauty  of 
dramatic  design,  as  well  as  the  nice  coherence  of  the  fable, 
it  must  appear  to  every  reader  of  true  taste,  the  most  masterly 
and  exquisite  of  the  whole  collection.    Some  scenes  are  doubt- 
less very  finely  wrought  up, — as  that  between  Pamphilus  and 
his  mother,  after  he  first  suspects  the  disgrace  of  his  wife,  and 
that  in  which  it  is  revealed  to  him  by  his  wife's  mother.     The 
passage  in  the  second  scene  of  the  first  act,  containing  the 
picture  of  an  amiable  wife,  who  has  succeeded  in  effacing 
from  the  heart  of  her  husband  the  love  of  a  dissolute  cour- 

*  Prolog,  m  Hecyr.  and  Domti  Comment. 


TERENCE.  IW 

tezoa,  has  been  highly  admired.    But,  notwithstanding  these 
partial  beauties,  and  the  much-applauded  simplicity  of  the 
plot,  there  is,  I  think,  great  want  of  skilful  management  in 
the  conduct  of  the  fable ;  and  if  the  outline  be  beautiful,  it 
certainly  is  not  so  well  filled  up  as  might  have  been  expected 
&offl  the  taste  of  the  author.     In  the  commencement,  he  in- 
troduces the  superfluous  part  of  Philotis,  (who  has  no  con- 
cern in  the  plot,  and  never  appears  afterwards,)  merely  to 
listen  to  the  narrative  of  the  circumstances  and  situation  of 
those  who  are  principal  persons  in  the  drama.    It  is  likewise 
somewhat  singular,  that  Pamphilus,  when  told  by  the  mother 
of  the  injury  done  to  his  wi^,  should  not  have  remeilibered 
his  own  adventure,  and  thus  been  led  to  suspect  the  real  cir- 
cumstances.    This  communication,  toOj  ought,  as  it  probably 
did  in  the  Greek  original,  to  have  formed  a  scene  between 
Pamphilus  and  his  wife's  mother ;  but,  instead  of  this,  Pam- 
philus is  introduced  relating  to  himself  the  whole  discourse 
which  had  just  passed  between  them.     At  length,  the  issue 
of  the  fable  is  disclosed  by  another  long  soliloquy  from  the 
courtezan.  Indeed,  all  the  plays  of  Terence  abound  in  solilo- 
quies very  inartificially  introduced ;  and  there  is  none  of  them 
in  which  he  has  so  much  erred  in  this  way  as  in  the  Hecyra. 
The  wife  of  Pamphilus,  too,  the  character  calculated  to  give 
most  interest,  does  not  appear  at  all  on  the  stage ;  and  the 
whole  play  is  consumed  in  contests  between  the  mother-in- 
law  and  the  two  fathers.     The  characters  of  these  old  men, — 
the  fathers  of  Pamphilus  and  his  wife, — so  far  from  being  con- 
tra.sted,  as  in  the  Adelphi,  have  scarcely  a  shade  of  difference. 
Both  are  covetous  and  passionate ;  very  ready  to  vent  their 
bad  humour  on  their  wives  and  children,  and  very  ready  to 
exculpate  them  when  blamed  by  others.    The  uncommon  and 
delicate  situation  in  which  Pamphilus  is  placed,  exhibits  him 
in  an  interesting  and  favourable  point  of  view.     He  wishes 
to  conceal  what  had  occurred,  yet  is  scarcely  able  to  dissemble. 
Parmeno,  the  slave  of  Pamphilus,  a  lazy  inquisitive  character, 
is  humorously  kept,  through  the  whole  course  of  the  play,  in 
continual  employment,  and  total  ignorance.     Sostrata's  mild 
character,  and  the  excellent  behaviour  of  Bacchis,  show,  that 
u)  this  play,  Terence  had  attempted  an  innovation,  by  intro- 
ducing a  good  mother-in-law,  and  an  hopest^courtezan,  whose 
object  was  to  acquire  a  reputation  of  not  resembling  those  of 
her  profession.    It  appears  from  the  Letters  of  Alciphron  andr 
from  Athenseus,  that  there  actually  was  a  Greek  courtezan  of 
the  name  of  Bacchis,  distinguished  from  others  of  her  class, 
in  the  time  of  Menander,  by  disinterestedness,  and  compara- 
tive modesty  of  demeanour.  This  circumstance,  added  to  the 


^ 


198  TERENCE. 


fact  of  Menander  hating  wfitten  a  play,  entitled  Glyoeriiim, 
(which  Was  the  name  of  his  mistress,)  leads  us  to  believe,  that 
the  Greek  comedies  sometimes  represented,  not  merely  the 
general  character  of  the  courtezan,  but  individuals  of  that 
profession;  and  that  probably  the  Bacchis  of  Apollodoru8,and 
his  imitator  Terence,  may  have  been  the  courtezan  of  this 
name,  who  rejected  the  splendid  offers  of  the  Persian  Satrap, 
to  remain  the  faithful  mistress  of  the  poor  Meneclides*. 

Phormio — like  the  last  mentioned  play,  was  taken  from  the 
Greek  of  ApoUodorus,  who  called  it  Epidicazomenas.  Te« 
rence  named  it  Phormio,  from  a  parasite  whose  contrivances 
form  the  groundwork  of  the  comedy,  and  who  connects  its 
double  plot.  In  this  play  two  brothers  had  gone  abroad, 
each  leaving  a  son  at  hoine,  one  of  whom  was  called  Antipho, 
and  the  other  Phaedria,  under  care  of  their  servant  Gela. 
Antipho  having  fallen  in  love  with  a  woman  apparently  of 
mean  condition,  in  order  that  he  might  marry  her,  yet  at  the 
same  time  possess  a  plausible  excuse  to  his  father  for  his  con- 
duct, persuades  Phormio  to  assume  the  character  of  her  pa- 
tron. Phormio  accordingly  brings  a  suit  against  Antipho^  as 
her  nearest  of  kin,  and  he,  having  made  no  defence,  is  ordained 
in  this  capacity,  according  to  an  Athenian  law,  to  marry  the 
supposed  orphan.  About  the  same  time,  Phaedria,  the  other 
youth,  had  become  enamoured  of  a  music  girl ;  but  he  had 
no  money  with  which  to  redeem  her  from  the  slave  merchant. 
The  old  men,  on  their  return  home,  are  much  disconcerted  by 
the  news  of  Antipho's  marriage,  as  it  had  been  arranged  be- 
tween them  that  he  should  espouse  his  cousin.  Phormio,  at 
the  suggestion  of  Geta,  avails  himself  of  this  distress,  in  order 
to  procure  money  for  redeeming  Phaedria's  music  girl.  He 
consents  to  take  Antipho's  wife  home  to  himself,  provided  he 

{fets  a  portion  with  her,  which  being  procured,  is  immediately 
aid  out  in  the  purchase  of  Phaedria's  mistress.  After  these 
plots  are  accomplished,  it  is  discovered  that  i\ntipho's  wife  is 
the  daughter  of  his  uncle,  by  a  woman  at  Lemnos,  with  whom 
he  had  an  amour  before  marriage,  and  that  she  had  come  to 
Athens  during  his  absence  in  search  of  her  father.  This  is 
found  out  at  the  end  of  the  third  act,  but  the  play  is  injudi- 
ciously protracted,  after  the  principal  interest  is  exhausted, 
with  the  endeai^urs^of  the  old  men  to  recover  the  portion 
which  had  been  given  to  Phormio,  and  the  dread  of  Chremea 
lest  the  story  of  his  intrigue  at  Lemnos  should  come  to  the 
knowledge  of  his  wife.  The  play  accordingly  languishes  after 
the  discovery,  notwithstanding  all  the  author's  attempts  to 

*  Akijikuon,  EpistoUt, 


TERENCE.  199 

support  the  interest  of  the  piece  by  the  force  of  pleasantry 
aod  humour. 

The  double  plot  of  this  play  has  been  said  to  be  united,  by 
both  biogeing  on  the  part  of  the  parasite.  But  this  is  not  a 
sufficient  union  either  in  tragedy  or  comedy.  I  cannot,  there* 
fore,  agree  with  Colman,  *'  that  the  construction  of  the  fable 
is  extremely  artful,"  or  that  ^*  it  contains  a  vivacity  of  intrigue 
perhaps  even  superior  to  that  of  the  Eunuch,  particularly  in 
the  catastrophe.  The  diction,"  he  continues,  with  more 
truth,  "  is  pure  and  elegant,  and  the  first  act  as  chastely  writ- 
ten as  that  of  the  Self-TormerUor  itself.  The  character  of 
Phormio  is  finely  separated  from  that  of  Onatho,  and  is  bet- 
ter drawn  than  the  part  of  any  parasite  in  Plautus.  Nausis- 
trata  is  a  lively  sketch  of  a  shrewish  wife,  as  well  as  Chremes 
an  eicellent  draught  of  a  hen-pecked  husband,  and  more  in  the 
style  of  the  modern  drama  than  perhaps  any  character  in  an- 
cient comedy,  except  the  miser  of  Plautus.  There  are  also 
some  particular  scenes  and  passages  deserving  of  all  commen- 
dation, as  the  description  of  natural  and  simple  beauty  in  the 
person  of  Fannia,  and  that  in  which  Geta  and  Phaedria  try  to 
inspire  some  courage  into  Antipho,  overwhelmed  by  the 
sudden  arrival  of  his  father*." 

It  is  curious  that  this  play,  which  Donatus  says  is  founded 
on  passions  almost  too  high  for  comedy,  should  have  given 
nse  to  the  most  farcical  of  all  Moliere's  productions,  Lea  Pour- 
fxries  de  Scapin,  a  celebrated,  though  at  first  an  unsuccessful 
play,  where,  contrary  to  his  usual  practice,  he  has  burlesqued 
rather  than  added  dignity  to  the  incidents  of  the  original 
from  which  he  borrowed.  The  plot,  indeed,  is  but  a  frame  to 
introduce  the  various  tricks  of  Scapin,  who,  after  all,  is  a  much 
less  agreeable  cheat  than  Phormio :  His  deceptions  are  too 
palpable,  and  the  old  men  are  iijcredible  fools.  As  in  Te- 
rence, there  are  two  fathers,  Argante  and  Geronte,  and  during 
the  absence  of  the  former,  his  son  Octave  falls  in  love  with 
and  marries  a  girl,  whom  he  had  accidentally  seen  bewailing 
the  death  of  her  mother.  At  the  same  time,  Leandre,  the  son 
of  Geronte,  becomes  enamoured  of  an  Egyptian,  and  Scapin, 
the  valet  of  Octave,  is  employed  to  excuse  to  the,  father  the 
conduct  of  his  son,  and  to  fleece  him  of  as  much  money  as 
niight  be  necessary  to  purchase  her.  The  first  of  these  objects 
could  not  well  be  attained  by  Terence's  contrivance  of  the 
law-suit;  and  it  is  therefore  pretended  that  he  had  been  for- 
ced into  the  marriage  by  the  lady's  brother,  who  was  a  bully, 
(Spadassin,)  and  to  whom  the  father  agrees  to  give  a  large 

« 

•  Act  1.  flc.  2. 


200  TERENCE. 

sum  of  money,  that  he  might  consent  to  the  marriage  being 
dissolved.  It  is  then  discovered  that  the  girl  whom  Octave 
had  married  is  the  daughter  of  Geronte,  and  the  Egyptian  is 
found  out,  by  the  usual  expedient  of  a  bracelet,  to  be  the  long 
lost  child  of  Argante.  Many  of  the  most  amusing  scenes  and 
incidents  are  also  copied  from  Terence,  as  Scapin  instructing 
Octave  to  regulate  his  countenance  and  behaviour  on  the  ap- 
proach of  his  father — his  enumeration  to  the  father  of  all  the 
different  articles  for  which  the  brother  of  his  son's  wife  will 
require  money,  and  the  accumulating  rage  of  Argante  at  each 
new  item.  Some  scenes,  however,  have  been  added,  as  that 
where  Leandre,  thinking  Scapin  had  betrayed  him,  and  desi- 
ring him  to  confess,  obtains  a  catalogue  of  all  the  Fourberies 
he  had  committed  since  he  entered  his  service,  which  is  taken 
from  an  Italian  piece  entitled  Pantalone,  Padre  di  FamigUa. 
He  has  also  introduced  from  the  Pedant  Joue  of  Cyrano  Ber- 
gerac,  the  device  of  Scapin  for  extorting  money  from  Geronte, 
Mrhich  consists  in  pretending  that  his  son,  having  accidentally 
gone  on  board  a  Turkish  galley,  had  been  detained,  and 
would  be  inevitably  carried  captive  to  Algiers,  unless  instantly 
ransomed.  In  this  scene,  which  is  the  best  of  the  play,  the 
struggle  between  habitual  avaricel  and  parental  tenderness, 
and  the  constant  exclamation,  '<  Que  diabUaUoit  Uf aire  dans 
cette  galere  du  Turc,^'  are  extremely  amusing.  Boileau  has 
reproached  Moliere  for  having 

•*  Sans  boats  k  Terence  alli^  Tabtrin," 

in  allusion  to  the  scene  where  Scapin  persuades  Geronte  that 
the  brother,  accompanied  by  a  set  of  bullies,  is  in  search  of 
him,  and  stuffs  him,  for  concealment,  into  a  sack,  which  he 
afterwards  beats  with  a  stick.  This  is  c(»npounded  of  two 
scenes  in  the  French  farces,  the  Piphagne  and  the  Fronds- 
^ine  of  Tabarin,  and,  like  the  originals  from  idiich  it  is  de- 
rived, is  quite  farcical  and  extravagant:— 


"  Dans  ce  sac  ridicule  ou  Scapin  a'cnveloppe, 
Je  ne  reconnois  plus  I'auteur  du  Misanthrope*.' 


The  chief  improvement  which  Moliere  has  made  on  Terence 
is  the  reservation  of  the  discovery  to  the  end ;  but  the  double 
discovery  is  improbable.  The  introduction  of  Hyacinthe  and 
Zerbinette  on  the  stage,  is  just  as  unsuccessful  as  the  attempt 
of  Baron  to  present  us,  in  his  Andrienne^  with  a  lady  corre- 
sponding to  Glycerium.     Moliere's  Hyacinthe  is  quite  insipid 


*  Boileau. 


TERENCft.  ^201 

and  uninteresting,  while  Zerbinette  retains  too  much  of  the 
Egyptian,  and  is  too  much  delighted  with  the  cheats  of  Sea- 
pin,  to  become  the  wife  of  an  honest  man. 

From  the  above  sketches  some  idea  may  have  been  formed 
of  Terence's  plots,  most  of  which  were  taken  from  the  Greek 
stage,  on  which  he  knew  they  had  already  pleased.  He  has 
given  proofs,  however,  of  his  taste  and  judgment,  in  the  ad- 
ditions and  alterations  made  on  those  borrowed  subjects;  and 
I  doubt  not,  had  he  lived  an  age  later,  when  all  the  arts  were 
in  full  glory  at  Rome,  and  the  empire  a(  its  height  of  power 
and  splendour,  he  would  have  found  domestic  subjects  sufficient 
to  supply  his  scene  with  interest  and  variety,  and  would  no 
longer  have  accounted  it  a  greater  merit — "Graecas  transferre 
quam  proprias  scribcre." 

Terence  was  a  more  rigid  observer  than  his  Roman  prede- 
cessors of  the  unities  of  time  and  place.  Whatever  difference 
of  opinion  may  be  entertained  with  regard  to  the  preservation 
of  these  unities  in  tragedy,  since  great  results  are  often  slowly 
prepared,  and  in  various  quarters,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
they  are  appropiate  in  comedy,  which,  moving  in  a  domestic 
circle,  and  having  no  occasipn  to  wander,  like  the  tragic  or 
epic  muse,  through  distant  regions,  should  bring  its  intrigue 
to  a  rapid  conclusion.  Terence,  however,  would  have  done 
better  not  to  have  adhered  so  strictly  to  unity  of  place,  and  to 
have  allowed  the  scene  to  change  at  least  from  the  street  or 
portico  in  front  of  a  house,  to  the  interior  of  the  dwelling. 
From  his  apparently  regarding  even  this  slight  change  as 
inadoAssible.  the  most  sprightly  and  interesting  parts  of  the 
action  are  often  either  absurdly  represented  as  passing  on  the 
street,  though  of  a  nature  which  must  have  been  transacted 
within  doors,  or  are  altogether  excluded.  A  striking  example 
of  the  latter  occurs  in  the  EunuchiLSj  where  the  discovery  of 
Chsrea  by  his'  father  in  the  eunuch's  garb  has  been  related, 
instead  of  being  represented.  Plautus,  who  was  of  bolder 
genius,  varies  the  place  of  action,  when  the  variation  suits 
his  great  purpose  of  merriment  and  jest. 

But  though  Terence  has  perhaps  too  rigidly  observed  the 
unities  of  time  and  place,  in  none  ofhi^  dramas,  with  a  single 
exception,  has  that  of  plot  been  adhered  to.  The  simplicity 
and  exact  unity  of  fable  in  the  Greek  comedies  would  have 
been  insipid  to  a  people  not  thoroughly  instructed  in  the 
genuine  beauties  of  the  drarha.  Such  plays  were  of  too  thin 
contexture  to  satisfy  the  somewhat  gross  and  lumpish  taste  of 
a  Roman  audience.  The  Latin  poets,  therefore,  bethought 
themselves  of  combining  two  stories  into  one,  and  this  junc<* 
tion,  which  we  call  the  double  plot,  by  affording  the  oppor- 
VoL.  I.— 2  A 


20a  TERENCE. 

tunity  of  more  incidents,  and  a  greater  variety  of  action,  best 
contributed  to  the  gratification  of  those  whom  they  had  to 
please.  But  of  all  the  Latin  comedians,  Terence  appears  to 
have  practised  this  art  the  modt  assiduously.  Plautus  has 
very  frequently  single  plots,  which  he  was  enabled  to  support 
by  the  force  of  drollery.  Terence,  whose  genius  lay  another 
way,  or  whose  taste  was  abhorrent  from  all  sort  of  buffoonery, 
had  recourse  to  the  other  expedient  of  double  plots ;  and  this, 
I  suppose,  is  what  gained  him  the  popular  reputation  of  being 
the  most  artful  writer  for  the  stage.  The  Hecyra  is  the  only 
one  of  his  comedies  of  the  true  ancient  cast,  and  we  know 
how  unsuccessful  it  was  in  the  representation^.  In  managing 
a  double  plot,  the  great  difficulty  is,  whether  also  to  divide 
the  interest.  One  thing,  however,  is  clear,  that  the  part  which 
is  episodical,  and  has  least  interest,  should  be  unravelled  first; 
for  if  the  principal  interest  be  exhausted,  the  subsidiary  in- 
trigue drags  on  heavily.  The  Andrian,  Setf-Tormentiyr,  and 
PhormiOj  are  all  faulty  in  this  respect.  On  the  whole,  how- 
ever, the  plots  of  Terence  are,  in  most  respects,  judiciously 
laid :  The  incidents  are  selected  with  taste,  connected  with 
inimitable  art,  and  painted  witti  exquisite  grace  and  beauty. 

Next  to  the  management  of  the  plot,  the  characters  and 
manners  represented  are  the  most  important  points  in  a  come- 
dy ;  and  in  these  Terence  was  considered  by  the  ancients  as 
surpassing  all  their  comic  poets. — "  In  arsumentis,"  says 
Varro,  '^Csecilius  palmam  poscit,  in  ethesi  Terentius."  In 
this  department  of  his  art  he  shows  that  comprehensive  know- 
ledge of  the  humours  and  inclinations  of  mankind,^  which 
enabled  him  to  delineate  characters  as  well  as  manners,  with 
a  genuine  and  apparently  unstudied  simplicity.  All  the  infe- 
rior passions  which  form  the  range  of  comedy  are  so  nicely 
observed,  and  accurately  expressed,  that  we  nowhere  find  a 
truer  or  more  lively  representation  of  human  nature.  He 
seems  to  have  formed  in  his  mind  such  a  perfect  idea  both  of 
his  high  and  low  characters,  that  they  never  for  a  moment 
forget  their  age  or  situation,  whether  they  are  to  speak  ia 
the  easy  indifferent  tone  of  polished  society,  or  with  the  natu- 
ral expression  of  passion.  Nor  do  his  paintings  of  character 
consist  merely  of  a  single  happy  stroke  unexpectedly  intro- 
duced :  His  delineations  are  always  in  the  right  place,  and  so 
harmonize  with  the  whole,  that  every  word  is  just  what  the 
person  might  be  supposed  to  say  under  the  circumstances  in 
which  he  is  placed: — 

•  Kurd's  H&raee,  Vol.  II. 


TERENCE.  203 

• 

**  CoDtempIez  de  quel  air  un  pere  dans  Terence, 
Vient  d'un  fils  amoureux  gourmander  l*imprudence ; 
De  quel  air  cet  amant  ecoute  ses  leyons,  ' 

£t  court  chez  sa  maitresse  oublier  cee  chansons : 
Ce  n'est  pas  un  portrait,  un  image  semblable ; 
Cest  on  amant,  un  fils,  un  pere  veritable*." 

The  characters,  too,  of  Terence  are  never  overstrained  by 
ridicule,  which,  if  too  much  affected,  produces. creatures  of 
the  fancy,  which  for  a  while  may  be  more  diverting  than  por- 
traits drawn  from  nature,-  but  can  never  be  so  permanently 
pleasing.    This  constitutes  the  great  difference  between  Plau- 
tus  and  Terence,  as  also  between  the  new  and  old  comedy  of 
the  Greeks.     The  old  comedy  presented  scenes  of  uninter- 
nipted  gaiety  and   raillery  and  ridicule,   and   nothing   was 
spared  which'  could  become  the  object  of  sarcasm.    The  dra- 
matic school  which  succi^eded  it  attracted  applause  by  beauty 
of  situation  and  moral  sentiment.     In  like  manner,  Terence 
makes  us  ahnost  serious  by  the  interest  and  affection  which 
he  excites  for  his  characters.     In  the  AndHa  we  are  touched 
with  all  Pamphilus'  concern,  we  feel  all  his  reflections  to  be 
jast,  and  pity  his  perplexity.     The  characters  of  Terence, 
indeed,  are  of  the  same  description  with  those  of  Plautus;  but 
his  slaves  and  parasites  and  captains  are  not  so  farcical,  nor 
his  panders  and  courtezans  so  coarse,  as  those  of  his  prede- 
cessor.   The  slave-dealers  in  the  Addphi  and  Phormio  are 
rather  merchants  greedy  of  gain  than  shameless  agents  of 
yice,  and  are  not  very  different  from  Madame  La  Ressource, 
in  Regnard's  elegant  comedy,  Le  Joueur.     His  courtezans, 
instead  of  being  invariably  wicked  and  rapacious,  are  often 
^represented  as  good  and  beneficent.     It  was  a  courtezan  who 
received  the  dying  mother  of  the  Andrian,  and,  while  expiring 
herself,  affectionately  intrusted  the  orphan  to  the  generous 
protection  of  Pamphilus.     It  is  a  courtezan  who,  in  the  Eunur 
ckuSi  discovers  the  family  of  the  young  Pamphila,  and,  in  the 
Jiecyra,  brings  about  the  understanding  essential  to  the  hap- 
piness of  all.     From  their  mode  of  life,  and  not  interposing 
much  beyond  their  domestic  circle,  the  manners  of  modest 
women  were  not  generally  painted  with  any  great  taste  by 
the  ancients ;  but  Terence  may  perhaps  be  considered  as  an 
exception.     Nausistrata  is  an  excellent  picture  of  a  matron  not 
of  the  highest  rank  or  dignity,  as  is  also  Sostrata  in  the  Hecyra, 
The  style  of  wit  and  humour  must  of  course  correspond  with 
that  of  the  characters  and  manners.     Accordingly,  the  plays 
of  Terence  are  not  much  calculated  to  excite  ludicrous  emo- 
tions, and  have  been  regarded  as  deficient  in  comic  force* 

*  BoUeau. 


204  TERENCE. 

His  muse  is  of  the  most  perfect  and  elegant  proportions,  but 
she  fails  in  animation,  and  spirit.  It  was  for  this  want  of  the 
vis  comica  that  Terence  was  upbraided  by  Julius  CsBsar,  in 
lines  which,  in  other  respects,  bear  a  just  tribute  of  applause 
to  this  elegant  dramatist : — 

<*  Tu  quoque  tu  in  summis,  O  dimidiate  BAeqander* 
Poneris,  et  merito,  puii  sermonis  amator : 
Lenibus  atque  utinara  acriptis  adjuncta  foret  vis 
Comica,  ut  aequato  virtus  polleret  honore 
Cam  Grccis,  Deque  in  bac  despectus  ptrte  jaceres. 
Unum  hoc  maceror,  et  doleo  tibi  deease,  Terenti." 

From  the  prologue  to  the  Phormio  we  learn  that  a  clamoui 
had  also  been  raised  by  his  contemporaries  against  Terence, 
because  his  dialogue  was  insipid,  and  wanted  that  comic 
heightening  which  the  taste  of  the  age  required ; — 

'*  Quas  fecit  fabulas, 
Tenui  esse  oratione  et  scripture  levi." 

The  plays  of  Terence,  it  must  be  admitted,  are  not  calculated 
to  excite  immodei^te  laughter,  but  his  pleasantries  are  bright- 
ened by  all  the  charms  of  chaste  and  happy  expression — thus 
resembling  in  some  measure  the  humour  with  which  we  are 
BO  much  delighted  in  the  page  of  Addison,  and  which  pleases 
the  more  in  proportion  as  it  is  studied  and  contemplated. 
There  are  some  parts  of  the  Eunuchus  which  I  think  cannot 
be  considered  as  altogether  deficient  in  the  vm  comica^  as  also 
Demea's  climax  of  disasters  in  the  Adelphi,  and  a  scene  in 
the  Andria,  founded  on  the  misconceptions  of  Mysis. 

The  beauties  of  style  and  language,  I  suppose,  most  be 
considered  as  but  secondary  excellences  in  the  drama.  ^^^^ 
they  primary  merits,  Terence  would  deserve  to  be  placed  at 
the  head  of  all  comic  poets  who  have  written  for  the  stage, 
on  account  of  the  consummate  elegance  and  purity  of  his 
diction.  It  is  a  singular  circumstance,  and  without  example 
in  the  literary  history  of  any  other  country,  that  the  language 
should  have  received  its  highest  .perfection,  in  point  of  ele- 

Stance  and  grace,  combined  with  the  most  perfect  simplicity- 
rom  the  pen  of  a  foreigner  and  a  slave.  But  it  so  happened,  that 
the  countryman  of  Hannibal,  and  the  freedman  of  Terentius 
Lucanus,  gave  to  the  Roman  tongue  all  those  beauties,  in  a 
degree  which  the  courtiers  of  the  Augustan  age  itself  did  not 
surpass.  Nor  can  this  excellence  be  altogether  accounted 
for  by  his  intimacy  with  Scipio  and  Laslius,  in  whose  families 
the  Latin  language  was  spoken  with  hereditary  purity,  since 
it  could  only  have  been  me  merit  of  his  dramds  which  fii^^ 


TERENCE.  205 

ittnicted  their  regard ;  and,  indeed,  from  an  anecdote  above 
related,  of  what  occurred  while  reading  his  Andria  to  a  dra- 
matic censor,  it  is  evident  that  this  play  must  have  been  writ- 
ten ere  he  enjoyed  the  sunshine  of  patrician  patronage.  For 
this  Ifiej^abUis  anuenUaSy  as  it  is  called  by  Heinsius,  he  was 
equally  admired  by  his  own  contemporaries  and  by  the  writers 
in  the  golden  period  of  Roman  literature.  He  is  called  by 
CmsBT  puri  sermonia  amator^  and  Cicero  characterizes  him 


**  Quicquid  come  loqueos,  ac  omnia  dulcia  dicens." 

£yen  in  the  last  age  of  Latin  poetry,  and  when  his  pure  sim- 
fflicity  was  so  different  from  the  style  affected  by  the  writers 
of  the  day,  he  continued  to  be  regarded  as  the  model  of  cor- 
rect composition.  Ausonius,  in  his  beautiful  poem  addressed 
to  his  grandson,  hails  him  on  account  of  his  style,  as  the  orna- 
ment of  Latium — 

"  Tu  qaoi]ae  qui  Latium  lecto  sermone,  Terentf, 

Comis,  et  adstiicto  percurris  pulpita  socco. 

Ad  Dova  viz  memorem  diverbia  coge  aenectam*." 

Among  all  the  Latin  writers,  indeed,  from  Ennius  to  Auso- 
nius,  we  meet  with  nothing  so  simple,  so  full  of  grace  and 
delicacy — in  fine,  nothing  that  can  be  compared  to  the  come- 
dies of  Terence  for  elegance  of  dialogue — presenting  a  con- 
stant flow  of  easy,  genteel,  unaffected  discourse,  which  never 
subsides  info  vulgarity  or  grossness,  and  never  rises  higher 
than  the  ordinary  level  of  polite  conversation.  Of  this,  in- 
deed, he  was  so  careful,  that  when  he  employed  any  sentence 
^]hich  he  had  found  in  the  tragic  poets,  he  stripped  it  of  that 
'  &ir  of  grandeur  and  majesty,  which  rendered  it  unsuitable  for 
common  life,  and  comedy.  In  reading  the  dialogue  of  Simo 
in  the  Jlndria,  and  of  Micio  in  the  Jiddphi,  we  almost  think 
^6  are  listening  to  the  conversation  of  Scipio  Africanus,  and 
the  wUiB  sapietUia  IabU.  The  narratives,  in  particular,  pos- 
sess a  beautiful  and  picturesque  simplicity.  Cicero,  in  his 
treatise  De  Oraiore,  has  bestowed  prodigious  applause  on  that 
''^ith  which  the.jindria  commences.  "The  picture,"  he  ob- 
serves, "of  the  manners  of  Pamphilus — the  death  and  fimeral 
of  Chrysig::— cuid  the  grief  of  her  supposed  sister,  are  all  re- 
presented in  the  most  delightful  colours." — Diderot,  speaking 
of  the  style  of  Terence,  says,  "  C'est  une  onde  pure  et  trans^ 
Parente,  qui  coule  toujours  egalement,  et  qui  ne  prend  de 

•  Protrepticon.  EidyU,  IV.  v.  58. 


206  TERENCE. 

Vitesse,  que  ce  qu'elle  en  re9oit  de  la  pente  et  du  terrein. 
Point  d'esprit,  nul  etalage  de  sentiment^  aucune  sentence  qui 
ait  I'air  epigrammatique,  jamais  de  ces  definitions  qui  ne  se- 
roient  placees  que  dans  Nicole  ou  la  Rochefoucauld." 

As  to  what  may  be  strictly  called  the  poetical  style  of 
Terence,  it  has  been  generally  allowed  that  he  has  used  very 
great  liberties  in  his  versification*.  PoUtian  divided  his  plays 
(which  in  the  MSS.  resemble  prose)  into  lines,  but  a  separa- 
tion was  afterwards  more  correctly  made  by  Erasmus.  Prisciao 
says,*  that  Terence  used  more  licenses  than  any  other  writer. 
Bentley,  after  Priscian,  admitted  every  variety  of  Iambic  and 
Trochaic  measure;  and  such  was  the  apparent  number  of 
irregular  quantities,  and  mixture  of  different  species  of  verse, 
that  Westerhovius  declares,  that  in  order  to  reduce  the  lines 
to  their  original  accuracy,  it  would  be  necessary  to  evoke 
Lselius  and  Scipio  from  the  shades.  Mr  Hawkins,  in  his  late 
Inquiry  into  the  Nature  of  Greek  and  Latin  poetry,  has  at- 
tempted to  show  that  the  whole  doctrine  of  poetical  licenses 
is  contrary  to  reason  and  common  sense ;  that  no  such  devia- 
tion from  the  laws  of  prosody  could  ever  have  been  introduced 
by  Terence ;  and  that  where  his  verses  apparently,  require 
licenses,  they  are  either  corrupt  and  ill-regulated,  or  may  be 
reduced  to  the  proper  standard,  on  the  system  of  admitting 
that  all  equivalent  feet  may  come  in  room  of  the  fundamental 
feet  or  measures.  On  these  principles,  by  changing  the  situa- 
tion of  the  quantities,  by  allowing  that  one  long  syllable  may 
stand  for  two  short,  or  vice  versa^  there  will  not  be  occasion 
for  a  single  poetical  license,  which  is  in  fact  nothing  less  than 
a  breach  of  the  rules  of  prosody. 

After  having  considered  the  plays  of  Plautus  and  of  Te- 
rence, one  is  naturally  led  to  institute  a  comparison  between 
these  two  celebrated  dramatists.  People,  in  general,  are  very 
apt  to  judge  of  the  talents  of  poets  by  the  absolute  merits  of 
their  works,  without  at  all  taking  into  view  the  relative  circum- 
stances of  their  age  and  situation,  or  the  progress  of  improve- 
ment during  the  period  in  which  they  lived.  No  one  recol- 
lects that  Tasso's  RifuUdo  was  Composed  in  ten  months,  and 
at  the  age  of  seventeen ;  and,  in  like  manner,  we  are  apt  to  for- 
get the  difference  between  writing  comedies  while  labouring  at 
a  mill,  and  basking  in  the  Alban  villa  of  Scipio  or  Lselius.  The 
improvement,  too,  of  the  times,  brought  the  works  of  Terence 
to  perfection  and  maturity,  as  much  as  his  own  genius.  It  is 
evident,  that  he  was  chiefly  desirous  to  reconmiend  himself  to 

*  See  BlankeubuTg's  Zusatze  zu  Sulzer^s  TheorU  der  Schonen  Wi»teriS' 
chaft^n. 


TERENCE.  207 

the  approbation  of  a  select  few,  who  were  possessed  of  true 
wit  and  judgment,  and  the  dread  of  whose  censure  ever  kept 
him  within  the  bounds  of  correct  taste;  while  the  sole  object 
of  Plautus,  on  the  other  hand,  was  to  excite  the  merriment  of 
an  audience  of  little  refinement.     If,  then,  we  merely  con^- 
der  the  intrinsic  merit  of  their  productions,   Without  refi^ 
fence  to  the  circumstances  or  situation  of  the  authors,  still 
Plautas  will  be  accounted  superior  in  that  vivacity  of  action, 
and  variety  of  incident,  which  raise  curiosity,  and  hurry  on 
the  mind  to  the  conclusion.     We  delight,  on  the  contrary,  to 
linger  on  every  scene,  almost  on  every  sentence,  of  Terence. 
Sometimes  there  are  cha«ims  in  Plautus's  fables,  and  the  inci- 
dents do  not  properly  adhere — ^in  Tereqce,  all  the  links  of  the 
action  depend  on  each  other.    Plautus  has  more  variety  in  his 
exhibition  of  characters  and  manners,  but  his  pictures  are  often 
overcharged,  while  those  of  Terence  are  never  more  highly 
coloured  than  becomes  the  modesty  of  nature.      Plautus's 
sentences  have  a   peculiar  smartness,   which  conveys    the 
thought  with  clearness,  and  strikes  the  imagination  strongly, 
so  that  the  mind  is  excited  to  attention,  and  retains  the  idea 
with  pleasure ;  but  they  are  often  forced  and  affected,  and  of 
a  description  little  used  in  the  commerce  of  the  world ;  whereas 
every  word  in  Terence  has  direct  relation  to  the   business 
of  life,  and  the  feelings  of  mankind.     The  language  of  Plau- 
tus is  more  rich  and  luxutiant  than  that  of  Terence,  but  is  far 
from  being  so  equal,  uniform,  and  chaste.     It  is  often  stained 
with  vulgarity,  and  sometimes  swells  beyond   the  limits  of 
cwnic  dialogue,  while  that  of  Terence  is  puro  simiUimM 
«»«t.    The  verses  of  Plautus  are,  as  he  himself  calls  thern^ 
^m^  innumeri ;  and  Hermann  declares,  that,  at  least  as  now 
printed,  onvni  iMiorvm  gmere  abundant*.    Terence  attends 
DW)re  to  elegance  and  delicacy  in  the  expression  of  passion — 
Plautus  to  comic  expression.     In  fdct,  the  great  object  of 
Plautus  seems  to  have  been  to  excite  laughter  among  the  au- 
dience, and  in  this  object  he  completely  succeeded  ;  but  for 
Its  attainment  he  has  sacrificed  many  graces  and  beauties  of 
the  drama.     There  are  two  sorts  of  humour — one  consisting 
in  words  and  action,  the'  other  in  matter.     Now,  Terence 
bounds  chiefly  in  the  last  species,  Plautus  in  the  first;  and  the 
pleasantries  of  the  older  dramatist,  which  were  so  often  flat, 
low,  or  extravagant,  finally  drew  down  the  censure  of  Horace, 
while  his  successor  was  extolled  by  that  poetical  critic  as  the 
most  consummate  master  of  dramatic  art,     "  In  short,"  says 
^rusius,  «  Plautus  is  more  gay,  Terence  more  chaste — the  first 

*  Element.  JDoeU  Met.  Lib.  II.  c.  14. 


208  TERENCE. 

has  more  genius  and  fire/  the  latter  more  manners  and  soli^' 
dity.  Plautus  excels  in  low  comedy  and  ridicale,  Terence  ia 
drawing  just  characters,  and  maintaining  them  to  the  last. 
The  plots  of  both  are  artful,  but  Terence's  are  more  apt  to 
languish,  whilst  Plautus's  spirit  maintains  the  action  with 
vigour.  His  invention  was  greatest ;  Terence's,  art  and  man- 
agement. Plautus  gives  the  stronger,  Terence  a  more  ele- 
gant delight.  Plautus  appears  the  better  comedian  of  the 
two,  as  Terence  the  finer  poet.  The  former  has  more  com- 
pass and  variety,  the  latter  more  regularity  and  truth,  in  his 
characters.      Plautus  shone   most  on   the   stage ;  Terence 

? leases  best  in  the  closet.  Men  of  refined  taste  would  prefer 
'erence ;  Plautus  diverted  both  patrician  and  plebeian*.'' 
8ome  intimations  of  particular  plays,  both  of  Plautus  and 
Terence,  have  already  been  pointed  out ;  but  independently 
of  more  obvious  plagiarisms,  these  dramatists  were  the  models' 
of  all  comic  writers  in  the  different  nations  of  Europe,  at  the 
first  revival  of  the  drama.  Their  works  were  the  prototypes 
of  the  regular  Italian  comedy,  as  it  appeared  in  the  plays 
of  Ariosto,  Aretine,  Ludovico  Dolce,  and  Battista  Porta,  la 
these,  the  captain  and  parasite  are  almost  constantly  intro- 
duced, with  addition  of  the  pedante,  who  is  usually  the  peda« 
gogue  of  the  young  innamorato.  Such  erudite  plays  were 
the  only  printed  dramas  (though  the  Commedie  ddT  ArU 
were  acted  for  the  amusement  of  the  vulgar,)  till  the  begin- 
ning of  the  17th  centjury,  when  Flaminio  Scala  first  jmbZi^A^ 
bis  Commedie  deW  Arte.  The  old  Latin  plays  were  also  the 
models  of  the  earliest' dramas  in  Spain,  previous  to  the  intro- 
duction of  the  comedy  of  intrigue,  which  was  invented  by 
Lopez  de  Rueda,  and  perfected  by  Calderon.  We  find  the 
fir^t  traces  of  the  Spanish  drama  in  a  close  imitation  of  the 
Amphitryon,  in  1515,  by  Villalobos,  the  physician  of  Charles 
v.,  which  was  immediately  succeeded  by  a  version  of  Terence, 
by  Pedro  de  Abril,  and  translations  of  the  Portuguese  come- 
dies of  Vasconcellosf ,  which  were  themselves  written  in  the 
manner  of  Plautus.  There  is  likewise  a  good  deal  of  the 
spirit  of  Plautus  and  Terence  in  the  old  English  comedy,  par- 
ticularly in  the  characters.  A  panegyrist  on  Randolph's 
Jealous  Lovers,  which  was  published  in  1632,  says,  *<that  it 

*  **  Plus  est,"  says  Erasmus,  <*exacti  judicii  in  un&  com(Bdi&  TerentianA  quam  in 
Ftaudnis  omnibus,"  (B.  28.  Epist.  20.:  Naugerius,  in  his  fourth  Epistle,  has  insti- 
tuted a  comparison  between  Plautus  and  Terence,  much  to  the  aavantace  of  the 
latter,  and  has  expressed  himself  in  terms  of  strone  indignation  at  tile  wttl-knowa 
verses  of  Volcatius  Sedigitus,  assicnin^  the  second  place  among  the  Latin  comic 
poets  to  Plautus,  and  the  sixth  to  Terence. 

t  Hist,  de  la  lAtterature  E9pagnoley  traduite  de  I'AUemaad  de  Bouterweck 
Vol.  1.  p.  888.  Ed.  1812. 


PACUVIUS.  209 

should  be  conserved  in  some  great  library,  that  if  through 
chance  or  injury  of  time,  Plautus  and  Terence  should  be  lost, 
their  united  merit  might  be  recognized.  For,  in  this  play, 
thou  hast  drawn  the  pander,  the  gull,  the  jealous  lover,  the 
doating  father,  the  shark,  and  the  crust  wife." 

The  consideration  of  the  servile  manner  in  which  the  dra- 
matists, as  well  as  novelists,  of  one  country,  have  copied  from 
their  predecessors  in  another,  may  be  adduced  in  some  degree 
as  a  proof  of  the  old  philosophical  aphorism,  J^hileatinintd' 
kdu  quod  ncnprius/uerU  in  sensu;  and  also  of  the  incapacity 
of  the  most  active  and  fertile  imagination,  greatly  to  diversify 
the  common  characters  and  incidents  of  life.  One  would 
suppose,  previous  to  examination,  that  the  varieties,  both  of 
character  and  situation,  would  be  boundless ;  but  on  review, 
we  find  a  Plautus  copying  from  the  Greek  comic  writers,  and, 
in  turn,  even  an  Ariosto  scarcely  diverging  from  the  track  of 
Plautus.  When  we  see  the  same  characters  only  in  new 
dresses,  performing  the  same  actions,  and  repeating  the  same 
jests,  we  are  tempted  to  exclaim,  that  everything  is  weary, 
stale,  flat,  and  unprofitable,  and  are  taught  a  lesson  of  melan- 
choly, even  from  the  Mask  of  Mirth. 

While  Plautus,  Caecilius,  Afranius,  and  Terence,  raised  the 
comic  drama  to  high  perfection  and  celebrity,  Pacuvius  and 
Attius  attempted,  with  considerable  success,  the  noblest  sub- 
jects of  the  Greek  tragedies* 


PACUVIUS, 

who  was  the  nephew  of  Ennius*",  by  a  sister  of  that  poet,  was 
bom  at  Brundusium,  in  the  year  534.  At  Rome  he  became 
intimately  acquainted  with  Lselius,  who,  in  Cicero's  treatise 
De  AmUktidy  calls  Pacuvius  his  host  and  friend :  He  also  en- 
joyed, like  Terence,  the  intimacy  of  Scipio  Africanus;  but  he 
did  not  profit  so  much  as  the  comic  writer  by  his  acquaint- 
ance with  these  illustrious  Romans  for  the  improvement  of 
his  style.  There  is  an  idle  story,  that  Pacuvius  had  three 
wives,  all  of  whom  successively  hanged  themselves  on  the 
same  tree ;  and  that  lamenting  this  to  Attius,  who  was  mar- 
ried, he  begged  for  a  slip  of  it  to  plant  in  his  own  gardenf ; 
an  anecdote  which  has  been  very  seriously  confuted  by  An- 
nibal  di  Leo,'  in  his  learned  Memoir  on  Pacuvius.  This  poet 
also  employed  himself  in  painting :  he  was  one  of  the  first  of 

*  PBnios,  J^Mt.  JSTai.  Lib.  XXXV.  e.  4. 

t  This  stoiy  is  told  of  a  SicUian  by  Cicero,  {J>e  Orai.  II.) 

Vol-.  L— 2  B 


210  PACUVIUS. 

the  Romans  who  attained  any  degree  of  eminence  in  that  ele- 
gant art,  and  particularly  distinffuisbed  himself  by  the  picture 
which  he  executed  for  the  temple  of  Hercules,  in  the  Forum 
BiHurium!^.  He  published  his  last  piece  at  the  age  of  eighty  f ; 
after  which,  being  oppressed  with  old  age,  and  afflicted  with 
perpetual  bodily  illness,  he  retired,  for  the  enjoyment  of  its 
soft  air  and  mild  winters,  to  Tarentum|,  where  he  died,  hav- 
ing nearly  completed  his  ninetieth  year^.  An  elegant  epitaph, 
supposed  to  have  been  written  by  himself,  is  quoted,  with 
much  commendation,  by  Aulus  Gellius,  who  calls  it  ©erecim- 
dMsimum  e/ jnim«tmum||.  It  appears  to  have  been  inscribed 
on  a  tombstone  which  stood  by  the  side  of  a  public  road, 
according  to  a  custom  of  the  Romans,  who  placed  their  monu- 
ments near  highways,  that  the  spot  where  their  remains  were 
deposited  might  attract  observation,  and  the  departed  spirit 
receive  the  valediction  of  passing  travellers : 

*'  Adolescens,  tametri  properas,  hoc  te  0»zuid  rogat, 
Uti  ad  se  aspicias ;  deinde,  quod  scriptum  est,  legas. 
Htc  8UDt  poete  Marcoi  Pacuviei  eita 
Oflsa.    Hoc  volebam  oeaciuB  ne  esaes — ^ValelT.** 

Though  a  few  fragments  of  the  tragedies  of  Pacuvius  re- 
main, our  opinion  oi  his  dramatic  merits  can  be  formed  only 
at  second  hand,  from  the  observations  of  those  critics  who 
wrote  while  his  works  were  yet  extant.  Cicero,  though  he 
blames  his  style,  and  characterizes  him  as  a  poet  male  lo- 
qwUua*\^  places  him  on  the  same  level  for  tragedy  as  Ennius 
for  epic  poetry,  or  Caecilius  for  comedy;  and  he  mentions,  in 
his  treatise  De  Orators,  that  his  verses  were  by  many  consi- 
dered as  highly  laboured  and  adorned. — '^Omnes  apud  hunc 
ornati  elaboratique  sunt  versus."  it  was  in  this  laboured 
polish  of  versification,  and  skill  in  the  dramatic  conduct  of 
the  scene,  that  the  excellence  of  Pacuvius  chiefly  consisted ; 
for  so  the  lines  of  Horace  have  been  usually  interpreted, 

*  Plin.  mgt.  JVai,  Lib.  XXXV.  c.  4. 
t  Cicero,  BnUu$,  c.  68. 

I  JSToet.  Attic.  Lib.  XIIL  c.  2. 

6  Hieron.  Chr&n,  p.  89.  ed.  ut  eopra. 

II  J>roct,  AU.  Lib.  1.  c.  24. 

IT  **  O,  youth  !  though  baste  should  urge  thee  hence  away, 
To  read  this  stone  thy  steps  one  moment  stay :  ^ 

That  here  Pacuvius'  bones  are  laid  to  tell 
I  wished,  that  thou  might*st  know  it— Fare  thee  well.*' 
Dr  Johnson  has  laid  it  duwn  as  the  firet  rule  in  writing  epitaphs,  that  the  naiiie"of 
the  deceased  should  not  be  omitted ;  but  it  seems  lather  too  much  to  Ottopy  foior 
Ihies  with  nothing  but  this  infoimatlon. 


PACUVIUS.  211 

where,  tpeaking  of  the  public  opinion  entertained  concerning 
the  different  dramatic  writers  of  Rome,  he  says, — 

M  Ambigitiir  qaoties  nter  utro  ait  prior :  aufiut 
Ptcuviufl  docU  famam  aeniB,  Attiua  aiti.*' 

And  the  same  meaning  must  be  affixed  to  the  passage  in 
Quintilian, — "  Virium  tamen  Attio  plus  tribuitur ;  Pacuvium 
Tided  doctiorem,  qui  esse  docti  adfectant,  volunt*."  Most 
other  Latin  critics,  though  on  the  whole  they  seem  to  prefer 
Aitmsy  allow  Pacuvius  to  be  the  more  correct  writer. 

The  names  are  still  preserved  of  about  20  tragedies  of  Pa- 
curius-^ncAt^e^,  JlrUiope^  Armorvan  Judicium^  ^Italanta^ 
Cbryiea,  Duloreaies,  Hermione,  Iliona,  Medua,  Mefka,  Atp* 
tra,  Orestes  et  Pylades,  Patdua,  Peribcta,  Tantalus,  Teucer^ 
Thyestes.  Of  these  the  Antiope  was  one  of  the  most  distiu'** 
guished.  It  was  regarded  by  Cicero  as  a  great  national  tra- 
gedy, and  an  honour  to  the  Roman  name. — '^duis  enim," 
says  he,  '*  tarn  inimicus  pene  nomini  Romano  est,  qui  Ennii 
Medeam,  aut  Antiopam  Pacuvii,  spernat,  aut  rejiciat?"  Per- 
sios,  however,  ridicules  a  passage  in  this  tragedy,  where 
Antiope  talks  of  propping  her  melancholy  heart  with  misfor- 
tunes, by  which  she  means,  (I  suppose,)  that  she  fortunately 
had  so  many  griefs  all  around  her  heart,  that  it  was  well 
bolstered  up,  and  would  not  break  or  bend  so  easily  as  it 
most  have  done,  had  it  been  supported  by  fewer  distresses--- 

**  Stmt  quos  PacuTiiuque  et  Tefracosa  nioretiir 
Antiope,  enimniB  cor  luctificabile  fulta." 

The  Armorum  Judiciufn  was  translated  from  .£schy lus.  With 
regard  to  the  IhdoresteSy  (Orestes  Servus,)  there  has  been  a 
good  deal  of  discussion  and  difficulty.  Naevius,  Ennius,  and 
Attias,  are  all  said  to  have  written  tragedies  which  bore  the 
title  of  Dularestea;  but  a  late  Oerman  writer  has  attempted, 
at  great  length,  to  show  that  this  is  a  misconception ;  and  that 
all  the  fragments,  which  have  been  classed  with  the  remaina 
of  these  three  dramatic  poets,  belong  to  the  Duhrestes  of 
Pacuvius,  who  was  in  truth  the  only  Latin  poet  who  wrote  a 
tragedy  with  this  appellation.  What  the  tenor  or  subject  of 
the  play,  however,  may  have  been,  he  admits  is  difficult  to 
determine,  as  the  different  passages,  still  extant,  refer  to  very 
different  periods  of  the  life  of  Orestes ;  which,  I  think,  is  rather 
adverse  to  his  idea,  that  all  these  fragments  were  written  by 
the  same  person,  and  belonged  to  the  same  tragedy,  iinleis, 

«  JM.  Or^  Lib.  X.  c.  1. 


212  PACUVIUS- 

indeed,  Pacuvius  had  utterly  set  at  defiance  the  observance  of 
the  celebrated  unities  of  the  ancient  drama.  On  the  whole, 
however,  he  agrees  with  Thomas  Stanley,  in  his  remarks  on 
the  ChaphoTiB  of  iEschylus,  that  the  subject  of  the  ChoBphara^ 
which  is  the  vengeance  taken  by  Orestes  on  the  murderers  of 
his  father,  is  also  that  of  the  Dtdorestea  of  Pacuvius*.  Some 
of  the  fragments  refer  to  this  as  an  object  not  yet  accom- 
plished : — 


*<  Utinam  nunc  matureseam  Ingenio,  atmeum  patrem 
Ulcisciqueam.'' 


» 


The  Hermione  turned  on  the  murder  of  Pyrrhus  by  Orestes 
at  the  instigation   of  Hermione.     Cicero,  in  his  Treatise  De 
^micUiay  mentions,  in  the  person  of  Laelius,   the   repeated 
acclamations  which  had  recently  echoed  through  the  theatre 
at  the  representation  of  the  new  play  of  his  friend  Pacuvius,  in 
that  scene  where  Pylades  and  Orestes  are  introduced  before 
the  king,  who,  being  ignorant  which  of  them  is  Orestes,  whom 
he  had  predetermined  should  be  put  to  death,  each  insists,  in 
order  to  save  the  life  of  his  friend,  that  he  himself  is  the.  real 
person  in  question.     Deirio  alleges  that  the  new  play  here 
alluded  to  by  Cicero  was  the  Hermione;  but  that  play,  as  well 
as  the  Ihdoreates^  related  to  much  earlier   events  than  the 
friendly  contest  between  Pylades  and  Orestes,  which  took 
place  at  the  court  of  Thoas,  King  of  Tauris,  and  was  the  con* 
eluding  scene    in    the  dramatic  life  of  Orestes,  being  long 
subsequent  to  the  murder  of  his  mother,  his  trial  in  presence 
of  the  Argives,or  absolution  at  Athens  before  the  Areopa^s. 
Accordingly,  Tiraboschi  states  positively  that  this  new  play  of 
Pacuvius,  which  obtained  so  much  applause,  was  his  Pylades 
et  Oreatesf. 

In  the  uUmay  the  scene  where  the  shade  of  Polydorus,  who 
had  been  assassinated  by  the  King  of  Thrace,  appears  to  his 
sister  Iliona,  was  long  the  favourite  of  a  Roman  audienoe, 
who  seem  to  have  indulged  in  the  same  partialis  for  such 
spectacles  as  we  still  entertain  for  the  goblins  in  Hamlet  and 
Macbeth. 

All  the  plays  above  mentioned  were  imitated  or  translated 
by  Pacuvius  from  the  Greek.     His  Paulua^  however,  was  of 
his  own  invention,  and  was  the  first  Latin  tragedy  formed  on 
a  Roman  subject.     Unfortunately  there  are  only  five  lines  of 
it  extant,  and  these  do  not  enable  us  to  ascertain,  which  Ro- 

*  Ebeibardt,  Zustand  Aer  Sehotiem  WUsenschqftm,  bei  den  Homem,  p.  35. 
&c.    Ed.Altona,  1801. 
t  Star.  deU.  LUterat.  Rid.  Part  m.  Lib.  II.  c.  1.  §  20. 


PACUVIUS.  2ia 

man  of  the  name  of  Paulus  gave  title  to  the  tragedy.  It  was 
probably  either  Paulus  .£miTiu8,  who  fell  at  Cannae,  or  his  son, 
whose  story  was  a  memorable  instance  of  the  instability  of 
human  happiness,  as  he  lost  both  his  children  at  the  moment 
when  he  trimnphed  for  his  victory  over  Perseus  of  Mace- 
don. 

From  no  one  play  of  Pacuvius  are  there  more  than  fifty  lines 
preserved,  and  these  are  generally  very  much  detached.  The 
longest  passages  which  we  have  in  continuation  are  a  frag- 
ment concerning  Fortune,  in  the  Hermione — ^the  exclamations 
of  Ulysses,  while  writhing  under  the  agony  of  a  recent  wound, 
in  the  Atp^ra,  and  the  following  fine  description  of  a  sea-storm 
introduced  in  the  Dularestea : — 

*'  Interea,  prope  jam  occidente  sole,  inhorrescit  mare  ; 
Tenebne  conduplicantur,  noctisque  et  nimbQm  occaecat  nigror; 
Fhmma  inter  nubes  coruscat,  ccelum  tonitru  coDtremit, 
Grando,  mUta  imbri  largifluo,  subit^  turbine  pnecipitans  cadit ; 
Undique  omnes  venti  erumpunt,  sevi  existunt  turbines, 
Fervet  estu  Pelagus." 

Such  lines,  however,  as  these,  it  must  be  confessed,  are 
more  appropriate  in  epic,  or  descriptive  poetry,  than  in  tra- 
gedy. 

It  does  not  appear  that  the  tragedies  of  Pacuyius  had  much 
success  or  popularity  in  his  own  age.  He  was  obliged  to  have 
recourse  for  his  subjects  to  foreign  mythology  and  unknown 
history.  Iphigenia  and  Orestes  were  always  more  or  less 
strangers  to  a  Roman  audience,  and  the  whole  drama  in 
which  these  and  similar  personages  figured,  never  attained 
in  Rome  to  a  healthy  and  perfect  existence.  Comedy,  on  the 
other  hand,  addressed  itself  to  the  feelingf>  of  all.  T^ere  were 
prodigal  sons,  avaricious  fathers,  and  rapacious  courtezans,  in 
Rome  as  well  as  in  Greece*.  But  it  requires  a  certain  culti- 
vation of  mind  and  tenderness  of  heart  to  enjoy  the  represen- 
tation of  a  regular  tragedy.  The  plebeians  thronged  to  the 
theatre  for  the  sake  of  merriment,  and  the  patricians  were  still 
too  much  occupied  with  the  projects  of  their  own  ambi- 
tion, to  weep  over  the  woes  of  Antigone  or  Electra. 

Pacuvius,  accordingly,  had  fewer  imitators  than  Plautus. 
Indeed,  for  a  long  period  he  had  none  of  much  note,  ex- 
cept 


*  «*  Dum  iallax  servus,  dunis  pater,  improbalena 
ViTent,  dum  meretrix  blanda,  Menandru8  erit.' 

Ovid,  Amor,  Lib.  T. 


>» 


214  ATTIUS. 


ATTIUS, 


or  Accius,  as  he  is  sometimes,  bat  improperly,  called,  who 
brought  fctward  his  first  play  when  thirty  years  old,  in  the 
same  season  in  which  Pacuvius,  having  reached  the  age  of 
eighty,  gave  his  last  to  the  public*.  Now,  as  Pacuvius  would  be 
eighty  in  614,  Attius,  according  to  this  calculation,  must  have 
been  born  in  584.  It  has  been  questioned,  however,  if  he  was 
/born  so  early,  since  Valerius  Maximus  relates  a  story  of  his 
refusing  to  rise  from  his  place  on  the  entrance  of  Julius  Ceesar 
into  the  College  of  Poets,  because  in  that  place  they  did  not 
contest  the  prize  of  birth,  but  of  learningf , — ^which  disrespect, 
if  he  came  into  the  world  in  584,  he  could  not  have  survived 
to  ofier  to  the  dictator,  Julius  Caesar,  who  was  not  bom  till  654. 
This  collector  of  anecdotes,  however,  may  probably  allude 
either  to  some  other  poet  of  the  name  of  Attius,  or  to  some 
other  individual  of  the  Julian  family,  than  the  Julius  C«sar 
who  subverted  the  liberties  of  his  country.  At  all  events  it 
is  evident,  that  Attius  lived  to  extreme  old  age.  If  bom  in 
684,  he  must  have  been  63  years  old  at  the  birth  of  Cicero, 
who  came  into  the  world  in  647.  Now,  Cicero  mentions  not 
only  having  seen  him,  but  having  heard  from  his  own  mouth 
opinions  concerning  the  eloquence  of  his  friend  D.  Bratus,  and 
othei^  speakers  of  his  time|.  Supposing  this  conversation  took 
place  even  when  Cicero  was  so  young  as  seventeen,  Attius 
must  have  lived  at  least  to  the  age  of  eighty. 

It  is  certain,  that  Attius  had  begun  to  write  tragedies  before 
the  death  of  Pacuvius.  Aulus  Gellius  relates,  as  a  well-known 
anecdote,  that  Attius,  while  on  his  way  to  Asia,  was  detained 
for  some  time  at  Tarentum,  whither  Pacuvius  had  retired,  and 
was  invited  to  pass  a  few  days  with  the  veteran  poet.  During 
his  stay  he  read  to  his  host  the  tragedy  of  Atreus^  .which  was 
one  of  his  earliest  productions.  Pacuvius  declared  his  verses 
to  be  high  sounding  and  lofty,  but  he  remarked  that  they  were 
a  little  harsh,  and  wanted  mellowness.  Attius  acknowledged 
the  truth  of  the  observation,  which  he  said  gave  him  much 
satisfaction^  for  that  genius  resembled  apples,  which  when 
produced  hard  and  sour,  grow  mellow  in  maturity,  while  those 
which  are  unseasonably  soil  do  not  become  ripe,  but  rotten^. 
His  expectations,  however,  were  scarcely  frilfiUed,  and  the 
produce  of  his  more  advanced  years  was  nearly  as  harsh  as 
what  he  had  borne  in  youth.    He  seems,  nevertheless,  to  have 

«  Cicero,  BnOm^  c.  68.  t  Lib.  III.c.  7. 

X  Bruhf,  e.  2S.  §  JSToet.  M.  Lib.  XUL  c.  2. 


ATnUS.  315 

entertained  at  all  times  a  good  opinion  of  his  own  poetical 
talents ;  for,  though  a  person  of  diminutive  size,  he  got  a  hum 
statue  of  himself  placed  in  a  conspicuous  niche  in  the  Temple 
of  the  Muses*.  Nor  does  his  vanity  appear  to  have  exceeded 
the  high  esteem  in  which  he  was  held  by  his  countrymen.  Such 
was  the  respect  paid  to  him,  that  a  player  was  severely  pa« 
Dished  for  mentioning  his  name  on  the  stagef .  Decius  Brutus, 
who  was  consul  in  615,  and  was  distinguished  for  his  victories 
in  Spain,  received  him  into  the  same  degree  of  intimacy  to 
which  Ennius  had  been  admitted  by  the  elder,  and  Terence 
by  the  younger,  Scipio  Africanus;  and  such  was  his  estimation 
of  the  verses  of  this  tragedian,  that  he  inscribed  them  over  the 
entrance  to  a  temple  adorned  by  him  with  the  spoils  of  ene- 
mies whom  he  hud  conquered];.  From  the  high  opinion  gene- 
rally entertained  of  the  force  and  eloquence  of  his  tragedies, 
Attius  was  asked  why  he  did  not  plead  causes  in  the  Forum; 
to  which  he  replied,  that  he  made  the  characters  in  his  trage- 
dies speak  what  he  chose,  but  that,  in  the  Forum,  bis  adversa- 
ries might  say  things  he  did  not  like,  and  which  he  could  not 
answer^. 

Horace,  in  the  same  line  where  he  celebrates  the  dramatic 
skill  of  Pacuvius,  alludes  to  the  loftiness  of  Attius,— 


-"Aufert 


PaMmnw  docti  Ikinam  senia — ^Attfaw  altl  ;'* 

by  which  is  probably  meant  sublimity  both  of  sentiment  and 
expression.  A  somewhat  similar  quality  is  intended  to  be 
expressed  in  the  epithet  applied  to  him  by  Ovid : — 

«  EmuoB  arte  ctrens,  animosique  Attius  oiu, 
Casunim  niiUo  tempore  Domen  babent." 

It  would  appear  from  Ovid  likewise,  that  he  generally  chose 
atrocious  subjects  for  the  arguments  of  his  tragedies  :— 

■*  Nee  Uber  indicium  est  animi,  sed  honesta  yohiptaiy 

Pfauima  mnlceodia  auiibus  apta  ferens : 
Attioa  esiet  atrox,  conviva  Terentius  esset, 

Eneat  pugnaces  qui  fera  beUa  canuDt|| ."  ^ 

By  advice  of  Pacuvius,  Attius  adopted  such  subjects  as  had 
already  been  brought  forward  on  the  Athenian  stase ;  and  we 
accordingly  find  that  he  has  dramatized  the  well-known  sto- 

•  PHn.  JHjI.  aw.  Lib.  XXXIV.  c.  6. 

t  A&etorie.  ad  Htrtwnxwm^  Lib.  I.  c.  14,  and  Lib.  II.  c.  IS. 

t  Cicero, /Mio  Jirehia,  c.  10.    Vaier.  Maxim.  Lib.  Vill.  c.  15. 

9  MnHfiaa,  JM.  Oni.  Lib.  V.  c.  18.  ||  Ovid,  Trift,  Lib.  11. 


216  ATTIUS. 

ries  of  Andromache,  Philoctetes,  Antigone,  &c.  There  are 
larger  fragments  extant  from  these  tragedies  than  from  the 
dramatic  works  of  Ennius  or  Pacuvius.  One  of  the  longest 
and  finest  passages  is  that  in  the  Medea,  where  a  shepherd 
discovering,*  fit>m  the  top  of  a  mountain,  the  vessel  which 
conveyed  the  Argonauts  on  their  expedition,  thus  expresses 
his  wonder  and  admiration  at  an  object  he  had  never  before 
seen: — 


•'*  Tanta  moles  labitor 


Fremebunda  ex  alto,  ingenti  sonitu  et  spiritu 
Pre  ae  undas  volvit,  vorticeB  vi  suscitat, 
Ruit  prolapsa,  pelagus  respergit,  reflak: 
Ita  num  mtemiptum  credas  nimbum  volvier, 
Num  quod  sublime  ventis  expulsum  rapi 
Saxum,  aut  procelUs,  vel  globosos  tuibtnes 
Existere  ictos,  undis  concuraandbus  ? 
Num  quas  terrestres  pontus  strages  coociet ; 
Aut  forte  Triton  fosdnft  evertens  specus, 
Subter  radices  penitus  undanti  in  freto 
Molem  ex  profundo  saxeam  ad  coelum  vomit  ?" 

With  this  early  specimen  of  Latin  verse,  it  may  be  agreeable 
to  compare  a  corresponding  passage  in  one  of  our  most  an- 
cient English  poets.  A  shepherd,  in  Spenser's  Epilogue  to 
the  Shepherd^8  Cakndar^  thus  describes  his  astonishment  at 
the  sight  of  a  ship : — 

"  For  as  we  stood  there  waiting  on  the  strand. 

Behold  a  huge  great  vessel  to  us  came, 
Dancing  upon  the  waters  back  to  land, 

As  if  it  scom'd  the  danger  of  the  same. 

Yet  was  it  but  a  wooden  frame,  and  frail. 

Glued  together  with  some  subtle  matter ; 
Yet  had  it  arms,  and  wines,  and  head,  and  tail. 

And  life,  to  move  itself  upon  the  water. 

Strange  thing !  how  bold  and  swift  the  monster  was ! 

That  neither  cared  for  wind,  nor  hail,  nor  rain. 
Nor  swelling  waves,  but  thorough  them  did  pass 

So  proudly,  that  she  made  Aem  roar  again. 

Among  the  shorter  fragments  of  Attius  we  meet  with  many 
scattered  sentiments,  which  have  been  borrowed  by  subse- 
quent poets  and  moral  writers.  The  expression,  "oderunt 
dum  metuuht,"  occurs  in  the  Atreus.  Thus,  too,  in  the  Am%o- 
rum  Judicium^ — 

"  Nam  tropheum  ferre  me  a  foiti  pulchrum  est  viro ; 
Si  autem  et  vincar,  vind  a  tali,  nullum  est  probnun.*' 

A  line  in  the  same  play — 

«  Tirtati  sis  par—dispar  foftunis  patiis," 


ATTIUS.  217 

has  suggested  to  Virgil  the  affecting  address— 

*'  Biflce,  puer,  vtrtutoiD  ex  me,  yeramque  laborem ; 
Fortunam  ex  aliis :— ; " 

This  play,  which  turns  on  the  contest  of  Ajax  and  Ulysses  for 
the  arms  of  Achilles,  has  also  supplied  a  great  deal  to  Ovid. 
The  tragic  poet  makes  Ajax  say — 

*<<2uid  est  cor  componere  aqsis  mflii  te,  aut  me  tibi." 

In  like  manner,  Ajax,  in  his  speech  in  Ovid— 

'*'  Agimus,  pc6  Jupiter,  inquit. 


Ante  rates  causam,  et  mecum  coofertur  Ulysses  !** 

There  are  two  lines  in  the  PlUlodeteSj  which  present  a  fine 
image  of  discomfort  and  desolation — 


*'  Contempla  hanc  sedem,  in  qua  ego  novem  hiemes,  saxo  stratus,  pertuli, 
UUhonifer  aquilonis  stridor  gelidas  molitur  nives*." 


Most  of  the  plays  of  Attius,  as  we  have  seen,  were  taken 
from  the  Greek  tragedians.  Two  of  them,  however,  the 
Brutus  and  the  Dtciua^  hinged  on  Roman  subjects,  and  were 
both  probably  written  in  compliment  to  the  family  of  his 
patron,  Decius  Brutus.  The  subject  of  the  fonner  was  the 
expulsion  of  the  Tarquins ;  but  the  only  passage  of  it  extant, 
is  the  dream  of  Tarquin,  and  its  interpretation,  which  have 
been  preserved  by  Cicero  in  his  work  De  Dipinaiione.  Tar- 
quin's  dream  was,  that  he  had  been  overthrown  by  a  ram 
which  a  shepherd  had  presented  to  him,  and  that  while  lying 
wounded  on  his  back,  be  had  looked  up  to  the  sky,  and  ob- 
served that  the  sun,  having  changed  his  course,  was  journey- 
ing from  west  to  east.  The  first  part  of  this  dream  being 
interpreted,  was  a  warning,  that  he  would  be  expelled  from 
his  kingdom  by  one  whom  he  accounted  as  stupid  as  a  sheep ; 
and  the  solar  phenomenon  portended  a  popular  change  in  the 
government.  The  interpreter  adds,  that  such  strange  dreams 
could  not  have  occurred  without  the  purpose  of  some  special 
manifestation,  but  that  no  attention  need,  be  paid  to  those 
vv'hich  merely  present  to  us  the  daily  transactions  of  lifb— ^ 

*  **  This  dweSinff  of  idne  winters'  grief  behold, 
Where  stretchM  on  rock  my  n/A  sojourn  I  hold. 
Around  the  boisterous  north-wind  ceaseless  blows. 
And,  while  it  rages,  drifts  tiie  gelid  snows." 

Vol.  I.— 2  C 


218  ROMAN  DRAMA. 

*'  Nam  quae  in  TitA  usurpant  homines,  coolant*  airant,  vidfiot, 
Queque  agunt  vigilantes,  agitantquo,  ea  si  cui  in  somno  accidunt. 
Minus  mirum  est*——'* 

In  his  tragedies,  indeed,  Attius  rather  shows  a  contempt  for 
dreams,  and  prodigies,  and  the  science  of  augury — 


'*  Nihil  credo  auguribus  qui  aures  verbis  divitaat 
Alienas,  suas  ut  auro  locupietent  domos.'~ 


ir 


The  argument  of  Attius'  other  drama,  founded  on  a  RcHnan 
subject,  and  belonging  to  the  class  called  PraiexiakB,  was 
the  patriotic  self-devotion  of  Publius  Decius,  who,  when  his 
army  could  no  longer  sustain  the  onset  of  the  foe,  threw 
himself  into  the  thickest  of  the  combat,  and  was  despatched 
by  the  darts  of  the  enemy.  There  were  at  least  two  of  the 
family  of  Decii,  a  father  and  son,  who  had  successively  de- 
voted themselves  in  this  manner — the  former  in  a  contest  with 
the  Latins,  the  latter  in  a  war  with  the  Gauls^  leagued  to  the 
Etruscans,  in  the  year  of  Rome  457.  No  doubt,  however, 
can  exist,  that  it  was  the  son  who  was  the  subject  of  the  tra- 
gedy of  Jlttius — in  the  first  place,  because  he  twice  talks  of 
allowing  the  example  of  hia  father — 

•« Patrio 

Ezemplo  dicabo  me»  atque  antmam  devotabo  hostibus." 

And  again — 

"  Quibus  rem  sommam  et  patriam  nostram  quondam  adaoctavlt  pater.^ 

And,  in  the  next  place,  he  refers,  in  two  different  passages,  to 
the  opposing  host  of  the  Gauls — 

"  GaHei,  voce  canon  ac  frevidi* 

Peragrant  minitabiUter--*— 

•  ♦  •  •  • 

Vim  Gallicam  obduc  contra  in  acie." — 

Horace,  as  is  well  known,  bestowed  some  commendation  on 
those  dramatisits  who  had  chosen  events  of  domestic  history 
as  subjects  for  their  tragedies — 

"  Nee  minimum  meruere  decus,  veatieia  Oneca 
Ausi  deserere,  et  celebnre  doinestica  facta*." 

Dramas  taken  from  our  own  annals,  excite  a  public  interest, 
and  afford  the  best,  as  well  as  easiest  opportunity  of  altract- 

•  jfrs  Poeiica^  v.  286. 


ROMAN  DRAMA.  219 

ing  the  mind,  by  frequent  reference  to  our  manners,  preju- 
dices, or  customs.    It  may,  at  first  view,  seem  strange,  that 
the  Romans,  who  were  a  national  people,  and  whose  epics 
were  generally  founded  on  events  in  their  own  history,  should, 
when  they  did  make  such  frequent  attempts  at  the  compo- 
sition of  tragedy,  have  so  seldom  selected  their  arguments 
from  the  ancient  annals  or  traditions  of  their  country.    These 
traditions  were,  perhaps,  not  very  fertile  in  pathetic  or  mourn- 
&1  incident,   but   they   afforded   subjects   rich,   beyond  all 
others,  in  tragic  energy  and  elevation ;  and  even  in  the  range 
of  female  character,  in  which  the  ancient  drama  was  most 
defective,  Lucretia  and  Virginia  were  victims  as  interesting 
as  Iphigenia  or  Alcestis.     The  tragic  writers  of  modern  times 
have  borrowed   from  these  very  sources  many   subjects   of 
a  highly  poetical  nature,  and  admirably  calculated  for  scenic 
representation.      The   furious   combat  of  the   Horatii   and 
Curiatii,  the  stern  patriotic  firmness  of  Brutus,  the  internal 
conflicts  of  Coriolanus,  the  tragic  fate  of  Virginia,  and  the 
magnanimous  self-devotion  of  Regulus,  have  been  dramatised 
with  success,  in  the  diflferent  languages  of  modern  Europe. 
But  those  names,  which  to  us  sound  so  loily,  may,  to  the 
natives,  have  been  too  familiar  for  the  dignity  essential  to 
tragedy.    In  Rome,  besides  the  risk  of  offending  great  fami- 
lies, the  Roman  subjects  were  of  too  recent  a  date  to  have 
acquired  that  venerable  cast,  which  the  tragic  muse  demauds, 
and  time  alone  can   bestow.     They  were  not  at   sufficient 
distance  to   have  dropped   all  those  mean  and  disparaging 
circumstances,  which  unavoidably  adhere  to  recent  events,  and 
in  some  measure  sink  the  noblest  modern  transactions  to  the 
level  of  ordinary  life.     Thi3  seems  to  have  been  strongly  felt 
hy  Sophocles  and  Euripides,  who  preferred  the  incidents  con- 
nected with  the  sieges  of  Troy   and  of  Thebes,  rendered 
gigantic  only  by  the  mists  of  antiquity,  to  the  real  and  almost 
living  glories  of  Marathon  or  ThermopylsB.     But  the  Romans 
had  no  families  corresponding  to  the  race  of  Atreus  or  CEdipus 
^they  had  no  princess  endowed  with  the  beauty  of  Helen — 
no  monarch  invested  with  the  dignity  of  Agamemnon — they 
had,  in  short,  no  epic  cycle  on  which  to  form  tragedies,  like 
the  Greeks,  whose  minds  had  been  conciliated  by  Homer  in 
favour  of  Ajax  and  Ulysses*.    "  The  most  interesting  subjects 
of  tr^gedies,"  says  Adam  Smithf ,  "  are  the  misfortunes  of 

*  Torq.  Baden,  in  a  wnafl  tract,  entitled  De  Causis  neglecUB  apud  Romanot 
^HmtUm^  ;Gcetting.  1790,)  almoBt  entirely  attributes  the  deficiency  of  the  Ro- 
nans  in  trajg^y  to  their  want  of  a  set  of  heroes,  who  were  poetically  con^scrated 
W  any  epic  productions,  like  thpse  by  which  Homer  bad  so  hi^dy  elevated  the 
(^ncha  chtefe. 

t  Theory  of  Mmd  Sentiments,  Part  VL  e.  1. 


220  ROMAN  DRAMA. 

virtuous  and  magnanimous  kings  and  princes;''  but  the  Ro^ 
man  kings  were  a  detested  race,  for  whose  rank  and  ({ualities 
there  was  no  admiration,  and  for  whose  misfortunes  there  could 
be  no  sympathy.  Accordingly,  after  some  few  and  not  very 
successful  attempts  to  dramatize  national  incidents,  the  Lat'ui 
tragic  writers  relapsed  into  their  former  practice,  as  appears 
from  the  titles  of  all  the  tragedies  which  were  brought  out 
from  the  time  of  Attius  to  that  of  Seneca. 

Hence  it  follows,  that  those  rematrks,  which  have  been 
repeated  to  satiety  with  regard  to  the.  subjects  of  the  Greek 
theatre,  are  likewise  applicable  to  those  of  the  Roman  stage* 
There  would  be  the  same  dignified  misfortune  displayed  in 
noble  and  imposing  attitudes — the  same  observance  of  the 
unities — the  same  dramatic  phrensy,  remorse,  and  love,  pro- 
ceeding from  the  vengeance  of  the  gods,  and  exhibited  in  the 
fate  of  Ajax,  Orestes,  and  Phsedra — the  same  struggle  agamst 
that  predominant  destiny,  which  was  exalted  even  above  the 
gods  of  Olympus,  and  by  which  the  ill-fated  race  of  Atreus 
was  agitated  and  pursued.  The  Latin,  like  the  Greek  trage- 
dies, must  have  excited  something  of  the  same  feeling  as  the 
Laocoon  or  Niobe  in  sculpture;  and,  indeed,  the  moral  of  a 
large  proportion  of  them  seems  to  be  comprised  in  the  chorus 
of  Seneca's  (Ediptis — 

"  Fatis  agiffiur — cedite  fatitf : 

Nod  8oHdtae  possuDt  cuns  ' 

Mutare  rati  Btamina  fusi." 

M.  Schlegel  is  of  opinion,  that  had  the  Ronans  quitted  the 
practice  of  Greek  tfanslation,  and  composed  original  trage- 
dies, these  would  have  been  of  a  different  cast  and  species 
from  the  Greek  productions,  and  would  have  been  chiefly 
expressive  of  profound  religious  sentiments. — "La  tragedie 
Grecque  avoit  montr^  Thomme  libre,  combattant  contre  la 
destinee;  la  tragedie  Romaine  eut  presente  a  nos  regards 
Thomme  soumis  a  la  Divinite,  et  subjugue  jusques  dans  ses 
penchans  les  plus  intimes,  par  cette  puissance  infinie  qui 
sanctifie  les  ames,  qui  les  enchaine  de  ses  liens,  et  qui  brille 
de  toutes  parts,  a  travers  le  voile  de  I'univers*."  His  reasons 
for  supposing  that  this  difference  would  have  existed,  are 
founded  on  the  difference  in  the  mythological  systems  of  the 
two  nations.— "  L'ancienne  croyance  des  Romains  et  les 
usages  qui  s'y  rapportoient,  renfermoient  un  sens  moral,  seri- 
eux,  philosophique,  divinatoire  et  symbolique,  qui  n'existoit 
pas  dans  la  religion  des  Grecs."    There  can  be  no  doubt, 

*  Cmrs  de  Litter,  JDrtxmat.  Le^OD.  YIII. 


ROMAN  DRAMA.  221 

that  the  Romans  were  in  public  life,  during  the  early  pericMls 
or  their  history,  a   devotedly  religious  people.     Nothing  of 
moment  was  undertaken  without  l^ing  assured  that  the  gods 
approved,  and  would  favour  the  enterprise.     The  utmost  order 
was  observed  in  every  step  of  reliffious  performance.    We  see  a 
consul  leaving  his  army,  on  suspicion  of  some  irregularity,  to 
hold  new  auspices — an  army  inspired  with  sacred  confidence 
and  ardour,  after  appeasing  the  wrath  of  the  gods,  by  expiatory 
lustrations — and  a  conqueror  dedicating  at  his  triumph   the 
temple  vowed  in  the  moment  of  danger.     But  notwithstanding 
all  this,  it  so  happens,  that  a  spirit  of  free-thinking  is  one  of 
the  most  striking  characteristics  of  the  oldest  class  of  Latin 
poets,   particularly  the  tragedians,  and  in  the  fragments  of 
those  very  plays  which  were  founded  on  Roman  subjects, 
there  is  everywhere  expressed  a  bitter  contempt  for  augury, 
and  ibr  the  sens  divinatoire  et  symbolique,  which  they  evi- 
dently considered  as  quackery :  and  the  dramatists  no  not  seem 
to  have  much  scrupled  to  declare  that  it  was  so,  or  the  people 
to  testify  approbation  of  such  sentiments.     Even  the  almost 
impious  lines  of  Ennius,  that  the  gods  take  no  concern  in  the 
affairs  of  mortals,  were  received,  as  we  learn  from  Cicero, 
with   vast  applause. — "  Noster   Ennius,   qui   magno   plausu 
loquitur,  assentiente  populo— Ego  Dexm  genus*,"  &c.     It  is 
probable,  however,  that  a  tragedy  purely  Roman  would  have 
been  written  in  a  different  spirit  from  a  Greek  drama,  because 
the  manners  of  the  two  people  had  little  resemblance,  and 
because  the  Roman  passion  for  freedom,  detestation  of  ty- 
^nny,  And    feelings   of   patriotism,    had  strong    shades  of 
distinction  from  those  of  Greece.     The  self-devotion  of  the 
Decii  and  Curtius,  was  of  a  fiercer  descriptioo  than  that  of 
Leonidas :  It  was  the  headlong   contempt,  rather  than  the 
resolute  sacrifice,  of  existence. 

It  was  probably,  too,  from  a  slavish  imitation  of  the  Greek 
dramatists,  that  the  Latin  tragedies  acquired  what  is  consi- 
dered one  of  their  chief  faults — the  introduction  of  aphorisms 
and  moral  sentences,  which  were  not  confined  to  the  chorus, 
the  proper  receptacle  for  them,  (it  being  the  peculiar  office 
and  character  of  the  chorus  to  moralize,)  but  were  spread  over 
the  whole  drama  in  such  a  manner,  that  the  characters  ap- 
peared to  be  Vivendi  preceptores  rather  than  rei  actores. 
Quintilian  characterizes  Attius  and  Pacuvius  as  chiefly  re- 
markable for  this  practice. — "Tragoediae  scriptores  Attius  et 
Pacuvius,  clarissimi  gz-avitate  sententiarum."  A  question  on 
this  point  is  started   by  Hurd, — ^That  l^ince  the  Greek  trage- 

*  J)e  ZHvinat.  Lib.  H.  c.  60. 


222  ROMAN  DRAMA. 

dians  moralized  so  much,  how  shall  we  defend  Sophocles,  and 
particularly  Euripides,  if  we  condemn  Attius  and  Seneca? 
brumoy's  solution  is,  that  the  moral  and  political  aphorii^ms 
of  the  Greek  stage  generally  contained  some  apt  and  interest- 
ing allusion  to  the  state  of  pubhc  affairs,  easily  caught  by  a 
quick  intelligent  audience,  and  not  a  dry  affected  moral  with* 
out  farther  meaning,  like  most  of  the  Latin  maxims.  lu  the 
age,  too,  of  the  Greek  tragedians,  there  was  a  prevailing  fond- 
ness for  moral  wisdom ;  and  schools  of  philosophy  were  re- 
sorted to  for  recreation  as  well  as  for  instruction.  Moral  apho- 
risms, therefore,  were  not  inconsistent  with  the  ordinary  flow 
of  conversation  in  those  times,  and  would  be  relished  by  such 
as  indulged  in  philosophical  conferences,  whereiis  such  specu- 
lations were  not  introduced  till  late  in  Rome,  and  were  never 
very  generally  in  vogue- 

On  the  whole,  it  may  be  admitted  that  the  bold  and  anima- 
ted gentus  of  Rome  was  well  suited  to  tragedy,  and  that  ia 
force  of  colouring  and  tragic  elevation  the  Latin  poets  pre- 
sented not  a  feeble  image  of  their  great  originals ;  but  unfor- 
tunately their  judgment  was  uninformed,  and  they  were  too 
easily  satisfied  with  their  own  productions.  Strength  and  fire 
were  all  at  which  they  aimed,  and  with  this  praise  they  re- 
mamed  contented.  Th^y  were  careless  with  regard  to  the 
regularity  or  harmony  of  versification^  The  discipline  of  cor- 
lection,  the  curious  polishing  of  art,  which  had  given  such 
lustre  to  the  Greek  tragedies^  they  could  not  bestow,  or  held 
the  emendation  requisite  for  dramatic  perfection  as  disgraceful 
to  the  high  spirit  and  energy  of  Roman  genius* : 

'*  Tuipem  paUtinscripti^  metuitque  Utunrnf.*' 

To  originality  or  invention  in  their  subjects,  they  hardly  ever 
presumed  to  aspire,  and  were  satisfied  with  gathering  what 
they  found  already  produced  by  another  soil  in  full  and  ripen- 
ed maturity.  ' 

It  may  perhaps  appear  strange  that  the  Romans  possessed 
so  little  original  talents  for  tragedy,  and  indeed  for  the  drama 
in  general ;  but  the  genius  of  neighbouring  nations,  who  had 
equal  success  in  other  sorts  of  poetry,  has  often  been  very  dif- 
ferent in  this  department  of  literature.  The  Spaniards  could 
boast  of  Lopez  de  Vega,  Cervantes,  and  Calderon,  at  a  time 
when  the  Portuguese  had  no  drama,  and  were  contented  with 
the  exhibitions  of  strolling  players  from  Castile.    Scotland 

*  Hiird*s  Hordee,  Vol.  II. 

t  Horn.  EpUt.  Lib.  II.  £p.  1.  t.  67. 


HOMAN  DRAMA.  223 

had  scarcely  produced  a  single  play  of  merit  in  the  brightest 
age  of  the  dramatic  glory  of  England — the  age  of  Shakspeare, 
Massinger,  and  Jonson.  While  France  was  delighted  with 
the  productions  of  Racine,  Corneille,and  Moliere,  the  modern 
Itah'ans,  as  if  their  ancestors'  poverty  of  dramatic  genius  still 
adhered  to  them,  though  so  rich  and  abundant  in  every  other 
department  of  literature,  scarcely  possessed  a  tolerable  play 
of  their  own  invention,  and  till  the  time  of  Goldoni  were 
amused  only  with  the  most  slavish  imitations  of  the  Latm 
comedies,  the  buffooneries  of  harlequin,  or  tragedies  of  accu- 
mulated and  unmitigated  horrors,  which  excite  neither  the 
interest  of  terror  nor  of  pity.  ^ 

For  all  this  it  may  not  be  easy  completely  to  account ;  out 
various  causes  may  be  assigned  for  the  want  of  originality  in 
Roman  tragedy,  and  indeed  in  the  whole  Roman  drama.     The . 
nation  was  deficient  in  that  milder  humanity  of  which  there  are 
so  many  beautiful  instances  in  Grecian  history.     From  the 
austere  patriotism  of  Brutus  sacrificing  every  personal  feeling 
to  the  love  of  country,— from  the  frugalityof  Cincinnatus,  and 
parsimony  of  the  Censor,  it  fell  with  frightful  rapidity  into  a 
state  of  luxury  and  corruption  without  example.     Even  during 
the  short  period  which  might  be  called  the  age  of  refinement, 
it  wanted  a  poetical  public.    To  judge  by  the  early  part  of 
their  history,  one  would  suppose  that  the  Romans  were  not 
deficient  in  that  species  of  sensibilfty  which  fits  for  due  sym- 
pathy in  theatrical  incidents.    Most  of  their  great  revolutions 
were  occasioned  by  events  acting  strongly  and  suddenly  on 
their  feelings.    The  hard  fate  of  Lucretia,  Virginia,  and  the 
youth  Publilius,  freed  them  from  the  tyranny  of  their  kings, 
decemvirs,  and  patrician  creditors.     On  the  whole,  however, 
tbey  were  an  austere,  stately,  and  formal  people ;  their  whole 
ntode  of  life  tended  to  harden  the  heart  and  feelings,  and  there 
was  a  rigid  uniformity  in  their  early  manners,  ill  adapted  to 
the  free  workings  of  the  passions.     External  indications  of 
tenderness  were  repressed  as  unbecoming  of  men  whose  souls 
were  fixed  on  the  attainment  of  the  most  lofty  objects.     Pity 
was  never  to  be  felt  by  a  Roman,  h|it  when  it  came  in  the  shape 
of  clemency  towards  a  vanquished  foe,  and  tears  were  never 
to  dim  the  eyes  of  those  whose  chief  pride  consisted  in  acting 
with  energy  and  enduring  with  firniness.     This  self-command, 
which  their  principles  required  of  them, — this  controul   of 
every  manifestation  of  sufiering  in  themselves,  and  contempt 
for  the  expression  of  it  in  others,  tended  to  exclude  tragedy 
almost  entirely  from  the  range  of  their  literature. 

Any  softer  emotions,  too,  which  the  Roman  people  may  have 
oDce  experienced— any  sentiments  capable  of  being  awakened 


224  ROMAN  DRAMA. 

to  tragic  pathos,  became  gradually  blunted  by  the  manner  in 
which  they  were  exercised.  They  had,  by  degrees,  been 
accustomed  to  take  a  barbarous  delight  in  the  roost  wanton 
displays  of  human  violence,  and  brutal  cruelty.  Uons  and 
elephants  tore  each  other  in  pieces  before  their  eyes ;  and  they 
beheld,  with  emotions  only  of  delight,  crowds  of  hireling 
gladiators  wasting  their  energy,  valour,  and  life,  on  the  guilty 
arena  of  a  Circus.  Gladiatorial  combats  were  first  exhibited 
by  Decius  and  Marcus  Brutus,  at  the  funeral  of  their  father, 
about  the  commencement  of  the  Punic  wars.  The  number  of 
such  entertainments  increased  with  the  luxury  of  the  times; 
and  those  who  courted  popular  favour  found  no  readier  way 
to  gain  it  than  by  magnificence  and  novelty  in  this  species  of 
expense.  Caesar  exhibited  three  hundred  pairs  of  gladiators; 
Pompey  presented  to  the  multitude  six  hundred  lions,  to  be 
torn  in  pieces  in  the  Circus,  besides  harnessed  bears  and 
dancing  elephants ;  and  some  other  candidate  for  popular 
favour,  introdaced  the  yet  more  refined  barbarity  of  combats 
between  men  and  wild  animals.  These  were  the  darling 
amusements  of  all,  and  chief  occupations  of  many  Romans ; 
and  those  who  could  take  pleasure  in  such  spectacles,  must 
have  lost  all  that  tenderness  of  inward  feeling,  and  all  that 
exquisite  sympathy  for  suifering,  without  which  none  can 
perceive  the  force  and  beauty  of  a  tragic  drama.  The  exten* 
sion,  too,  of  the  military  power,  and  the  increasing  wealth 
and  splendour  of  the  Roman  republic,  accustomed  its  citizens 
to  triumphal  and  gaudy  processions.  This  led  to  a  taste  for 
what,  in  modern  times,  has  been  called  SpectacU;  and,  instead 
of  melting  with  tenderness  at  the  woes  of  Andromache,  the 
people  demanded  on  the  stage  such  exhibitions  as  presented 
them  with  an  image  of  their  favourite  pastimes: — 

**  Qvatuor  aut  (dures  auhea  premuntur  in  bona, 
Dum  fiighiDt  equitum  turme,  peditiimqu«  cmtenrc :  . 
Mox  trahitur  minibus  re^m  fortuna  retortis ; 
Eneda  festinant,  pilenta,  petonita,  naves : 
Captivum  portatur  ebur»  captiva  Coiinthus*.- 


.♦  s» 


This  sort  of  show  was  not  confined  to  the  afterpiece  or  en- 
tertainment, but  was  introduced  in  the  finest  tragedies,  which 
were  represented  with  such  pomp  and  ostentation  as  to  de- 
stroy all  the  grace  of  the  performance.  A  thousand  mules 
pranced  about  the  stag6  in  the  tragedy  o(-Cl]/temne9tra;  and 
whole  regiments,  accoutred  in  foreign  armour,  were  marshalled 

*  Homt.  .£)iM^  Lib.  U.  ep,  1. 


ROMAN  DRAMA.  225 

in  that  of  the  Trqjan  Horse*.  This  taste,  so  fatal  to  the 
genuine  excellence  of  tragedy  or  comedy,  was  fostered  and 
encouraged  by  the  iEdiles,  who  had  the  charge  of  the  public 
Shows,  and,  among  others,  of  the  exhibitions  at  the  theatre. 
The  sdilesbip  was  considered  as  one  of  the  steps  to  the 
higher  honours  of  the  state ;  and  those  who  held  it  could  not 
resort  to  surer  means  of  conciliating  tlie  favour  of  their  fellow- 
citizens,  or  purchasing  their  future  suffrages,  than  by  sparing 
no  expense  in  the  pageantry  of  theatrical  amusements. 

The  language,  also,  of  the  Romans,  however  excellent  in 
other  respects,  was,  at  least  in  comparison  with  Greek,  but  ill 
suited  to  the  expression  of  earnest  and  vivid  emotion.  It  re- 
quired an  artful  and  elaborate  collocation  of  words,  and  its 
construction  is  more  forced  and  artificial  than  that  of  most 
other  tongues.  Hence  passion  always  seemed  to  speak  the 
language  with  effort;  the  idiom  would  not  yield  to  the  rapid 
transitions  and  imperfect  phrases  of  impassioned  dialogue. 

Little  attention,  besides,  was  paid  to  critical  learning,  and 
the  cultivation  of  correct  composition.  The  Latin  muse  had 
been  nurtured  amid  the  festivities  of  rural  superstition ;  and 
the  impure  mixture  of  licentious  jollity  had  so  corrupted  her 
nature,  that  it  long  partook  of  her  rustic  origin.  Even  so  late 
as  the  time  of  Horace,  the  tragic  drama  continued  to  be  un- 
Buccessful,  in  consequence  of  the  illiberal  education  of  the 
Roman  youth ;  who,  while  the  Greeks  were  taught  to  open  all 
the  mind  to  glory,  were  so  cramped  in  their  genius  by  the 
love  of  gain,  and  bv  the  early  infusion  of  sordid  principles, 
that  they  were  unable  to  project  a  great  design,  or  conduct 
it  to  perfection.  The  consequence  was,  that  the  "  4Brugo  ei 
cura  peevAV^  had  so  completely  infected  the  Roman  drama- 
tists, that  lucre  was  the  sole  object  of  their  pains.  Hence, 
provided  they  could  catch  popular  applause,  and  secure  a  high 
price  from  the  magistrates  who  superintended  theatrical  ex- 
hibitions, they  felt  indifferent  to  every  nobler  view,  and  more 
worthy  purpose : — 


**  Gestit  enim  nummum  in  loculos  demittere ;  post  hoc 
SecuruB,  cadat,  an  recto  stet  fabula  talof.* 


» 


Bat,  above  all,  the  low  estimation  in  which  the  art  of  poetry 
was  held,  must  be  regarded  as  a  cause  of  its. little  progress 
during  the  periods  of  the  republic :  "  Sero  igitur,"  says  Cicero, 
"anostris,  poetse  vel  cogniti  vel  recepti.    Quo  minus  igitur 

*  Cwm^EpUUtUBfomOiiafeB,  Lib.  VIL  ep.  1.  Ed.  Schatz. 
\  Hont  Efitst,  Lib.  II.  1. 

Vol.  I.— 2  D 


396  ROMAN  DRAMA. 

iMHiorifl  eral  poetis,  eo  minora  studia  fuerimt*."  The  earliest 
poets  of  Rome  had  not  the  encouragement  of  that  court  favour 
which  was  extended  to  Chaucer  m  England,  to  Marot  and 
Ronsard  in  France,  and  to  Dante  by  the  petty  princes  of  Italy. 
From  Liyius  Andronicus  to  Terence,  poetry  was  cultivatei 
only  by  foreigners  and  freedmen.  Scipio  and  Lselius,  indeed, 
are  said  to  have  written  some  scenes  in  the  plays  of  Terence; 
but  they  did  not  choose  that  anything  of  this  sort  should  pan 
under  their  names.  The  stern  republicans  seem  to  have  con- 
aidered  poetry  as  an  art  which  captives  and  slaves  might  cul- 
tivate, for  the  amusement  of  their  conquerors,  or  masters,  but 
which  it  would  be  unsuitable  for  a  grave  and  lofty  patriciaa 
to  practice.  I  suspect,  the  Romans  regarded  a  poet  as  a  turn* 
bier  or  rope-dancer,  with  whose  feats  we  are  entertained,  but 
whom  we  would  not  wish  to  imitate. 

The  drama  in  Rome  did  not  establish  itself  systematically, 
and  by  degrees,  as  it  did  in  Greece.  Plautus  wrote  for  the 
stage  during  the  time  of  Livius  Andionicus,  and  Terence  was 
nearly  contemporary  with  Pacuvius  and  Attius ;  so  that  every- 
thing serious  and  comic,  good  and  bad,  came  at  once,  and  if 
it  was  Grecian,  found  a  welcome  reception  among  the  Romaos. 
On  this  account  every  species  of  dramatic  amusement  was  in- 
discriminately adopted  at  the  theatre,  and  that  which  was  most 
absurd  was  often  most  admired.  The  Greek  drama  acquired 
a  splendid  degree  of  perfection  by  a  close  imitation  of  nature; 
but  the  Romans  ne\^er  attained  such  perfection,  because, 
however  exquisite  their  models,  they  did  not  copy  directly 
from  nature,  but  from  its  representative  and  image. 

Had  the  Romans,  indeed,  possessed  a  literature  of  their  own, 
when  they  first  grew  familiar  with  the  works  of  the  Greek 
poets,  their  native  productions  would  no  doubt  have  been  im- 
proved by  the  study  and  imitation  of  the  masterpieces  of  these 
more  accomplished  foreigners;  yet  they  would  still  have  pre- 
served something  of  a  national  character :  But,  unfortunately, 
when  the  Romans  first  became  acquainted  with  the  writings 
of  the  Greeks,  they  had  not  even  sown  the  seeds  of  learning, 
8o  that  they  remained  satisfied  with  the  full-ripened  produce 
imported  from  abroad.  Several  critics  have  indeed  remarked 
in  all  the  compositions  of  the  Romans,  and  particularly  in  their 
tragedies,  a  peculiar  severity  and  loftiness  of  thought;  but 
thev  were  all  formed  so  entirely  on  a  Greek  model,  that  their 
early  poetry  must  be  regarded  rather  as  the  production  of  art 
than  genius,  and  as  a  spark  struck  by  contact  and  attrition, 

*  Tuseul,  DUpui,  Lib.  I.  c.  2. 


ROMAN  DRAMA.  f37 

rather  tbaii  a  flame  spontaneously  kindled  at  the  altar  of  thu 
Moses. 

In  addition  to  all  tbis,  the  Latin  poet  had  no  encourage- 
ment to  invent.  He  was  not  required  to  look  abroad  into 
nature,  or  strike  out  a  path  foi  himself.  So  far  from  this 
being  demanded,  Greek  subjects  were  evidently  preferred  by 
the  public — 

'*  Omnet  res  gettas  Athemi  Mse  autumaot* 

Quo  vobis  illud  Grecum  videatur  magis*/' 

An  the  works,  then,  which  have  been  hitherto  mentioned, 
and  which,  with  exception  of  the  Anncila  of  Ennius,  are  en- 
tirely dramatic,  belong  strictly  to  what  may  be  called  the 
Greek  school  of  cotnposition,  and  are  unquestionably  the  least 
original  class  of  productions  in  the  Latin,  or  perhaps  any 
other  language.  But  however  little  the  early  dramatists  of 
Rome  may  have  to  boast  of  originality  or  invention,  they  are 
amply  entitled  to  claim  an  unborrowed  praise  for  the  genuine 
purity  of  their  native  style  and  language. 

The  style  and  language  of  the  dramatic  writers  of  the  pe- 
riod, on  which  we  are  now  engaged,  seem  to  have  been  much 
relished  by  a  numerous  class  of  readers,  from  the  age  of  Au* 
gastus  to  that  of  the  Antoniiies,  and  to  have  been  equally 
abhorred  by  the  poets  of  that  time.  We  have  already  seen 
Horace's  indignation  against  those  who  admired  the  Carmen 
Saliarej  or  the  poems  of  Livius,  and  which  appears  the  bolder 
and  more  surprising,  as  Augustus  himself  was  not  altoge- 
ther exempt  from  this  predilectionf ;  and  we  have  also  seen 
the  satire  of  Persius  against  his  age,  for  being  still  delighted 
with  the  fustian  tragedies  of  Attius  and  the  rugged  style  of 
?acuvius— ' 

**  Eat  nunc  Brisei  quern  venosua  liber  Attt, 
Sunt  quoa  PacuviuBque^  et  verrucosa  moretor 
Antiope,  scnonnifl  cor  luctificabUe  fiilta." 

In  like  manner  Martial,  in  his  Epigrams,  mimicking  the  ob- 
solete phrases  of  the  ancient  dramatists — 


Attooltosque  1e^  terriHfrug^erai^ 
Attius  et  quicqmd  PacuTiuaque  vomunt 


» 


dach  sentiments,  however,  as  is  evident  from  Horace's  Epistls 

*  Pkntna     Menmehmi.  Prolog. 

t  Deleetabatur  veteri  comoedi^,  et  Mope  ean  exhibuit  pobikis  qtoctacuMi.    9qs* 
foBios,  M  Auguit,  c.  S9. 


228  ROMAN  DRAMA. 

to  Augustus,  proceeded  in  a  great  measure  from  the  modeni 
poets  being  provoked  at  an  admiration,  which  they  thought 
did  not  originate  in  a  real  sense  of  the  merit  of  these  old 
writers,  but  in  an  envious  wjsh  to  depreciate,  by  odious  com- 
parison,  the  productions  of  the  day — 

**  Jam  Saliam  Nume  carmen  qui  laudat,  etiUud 
Quod  mecum  i^orat,  solus  vult  scire  videri ; 
Ingeniis  non  ille  favet,  plauditque  sepultis, 
Nostra  sad  impugnat — ^nos,  nostiaque  Hvidus  odit.*' 

But  although  a  great  proportion  of  the  public  may,  with  mali- 
cious designs,  have  heaped  extravagant  commendations  on 
the  style  of  the  ancient  tragedians,  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  it  is  full  of  vigour  and  richness ;  and  if  inferior  to  the 
exquisite  refinement  of  the  Augustan  age,  it  was  certainly 
much  to  be  preferred  to  the  obscurity  of  Persius,  or  the  con- 
ceits of  Martial.  "  A  very  imperfect  notion,"  says  Wakefield, 
in  one  of  his  letters  to  Fox,  '^is  entertained  in  general  of  the 
copiousness  of  the  Latin  language,  by  those  who  confine 
themselves  to  what  are  styled  the  Augustan  writers.  The 
old  comedians  and  tragedians,  with  Ennius  and  Lucilius,  were 
the  great  repositories  of  learned  and  vigorous  expression.  I 
have  ever  regarded  the  loss  of  the  old  Roman  poets,  particu- 
larly Ennius  and  Lucilius,  from  the  light  they  would  have 
thrown  on  the  formations  of  the  Latin  language,  and  its  deri- 
vation from  the  iEolian  Greek,  as  the  severest  calamity  ever 
sustained  by  philological  learning*."  Sometimes,  indeed,  their 
words  are  uncouth,  particularly  their  compound  terms  and 
and  epithets,  in  the  formation  of  which  they  are  not  nearly  so 
happy  as  the  Greeks.  Livius  Andronicus  uses  OdorUequca 
canes — Pacuvius  employs  Rqpandirostrum  and  Incurvicervi^ 
cum.  Such  terms  always  appear  incongruous  and  disjointed, 
and  not  knit  together  so  happily  as  CydopSy  and  other  similar 
words  of  the  Greeks. 

The  different  classes  into  which  the  regular  drama  of  this 
period  may  be  reduced,  is  a  subject  involved  in  great  contra- 
diction and  uncertainty,  and  has  been  much  agitated  in  con- 
sequence of  Horace's  celebrated  line — 

"  Vel  qui  PrmiextOM  ye]  qui  docuere  Togata$\:* 

On  the  whole,  it  seems  pretty  evident,  that  the  regular  drama 
was  divided  into  tragedy  and  comedy.  A  tragedy  on  a  Greek 
subject,  and  in  which  Greek  manners  were  preserved,  as  the 

•  Corre$pondenee,  &c.  p.  205.    Lend.  181S. 
t  JSr$FoeHea,y.iSe. 


FABUL JE  ATELLANiE.  229 

Hecuba,  Dulorestes,  &c.  was  simply  styled  Tragadia^  or 
sometimes  Tragcsdia  PaUiata.  Those  tragedies  again,  in 
which  Roman  characters  were  introduced,  as  the  Decius  and 
Brutus  of  Attius,  were  called  Prtjttextata^  because  the  Pr®- 
texta  was  the  habit  worn  by  Roman  kings  and  consuls.  The 
comedy  which  adopted  Gieek  subjects  and  characters,  like 
those  of  Terence,  was  termed  Comadia^  or  ComadiaPaUiata; 
aud  that  which  was  clothed  in  Roman  habits  and  customsi 
was  called  TogcUa*.  Afranius  was  the  most  celebrated  wri- 
ter of  this  last  class  of  dramas,  which  were  probably  Greek 
pieces  accommodated  to  Roman  manners,  since  Afranius  lived 
at  a  period  when  Roman  literature  was  almost^entirely  imita- 
tive. It  is  difficult,  no  doubt,  to  see  how  an  Athenian  comedy 
could  be  bent  to  local  usages  foreign  to  its  spirit  and  genius ; 
but  the  Latin  writers  were  not  probably  very  nice  about  the  ad- 
justment; and  the  ComcsdiaTogata  is  so  slightly  mentioned  by 
ancient  writers,  that  we  can  hardly  suppose  that  it  comprehend- 
ed a  great  class  of  national  compositions.  The  Tabernariaw9M 
a  comedy  of  a  lower  order  than  the  ConuBdia  l^ogata :  It 
represented  such  manners  as  were  likely  to  be  met  with  among 
the  dregs  of  the  Plebeians ;  and  was  so  called  from  'i  abema, 
as  its  scene  was  usually  laid  in  shops  or  taverns.  These,  I 
think,  are  the  usual  divisions  of  the  regular  Roman  drama; 
but  critics  and  commentators  have  sometimes  applied  the 
term  Togata  to  all  plays,  whether  tragedies  or  comedies,  in 
which  Rmnan  characters  were  represented,  and  PaUiaia  to 
every  drama  of  Greek  origin. 

There  was,  however,  a  species  of  irregular  dramas,  for 
which  the  Romans  were  not  indebted  to  the  Greeks,  and 
which  was  peculiar  to  themselves,  called  FabtUm  Atdlanm. 
These  entertainments  weie  so  denominated  from  A  tell  a,  a 
considerable  town  of  the  Oscans,  now  St  Arpino,  lying  about 
two  miles  south  from  Aversa,  between  Capua  and  Naples,— 
the  place  now  named  Atella  being  at  a  little  distance. 

When  Livius  Andronicus  had  succeeded  in  establishing  at 
Rome  a  regular  theatre,  which  was  formed  on  the  Greek 
model,  and  was  supported  by  professional  writers,  and  pro- 
fessional actors,  the  free  Roman  youth,  who  were  still  willing, 
amid  their  foreign  refinements,  occasionally  to  revive  the 
recollection  of  the  old  popular  pastimes  of  their  Italian  ances- 
fry)  continued  to  amuse  themselves  with  the  satiric  pieces 
introduced  by  the  Histriona  of  Etruria,  and  with  the  Atellane 
tables  which  Oscan  performers  had  first  made  known  at 

*  See  Dubos,  R^fUx.  svr  la  Po^ne,  Jul.  PoUux,  Oncmaatkon. 


330  FABULiE  ATELLAN^ 

Rome*.  The  actors  of  the  regular  drama  were  not  penaitied 
to  appear  in  such  representations ;  and  the  Roman  youths,  to 
whom  the  privilejEce  was  reserved,  were  not,  as  other  actors, 
removed  from  their  tribe,  or  rendered  incapable  of  military 
servicef ;  nor  could  they  be  called  on  like  them  to  unmask 
in  presence  of  the  spectators}.  It  has  been  conjectured,  that 
the  popularity  of  these  spectacles,  and  the  privileges  reserved 
to  those  who  appeared  in  them,  were  granted  in  consequence 
of  their  pleasantries  being  so  tempered  by  the  ancient  Italian 
gravity,  that  there  was  no  admixture  of  obscenity  or  indeco- 
rum, and  hence  no  stain  of  dishonour  was  supposed  to  be 
inflicted  on  the  performers^. 

The  Atellane  Fables  consisted  of  detached  scenes  following 
each  other,  without  mucii  dramatic  connection,  but  replete 
with  jocularity  and  buifoonery.  I'hey  were  written  in  the 
Oscan  dialect,  in  the  same  way  as  the  Venetian  or  Neapolitan 
jargons  are  frequently  employed  in  the  Italian  comedies ;  and 
they  differed  from  the  (rreek  satiric  drama  in  this,  that  the 
characters  of  the  latter  were  Satyrs,  while  those  of  the  AteK 
lane  fables  were  Oscan  ||.  One  of  these  was  called  Maccus, 
a  grotesque  and  fantastic  personage,  with  an  immense  head, 
long  nose,  and  hump  back,  who  corresponded  in  some  measure 
to  the  clown  or  fool  of  modern  pantomime,  and  whose  appel- 
lation of  Maccus  has  been  interpreted  by  Lipsius  as  Bardus, 
fatinUf  9toiidus^,  In  its  rude  but  genuine  form  this  species  of 
entertainment  was  in  great  vogue  and  constant  use  at  Rome. 
It  does  not  appear  that  the  Atellane  fables  were  originally 
written  out,  or  that  the  actors  had  certain  parts  prescribed 
to  them.  The  general  subject  was  probably  agreed  on,  but 
the  performers  themselves  filled  up  the  scenes  from  their  own 
art  or  invention'^f .  As  the  Roman  language  improved,  and 
the  provincial  tongues  of  ancient  Italy  became  less  known, 
the  Oscan  dialect  was  gradually  abandoned.  Quintus  Novius, 
who  lived  in  the  beginning  of  the  seventh  century  of  Rome, 
and  whom  Macrobius  mentions  as  one  of  the  most  approved 
writers  of  Atellane  Fables,  was  the  author  who  chiefly  con- 

•  Livy,  Lib.  VII.  c.  2.  f  IWd. 

I  JuL  Pollttz,  OrumuLtHeon,    Festus  ap.   Vo99iu8  de  Poet,  Lai*  lib.  II.  e. 

§  Casaubon,  de  Scttyriea  Pt>es.  Lib.  II.  c.  1.  Signorelli,  Star,  de  Tsat.  Tom. 
II.  p.  14.  Thifl,  however,  is  not  Teiy  likely.  The  deference  was  probably  paid^ 
because  young  patricians  chose  to  act  m  the  Atellanes :  It  couM  not  otherwise  have 
been  thought  more  creditable  to  personate  the  clown  or  fool  of  a  semi-barbftrofv 
race,  than  to  perform  the  parts  of  ^dipus  and  Agamemnon. 

II  Diomed.  de  Poem,  Oen.  Lib.  III. 
V  EpUt.  quant  Lib.  XI.  QwbbU  22. 

*t  JDu  Bos,  Reflex,  Critiqtice,  Tom.  I.  p.  164. 


FABULiE  ATELLAN^.  281 

triimted  to  this  innovation.    He  is  cited  as  the  author  of  tho 
Virgo  t^riBgtkans^  Lhlaiaj  GaUinariaf  Gemini,  and  varioaB 

others. 

At  length,  in  the  time  of  Sylla,  Lucias  Pomponius  pro- 
duced Atellane  Fables,  which  were  written  without  any  inters 
mixture  of  the  Oscan  dialect,  being  entirely  in  the  Latin 
lauguage ;  and  he  at  the  sarae  time  refined  their  ancient  buf- 
foonery so  much,  by  giving  them  a  more  rational  cast,  that 
he  18  called  by  Velleius  Paterculus  the  inventor  of  this  species 
of  drama,  and  is  characterized  by  that  author  as  '^  sensibus 
celebrem,  verbis  rudem*."  Pomponius  was  remarkable  for 
his  accurate  observation  of  manners,  and  his  genius  has  been 
highly  extolled  by  Cicero  and  Seneca.  The  names  of  sixty- 
three  of  his  pieces  have  been  cited  by  grammarians,  and  from 
all  these  fragments  are  still  extant.  From  some  of  them, 
however,  -ot  more  than  a  line  has  been  preserved,  and  from 
flooe  of  them  more  than  a  dozen.  It  would  appear  that  the 
Oscan  character  of  Maccus  was  still  retained  in  many  fables 
of  Pomponius,  as  there  is  one  entitled  Maccus,  and  others 
Macd  Geminij  Maccua  MUes,  Maccua  Sequeetria,  in  the 
same  manner  as  we  say  Harlequin  footman,  &c  Pappo,  or 
Pappus,  seems  also  to  have  been  a  character  introduced  along 
with  Maccus,  and,  I  should  think,  correspond^  to  the  Panta- 
looQ  of  modern  pantomime.  Among  the  names  of  the  Atel- 
ianes  of  Pomponius  we  find  Pappus  Agricola^  and  among 
those  of  Novius,  Pappus  Prcderitus.  This  character,  how- 
ever, appears  rather  to  have  been  of  Greek  than  of  Oscan 
origin;  and  was  probably  deriyed  from  IlacTof,  the  Silenus 
or  old  man  of  the  Greek  dramatic  satire. 

The  improvements  of  Pomponius  were  so  well  received  at 
Kome,  that  he  was  imitated  by  Mummius,  and  by  Sylla  him- 
self, who,  we  are  told*  by  Athenseus,  wrote  several  Atellane 
Fables  in  bis  native  languagef.  In  this  new  form  introduced 
by  Pomponius  the  Atellane  dramas  continued  to  enjoy  great 
popularity  in  Rome,  till  they  were  in  some  measure  superseded 
by  the  Mimes  of  Laberius  and  Publius  Syrus. 

Along  with  the  Atellane  Fables,  the  Roman  youth  were  in 
the  practice  of  acting  short  pieces  called  Exodia^  which  were 
U)terludes,  or  afler-pieces,  of  a  yet  more  loose,  detached,  and 
farcical  description,  than  the  Atel lanes,  being  a  continuation 
of  the  ancient  performances  originally  introduced  by  the  His- 
trions  of  Etruria|.  In  these  Exodia  the  actors  usually  wore 
the  same  masks  and  habits  as  in  the  Atellanes  and  tragedies^, 

•  Lib.  11.  c.  9.  t  Lib.  VI.  c.  17.  • 

I  Conferta  fiibelfis  potimiraum  Atelldnis  sunt.    Livy,  Lib.  Vll.  c  2. 
§  Sober,  Theorie  dsr  Sehifnen  Kunaie,  Lib.  L  p.  520. 


230  SATIRE. 

and  represented  the  same  characters  in  a  Ittdicrous  point  of 
view : — 

"  Uibicus  Exodio  lisum  movet  Atellane 
Gestibiu  Autonoes.    Hunc  diligit  iElia  pauper*." 

Joseph  Scaliger,  in  his  Commentary  on  Manilius,  gives  his 
opinion,  that  the  Exodia  were  performed  at  the  end  of  the 
principal  piece,  like  our  farces,  and  were  so  called  as  being 
the  issue  of  the  entertainment,  which  is  also  asserted  by  a 
scholiast  on  Juvenalf .  But  the  elder  Scaliger  and  Salmasius 
thought  that  the  exodium  was  a  sort  of  interlude,  and  had  not 
necessarily  any  connection  with  the  principal  representation. 
The  Exodia  continued  to  be  performed  with  much  license  in 
the  times  of  Tiberius  and  Nero ;  and  when  the  serious  spirit 
of  freedom  had  vanished  from  the  empire,  they  often  con- 
tained jocular  but  direct  allusions  to  the  crimes  of  the  por- 
tentous monsters  by  whom  it  wasi  scourged  and  afflicted. 

It  has  been  much  disputed  among  modern  critics,  whether 
the 


SATIRE 

of  the  Romans  was  derived  from  the  Greeks,  or  was  of  their 
own  invention.  The  former  opinion  has  been  maintained  by 
the  elder  Scaliger^,  Heinsius^,  Vulpius||,  and,  among  the 
most  recent  German  critics,  by  BlankenburglT,  Conz,  and 
Flogel^f ;  the  latter  theory,  which  seems  to  have  been  that  of 
the  Romans  themselves,  particularly  of  Horace  and  'Quinti- 
lianf  f ,  has  been  supported  by  Diomedes|f ,  Joseph  Scaliger, 
Casaubbn^f,  Spanheim||f ,  RigaltiuslTf ,  Dacier**,  and  Dryden, 
and  by  Koenigf*,  and  Manso,  among  the  Germans.  Those 
who  suppose  Oiat  satire  descended  directly  from  the  Greeks 
to  the  Romans,  derive  the  word  from  Satyrus,  the  well-known 
mythological  compound  of  a  man  and  goat.  Casaubcm,  on 
the  other  hand,  and  most  of*  those  who  have  followed  him, 
deduce  it  from  the  adjective  Setturay  a  Sabine  word,  originally 
signifying  a  medley,  and,  afterwards, — full  or  abundant.    To 

•  Juvenal,  Sat.  VI. 

t  Ezodiarius  apudveteres  io  fineludorumiiiUabat,  quod  ridicolue  foret>  at>  quid- 
quid  lachrymarum  atque  tiistitise  coegisseut,  ex  tragicis  affecdbus,  hqjus  specUcuIi 
risuo  detergeret. — M  JuvewU.  Satir.  III.  v.  175. 

t  Poetieea  lAhri.  6  De  Sat.  Horat,  ||  De  Sat.  Latin. 

%  Ad,  Sulzer.  'f  C^sehichte  der  komisehen  IMUratur, 

tt  Satiia  tota  nostra  est.  X\  Lib.  III.  M  De  Satir.  Poei. 

tit  Viisertation  surUs  Cesars  de  JuUen,  tf  ^  ^*  /uMfuilis. 

**  Prrf,  $w  lea  Sat.  d^Horace.  f*  I>^  Sat.  BomanA. 


SATIRE.  3S3 

this  word  the  substantive  Lanx  was  understood,  which  meant 
the  platter  or  charger  whereon  the  first  fruits  of  the  earth 
were  offered  to  Bacchus  at  his  festivals, — 

**  Eigo  rite  mum  Baccho  dicemus  honorem 
Cannimbus  patriii,  lancesque  et  liba  feremus*." 

The  term  Satura  thus  came  to  be  applied  to  a  species  of 
composition,  originally  written  in  various  sorts  of  verse,  and 
eomprehending  a  farrago  of  all  subjects, — 

"  Quicquid  aguDt  homines,  rotum,  tfanor,  in,  yohiptas, 

Gaudia,  discumut/'  &c.  ^ 

In  the  same  way,  laws  were  called  Leges  Saturm^  when  they 
consisted  of  several  heads  and  titles;  and  Verrius  Flaccus  calls 
a  dish,  which  I  suppose  was  a  sort  of  cUa  podrida — Satura  >-« 
'^Satura  cibi  genus  ex  variis  rebus  conditum.''  Dacier,  how- 
ever, though  he  agrees  with  Casaubon  as  to  the  Latin  origin 
of  satire,  derives  the  term  from  Saturn;  as  he  believes  that  it 
was  at  festivals .  in  honour  of  that  ancient  god  of  Italy  that 
those  rustic  impromptus,  which  gave  rise  to  satire,  were  first 
recited. 

Flogel,  in  his  German  History  of  Comic  Literature^  attempts 
to  show,  at  considerable  length,  that  Casaubon  has  attributed 
too  much  to  the  derivation  of  the  word  satire ;  since,  though 
the  term  may  be  of  Latin  origin,  it  does  not  follow  that  the 
thing  was  unknown  to  the  Greeks, — and  that  he  also  relies 
too  oiuch  on  the  argument,  that  the  satiric  plays  of  the  Greeks 
were  quite  different  from  the  satire  of  the  Romans,  which  may 
be  true;  while,  at  the  same  time,  there  are  other  sorts  of 
Greek  compositions,  as  the  lyric  satires  of  Archilochus  and  the 
SOli^  which  have  a  much  nearer  resemblance  to  the  Latin 
didactic  satire  than  any  satirical  drama. 

In  fact,  the  whole  question  seems  to  depend  on  what  con- 
stitutes a  sufficient  alteration  or  variety  from  former  composi- 
tions, to  give  a  claim  to  invention.  Now  it  certainly  cannot 
be  pretended,  so  far  as  we  know,  that  any  satiric  productions 
of  the  Greeks  had  much  resemblance  to  those  of  the  Romans. 
The  Greek  satires,  which  are  improperly  so  termed,  were 
divided  into  what  were  called  tragic  and  comic.  The  former 
were  dramatic  compositions,*which  had  their  commencement, 
like  the  regular  tragedy,  in'  rustic  festivals  to  the  honour  of 

•  Vfa|^,  Gearg.  Lib.  II. 

t  Jmreiud.  SaHr,  Lib.  I.  We  skaO  afterwards  see  reason  to  conclude,  diat  the 
™ous  SaHra  Memppea  of  Yano  seems  not  to  have  been  Satyn,  but  Sitois,  ft 
^ge-podce,  or  medley. 

Vol.  L— 3E 


234  SATIRE. 

Bacchus ;  and  in  which,  characters  representing  SatyrSt  the 
supposed  companions  of  that  god,  were  introduced,  imitating 
the  coarse  songs  and  fantastic  dances  of  rural  deities.  In 
their  rude  origin,  it  is  probable  that  only  one  actor,  equipped 
as  a  Satyr,  danced  or  sung.  Soon,  however,  a  cboms 
appeared,  consisting  of  the  bearded  and  beardless  Satyrs, 
Silenus,  and  Pappo  Silenus;  and  Histrions,  representing  heroic 
characters,  were  afterwards  introduced.  The  satiric  drama 
began  to  flourish  when  the  regular  tragedy  had  become  too 
refined  to  admit  of  a  chorus,  or  accompaniment  of  Satyrs,  but 
while  these  were  still  remembered  with  a  sort  of  fondness, 
which  rendered  it  natural  to  recur  to  the  most  apcient  shape 
of  the  drama.  In  this  state  of  the  progress  of  the  Greek  stage, 
the  satire  was  performed  separately  from  the  tragedy ;  and  out 
of  respect  to  the  original  form  of  tragedy,  was  often  exhibited 
as  a  continuation  or  parody  of  the  tragic  trilogyj  or  three 
serious  plays, — thus  completing-  what  was  called  the  tetra- 
logia.  The  scene  of  these  satires  was  laid  in  the  country, 
amid  woods,  caves,  and  mountains,  or  other  such  places  as 
Satyrs  were-  supposed  to  inhabit;  and  the  subjects  chosen 
were  those  in  which  Satyrs  might  naturally  be  feigned  to  have 
had  a  share  or  interest.  High  mythological  stories  and  fabu- 
lous heroes  were  introduced,  as  appears  from  the  Qames 
preserved  by  Casaubon,  who  mentions  the  Hercules  of  Asty- 
damas,  the  AlcnuBon  and  Vulcan  of  Achseus,— each  of  which 
is  denominated  (faru^ixog.  These  heroic  characters,  however, 
were  generally  parodied,  and  rendered  fantastic,  by  the  gross 
railleries  of  Silenus  and  the  Fauns.    The  Cydops  of  £uri» 

fides,  which  turns  on  the  story  of  Ulysses  in  the  cave  of 
olyphemus,  is  the  only  example  entirely  extant  of  this  species 
of  composition.  Some  fragments,  however,  remain  of  the 
Lytieraa  of  Sositheus,  an  author  who  flourished  about  the 
ltU)th  Olympiad,  which  was  subsequent  to  the  introduction  of 
the  new  Greek  comedy.  Lytiersa,  who  gives  name  to  this 
dramatic  satire,  lived  in  Phrygia.  He  used  to  receive  many 
guests,  who  flocked  to  his  residence  from  all  quarters.  After 
entertaining  them  at  sumptuous  banquets,  he  compelled  them 
to  go  out  with  him  to  his  fields,  to  reap  his  crop  or  cut  his 
hay ;  and  when  they  had  performed  this  labour,  he  mowed  oflT 
their  heads,  with  a  scythe.  The  style  of  entertainment,  it 
seems,  did  not  prevent  his  house  from  being  a  place  of 
fashionable  resort.  Hercules,  however,  put  an  end  to  this 
mode  of  wishing  a  good  afternoon,  by  strangling  the  hospita- 
ble landlord,  and  throwing  his  body  into  the  Mseander.  It  is 
evident,  from  the  subject  of  this  play,  and  of  the  Cydcps,  that 
the  tragic  satires  were  a  sort  of  fee-fti-fiim  perfoimance,  like 


SATIR£.  335 

our  after-npieces  founded  on  the  stories  of  Blue  Beard  and 
Jack  the  Giani  KiUer.  They  were  generally  short  and  simple 
in  their  plan :  They  contained  no  satire  or  ridicule  against  the 
fellow-citizens  of  the  author,  or  any  private  individuals  what- 
ever; but  there  was  a  good  deal  of  jeering  by  the  characters 
at  each  other,  and  much  buifoonery,  revelling,  and  indecency, 
among  the  satiric  persons  of  the  chorus. 

The  Comic  Satire  began  later  than  the  Tragic,  subsisted 
for  some  time  along  with  it,  and  finally  survived  it.  In  Greece 
it  was  chiefly  popular  after  the  time  of  Alexander,  and  it  also 
flourished  in  the  court  of  the  Egyptian  Ptolemies.  It  was  quite 
ditlerent  from  the  Tragic  Satire;  the  action  being  laid  in 
cities,  or  at  least  not  always  amid  rustic  scenes.  Private  in- 
dividuals were  often  satirized  in  it,  and  not  unfrequently  the 
tyrants  or  rulers  of  the  state.  When  a  mythic  story  was  . 
adopted,  the  affiiirs  of  domestic  life  were  conjoined  with  the 
action,  and  it  never  was  of  the  same  enormous  or  bloody  nature 
as  the  fables  employed  in  the  tragic  satire,  but  such  subject<i 
were  usually  chosen  as  that  of  Amphitryon,  Apollo  feeding  the 
flocks  of  Admetus,  &c.  Satyrs  were  not  essential  characters, 
and  when  they  were  introduced,  private  individuals  were 
generally  intended  to  be  ridiculed,  under  the  form  of  these 
rustic  divinities.  Gluttony,  to  judge  from  some  fragments 
preserved  by  Athenseus,  was  one  of  the  chief  topics  of  banter 
and  merriment.  Timocles,  who  lived  about  the  1 14th  Olym- 
piad, was  the  chief  author  of  comic  satires.  Lycophron,  bet- 
ter known  by  his  CiMsandra,  also  wrote  one  called  Menede- 
mu«,  in  whicti  the  founder  of  the  Eretric  school  of  philosophy 
was  exposed  to  ridicule,  under  the  character  of  Silenus,  and 
his  pupils  under  the  masks  of  Satyrs. 

Besides  their  dramatic  satires,  the  Greeks  had  another  spe- 
cies of  poem  called  SiUiy  which  were  patched  up  like  the 
Cento  Nuptialia  of  Ausonius,  from  the  verses  of  serious  writers, 
and  by  such  means  turned  to  a  different  sense  from  what  their 
original  author  intended.  Thus,  in  the  SiUi  attributed  to 
Timon,  a  sceptic  philosopher  and  disciple  of  Pyrrho,  who  lived 
in  the  time  of  Ptolemy  Philadelphus,  the  lines  are  copied  fi;om 
Homer  and  the  tragic  poets,  but  they  are  satiricallv  applied  to 
certain  customs  and  systems  of  philosophy,  which  it  was  his 
object  to  ridicule.  Some  specimens  of  the  SiUi  may  be  found 
in  Diogenes  Laertius;  but  the  longest  now  extant  is  a  passage 
preserved  in  Dio  Chrysostom,  exposing  the  mad  attachment 
of  the  inhabitants  of  Alexandria  to  chariot  races.  To  these 
Silli  may  be  added  the  lyric  or  iambic  satires  directed  against 
individuals,  like  those  of  Archilochus  against  Lycambes. 

The  Roman  didactic  satire  had  no  great  resemblance  to 


336  SATIRE. 

• 

any  of  these  sorts  of  Greek  satire.  It  referred,  as  every  one 
knows,  to  the  daily  occurrences  of  life,— to  the  ordinary  fol- 
lies and  vices  of  mankind.  With  the  Greek  tragic  satire  it 
had  scarce  any  analogy  whatever;  for  it  was  not  in  dialogue, 
and  contained  no  allusion  to  the  mythological  Satyrs  who  for- 
med the  chorus  of  the  (ireek  dramas.  To  the  comic  satire  it 
had  more  affinity ;  and,  those  writers  who  have  maintained  the 
Greek  origin  of  Roman  satire  have  done  little  justice  to  their 
argument  by  not  attending  to  the  distinction  between  these 
two  sorts  of  dramatic  satire,  and  treating  the  whole  question 
as  if  it  depended  on  the  resemblance  to  the  tragic  satire.  In 
the  comic  satire,  as  we  have  seen,  Satyrs  were  not  always  nor 
necessarily  introduced.  The  subject  was  taken  from  ordinary 
life;  and  domestic  vice  or  absurdity  was  stigmatized  and 
ridiculed,  as  it  was  in  the  Roman  satire,  particularly  during  its 
earliest  ages.  Still,  however,  there  was  no  incident  or  plot 
evolved  in  a  Roman  satire ;  nor  was  it  written  in  dialogue, 
except  occasionally,  for  the  sake  of  more  lively  sarcasm  on 
life  and  manners. 

But  though  the  Roman  satire  took  a  different  direction,  it 
had  something  of  the  same  origin  as  the  satiric  drama  of  the 
Greeks.  As  the  Grecian  holidays  were  celebrated  with  obla- 
tions to  Bacchus  and  Ceres,  to  whose  bounty  they  owed  their 
wine  and  corn,  in  like  manner  the  ancient  Italians  propitiated 
their  agricultural  or  rustic  deities  with  appropriate  oflferings, 

«  TeDurem  porco—SylTanum  lacte  piabant* ; 

but  as  they  knew  nothing  of  the  Silenus,  or  Satyrs  of  the 
Greeks,  a  chorus  of  peasants,  fantastically  disguised  in  masks 
cut  out  from  the  barks  of  trees,  danced  or  sung  to  a  certain 
kind  of  verse,  which  they  called  Saturnian : — 

'*  Nee  Don  AusodU,  TrojA  gens  missa,  colon! 
Versibus  incomtis  ludunt,  risuque  soluto ; 
Oraque  corticibus  ramiint  borrenda  eavatia : 
£t  te,  Bacche,  vocant  per  carmina  leta,  dbiqae 
Oscilla  ex  altft  suspendunt  moUla  pinuf." 

These  festivals  had  usually  the  double  purpose  of  worship 
and  recreation;  and  accordingly  the  verses  often  digressed 
from  the  praises  of  Bacchus  to  mutual  taunts  and  railleries, 
like  those  in  Virgil's  third  eclogue,  on  the  various  defects  and 
vices  of  the  speakers. 

Such  rude  lines,  originally  sung  or  recited  in  the  Tuscan 
and  Latian  villages,  at  nuptials  or  religious  festivals,  were  first 

*  Horat.  Split.  Lib.  II.  ep.  1 .  f  Georg,  Ub.  II.  v.  8SS. 


SATIRE.  237 


introdaced  at  Rome  by  BUtrianB,  who,  as  already  mentioned, 
were  sommoned  from  Etraria,  in  order  to  allay  the  pestilence 
which  was  depopulating  the  city.  These  Histrions  being 
mounted  on  a  stage,  like  our  mountebanks,  performed  a  sort 
of  bolide  by  dancing  and  gesticulating  to  the  sound  of  musical 
iDiitruments.  The  Roman  youth  thus  learned  to  imitate  their 
gestures  and  music,  which  they  accompanied  with  railing 
Terses  delivered  in  extemporary  dialogue. 

The  jeering,  however,  which  had  been  at  first  confined  to 
inoffensive  raillery,  at  length  exceeded  the  bounds  of  mode- 
ration, and  the  peace  of  private  families  was  invaded  by  the 
norestrained  license  of  personal  invective : — 

*<  Liberta84)ue  recunentes  accepta  per  annos 
Liuit  amabiliter ;  donee  jam  sevus  apertam 
In  rabiem  ccepit  verti  jocus ;  et  per  honestas 
Ire  domofl  impune  miDax :  doluere  cniento 
Dente  lacessiti ;  fuit  intactis  quoque  cura 
Conditione  super  commuiii*."— 

This  exposure  of  private  individuals,  which  alarmed  even  those 
who  had  been  spared,  was  restrained  by  a  salutary  law  of  the 
Decemvirs. — '^  Si  quis  occentassit  malum  carmen,  sive  condi* 
disit,  quod  infamiam  faxit  flagitiumve  alteri,  fiiste  ferito." 

Ennius,  perceiving  how  much  the  Romans  had  been  de- 
lighted with  the  rude  satires  poured  forth  in  extemporary  dia- 
logue, thought  it  might  be  worth  his  pains  to  compose  satires 
not  to  be  recited  but  read.  He  preserved  in  them,  however, 
the  groundwork  of  the  ancient  pleasantry,  and  the  venom  of 
the  ancient  raillery,  on  individuals,  as  well  as  on  general  vices. 
His  satires  related  to  various  subjects,  and  were  written  in 
different  sorts  of  verses — hexameters  being  mingled  with 
iambic  ^nd  trochaic  lines,  as  fancy  dictated. 

The  satires  of  Ennius,  which  have  already  been  more  particu- 
larly mentioned,  were  imitated  by  Pacuvius,  and  from  his 
time  the  word  satire  came  to  be  applied  at  Rome  only  to 
poems  containing  either  a  playful  or  indignant  censure  on 
manners.  This  sort  of  composition  was  chiefly  indebted  for 
its  improvement  to 

*  Horat.  Epitt.  Lib.  IL  ep.  1. 


238  LUCILIUS. 


LUCILIUS, 

A  Roman  knight,  who  was  bora  in  the  year  605,  at  Suessa,  a 
town  in  the  Auruncian  territory.  He  was  descended  of  a 
good  fiuniiy,  and  was  the  maternal  granduncle  of  Pompey  the 
Great.  In  early  youth  he  served  at  the  siege  of  Numantia,  in 
the  same  camp  with  Marius  and  Jugurtha,  under  the  younger 
Scipio  Africanus*,  whose  friendship  and  protection  he  had  the 
good  fortune  to  acquire.  On  his  return  to  Rome  from  his 
Spanish  campaign,  he  dwelt  in  a  house  which  had  been  built 
at  the  public  expense,  and  had  been  inhabited  by  Seleucus 
Philopater,  Prince  of  Syria,  whilst  he  resided  in  his  youth  as  an 
hostage  at  Romef .  Lucilius  continued  to  live  on  terms  of  the 
closest  intimacy  with  the  brave  Scipio  and  wise  Lselius, 

*'  Qain  ubi  se  a  vulgo  et  scenn  in  secreta  remdnnt 
Virtus  Scipiade  et  nutis  sapientia  Lael), 
Nugari  cum  illo  et  discincti  ludere,  donee 
Decoqueretur  olus,  6oliti}."»— 

These  powerful  protectors  enabled  him  to  satirize  the  vicious 
without  restraint  or  fear  of  punishment.  In  his  writings  he 
drew  a  ffenuine  picture  of  himself,  acknowledged  his  faults, 
made  a  frank  confession  of  his  inclinations,  gave  an  account  of 
his  adventures,  and,  in  short,  exhibited  a  true  and  spirited 
representation  of  his  whole  life.  Fresh  from  business  or  plea- 
sure, he  seized  his  pen  while  his  fancy  was  yet  warm,  and  his 
passions  still  awake,— while  elated  with  success  or  depressed 
oy  disappointment.  All  these  feelings,  and  the  incidents 
which  occasioned  them,  he  faithfully  related,  and  made  his  re- 
marks on  them  with  the  utmost  freedom : — 

"  Die  velut  fidis  arcana  sodalibus  olim 
Credebat  Ubris ;  neque  si  male  gesserat,  usquam 
Decurreni  att6,  neque  si^beoe :  quo  fit  ut  omnis 
Votivi  pateat  vduti  desciipta  tabelU 
Vita  senia^." 

Unfortunately,  however,  the  writings  of  Lucilius  are  so  muti- 
lated, that  few  particulars  of  his  life  and  manners  can  be 
gleaned  from  them.  Little  farther  is  known  concerning  him, 
than  that  he  died  at  Naples,  but  at  what  age  has  been  much 
disputed.     Eusebius  and  most  other  writers  have  fixed  it  at  45, 

*  Velleius  Pateic.  Hittor,  Lib.  II.  9. 

t  Amon.  Pedianus  in  Comment,  in  Orot*  dceronis  cent,  L. 

t  Herat  8ai.  Lib.  IL 1.  v.  71.  §  Ibid.  v.  30. 


LUCILIUS.  23» 

Which  J  as  he  was  bora  in  605,  would  be  in  the  66l8t  year  of 
the  city-  But  M.  Dacier  and  Bayle*  assert  that  he  must  have 
been  much  older,  at  the  time  of  his  death,  as  he  speaks  in  hia 
satires  of  the  Licinian  law  against  exorbitant  expenditure  at 
entertainments,  which  was  not  promulgated  till  657,  or  658. 

Satire,  more  than  any  other  species  of  poetry,  is  the  off- 
spring of  the  time  in  which  it  has  its  birth,  and  which  furnishes 
it  with  the  aliment  whereon  it  feeds.  The  period  at  which 
Lucilius  appeared  was  favourable  to  satiric  composition. 
There  was  a  struggle  existing  between  the  old  and  new  man- 
ners, and  the  freedom  of  speaking  and  writii^,  though  re- 
strained, had  not  yet  been  totally  checked  by  law.  Lucilius 
lived  amidst  a  people  on  whom  luxury  and  corruption  were 
advancing  with  fearinl  rapidity,  but  among  whom  some  virtu- 
ous citizens  were  still  anxious  to  stem  the  tide  which  threatened 
to  overwhelm  their  countrymen.  The  satires  of  Lucilius  were 
adapted  to  please  these  staunch  "  laud(Uores  temporis  actiy^ 
who  stood  up  for  ancient  manners  and  discipline.  The  free- 
dom with  which  he  attacked  the  vices  of  his  contemporaries, 
without  sparing  individuals, — the  strength  of  colouring  with 
which  his  pictures  were  charged, — the  weight  and  asp^ity  of 
the  reproaches  with  which  he  loaded  those  who  had  exposed 
themselves  to  his  ridicule  or  indignation, — had  nothing  re- 
volting in  an  age  when  no  consideration  compelled  to  those 
forbearances  necessary  under  different  forms  of  society  or 
governmentf .  By  the  time,  too,  in  which  Lucilius  began  to 
write,  the  Romans,  though  yet  fkr  from  the  polish  of  the  Au- 
gustan age,  had  become  familiar  with  the  delicate  and  cutting 
irony  of  Sie  Greek  comedies  of  which  the  more  ancient  Roman 
satirists  had  no  conception.  Lucilius  chiefly  applied  himself 
to  the  imitation  of  these  dramatic  productions,  and  caught,  it 
15)  said,  much  of  their  fire  and  spirit : 

«•  fiapoBs,  atque  Cratincui,  Aristophanesque,  p6et», 
Atque  alii,  qaorum  comoedia  priaca  virorum  est, 
Si  quis  erat  dignus  describi,  quod  malua,  aut  fur. 
Quod  moechus  foret,  aut  sicariua,  aut  alioqui 
Famosus,  multt  cum  Ubertate  notabant. 
Hinc  omnia  pendet  Luciiius,  hosce  secutoa. 
Mutatis  tantum  pedibus  numeMsquet."— 

The  Roman  language,  likewise,  had  grown  more  refined  in  the 
age  of  Lucilius,  and  w,as  thus  more  capable  of  receiving  the 
Grecian  beauties  of  style.    Nor  did  Lucilius,  like  his  prede- 

JHd.  Bist.  Luea.  O, 
t  Schoefl,  But,  Ahngfe  de  la  LUterat.  Rmmne,  Tbm.  I. 
X  Hunt  Sat,  Lib.  I.  Shit  4. v.  1,  he. 


240  LUCILIUS. 

cesBorg,  mix  iambic  with  trochaic  verses.  Twenty  books  of 
his  satires,  from  the  commencement,  were  in  hexameter  verse, 
and  the  rest,  with  exception  of  the  thirtieth,  in  iambics  or  tro- 
chaics.  His  object,  too,  seems  to  have  been  bolder  and  more 
extensive  than  that  of  his  precursors,  and  was  not  so  much  to 
excite  laughter  or  ridicule,  as  to  correct  and  chastise  vice. 
Lucilius  thus  bestowed  on  satiric  composition  such  additional 
grace  and  regularity,  that  he  is  declared  by  Horace  to  have 
been  the  first  among  the  Romans  who  wrote  satire  in  verse : — 


*'  Pdmus  in  hunc  opens  componeie  caimiiia  morem.** 

But  although  Lucilius  may  have  greatly  improved  this  sort  of 
writing,  it  does  not  follow  that  his  satires  are  to  be  considered 
as  altogether  of  a  different  species  from  those  of  Ennius — a 
light  in  which  they  have  been  regarded  by  Casaubon  and  Ru- 
perti ;  '*  for,''  as  Dryden  has  remarked^ ''  it  would  thence  fol- 
low, that  the  satires  of  Horace  are  wholly  different  from  those 
of  Lucilius,  because  Horace  hap  no  less  surpassed  Lucilius  in 
the  elegance  of  his  writing,  than  Lucilius  surpassed  Ennius  in 
the  turn  and  ornament  of  his." 

The  satires  of  Lucilius  extended  to  not  fewer  than  thirty 
books ;  but  whether  they  were  so  divided  by  the  poet  himself^ 
or  by  some  grammarian  who  lived  shortly  after  him,  seems 
uncertain :  He  was  a  voluminous  author,  and  has  been  satirized 
by  Horace  for  his  hurried  copiousness  and  facility : — 

**  Nam  fiut  hoc  vitiosus :  In  horA  sepe  ducentos, 
Ut  magnum,  vereus  diciabat,  stans  pede  in  uno : 
GarmluB,  atque  piger  scribendi  ferre  laborem ; 
Scrib«ndi  recte  :  nam  ut  multum,  nil  motor*.'* 

Of  the  thirty  books  there  are  only  fragments  extant ;  but  these 
are  so  numerous,  that  though  they  do  not  capacitate  us  to 
catch  the  full  spirit  of  the  poet,  we  perceive  something  of 
his  manner.  His  merits,  too,  have  been  so  much  canvas- 
sed by  ancient  writers,  who  judged  of  them  while  his  works 
were  yet  entire,  that  their  discussions  in  some  measure  enable 
us  to  appreciate  his  poetical  claims.  It  would  appear  that 
he  had  great  vivacity  and  humour,  uncommon  command  of 
language,  intimate  knowledge  of  life  and  manners,  and  con- 
siderable acquaintance  with  the  Grecian  masters.  Virtue 
appeared  in  his  draughts  in  native  dignity,  and  he  exhibited 
his  distinguished  friends,  Scipio  and  Lselius,  in  the  most  ami* 
able  light.    At  the  same  time  it  was  impossible  to  portray 

*  Satir,  Lib.  I.  Sat.  4.  v.  9. 


LUCILIU8.  S4i 

tnything  more  powerful  than  the  sketches  of  his  Ticioas  cha- 
racters. His  rogue,  glutton,  and  courtezan,  are  drawn  in 
itroDg,  not  to  say  coarse  colours.  He  had,  however,  much 
of  the  old  Roman  humour,  that  celebrated  but  undefined  iir- 
hanUas^  which  indeed  he  possessed  in  so  eminent  a  degree, 
that  Pliny  says  it  began  with  Lucilius  in  composition*,  while 
Cicero  declares  that  he  carried  it  to  the  highest  perfectionf , 
and  that  it  almost  expired  with  him|.  But  the  chief  charac* 
teristic  of  Lucilius  was  his  vehement  and  cutting  satire.  ^^a« 
crobiua  calls  him  '^  Acer  et  violentus  poeta<^ ;"  and  the  ^ell- 
known  lines  of  Juvenal,  who  relates  bow  he  made  the  guilty 
tremble  by  his  pen,  as  much  as  if  he  had  pursued  them  sword 
io  hand,  have  fixed  his  character  as  a  determined  and  inexo- 
rable persecutor  of  vice.  His  Latin  is  admitted  on  all  hands 
to  have  been  sufficiently  pure|| ;  but  his  versification  was  rug- 
ged and  prosaic.  Horace,  while  he  allows  that  he  was  more 
polished  that  his  predecessors,  calls  his  muse  ^^  pedestris,** 
talks  repeatedly  of  the  looseness  of  his  measure,  ^^  Incomposito 
pede  currere  versus,"  and  compares  his  whole  poetry  to  a 
muddy  and  troubled  stream : — 


«  Cum  flueret  lutulentin  erat  quod  toDere  TeDet." 

Quintilian  does  not  entirely  coincide  with  this  opinion  of 
Horace ;  for,  while  blaming  those  who  considered  him  as  the 
neatest  of  poets,  which  some  persons  still  did  in  the  age  of 
Domitian,  he  says,  ^'  Ego  quantum  ab  illis,  tantum  ab  Horatio 
dissentio,  qui  Lucilium  fluere  lutulentum,  et  esse  aliquid  quod 
tollere  possis,  putatlT.'^  The  author  of  the  books  Rhetorico- 
nisi,  addressed  to  Herennius,  and  which  were  at  one  tinae 
attributed  to  Cicero,  mentions,  as  a  singular  awkwardness  in 
the  construction  of  his  lines,  the  disjunction  of  words,  which, 
according  to  proper  and  natural  arrangement,  ought  to  have 
been  placed  together, 


<*  Has  ras  adte  Bcriptas  Jjuei  n^iMom  JBU,** 

Nay,  what  is  still  worse,  it  would  appear  firom  Ausonius,  that 

•  Prirf.  Hiit.  JVfl*.  t  De  FifUhut,  Lib.  I. 

X  Bfut,  FamiHares,  Lib.  K.  15.  §  Saiwr,  Ub.  III.  c.  16. 

i  Ludfius  yir  appiime  linguA  LatfauB  tdeiis.    (Au.  G«Uiitf,  Ab«<.  Mlk.  Ub. 
XVm.  e.  6.    Horat  SaLUb.  1. 10.  > 

**  Fuerit  Lucilius,  inquam, 

Con^  eturbanus ;  iuerit  Umatior  idem 

Quam  radia,  et  Gracis  intact!  canninis  aoctor :-« 

Quamque  poetamm  Moiorum  turba.'* 
^  hutU.  OnU.  Lib.X  c.  1. 

Vol.  I— 2  F 


243  LUCILIUS. 

he  had,  gometimes  barbarously  separated  the  syllables  of  a 
word — 

"  Villa  Lueani — max  poUeris  aeo. 
Rescisso  discas  componere  nomine  versum ; 
Lucill  vatis  sic  imitator  ens*." 

As  to  the  learning  of  Lucilius,  the  opinions  of  antiquity  were 
different ;  and  even  those  of  the  same  author  appear  soniewhat 
contradictory  on  this  point.  Quintilian  says,  that  there  is 
<<  Eruditio  in  eo  mira.''  Cicero,  in  his  treatise  De  FinibWi 
calls  his  learning  mediocris;  though,  afterwards,  in  the  per- 
son of  Crassus,  in  his  treatise  De  Oratore,  he  twice  terms  him 
Doctus-f.  Dacier  suspects  that  Quintilian  was  led  to  consider 
Lucilius  as  learned,  fiom  the  pedantic  intermixture  of  Greek 
words  in  his  compositions — a  practice  which  seems  to  have 
excited  the  applause  of  his  contemporaries',  and  also  of  his 
numerous  admirers  in  the  Augustan  age,  for  which  they 
have  been  severely  ridiculed  by  H6race,  who  always  warmly 
opposed  himself  to  the  excessive  partiality  entertained  for 
Lucilius  during  that  golden  period  of  literature — 

"  At  magnum  fecit,  quod  veibis  Gneca  Latinii 
Miscuit : — 0  seri  studionim  !'* 

It  is  not  unlikely  that  there  may  have  been  something  of 
political  spleen  in  the  admiration  expressed  for  Lucilius  da- 
ring the  age  of  Augustus,  and  something  of  courtly  complai- 
sance in  the  attempts  of  Horace  to  counteract  it.  Augustas 
had  extended  the  law  of  the  12  tables  respecting  libels;  and 
the  people,  who  found  themselves  thus  abridged  of  the  liberty 
of  satirizing  the  Great  by  name,  might  not  improbably  seek 
to  avenge  themselves  by  an  overstrained  attachment  to  the 
works  of  a  poet,  who,  living  as  they  would  insinuate,  in  bet- 
ter times,  practised,  without  fear,  what  he  enjoyed  without 
restraint|. 

Some  motive  of  this  sort  doubtless  weighed  with  the  Ro- 
mans in  the  age  of  Augustus,  since  much  of  the  satire  of 
'Lucilius  must  have  been  unintelligible,  or  at  least  uninte- 
resting to  them.  Great  part  of  his  compositions  appears  to 
have  been  rather  a  series  of  libels  than  legitimate  satire,  be- 
ing occupied  with  virulent  attacks  on  contemporary  citizens 
of  Rome — 

*  AuBon.  in  EpUt,  5.  ad  Theonem. 

t  Lib.  I.  c.  16,  and  Lib.  II.    Caius  Lucilius  homo  doctu$  et  peruibanus. 

t  Gifford'8  Juvenal,  Preface,  p.  zlii. 


LUCILroS.  343 


— ^—  <*  Secuit  LuciUus  urbem, 
Te  Muto,  te  Lupe,  et  genuinum  fregit  in  iUos*.** 

Douza,  who  has  collected  and  edited  all  that  remaind  of  the 
satires  of  Lucilius,  mentions  the  names  of  not  fewer  than  six- 
teen individuals,  who  are  attacked  by  name  in  the  course  even 
of  these  fragments,  among  whom  are  Quintus  Opimius,  the 
conqueror  of  Liguria,  Cascilius  Metellus,  whose  victories 
acquired  him  the  sirname  of  Macedonianus,  and  Cornelius 
Lupus,  at  thai  time  Princeps  SenatiM,  Lucilius  was  equally 
severe  on  contemporary  and  preceding  authors ;  Ennius,  Pacu- 
vius,  and  Attius,  having  been  alternately  satirized  by  himf . 
In  all  this  he  indulged  with  impunity| ;  but  he  did  not  escape 
80  well  from  a  player,  whom  he  had  ventured  to  censure,  and 
who  took  his  revenge  by  exposing  Lucilius  on  the  stage.  The 
poet  prosecuted  the  actor,  and  the  cause  was  carried  on  with 
much  warmth  on  both  sides  before  the  Praetor,  who  finally 
acquitted  the  player^. 

The  confidence  of  Lucilius  in  his  powerful  patrons,  Scipio 
and  Laelius,  inspired  this  freedom ;  and  it  appears,  in  fact,  to 
have  so  completely  relieved  him  from  all  fear  or  restraint,  that 
he  boldly  exclaims — 


jtt 


Cigus  non  audeo  dicere  nomen  ? 


Quid  refert  dictis  ignoscat  Mutins,  an  non  ?*' 

It  is  chiefly  to  such  support  that  the  unbridled  license  of  the 
old  Roman  satirists  may  be  ascribed — 

-"  Unde  iUa  priorum 


Scribendi  quodcunque  animo  flagrante  liberet 
SimpHcitasU." 

The  harsh  and  uncultivated  spirit  of  the  ancient  Romans  also 
naturally  led  to  this  species  of  severe  and  personal  castigation; 
and  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  in  that  age  they  should 
have  drawn  their  pictures  with  the  delicacy  and  generality 
which  Horace  has  given  to  OfTellus. 

Lucilius,  however,  did  not  confine  himself  to  invectiv,es  on 
vicious  mortals.  In  the  first  book  of  his  satires,  he  appears 
to  have  declared  war  on  the  false  gods  of  Olympus,  whose 
plurality  he  denied,  and  ridiculed  the  simplicity  of  the  people, 
who  bestowed  on  an  infinity  of  gods  the  venerable  name  of 
father,  whicb  should  be  reserved  for  one.     Near  the  com- 

*  Petsiiis,  Sat.  I.  f  Au.  GeUius,  XVII.  21. 

X  Horat.  Sat.  Lib.  II.  1.  §  Rhetoric,  ad  Herennium,  Lib.  II.  c.  13, 

li  JuoefuU,  Sat.  Lib.  I.  v.  163. 


244  LUCIUUS. 

mencement  of  thiv  book  he  represents  an  assembly  of  the  godi 
deliberating  on  human  aflfairs : 

**  Consilium  summis  hominum  de  rebus  habebant" 

And,  in  particular,  discussing  what  punishment  ought  to  be 
inflicted  on  Rutilius  Lupus,  a  considerable  man  in  the  Roman 
state,  but  noted  for  his  wickedness  and  impiety,  and  so  power- 
fill  that  it  is  declared — 

"  Si  conjuret,  populos  vix  totus  Mtis  est." 

Jupiter  expresses  his  regret  that  he  had  not  been  present  at 
a  former  council  of  the  gods,  called  to  deliberate  on  thia 
topic — 


"  YeUem  condlio  Testrftm,  quod  dicitiSy  olim, 
Cdicolc ;  vellem,  inquam,  edfiiissein  priore 
Concilio." 

Jupiter  having  concluded,  the  subject  is  taken  up  by  another 
of  the  gods,  who,  as  Lactantius  informs  us,  was  Neptune*; 
but  being  puzzled  with  its  intricacy,  this  divinity  declares  it 
could  not  be  explained,  were  Carneades  himself  (the  most 
clear  and  eloquent  of  philosophers)  to  be  sent  up  to  them 
firom  Orcus : 

"  Nee  si  Cameadem  ipsum  sd  nos  Orcus  remittst." 

The  only  result  of  the  solemn  deliberations  of  this  assembly 
is  a  decree,  that  each  god  should  receive  from  mortals  the 
title  of  father— 

**  Vt  nemo  sit  nostrfkm,  quin  peter  optumus  divilm ; 
Ut  Neptunus  pater.  Liber,  Saturou'  pater.  Mars, 

Janu*  Quirinu'  pater,  nomen  dicatur  ad  unum.*' 


The  third  book  contains  an  account  of  the  inconveniences 
and  amusements  of  a  journey,  performed  by  Lucilius,  along 
the  rich  coast  of  Campania,  to  Capua  and  Naples,  and  thence 
all  the  way  to  Rhegium  and  the  Straits  of  Messina.  He 
appears  particularly  to  have  described  a  combat  of  gladiators, 
and  the  manifold  distresses  he  experienced  from  the  badness 
of  the  roads — 

**  Preterea  omne  iter  hoc  est  labosum  atque  lutosum." 


*  Dimn.  hutU.  Lib.  V.  e.  16. 


LUCILIU8.  .    345 

Horace,  in  the  fifth  satire  of  his  first  book,  hae,  in  imitation  of 
Lttcilius,  cooiically  described  a  journey  from  Rome  to  Brun- 
dusittm,  and  like  him  has  introduced  a  gladiatorial  combat. 
The  foarth  satire  of  Lucilius  stigmatizes  the  luxury  and  vices 
of  the  rich,  and  has  been  imitated  by  Persius  in  his  third 
book.  Aulus  Gellius  informs  us,  that  in  part  of  his  fifth  satire 
he  exposed,  with  great  wit  and  power  of  ridicule,  those 
literary  affectations  of  using  such  w<^ds  in  one  sentence  as 
terminate  with  a  similar  jingle,  or  consist  of  an  equal  number 
of  syllables.  He  has  shown  how  childish  such  affectations 
are,  in  that  passage  wherein  he  complains  to  a  friend  that  he 
had  neglected  to  visit  him  while  sick.  In  the  ninth  satire  he 
ridicules  the  blunders  in  orthography,  committed  by  the  tran- 
scribers of  MSS.,  and  gives  rules  for  greater  accuracy.  Of 
the  tenth  book  little  remains ;  but  it  is  said  to  have  been  the 
perusal  of  it  which  first  inflamed  Persius  with  the  rage  of 
writing  satires.  The  eleventh  seems  to  have  consisted  chiefly 
of  personal  invectives  against  Quintals  Opimius,  Lucius  Cotta, 
and  others  of  his  contemporaries,  whose  vices, '  or  rivalship 
with  his  patron  Scipio,  exposed  them  to  his  enmity  and 
▼engeance.  The  sixteenth  was  entitled  CoUyra,  having  been 
chiefly  devoted  to  the  celebration  of  the  praises  of  Collyra, 
the  poet's  mistress*.  Of  many  of  the  other  books,  as  the 
12th,  13th,  l&th,  2 1  St,  and  four  following,  so  small  fragments 
remain,  that  it  is  impossible  to  conjecture  the  subject ;  for 
although  we  may  see  the  scope  of  insulated  lines,  their  matter 
inay  have  been  some  incidental  illustration,  and  not  the  prin- 
cipal subject  of  the*  satire.  Even  in  those  books,  of  which 
there  are  a  greater  number  of  fragments  extant,  they  are  so 
disjoined  that  it  is  as  diflicult  to  put  them  legibly  together  as 
the  scattered  leaves  of  the  Sibyl ;  and  the  labour  of  Douza, 
who  has  been  the  most  successful  in  arranging  the  broken 
lines,  so  as  to  make  a  connected  sense,  is  by  many  considered 
as  bat  a  conjectural  and  philological  sport.  Those  few  pas- 
sages, however,  which  are  in  anv  degree  entire,  show  sreat 
force  of  satire ;  as  for  example,  the  following  account  of  the 
life  led  by  the  Romans : — 

«<  None  Yero  a  mane  a4  noctem,  festo  atque  profesto, 
TotQS  item  pariterque  dies,  populusque  patresque 
Jaetare  indu  foro  se  omnes,  decedere  nusquam, 
Vdi  se  atque  eidem  studio  omnes  dedere  et  arti ; 
Verba  dare  ut  caute  possint,  pugnare  dolose, 
Blanditift  certare,  boDum  simulare  w'uum  se, 
Insidias  faiceret  ut  si  hostes  slot  omnibus  omnes.*' 


*  PoipbyiioD,  M  Borat,  Lib.  I.  Ode  20. 


246  LUCILIUS. 

The  verses  in  which  our  poet  bitterly  ridicules  the  supersti* 
tion  of  those  who  adored  idols,  and  mistook  them  for  true 
gods,  are  written  in  something  of  the  same  spirit — 

*'  Tenricolas  Lamias,  Fauni  quas,  Pomptliique 
Instituere  Nume,  tremit  has,  h)c  omnia  ponit : 
'   Ut  pueri  infantes  credunt  signa  omnia  ahena 
Yivere,  et  esse  homines ;  et  sic  isti  omnia  ficta 
Vera  putant :  credunt  signis  cor  inesse  ahenis — 
Pergula  pictonim,  yeri  nihil,  omnia  ficta*.*' 

On  this  passage  Lactafitius  remarks,  that  such  superstitious 
fools  are  much  more  absurd  than  the  children  to  whom  the 
satirist  compares  them,  as  the  latter  only  mistake  statues  for 
men,  the  former  for  gods.  There  are  two  lines  in  the  26th 
book,  which  every  nation  should  remember  in  the  hour  of 
disaster— 

"  Ut  popidus  Romanus  victua  ▼!,  et  superatus  prxliis 
Sepe  est  multis ;  bello  vero  Dunquam>  in  quo  sunt  omntaf.'' 

But  the  most  celebrated  and  longest  passage  we  now  have 
from  Lucilius,  is  his  definition  of  Firtua — 

"  Virtus,  Aibine,  est,  pretium  persolvere  veram, 

Queis  in  versamur,  queis  vivimus  rebus,  potesse : 

Virtus  est  homini,  Mire  id  quod  queque  habeat  res ; 

Virtus,  scire  homini  rectum,  utile,  quid  sit  honestum. 

Quae  bona,  qua)  mala  item,  quid  inutile,  turpe,  inhonestum ; 

Virtus,  querende  rei  finem  scire  roodumque : 

Virtus,  dttvitiis  predum  persolvere  posse : 

Virtus,  id  dare  quod  re  ipsi  debetur  honori ; 

Hostem  esse  atque  inimicum  hominum  monimque  malorum. 

Contra,  defensorem  hominum  monimque  bonorum, 

Magnificare  hos,  his  t>ene  veUe,  his  yivere  amicum : 

Commoda  praeterea  patriae  sibi  prima  putare, 

Deinde  parentQm,  tertia  jam  postremalque  nostiat." 


*  *<They  dread  hobgoblins  hatch'd  in  folly's  brain. 
The  idle  phantoms  of  old  Numa's  reign. 
As  infant  children  sculptured  forms  believe 
To  be  live  men-— so  they  themselves  deceive — 
To  whom  vain  forms  of  superstition's  dream 
Of  Life  and  truth  the  real  figures  seem. 
Fools !  they  as  well  might  £ink  there  stira  a  heart. 
Of  vital  power,  in  image?  of  art." 

t  "  In  various  fights  the  Roman  arms  have  failed ; 
Still  in  the  war  the  Roman  pow6r  prevailed ." 

J  "  Virtue,  Albinos,  is — A  constant  will 
The  claims  of  duty  ably  to  fulfil — 
Virtue  \n  knowledge  of  the  just,  sincere, 
The  good,  the  ill,  the  useless,  base,  unfair. 
What  we  «hould  wish  to  gain,  for  what  to  pray, 
Thi.^  virtue  teaches,  and  each  vow  to  pay ; 
Honour  she  gives  to  whom  it  may  belong. 
But  hates  the  base,  and  fites  from  what  is  wrong — 


LUCILIUS.  247 

Lactantius  has  cavilled  at  the  different  heads  of  this  defini- 
tion*, and  perhaps  some  of  them  are  more  applicable  to  what 
we  call  wisdom,  than  to  our  term  virtue,  which,  as  is  well 
known,  does  not  precisely  correspond  to  the  Latin  Virtas, 

If  we  possessed  a  larger  portion  of  the  writings  of  Lucilius, 
1  have  no  doubt  it  would  be  found  that  subsequent  Latin 
poets,  particularly  the  satirists,  have  not  only  copied  various 
passages,  but  adopted  the  plan  and  subjects  of  many  of  his 
satires.  It  has  already  been  mentioned,  that  Horace's  journey 
to  Brundusium  is  imitated  from  that -of  Lucilius  to  Capua* 
His  severity  recommended  him  to  Persius  and  Juvenal,  who 
both  mention  him  with  respect.  Persius,  indeed,  professes  to 
follow  him,  but  Juvenal  seems  a  closer  imitator  of  his  manner. 
The  jinsle  in  the  two  following  lines,  from  an  uncertain  book 
of  Lucilius — 

*'  Ut  me  scire  volo  mihi  conscius  sum,  ne 

Damnum  faciam.    Scire  hoc  se  nescit,  nisi  alios  id  scire  scierit," 

seems  to  have  suggested  Persius'  line — 

**  Scire  tuum  nihil,  nisi  te  scire  hoc  sciat  alter." 

The  verses,  ^'Cujus  non  audeo  dicere  nomen,"  (&.c.  quoted 
above,  are  copied  by  Juvenal  in  his  first  satire,  but  with  evident 
allusion  to  the  works  of  his  predecessor.  A  line  in  the  first 
book — 

'<  Quis  leget  h«c  ?  min'  tu  istud  ais  ?  nemo,  Hercule,  nemo,*' 

has  been  imitated  by  Persius  in  the  yery  commencement  of 
his  satires — 

"  O  curas  hominum !  O  quantum  est  in  rebus  inane ! 

Quis  leget  hcc  ?  m)n'  tu  istud  ais  i  nemo,  Hercule,  nemo." 

Virgil's  phrase,  so  often  quoted,  "Non  omnia  possumus 
omnes,'^  is  in  the  fifth  book  of  Luciliuf 


<<  Major  erat  natu ;  non  omnia  possumus  omnes." 

Were  the  whole  works  of  Lucilius  extant,  many  more  such 
imitations  might  be  discovered  and  pointed  out.    It  is  not  on 

A  bold  protector  of  the  just  and  pure, 
'  She  feei«i  for  such  a  frienHsbip  fond  and  sure — 
Her  country*s  {^ood  commands  her  warmest  zeal, 
Kindred  the  nexi,  and  latent  private  weal." 
*  Dw.  bi9tiU  Lib.  VI.  c.  5  and  6. 


248  VALERIOS  CATO. 

this  account,  however,  that  their  loss  is  chiefly  to  be  deplored. 
Had  they  remained  entire,  they  would  have  been  highly 
serviceable  to  philological  learning.  They  would  have 
informed  us  also  of  many  incidents  of  Roman  history,  and 
would  have  presented  us  with  the  most  complete  draught  of 
ancient  Roman  manners,  and  genuine  Roman  originals,  which 
were  painted  from  life,  and  at  length  became  the  model  of 
the  inimitable  satires  of  imperial  Rome. 

Besides  satirizing  the  wicked,  under  which  category  he 
probably  classed  all  his  enemies,  Lucilius  also  employ^  his 
pen  in  praise  of  the  brave  and  virtuous.  He  wrote,  as  we 
team  from  Horace,  a  panegyric  on  Scipio  Africanus,  but 
whether  the  elder  or  younger  is  not  certain :— - 

'*  Attunen  et  justum  poteras  et  scribere  foitem 
BdpiadaiD*  ut  sapiens  Lucilius*." 

Lucilius  was  also  author  of  a  comedy  entitled  JViimmtflarta, 
of  which  only  one  line  remains ;  but  we  are  informed  by  Por- 
phyrion,  the  scholiast  on  Horace,  that  the  plot  turned  on  Py- 
thias, a  female  slave,  tricking  her  master,  Simo,  out  of  a  sum 
of  money,  with  which  to  portion  his  daughter. 

Lucilius  was  followed  in  his  satiric  career  by  Ssevius  Nica- 
nor,  the  grammarian,  who  was  the  freedman  of  one  Marcius, 
as  we  learn  from  the  only  line  of  his  poetry  which  is  extant, 
and  which  has  been  preserved  by  Suetonius,  or  whoever  was 
the  author  of  the  work  De  lUustribus  Grammaiicis: — 

'*  SeviusNictnorMard  libertus  negabit" 

Publius  Terentius  Varro,  simamed  Atacinus,  from  the  place 
of  his  birth,  also  attempted  the  Lucilian  satire,  but  with  no 
great  success  as  we  learn  from  Horace : — 

<'  Hoc  erat,  ezperto  frustra  Varrone  Atadno.** 

He  was  more  fortunate,  it  is  said,  in  his  geographical  poems, 
and  in  that  De  Bello  Sequanicof. 

We  may  range  among  the  satires  of  this  period,  the  Dint 
of  the  grammarian,  Valerius  Cato,  who,  being  despoiled  of  his 
patrimony,  especially  his  favourite  villa  at  Tusculum,  during 
the  civil  wars  of  Marius  and  Sylla,  in  order  to  make  way  for 
the  soldiery,  avenged  himself,  by  writing  poetical  impreca- 
tions on  his  lost  property.    This  poem  is  sometimes  inscribed 

*  Horat.  &if.  Lib.  II.l. 

t  Coaceming  Vano  AUcinus.  »ee  Wemsdorff;  Poet.  Lai,  Mmmr,  Ton.  TI.  p 
ISto*  aie.  £d.  Alcenburg,  1780. 


VALERIUS  CATO.  249 

Dirm  in  Battarum^  which  is  inaccurate,  as  it  gives  an  idea 
that  Battarus  is  the  name  of  the  person  who  had  got  posses- 
sion of  the  villa,  and  on  whom  the  imprecations  were  uttered. 
There  is  not,  however,  a  word  of  execration  against  any  of 
those  who  had  obtained  his  lands,  except  in  so  far  as  he 
curses  the  lands  themselves,  praying  that  they  may  become 
barren — that  they  may  be  inundated  with  rain — blasted  with 
pestiferous  breezes,  and,  in  short,  laid  waste  by  every  species 
of  agricultural  calamity.  Joseph  Scaliger  thinks  that  Battarus 
was  a  river,  and  Nic.  Heinsius  that  it  was  a  hill.  It  seems 
evident  enough  from  the  poem  itself,  that  Battarus  was  some 
well-known  satiric  or  invective  bard,  whom  the  author  in- 
vokes, in  order  to  excite  himself  to  reiterated  imprecations* : — 

"  Rursus  et  hoc  itenim  repetamus,  Battare,  canneD." 

The  concluding  pari  of  the  DirtB,  as  edited  by  WernsdorfTf , 
is  a  lamentation  for  the  loss  of  a  mistress,  called  Lydia,  of 
whom  the  unfortunate  poet  had  likewise  been  deprived.  This, 
however,  has  been  regarded  by  others  as  a  separate  poem 
from  the  DiriB.  Cato  was  also  author  of  a  poem  called  Dianas 
and  a  prose  work  entitled  IndignaiiOj  in  which  he  related  the 
history  of  his  misfortunes.  He  lived  to  an  advanced  age,  but 
was  oppressed  by  extreme  poverty,  and  afflicted  with  a  pain* 
fbl  disease,  as  seems  to  be  implied  in  the  lines  of  his  friend 
Furius  Bibaculus,  preserved  in  the  treatise  De  lUuatribM 
Grammaiicis : — 

*'  Quem  trefl  calculi,  et  selibra  farii8» 

Racemi  duo,  teguh  sub  unA, 

Ad  summam  prope  nutiiunt  seofictamt.'* 

The  stream  of  Roman  poetry  appears  to  have  suffered  a 
temporary  stagnation  during  the  period  that  elapsed  from  the 
destruction  of  Carthage,  which  fell  in  607,  till  the  death  of 
Sylla,  in  674.  Lucilius,  with  whose  writings  we  have  been 
engaged,  was  the  only  poet  who  flourished  in  this  long  inter- 
val. The  satirical  compositions  which  he  introduced  were 
not  very  generally  nor  successfully  imitated.  The  race  of 
dramatists  had  become  almost  extinct,  and  even  the  fondness 
for  regular  comedy  and  tragedy  had  greatly  diminished.    .This 

*  Wemfldorff,  Poet.  Lai,  MmarcB,  Pratf.  Tom.  III.  p.  LIT.  &c. 

t  Ibid.  p.  1. 

X  **  On  half  a  pound  three  grams  of  barley  bread, 

With  two  small  bunches  of  dried  grapes,  he  fed. 

And  met  old  age  beneaUi  a  paltiy  shed." 

Vol.  L— 2G 


260  LUCRETIUS. 

was  a  pause,  (though  for  a  shorter  period,)  like  that  which 
was  made  in  modern  Italy,  from  the  death  of  Petrarch  till  the 
rise  of  its  bright  constellation  of  poets,  at  the  end  of  the  15th 
century.  But  the  taste  for  literature  which  had  been  excited, 
and  the  luminous  events  which  occurred,  prevented  eitiier 
nation  from  beine  again  enveloped  in  darkness.  The  an- 
cient Romans  could  not  be  electrified  by  the  fall  of  Cartba  ^e 
as  their  descendants  were  by  the  capture  of  Constantinople. 
But  even  the  total  subjugation  of  Greece,  and  extended  domi- 
nion in  Asia,  were  slower,  at  least  in  their  influence  on  the 
ettorts  of  poetry,  than  might  have  been  anticipated  from  what 
was  experienced  immediately  after  the  conquest  of  Magna 
Grsecia.  Any  retrograde  movement,  however,  was  prevented 
by  the  more  close  and  frequent  intercourse  which  was  opened 
with  Greece.  There,  Athens  and  Rhodes  were  the  ciiief 
allies  of  the  Roman  republic.  These  states  had  renounced 
their  freedom,  for  the  Security  which  flattery  and  subservience 
obtained  for  them ;  but  while  they  ceased  to  be  considerable 
in  power,  they  still  continued  pre  eminent  in  learning.  A 
number  of  military  officers  and  civil  functionaries,  whom  their 
respective  employments  carried  to  Greece — a  number  of  citi- 
zens, whom  commercial  speculations  attracted  to  its  towns, 
became  acquainted  with  and  cherished  Grecian  literature. 
That  contempt  which  the  ancient  and  severe  republicans  had 
aflected  for  its  charms,  gave  place  to  tiie  warmest  enthusiasm. 
The  Roman  youth  were  instructed  by  Greeks,  or  by  Romans 
who  had  studied  in  Greece.  A  literary  tour  in  that  country 
w^  regarded  as  forming  an  essential  part  in  the  education 
of  a  young  patrician.  Rhodes,  Mitylene,  and  Athens,  were 
chiefly  resorted  to,  as  the  purest  fountains  from  which  the  in- 
spiring draughts  of  literature  could  be  imbibed.  This  constant 
intercourse  Ted  to  a  knowledge  of  the  philosophy  and  finest 
classical  productions  of  Greece.  It  was  thus  that  Lucretius 
was  enabled  to  embody  in  Roman  verse  the  whole  Epicurean 
system,  and  Catullus  to  imitate  or  translate  the  lighter  amatory 
and  epigrammatic  compositions  of  the  Greeks.  Both  these 
poets  flourished  during  the  period  on  which  we  pre  now  enter- 
ing, and  which  extended  from  the  death  of  Sylla  to  the  acces* 
sion  of  Augustus.    The  former  of  them, 


TITUS  LUCRETIUS  CARUS, 

was  the  most  remarkable  of  the  Roman  writers,  as  he  united 
the  precision  of  the  philosopher  to  the  fire  and  fancy  of  the 
poet;  and,  while  he  seems  to  have  had  no  perfect  model 


LUCRETIUS.  251 

among  the  Greeks,  has  left  a  production  unrivalled,  (perhaps 
not  to  be  rivalled,)  by  any  of  the  same  kind  in  later  ages. 

Of  the  life  of  Lucretius  very  little,  is  known :  He  lived  at  a 
period  abounding  with  great  political  actors,  and.  full  of  por- 
tentous events — a  period  when  every  bosom  was  agitated  with 
terror  or  hope,  and  when  it  must  have  been  the  chief  study  of 
a  prudent  man,  especially  if  a  votary  of  philosophy  and  the 
Muses,  to  hide  himself  as  much  as  possible  amid  the  shades. 
The  year  of  his  birth  is  uncertain.  According  to  the  chronicle 
of  Eusebius,  he  was  born  in  658,  being  thus  nine  years  younger 
than  Cicero,  and  two  or  three  younger  than  Csesar.  To  judge 
from  his  style,  he  might  be  supposed  older  than  either ;  but 
this,  as  appears  from  the  example  of  Sallust,  is  no  certain  test, 
as  his  archaisms  may  have  arisen  from  the  imitation  of  ancient 
writers;  and  we  know  that  he  was  a  fond  admirer  of  Ennius. 

A  taste  for  Greek  philosophy  had  been  excited  at  Rome  for 
a  considerable  time  before  this  era,  and  Lucretius  was  sent, 
with  other  young  Romans  of  rank,  to  study  at  Athens.  The 
different  schools  of  philosophy  in  that  city  seem,  about  this 
period,  to  have  been  frequented  according  as  they  received  a 
temporary  fashion  from  the  comparative  abilities  of  the  pro- 
feasors  who  presided  in  them.  Cicero,  for  example,  who  had 
attended  the  Epicurean  school  at  Athens,  and  became  himself 
^  Academic,  intrusted  his  son  to  the  care  of  Cratippus,  a  peri- 
patetic philosopher.  After  the  death  of  its  great  founder,  the 
whool  of  Epicurus  had  for  some  time  declined  in  Greece ;  but 
at  the  period  when  Lucretius  was  sent  to  Athens,  it  had  again 
revived  under  the  patronage  of  L.  Memmius,  whose  son  was  a 
fellow-student  of  Lucretius ;  as  were  also  Cicero,  Ins  brother 
Quintus,  Cassius,  and  Pomponius  Atticus.  At  the  time  when 
frequented  by  these  illustrious  youths,  the  Gardens  of  Epicurus 
Were  superintended  by  Zeno  and  Phaedrus,  both  of  whom,  but 
particularly  the  latter,  have  been  honoured  with  the  panegyric 
of  Cicero.  "We  formerly,  when  we  were  boys,"  says  he,  in 
A  letter  to  Caius  Memmius,  "  knew  him  as  a  profound  philo- 
sopher, and  we  still  recollect  him  as  a  kind  and  worthy  man, 
ever  solicitous  for  our  improvement*." 

One  of  the  dearest,  perhaps  the  dearest  friend  of  Lucretius, 
was  this  Memmius,  who  had  been  his  school-fellow,  and  whom, 
it  is  supposed,  he  accompanied  to  Bithynia,  when  appointed  to 
the  government  of  that  provincef .  The  poem  De  Berum  JVa- 
^vo,  if  not  undertaken  at  the  request  of  Memmius,  was  doubt* 
less  much  encouraged  by  him ;  and  Lucretius,  in  a  dedication 

*  EpUt.  Famtl.  Lib.  XIII. 

t  Good's  Lucretwts,  Pref,  p.  XXXVI. 


252  LUCRETIUS. 

expressed  in  terms  of  manly  and  elegant  courtesy,  very  diffe- 
rent from  the  sorvile  adulation  of  some  of  his  great  succestsors^ 
tells  him,  that  the  much  desired  pleasure  of  his  friendship,  was 
what  enabled  him  to  endure  any  toil  or  vigiU 


**  Sed  tua  me  virtus  tunen,  et  sperata  voluptaa 
^  Suavis  amicitia;,  quemvis  ecferre  laborem 

Suadet,  et  inducit  nocteis  vigilare  sereoas." 

The  life  of  the  poet  was  short,  but  happily  was  sufficiently 
prol9nged  to  enable  him  to  complete  his  poem,  though,  per- 
haps, not  to  give  some  portions  of  it  their  last  polish.  Ac- 
cording to  Eusebius,  he  died  in  the  44th  year  of  his  age,  by 
his  own  hands,  in  a  paroxysm  of  insanity,  produced  by  a  philtre, 
which  Lucilia,  his  wife  or  mistress,  had  given  him,  with  no 
design  of  depriving  him  of  life  or  reason,  but  to  renew  or  in- 
crease his  passion.  Others  suppose  that  his  mental  alienation 
proceeded  from  melancholy,  on  account  of  the  calamities  of  hif 
country,  and  the  exile  of  Memmius, — circumstances  which 
were  calculated  deeply  to  affect  his  mind*^.  There  0eems  no 
reason  to  doubt  the  melancholy  fact,  that  he  perished  by  his 
own  hand. 

The  poem  of  Lucretius,  De  Rerum  J^atura^  which  he  com- 
posed during  the  lucid  intervals  of  his  malady,  is,  as  the  name 
imports,  philosophic  and  didactic,  in  the  strictest  acceptation 
of  these  terms.  Poetry,  I  think,  may  chiefly  be  considered  as 
occupied  in  three  ways. — 1,  As  describing  the  passions  of  men, 
with  the  circumstances  which  give  birth  to  them. — 2.  As 
painting  images  or  scenery. — 3.  As  communicating  truth.  Of 
these  classes  of  poetry,  the  most  interesting  is  the  first,  in 
which  we  follow  the  hero  placed  at  short  intervals  in  diflferent 
situations,  calculated  to  excite  various  sympathies  in  our 
heart,  while  our  imagination  is  at  the  same  time  amused  or 
astonished  by  the  singularity  of  the  incidents  which  such  situ- 
ations produce.  Those  poems,  therefore,  are  the  most  attrac- 
tive, in  which,  as  in  the  Odyssey  and  Orlando,  knights  or 
warriors  plough  unknown  seas,  and  wander  in  strange  lands — 
where,  at  every  new  horizon  which  opens,  we  look  for  coun- 
tries inhabited  by  giants,  or  monsters,  or  wizards  of  super- 
natural powers — where,  whether  sailing  on  the  deep,  or 
anchoring  on  the  shore,  the  hero  dreads — 

'*  Lest  Gorgons,  rimng  from  infetfial  lakes* 
With  horrors  armed,  and  curb  of  hissing  snakes, 
Should  fix  him,  stiffened  at  the  monstrous  sight, 
A  stony  image  in  eternal  ni^t.** 

*  "  Nam  neque  nos  agere  hoc  patriai  tempore  iniqiio 
Possumus  squo  animo,"  &c.-^Lib.  1.  v.  42. 


LUCRETIUS.  263 

These  are  the  themes  of  surest  and  most  powerful  effect :  It  is 
by  these  that  we  are  most  truely  moved  ;  and  it  is  the  choice 
of  such  subjects,  if  ably  conducted,  which  chiefly  stamps  the 
poet — 


"  Humans  DoiDinum  mentis,  cordisque  Tyrannum.** 

So  strongly,  indeed,  and  so  universally,  has  thi^i  been  felt, 
that  in  the  second  species  of  poetry,  the  Descriptive^  our  sym- 
pathy must  be  occasionally  awakened  by  the  actions  or  pas- 
sions of  human  beings ;  and,  to  ensure  success,  the  poet  must 
describe  the  effects  of  the  appearance  of  nature  on  our  sensa- 
tions. "  In  the  poem  of  the  SMpioreck,^^  says  Lord  Byron,  "  is 
it  the  storm  or  the  ship  which  most  interests  9 — Both  much, 
undoubtedly ;  but  without  the  vessel,  what  should  we  care  for 
the  tempest*  V^  Virgil  had  early  fek,  that  without  Lycoris, 
the  gdidi  fontes  and  mottia  prata  would  seem  less  refreshing 
and  less  smooth — he  had  found  that  the  grass  and  the  groves 
withered  at  the  departure,  but  revived  at  the  return  of  Phyllis. 
The  most  soothing  and  picturesque  of  the  incidents  of  a  wood- 
land landscape, — the  blue  smoke  curling  upwards  from  a  cot- 
tage concealed  by  the  trees,  derives  half  its  softening  cham^ 
by  reminding  us— 

«  That  in  the  same  did  wonne  some  living  wight." 

Of  all  the  three  species  above  enumerated,  PhUo8ophical 
poetry,  which  occupies  the  mind  with  minute  portions  of  ex- 
ternal nature,  is  the  least  attractive.  Mankind  will  always 
prefer  books  which  move  to  those  which  instruct — ennui  beings 
more  burdensome  than  ignorance.  In  philosophic  poetry,  our 
imagination  cannot  be  gratified  by  the  desert  isles,  the  bound- 
less floods,  or  entangled  forests,  with  all  the  marvels  they  con- 
ceal, which  rise  in  such  rapid  and  rich  succession  in  the 
fascinating  narrative  of  the  sea  tost  Ulyssesf ;  nor  can  we  there 
have  our  curiosity  roused,  and  our  emotions  excited,  by  such 
lines  as  those  with  which  Ariosto  awakens  the  attention  of  his 
readers — 

"  Non  furo  iti  duo  miglia,  che  sonare 
Odon  la  selva,  che  gli  cinge  intorno. 
Con  tal  rumor  et  strepito  che  pare 
Che  tremi  laforesta  d'  ogniintomo." 


*  Letter  on  Bowle$'»  Strictwet  on  Pope. 

••  *£j/or  ydt^,  a-Kairtiif  •<  irduv^L^ata-o'tLf  AU>,B»f, 

OA/0>.  K. 


364  LUCRFTIUS. 

Beiides,  ai  has  been  observed  by  Montesquieay  reaicm  is 
miflicientty  chained,  though  we  fetter  her  not  with  rhyme ;  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  poetry  loses  much  of  its  freedom  and  light- 
ness, if  clogged  with  the  bonds  of  reason.  The  great  object 
of  poetry  (according  to  a  trite  remark,)  is  to  afibrd  pleasure; 
but  philosophic  poetry'affords  less  pleasure  than  epic,  descrip- 
tive, or  dramatic.  The  versifier  of  philosophic  subjects  is  in 
danger  of  producing  a  work  neither  interesting  enough  for 
the  admirers  of  sentiment  and  imagination,  nor  sufficiently 
profound  for  philosophers.  He  will  sometimes  soar  into  r^e- 
gions  where  many  of  his  readers  are  unable  to  follow  him,  and, 
at  other  times,  he  will  lose  the  suffrage  of  a  few,  by  inter- 
weaving fictions  amid  the  severe  and  simple  truth. 

It  is  the  business  of  the  philosopher  to  analyze  the  objects 
of  nature.  He  must  pay  least  attention  to  those  which  chiefly 
affect  the  sense  and  imagination,  while  he  minutely  consider! 
others,  which,  though  less  striking,  are  more  useful  for  classi- 
fication, and  the  chief  purposes  he  has  in  view.  The  poet,  on 
the  other  hand,  avoiding  dry  and  abstract  definitions,  rather 
combines  than  analyzes,  and  dwells  more  on  the  sensible 
phsenomena  of  nature,  than  her  mysterious  and  scientific 
workings.  Thus,  what  the  botanist  considers  is  the  number  of 
siaminay  and  their  situation  in  a  flower,  while  the  Muse  de- 
scribes only  its  colours,  and  the  influence  of  its  odours— 

**  She  loves  the  rose,  by  riven  loves  to  dream, 

Nor  heeds  why  blooms  &e  rose,  why  Sows  the  stretm-*- 

She  loves  its  colours,  though  she  may  not  know. 

Why  sun-bom  Iris  paints  me  showery  bow." 

• 

But  though  philosophic  poetry  be,  of  all  others,  the  most 
unfavourable  for  the  exertion  of  poetical  genius,  its  degree 
of  beauty  and  interest  will,  in  a  great  measure,  depend  oo 
what  parts  of  his  subject  the  poet  selects,  and  on  the  extent 
and  number  of  digressions  of  which  it  admits.  It  is  evident, 
that  the  philosophic  poet  should  pass  over  as  lightly  as  may 
be,  all  dry  and  recondite  doctrines,  and  enlarge  on  the  topics 
most  susceptible  of  poetical  ornament.  '^  Le  Tableau  de  la 
Nature  Physique,"  says  Voltaire,  "  est  lui  seule  d'une  richesse, 
d'une  variete,  d'une  etendue  a  occuper  des  siecles  d'etude; 
mais  tous  les  details  ne  sont  pas  favorable  a  la  poesie.  On 
n'  exige  pas  du  poete  les  meditations  du  physicien  et  les  cal- 
culs  de  I'astronomie  :  c'est  a  I'observateur  a  determiner  Tat- 
traction  et  les  mouvemens  des  corps  celestes;  c'est  au  poete  a 
peindre  leur  balancement,  leur  harmonic,  et  leurs  immuables 
revolutions.  L'un  distinguera  les  classes  nombreuses  d'etres 
organises  qui  peuplent  les  elemens  divers;  I'autre  decririra 


LUCRETIUS.  255 

d'no  trait  hardi,  lumiiieuz  et  rapide  cette  ecbelle  immense  ei 
continue,  ou  les  limites  des  regnes  se  confondent.  Que  le. 
conMept  de  la  nature  develope  le  prodige  de  la  greffe  dei 
arbre»— c'est  assez  pour  Virgile  de  I'exprimer  en  deux  beaux 

vera— 

**  Exiit  ad  coelum  rtmis  felicibus  arlxM, 
Miraturque  novas  frondes  et  dod  sua  poma*." 

With  regard,  again,  to  digressions,  Racine,  (le  Fils)  in  speak- 
ing of  didactic  poetry,  says  there  are  two  sorts  of  episodes 
which  may  be  introduced  into  it,  and  which  he  terms  episodes 
of  narrative  and  of  style,  {De  Recit  et  de  Style,)  meaning  by 
the  former  the  recital  of  the  adventures  of  individuals,  and  by 
the  latter,  general  reflections  suggested  by  the  subjectf . 
Without  some  embellishment  of  this  description,  most  philo- 
sophic poems  will  correspond  to  Quintilian's  account  of  the 
poemof  Aratus  on  astronomy,  "  Nulla  varietas,  nullus  affectus, 
nulla  persona,  nulla  cujusquam,  est  oratioj."  From  what  has 
already  been  said  concerning  the  extreme  interest  excited  by 
the  introduction  of  sentient  beings,  with  all  their  perils  around, 
and  all  their  passions  within  them,  it  follows,  that  where  the 
subject  admits,  episodes  of  the  first  class  will  best  serve  the 
purposes  of  poetry ;  and  if  the  poet  choose  such  dry  and  ab- 
struse topics  as  cosmogony,  or  the  generation  of  the  world, 
he  ought  to  follow  the  example  of  Silenus§,  by  embellishing 
his  subject  with  tales  of  Hylas,  and  Philomela,  and  Scylla, 
and  the  gardens  of  the  Hesperides — the  themes  which  induce 
us  to  listen  to  the  lay  of  the  poet — 


**  Cogere  donee  oves  stabulis,  nmnenimque  referre, 
Jusnt,  et  kivito  processit  Vesper  Olympo." 


It  is,  however,  with  the  second  class  of  episodes — ^with  de- 
clamations against  luxury  and  vice — reflections  on  the  beauty 
of  virtue — and  the  delights  of  rural  retirement,  that  Lucretius 
hath  chiefly  gemmed  his  verses. 

The  poem  of  Lucretius  contains  a  full  exposition  of  the 
theological,  physical,  and  moral  system  of  Epicurus.  It  has 
been  remarked  by  an  able  writer,  ''  that  all  the  religious  sys- 
tems of  (he  ancient  Pagan  world  were  naturally  perishable, 
from  the  quantity  of  false  opinions,  and  vicious  habits,  and 
ceremonies  that  were  attached  to  them."    Ue  observes  even 

*  Eneyelop^dieMeihodique.. 

t  Refiexioru  sur  la  Podne.    CEuwes^  Tom.  V. 

i  hMt.  Orat.    Lib.  ^.c.  I. 

4  Virga.    Eclog.  6. 


256  LUCRETIUS. 

of  the  barbarous  Anglo  Saxons,  that,  *'  as  the  nation  adTanced 
in  its  active  intellect,  it  began  to  be  dissatisfied  with  4t8  my- 
thology. Many  indications  exist  of  this  spreading  alienation, 
which  prepared  the  northern  mind  for  the  reception  of  the 
nobler  truths  of  Christianity*."  A  secret  incredulity  of  this 
sort  seems  to  have  been  long  nourished  in  Greece,  and  appears 
to  have  been  imported  into  Rome  with  its  philosophy  and 
literature.  The  more  pure  and  simple  religion  of  early  Rome 
was  quickly  corrupted,  and  the  multitude  of  ideal  and  hetero- 
geneous beings  which  superstition  introduced  into  the  Roman 
worship  led  to  its  total  rejectionf .  This  infidelity  is  very 
obvious  in  the  writings  of  Ennius,  who  translated  Euhemerus' 
work  on  the  Deification  of  Human  Spirits,  while  Plautus 
dramatized  the  vices  of  the  father  of  the  gods  and  tutelary 
deity  of  Rome.  The  doctrine  of  materialism  was  introduced 
at  Rome  during  the  age  of  Scipio  and  Lseliusl ;  and  perhaps 
no  stronger  proof  of  its  rapid  progress  and  prevalence  can  be 

S;iven,  than  that  Caesar,  though  a  priest,  and  ultimately  Ponti- 
ex  Maximus,  boldly  proclaimed  in  the  senate,  that  death  is 
the  end  of  all  things,  and  that  beyond  it  there  is  neither  hope 
nor  joy.  Ihis  state  of  the  public  mind  was  calculated  to  give 
a  fashion  to  the  system  of  Epicurus^.  According  to  this 
distinguished  philosopher,  the  chief  good  of  man  is  pleasure, 
of  which  the  elements  consist,  in  having  a  body  free  from 
pain,  and  a  mind  tranquil  and  exempt  from  perturbation.  Of 
this  tranquility  there  are,  according  to  Epicurus,  as  expound- 
ed by  Lucretius,  two  chief  enemies,  superstition,  or  slavish  fear 
of  the  gods,  and  the  dread  of  death||.  In  order  to  oppose 
these  two  foes  to  happiness,  he  endeavouis,  in  the  first  place, 
to  shew  that  the  world  was  formed  by  a  fortuitous  concourse 

*  Tuner's  History  of  the  Anglo  Saxon$,  Vol.  III.  pp.  811,  856,  ed.  London, 
1820,  where  proofs  are  given. 

t  Pliny,  Hist.  J^Tat.  Lib.  IL  7. 

X  **  Neque  enim  assentior  iis,"  says  Lselius,  in  Cicero's  Dialogue,  De  Jbrntx- 
Hay  **  qui  hsc  nuper  disserere  coepenint,  com  corporibus  aimul  animos  interire,  atque 
omnia  rnorte  deleri."  (c.  4.) 

§  **  Priscarum  religionum  metus,"  says  Heyne,  talking  of  the  time  of  the  civB 
wars  of  Sylla,  "jam  adeo  dispulsus  erat,  ut  ne  ipsa  quidem  Loyole  cohois immissa, 
novas  tenebras,  novos  terrores  offundere  animis  potuisset."    ( Opusevda^  Totn.  IV.) 

II  Lib.  II.  V.  43,  44,  46 — 60.  It  is  well  known  what  a  clamour  was  excited 
asainst  Epicurus,  founded  on  the  ambiguity  of  the  word  which  has  been  translated 
pleasure,  but  which  would  be  more  accurately  interpreted  happinesf.  A  similar 
outcry  was,  in  later  ages,  raised  by  one  of  his  opponents  against  Malebranche,  who, 
like  Epicurus,  lived  not  merely  temperately,  but  abstemiously.  "  Reds,"  ( says 
Fontenelle,)  *<  attaqua  Malebranche  sur  ce  qu'il  avoit  avancc  que  lepuMrreni, 
heureux.  Ainsi  malgre  sa  vie  plus  que  philosophique  et  tres  chr&tienne  il  se  tiouva 
le  protecteur  de  plaisirs.  A  la  veritt'  la  question  devint  si  subtile  e(  si  metaphysiqae, 
que  leurs  plus  grands  partizans  auroient  mieux  aimes  y  renoncer  pour  toute  leor  Yie, 
que  d'etre  obliges  k  les  soutenir  comme  lui."  Eloges,  Malebranche, 


LUCRETIUS.  257 

of  atoms,  and  that  the  gods,  who,  according  to  the  popular 
theology,  were  constantly  interposing,  take  no  concern  what- 
ever in  haman  affairs.  We  do  injustice  to  Epicurus  when 
we  estimate  his  tenets  by  the  refined  and  exalted  ideas'  of  a 
philosophy  purified  by  faith^  without  considering  the  super- 
stitious and  polluted  notions  prevalent  in  his  time.  "The 
idea  of  Epicurus/'  (as  is  observed  by  Dr  Drake,)  "  that  it  is 
the  nature  of  gods  to  enjov  an  immortality  in  the  bosom  of 
perpetual  peace,  infinitely  remote  from  all  relation  to  this 
glt»be,  free  from  care,  from  sorrow,  and  from  pain,' supremely 
happy  in  themselves,  and  neither  rejoicing  in  the  pleasures, 
Bor  concerned  for  the  evils  of  humanity — though  perfectly 
?oid  of  any  rational  foundation,  yet  possesses  much  moral 
eharra  when  compared  with  the  popular  religious  of  Greece 
and  Rome.  The  felicity  of  their  deities  consisted  in  the 
vilest  debauchery ;  nor  was  there  a  crime,  however  deep  its 
dye,  that  had  not  been  committed  and  gloried  in  by  some  one 
of  their  numerous  objects  of  worship*."'  Never,  also,  could 
the  doctrine,  that  the  gods  take  no  concern  in  human  affairs, 
appear  more  plausible  than  in  the  age  of  Lucietius,  when 
the  destiny  of  man  seemed  to  be  the  sport  of  the  caprice  of 
rach  a  monster  as  Sylla. 

With  respect  to  the  other  great  leading  tenet  of  Lucretius 
and  his  master — the  mortality  of  the  soul,  still  greater  injus- 
tice is  done  to  the  philosopher  and  poet.  It  is  aflirmed,  and 
justly,  by  a  great  Apostle,  that  life  and  immortality  have  been 
brought  to  light  by  the  gospel ;  and  yet  an  author  who  lived 
before  this  dawn  is  reviled  because  he  asserts,  that  the  natu- 
ral arguments  for  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  afforded  by  the 
analogies  of  nature,  or  principle  of  moral  retribution,  are  weak 
and  inconclusive !  In  fact,  however,  it  is  not  by  the  truth  of 
the  system  or  general  philosophical  views  in  a  poem,  (for 
which  no  one  consults  it,)  that  its  value  is  to  be  estimated ; 
since  a  poetical  work  may  be  highly  moral  on  account  of  its 
details,  even  when  it^  systematic  scope  is  erroneous  or  appa- 
rently dangerous.     Notwithstanding  passages  which  seem  to 


*  LUeranf  JSburs,  Vol.  I.  p.  11.  Dr  Drake  wrote  two  essays,  to  announce  and 
lecominend  the  tnoislation  of  Lucretius  by  his  friend  Mr  Good.  The  latter,  in  his 
notes,  displays  a  prodigious  extent  of  readini^  in  abnost  all  languages ;  but  neither 
•f  them  is  very  accusate.  Dr  Drake,  for  example,  remarks,  «  that  the  Alieutiean 
3nd  Cjfnogetieon  of  Oppian,  thongh  conveying  precepts  in  verse,  can  with  scarce 
tty  probability  be  considered  as  furnishing  a  model  for  the  philosophic  genius  of 
the  Roman."  ( P.  S.  ^  Oppian  wrote  towaras  the  close  of  the  second  century  of  the 
Chrigtiin  aera.  Mr  Good  also  makes  Suetonius  appeal  for  some  Aict  to  Atbebeus. 
(Vol.  1.  p.  26.) 

Vol,  L— 2  H 


358  LUCRETIUS. 

■  _ 

echo  Spiiiosism,  and  almost  to  justify  crime*,  the  Essay  an 
Man  is  rightly  considered  as  the  most  moral  production  of 
our  most  moral  poet.  In  like  manner,  where  shall  we  find 
exhortations  more  eloquent  than  those  of  Lucretius,  asainst 
ambition  and  cruelty,  and  luxury  and  lust, — against  all  the 
dishonest  pleasures  of  the  body,  and  all  the  turbulent  passions 
of  the  mind. 

In  versifying  the  philosophical  system  of  Epicurus,  Lucre- 
tius appears  to  have  taken  Empedocles  as  his  model.  All  the 
old  Grecian  bards  of  whom  we  have  any  account  prior  to  Ho- 
mer, as  Orpheus,  Linus,  and  Musseus,  are  said  to  have  written 
poems  on  the  driest  and  most  difficult  philosophical  questions, 
particularly  the  generation  of  the  world.  The  ancients  evi- 
dently considered  philosophical  poetry  as  of  the  highest  kind, 
and  its  themes  are  invariably  placed  in  the  mouths  of  their 
divinest  songstersf .  Whether  Lucretius  may  have  been 
indebted  to  any  such  ancient  poems,  still  extant  in  his  age,  or 
to  the  subsequent  productions  of  Pala^phatus  the  Athenian, 
Antiochus,  or  Eratosthenes,  who,  as  Suidas  informs  us,  wrote 
poems  on  the  structure  of  the  world,  it  is  impossible  now  to 
determine ;  but  he  seems  to  have  considerably  availed  himself 
of  the  work  of  Empedocles.  The  poem  of  that  sumptuous, 
accomplished,  and  arrogant  philosopher,  entitled  Ilsfi  ^ixr&j^, 
and  inscribed  to  his  pupil  Pausanias,  was  chiefly  illustrative 
of  the  Pythagorean  philosophy,  in  which  he  had  been  initia- 
ted. Aristotle  speaks  on  the  subject  of  the  merits  of  Empe- 
docles in  a  manner  which  does  not  seem  to  be  perfectly 
consistent];;  but  we  know  that  his  poem  was  sufficiently 
celebrated  to  be  publicly  recited  at  the  Olympic  games,  along 
with  the  works  of  Homer.  Only  a  few  fragments  of  his  wri- 
tings remain ;  from  which,  perhaps,  it  would  be  as  unfair  to 
judge  him,  as  to  estimate  Lucretius  by  extracts  from  the  phy- 
sical portions  of  his  poem.  Those  who  have  collected  the 
detached  fragments  of  his  production"^,  think  that  it  had  been 

*  As  a  spedm^  of  rank  Spinosism,  we  find — 

"  All  are  but  parts  of  one  stupendooa  whole. 
Whose  body  Nature  is,  and  God  the  soul  ;'* — 
and  for  an  apparent  justification  of  crime, — 

"  If  plaeues  and  earthquakes  break  not  Heaven's  design. 
Why,  then,  a  Borgia  or  a  Catiline. 


In  spite  of  pride,  in  erring  reason's  spite, 
One  truth  is  clear, — Whatever  is,  is  right." 
t  Apollooius  Rhodius,  Lib.  I.    Virgil,  jEnetd,  Lib.  I. 
i  ap.  Eichstadt.  Lucret.  p.  Ixxxvii.  ci.  cii.  ed.  Lius.  1801. 

4  The  fragments  of  Empedocles  have  been  chiefly  preserved  by  Simplicius,  in  & 
Greek  commentary  on  Aristotle,  written  about  the  middle  of  the  sixth  century.  This 
commentary,  with  the  verses  of  Empedocles  which  it  comprehended,  was  trans- 


LUCRETIUS.  »59 

divided  into  three  books ;  the  first  treating  of  the  elements 
and  universe, — the  second  of  animals  and  man, — the  third  of 
the  soul,  as  also  of  the  nature  and  worship  of  the  gods.  His 
philosophical  system  was  different  from  that  of  Lucretius;  but 
he  had  discussed  almost  all  the  subjects  on  which  the  Roman 
bard  afterwards  expatiated.  In  particular,  Lucretius  appears 
to  have  derived  from  his  predecessor  his  notion  of  the  origi- 
nal generation  of  man  from  the  teeming  earth, — the  produc- 
tion, at  the  beginning  of  the  world,  of  a  variety  of  defective 
monsters,  which  were  not  allowed  to  multiply  their  kinds, — 
the  distribution  of  animals  according  to  the  prevalence  of  one 
or  other  of  the  four  elements  over  the  rest  in  their  composition, 
--the  vicissitudes  of  niiatter  between  life  and  inanimate  sub- 
stance,— and  the  leading  doctrine,  ^^  mortem  nihil  ad  nos  per- 
tinere,"  because  absolute  insensibility  is  the  consequence  of 
dissolution*. 

If  Lucretius  has  in  any  degree  benefited  by  the  works  of 
Empedocles,  h^  has  in  return  been  most  lavish  and  eloquent 
in  his  commendations.  One  of  the  most  delightful  features 
in  the  character  of  the  Latin  poet  is,  the  glow  of  admiration 
with  which  he  writes  of  his  illustrious  predecessors.  His 
eulogy  of  the  Sicilian  philosopher,  which  he  has  so  happily 
combined  with  that  of  the  country  which  gave  him  birth, 
affords  a  beautiful  example  of  his  manner  of  infusing  into 
everything  a  poetic  sweetness,  MusiBO  contingens  cuncta 
lepore, — 


<« 


Qoorum  Agragantinus  eum  piimis  Empedodes  est: 
Insula  guem  TriquetriB  terranun  gessit  in  oris : 
Quam  nuitans  drcum  mamis  amractibus,  nquor 
Ionium  glaods  aspergit  virus  ab  undis, 
Angustoque  fretu  rapidum,  mare  dividit  undis 
£olis  terrarum  oras  a  finibus  ejus : 
Hie  est  vasta  Charybdis.  et  h)c  ^tnsa  minantur 
Murmura,  fiammarum  rursura  se  conligere  iras> 
Faucibus  eruptos  itenim  ut  vis  evomat  igneis. 
Ad  ccelumque  ferat  flammai  fulgura  rursum. 
Qus,  quum  magna  modis  multis  miranda  videtur 
Gentibus  humanis  .regio,  visundaque  fertur,^ 
Rebus  opima  bonis,  muUa  munita  virCkm  vi ;' 


Uted  into  Latin  in  the  Airteenth  centuty ;  and  at  the  revira)  of  fiteratore,  the  original 
SimplidoB having  disappeared,  it  was  (as  happened  to  various  other  woiks^  retrans* 
iated  from  the  Latin  into  Greek,  and  in  this  fonn  was  printed  b^  Aldus,  in  1526. 
StuTz  published  ihe  Remains  ofEmpedoeles  from  this  AMine  edition,  with  a  great 
Ktetary  apparmtus,  at  Leipsic,  in  1806,  but  with  some  remodelling^,  to  force  them  into 
Kctinte  veite,  which  they  had  lost  in  their  successive  transmutaUons.  Subsequent, 
^wever,  to  this  attempt.  Professor  Peyron  discovered,  in  the  Ambrosian  library  at 
Milan,  the  original  Oreek  of  SimpHcius,  with  the  genuine  verses  of  £mpedode9, 
^vhich  have  been  reprinted  at  Leipsic,  in  1810,  from  the  Italian  editing. 
*  Stun,  EmptdocHs  Frogmenta.    Cicero,  De  FimhWi  Ub.  IL 


200  LUCRETIUS. 

Nil  tasnen  hoc  halwiBie  viro  precUriut  ia  w. 

Nee  sanctuiD  magis,  et  minim,  canimque,  videtur. 

Caimina  quin  etiam  divini  pectoris  ejus 

Yociferantur,  ct  expoDimt  predan  reperta ; 

Ut  vix  humani  videatur  stiipe  creatua." — Lib.  I.  717. 

It  was  formerly  mentioned,  that  Ennius  had  translated  into 
Latin  verse  the  Greek  poem  of  Epicharmos,  which,  iiom  the 
fragments  preserved,  appears  to  have  contained  many  specu- 
lations with  regard  to  the  productive  elements  of  which  the 
world  is  composed,  as  also  concerning  the  preservative  powers 
of  nature.  To  the  works  of  Ennius  our  poet  seems  to  have 
been  indebted,  partly  as  a  model  for  enriching  the  still  scanty 
Latin  language  with  new  terms,  and  partly  as  a  treasury  or 
storehouse  of  words  already  provided.  Him,  too,  he  cele- 
brates with  the  most  ardent  and  unfeigned  enthusiasm: — 

*'  Ennius  ut  noster  cecinit,  qui  primus  amcno 

Detulit  ex  Helicone  perenni  fronde  coronam, 

Per  genteis  Italas  horoiniun  que  clan  clueret 

£t  si  pneterea  tamen  esse  Acnerusia  templa 

Ennius  etemis  exponit  versibus  edens ; 

Quo  neque  peimanent  anime,  neque  corpora  nottni ; 

Sed  qusdam  simulacra  modis  paUcntia  miria ; 

Unde,  sibi  exortam,  semper  florentis  Homeri 

Commemorat  speciem,  lacrumas  et  fundere  salsas 

Coepisse,  et  rxrvm  natvbam  expandere  dictis.'* — ^I.  122. 

These  writers,  Empedocles  and  Ennius,  were  probably 
Lucretius'  chief  guides ;  and  though  the  most  original  of  the 
Latin  poets,  many  of  his  finest  passages  may  be  traced  to  the 
Greeks.    The  beautiful  lamentation, — 

'*  Nam  jam  non  domus  acdpiet  te  Icta,  neque  ozor 
Optuma,  nee  dulceis  occurrent  oscula  nati 
Preiipere,  et  tacita  pectus  dulcedine  tangunt,** — 

is  said  to  be  translated  from  a  dirge  chaunted  at  Athenian 
funerals ;  and  the  passage  where  he  represents  the  feigned 
tortures  of  hell  as  but  the  workings  of  a  guilty  and  unquiet 
spirit,  is  versified  from  an  oration  of  ^schines  against  Ti- 
marchus. 

In  the  first  and  second  books,  Lucretius  chiefly  expounds 
the  cosmogony,  or  physical  part  of  his  system — a  system 
which  had  been  originally  founded  by  Leucippus,  a  philo- 
sopher of  the  Eleatic  sect,  and,  from  his  time,  had  been 
successively  improved  by  Democritus  and  Epicurus.  He 
establishes  in  these  books  his  two  great  principles, — ^that 
nothing  can  be  made  from  nothing,  and  that  nothing  can  ever 
be  annihilated  or  return  to  nothing;  and,  that  there  is  in  the 
universe  a  void  or  space,  in  which  atoms  interact.    These 


LUCRETIUS.  361 

itoms  he  believes  to  be  the  original  component  parts  of  all 
matter,  as  well  as  of  animal  life ;  and  the  arrangement  of 
such  corpuscles  occasions,  according  to  him,  the  whole  diffe- 
rence Id  substances. 

It  cannot  be  denied,  that  in  these  two  books  particularly, 
(bat  the  observation  is  in  some  degree  applicable  to  the  whole 
poem,)  there  are  many  barren  tracts — many  physiological, 
meteorological,  and  geological  details — which  are  at  once 
too  incorrect  for  the  philosophical,  and  too  dry  and  abstract 
for  the  poetical  reader.  It  is  wonderful,  however,  how  Lucre- 
tius contrives,  by  the  beauty  of  his  images,  to  give  a  pictu- 
resque colouring  and  illustration  to  the  most  unpromising 
topics.  Near  the  beginning  of  his  poem,  for  example,  ia 
attempting  to  prove  a  very  abstract  proposition,  he  says, — 

'*  Pneterea,  quur  vere  rosam,  frumenCa  calore, 
Viteis  auctomno  fondi  suadente  videmus." 

Thus,  by  the  introduction  of  the  rose  and  vines,  bestowing  a 
fragrance  and  freshness,  and  covering,  as  it  were,  with  verdure, 
the  thorns  and  briars  of  abstract  discussion.  In  like  manner, 
when  contending  that  nothing  utterly  perishes,  but  merely 
assumes  another  form,  what  a  lovely  rural  landscape  does  he 
present  to  the  imagination ! 

.«  Pereunt  imbres,  ubi  eos  pater  JSther 


In  gremium  mntAa  Terriii  pnecipicavit : 
At  nitide  dufgimt  fruges,  tamique  virescunt 
Arboribus ;  crescunt  ipse,  fcetuque  gravantur. 
Hinc  alitui  porro  Dostrum  eenus  atque  feiarum ; 
Hine  letas  urbeis  pueriim  norere  videmus, 
Frondiferasque  novU  avibus  caoere  imdique  sylvas ; 
Hinc,  fes89  pecudes,  pingues  per  pabula  leta. 
Corpora  deponuDt,  et  candens  lacteos  humor 
Uberibttg  manat  distentis ;  hinc  nova  proles 
Artubos  infirmis  teneras  lasciva  per  herbas 
Ludit,  lacte  mero  menteis  percussa  novellas.'* 

** Whoever,"  says  Wart«n,  ''imagines,  with  Tully,  that 
liUcretius  had  not  a  great  genius^,  is  desired  to  cast  his  eye 
on  two  pictures  he  has  given  us  at  the  beginning  of  his  poem, 
—the  first,  of  Venus  with  her  lover  Mars,  beautiful  to  the  last 

*  "To  those,'*  says  Warton,  {Essay  an  the  Writings  and  Oenius  of  Pope, 
Vol.  II.  p.  402,  note,  **  that  know  the  number  of  ihoughts  that  breathe,  and  words 
that  bom,  in  this  animated  writer,  it  seenu;  surprising,  that  Tully  could  dpeak  of  hioa 
in  80  cold  and  tasteless  a  manner."  The  opinion  of  Cicero,  however,  has  been 
rendered  m&Touxable,  only  by  the  interpolation  of  the  wo.d  non,  contrary  to  the 
wthority  of  all  MSS.  His  words,  in  a  letter  to  his  brother  Quintus,  are  '*  JLucretii 
poemata  ut  scrihis  ita  sunt ;  multis  luminibus  ingenii,  multx  tamen  artis.  (Lib.  II. 
ISpiat.  ll.;->The  poems  of  Lucretius  are  as  you  write ;  with  many  beams  of  genius, 
m  also  with  jaoeh  art." 


262  LUCRETIUS. 

degree,  and  more  glowing  than  any  picture  painted  by  Titian; 
the  second,  of  that  terrible  and  gigantic  figure  the  Demon  of 
Superstition,  worthy  the  energetic  pencil  of  Michael  Angelo. 
I  am  sure  there  is  no  piece  by  the  hand  of  Guido,  or  the  Car- 
racci,  that  exceeds  the  following  group  of  allegorical  person- 
ages: 

'* It  Ver,  et  Venus;  et,  veris  pnenuncius,  ante 
Peunatus  frraditur  Zephyrus,  vestigia  propter. 
Flora  quibus  Mater,  praespargens  ante  viai, 
Cuncta  coloribus  egregiis  et  odoribus  opplet*' 

In  spite,  however,  of  the  powers  of  Lucretius,  it  was  impossi- 
ble, from  the  very  nature  of  his  subject,  but  that  some  portions 
would  prove  altogether  unsusceptible  of  poetical  embellish- 
ment. Yet  it  may  be  doubted,  whether  these  intractable 
passages,  by  the  charm  of  contrast,  do  not  add,  like  deserts  to 
Oases  in  their  bosom,  an  additional  deliciousness  in  propor- 
tion to  their  own  sterility.  The  lovely  group  above-mentioned 
by  Warton,  are  clothed  with  additional  beauty  and  enchant- 
ment, from  starting,  as  it  were,  like  Armida  and  her  Nymphs, 
from  the  mossy  rind  of  a  rugged  tree.  The  philosophical 
analysis,  too,  employed  by  Lucretius,  impresses  the  mind  with 
the  conviction,  that  the  poet  is  a  profound  thinker,  and  adds 
great  force  to  his  moral  reflections.  Above  all,  his  fearless- 
ness, if  I  may  say  so,  produces  this  powerful  effect.  Dryden, 
in  a  well-known  passage,  where  he  has  most  happily  charac- 
terized the  general  manner  of  Lucretius,  observes,  ^^  If  I  am 
not  mistaken,  the  distinguishing  character  of  Lucretius — ^I 
mean,  of  his  soul  and  genius — is  a  certain  kind  of  noble  pride, 
and  posftive  assertion  of  his  own  opinions.  He  is  everywhere 
confident  of"  his  own  reason,  and  assuming  an  absolute  com- 
mand, not  only  over  his  vulgar  readers,  but  even  his  patron, 
Menmiius.  ...  This  is  that  particular  dictatorship  which  is 
exercised  by  Lucretius;  who,  though  often  in  the  wrong,  yet 
seems  to  deal  bona  fide  with  his  Reader,  and  tells  him  nothing 

but  what  he  thinks He  seems  to  disdain  all  manner 

of  replies ;  and  is  so  confident  of  his  cause,  that  he  is  before- 
hand with  his  antagonists,  urging  for  them  whatever  he  ima- 
gined they  could  say,  and  leaving  them,  as  he  supposes, 
"without  an  objection  for  the  future.  All  this,  too,  with  so 
much  scorn  and  indignation,  as  if  he  were  assured  of  the 
triumph,  and  need  only  enter  into  the  lists."  Hence  while, 
in  other  writers,  the  eulogy  of  virtue  seems  in  some  sort  to 
partake  of  the  nature  of  a  sermon — to  be  a  conventional 
language,  and  words  of  course — we  listen  to  Lucretius  as  to 
one  who  will  fearlessly  speak  out ;  who  had  shut  his  ears  to 


LUCRETIUS.  ad3 

ibe  murmors  of  Acheron :  and  who,  if  he  eulogises  Viriuet 
extols  her  because  her  charms  are  real.  How  exquisite,  for 
example,  and,  at  the  same  time,  how  powerful  and  convincing, 
bis  deliaeation  of  the  utter  worthlessness  of  vanity  and  pomp, 
cootfasted  with  the  pure  and  perfect  delights  of  simple  nature ! 

*'  Si  noD  aurea  sunt  juFenum  siinula/en  per  cdes, 
LampadaA  i^i^Difens  manibus  retinentia  deztris. 
Lamina  Docturais  epulis  ut  suppeditentur, 
Nee  domus  ai^geDto  fiilget  auroque  renidet. 
Nee  ciUiarc  reboant  laqueata  aurataque  tecta ; 
Quum  tamen  inter  se,  prostrati  in  gr<iimne  motli, 
j^pter  aque  rivum,  sub  ramia  arboris  alte, 
Non  macnis  opibus  jucunde  corpora  curant : 
Pra^sertim,  quum  tempestaii  arridet,  et  anni 
Tempora  connpargunt  viridantea  floribus  herbaa : 
Nee  calide  citius  decedunt  oorpore  febrea, 
TesUlibua  ai  in  picturia,  oatroque  rubend, 
Jaeeria,  quam  ai  plebeift  in  veate  cubandu^  eat.-^II.  24. 

The  word  PriBsertimf  in  this  beautiful  passage,  affords  an 
illastration  of  what  has  been  remarked  above,  that  the  kind  of 
philosophical  analysis  employed  by  Lucretius  gives  great 
force  to  his  moral  reflections.  He  seems,  as  it  were,  to  be 
weighing  his  words ;  and,  which  is  the  only  solid  foundation 
of  just  confidence,  to  be  cautious  of  asserting  anything  which 
experience  would  not  fully  confirm.  One  thing  very  remark* 
able  in  this  great  poet  is,  the  admirable  clearness  and  closeness 
of  his  reasoning.  He  repeatedly  values  himself  not  a  little  on 
the  circumstance,  that,  with  an  intractable  subject,  and  a 
language  not  yet  accommodated  to  philosophical  discussions, 
and  scanty  in  terms  of  physical  as  well  as  metaphysical 
science,  he  was  able  to  give  so  much  clearness  to  his  argu- 
ment*; which  object  it  is  generally  admitted  he  has  accom- 
plished, with  little  or  no  sacrifice  of  pure  Latinityf .  As  a 
proof  at  once  of  the  perspicuity  and  closeness  of  his  reasoning, 
and  the  fertility  of  his  mind  in  inventing  arguments,  there 
might  be  given  his  long  discussion,  in  the  tliird  book,  on  the 
materiality  of  the  human  soul,  and  its  incapability  of  surviving 
the  ruin  of  the  corporeal  frame.  Never  "were  the  arguments 
for  materialism  marshalled  with  such  skill — never  were  the 

*  "  Nee  me  animi  fallit,  Graiorum  obseura  reperta, 
OUIicile  inluatmre  Latinis  versibus  eaae ; 
Multa  novis  verbis  prssertim  quum  ait  agendum, 
Propter  egestatem  lingue  et  rerum  novitatem. 

•  •  * 

Deinde,  quod  obacufi  de  re  tam  lucida  pango 

Cannina,  Muaco  contingent  cuncta  lepoie." 
t  "  In  Lucretio  maxime  puiitas  Latine  luigue,  copiaque  apparet." — P.  Victoriua, 
JV.  Leet.  Lib.  XVIl.  c.  16.    ••  Lucretius  Latinitatis  author optimua."— Casaubon, 
•Vof .  m  Johan.  cap.  6. 


264  LUCRETIUS. 

diseases  of  the  mind,  and  the  deeay  of  memory  and  under- 
standing, so  pathetically  urged,  so  eloquently  expressed.  The 
following  quotation  contains  a  specimen  of  the  lucid  and 
logical  reasoning  of  this  philosophic  poet;  and  the  two  first 
verses,  perhaps,  after  all  that  has  'been  written,  comprehend 
the  whole  that  is  metaphysically  or  physiologically  known 
upon  the  subject : 

**  PrsBterea,  gigni  pariter  cum  corpore,  et  iinii 

Crescere  seotifDus,  pariterque  senescere,  mentem. 

Nam,  velut  infirmo  pueri,  teneroque,  vagantar 

Corpore,  sic  animi  sequitur  senteotia  tenuis ; 

lode,  ubi  robuatis  adolevit  viribus  etas. 

Consilium  quoque  majus,  et  auctior  est  animi  vis. 

Post,  ubi  jam  validis  quassatum  est  viribus  evi 

Corpus,  et  obtusis  ceciderunt  viribus  artus, 

Claudlcat  in|;enium,  delirat  linguaque  mensque ; 

Omnia  deficiunt,  atque  uno  tempore  desunt : 

Erj^,  dissolvi  quoque  convenit  omnem  aoimai 

Naturam,  ceu  fumus  in  altas  aeris  auras ; 

Quandoquidem  gigni  pariter,  pariterque  videmus 

Crescere ;  et,  ut  docui,  simui,  isvo  fessa,  fatisci.**»lll.  446. 

Lucretius  having,  by  many  arguments,  endeavoured  to 
establish  the  mortality  of  the  soul,  proceeds  to  exhort  against 
a  dread  of  death.  The  fear  of  that  *'  last  tremendous  blow/' 
appears  to  have  harassed,  and  sometimes  overwhelmed,  the 
minds  of  the  Romans*.  To  them,  life  presented  a  scene 
of  high  duties  and  honourable  labours;  and  they  contem- 
plated, in  a  long  futurity,  the  distant  completion  of  their 
serious  and  lofty  aims.  They  were  not  yet  habituated  to 
regard  life  as  a  banquet  or  recreation,  from  which  they  were 
cheerfully  to  rise,  in  due  time,  sated  with  the  feast  prepared 
for  them ;  nor  had  they  been  accustomed  to  associate  death 
with  those  softening  ideas  of  indolence  and  slumber,  with 
which  it  was  the  design  of  Lucretius  to  connect  it.  He 
accordingly  represents  it  as  a  privation  of  all  sense, — as  un- 
disturbed by  tumult  or  terror,  by  grief  or  pain, — as  a  tranquil 
sleep,  and  an  everlasting  repose.  How  sublime  is  the  follow- 
ing passage,  in  which,  to  illustrate  his  argument,  that  the  long 
night  of  the  grave  can  be  no  more  painful  than  the  eternity 
before  our  birth,  he  introduces  the  war  with  Carthage ;  and 
what  a  picture  does  it  convey  of  the  energy  and  might  of  the 
combatants ! 


"  Nil  iptur  Mors  est,  ad  nos  neque  pertinet  hilum, 
Quandoquidem  natun  animi  mortalls  habetur. 

♦  "  Who  combats  bravely,  is  not  ttierefore  brave ; 
He  dreads  a  deatli-bed  like  a  common  slave/' 


LUCRETIUS.  365 

£t,  Tetut  ante  acto  nil  ttmpote  sensimm  «cri, 

Ad  confligundum  venientibus  undique  PoeiuB ; 

Omnia  quum,  belli  tre|rido  concussa  tumulta^ 

Honida  contremuere  sab  aids  etiieris  auiu : 

In  dubioque  fuere,  utrorom  ad  regna  cadundum 

Omnibus  huroanis  esset,  temque,  manque. 

Sic,  ubi  non  eiimu«,  quum  corporis  atque  animiii 

Oiflcidium  fuerit,  quilms  e  Kumus  uniter  apti ; 

Scilicet  baud  nobis  quidquam,  qui  non  erimtis  tum, 

Accidere  omnino  poterit,  sensumque  movere : 

Non  si  tern  marl  mlacebitur,  et  mare  coelo." — III.  842.' 

From  this  admirable  passage  till  the  close  of  the  third  book 
there  is  an  union  of  philosophy,  of  majesty,  and  pathos,  which 
bardly  ever  has  been  equalled.  The  incapacity  of  the  highest 
power  and  wisdom,  as  exhibited  in  so  niany  instances,  to 
exempt  from  the  common  lot  of  man,  the  farewell  which  we 
aufit  bid  to  the  sweetest  domestic  enjoyments,  and  the  magni'* 
ficent  froMj9cjM8Ja  of  Nature  to  her  children,  rebuking  their 
regrets,  and  the  injustice  of  their  complaints,  are  altogether 
exceedingly  solemn,  and  affecting,  and  sublime. 

The  two  leading  tenets  of  Epicurus  concerning  the  forma- 
tion of  the  world  and  the  mortality  of  the  soul,  are  established 
by  Lucretius  in  the  first  three  books.  A  great  proportion  of 
the  fourth  book  may  be  considered  as  episodical-  Having 
explained  the  nature  of  primordial  atoms,  and  of  the  soul, 
which  is  formed  from  the  finest  of  them,  he  announces,  that 
there  are  certain  images  {rerum  simulacra,)  or  effluvia,  which 
are  constantly  thrown  off  from  the  surface  of  whatever  exists. 
On  this  hypothesis  he  accounts  for  all  our  external  senses ; 
and  he  applies  it  also  to  the  theory  of  dreams,  in  which  what- 
ever images  have  amused  the  senses  during  day  most  readily 
recur.  Mankind .  being  prone  to  love,  of  all  the  phantoms 
which  rush  on  our  imagination  during  night,,  none  return  so 
frequently  as  the  forms  of  the  fair.  This  leads  Lucretius  to 
enlarge  on  the  mischievous  effects  of  illicit  love;  and  nothing 
can  be  finer  than  the  various  moral  considerations  which  he 
enforces,  to  warn  us  against  the  snares  of  guiltji  passion.  It 
must,  however,  be  confessed,  that  his  description  of  what  he 
seems  to  consider  as  the  physical  evils  and  imperfect  fruition 
of  sensual  love,  forms  the  most  glowing  picture  ever  presented 
of  its  delights.  But  he  has  atoned  for  his  violation  of  deco^ 
nim,  by  a  few  beautiful  lines  on  connubial  happiness  at  the 
conclusion  of  the  book : 


"  Nam  tacit  ipsa  aula  interdnm  femina  factia. 
If  origerisque  modia  et  mundo  corpore  culta, 
Ut  facile  aasuescat  secum  vir  degere  vitam. 

Quod  super  est,  consuetudo  concinnat  amorem ; 
Mam,  1evi<er  quamvia,  quod  crebro  tunditur  ictn. 

Vol.  I.— 3  I 


266  LUCRETIUS. 

ViDcitur  id  longo  spatio  tunen,  atque  labMcit: 
Nonne  vides,  etiam  guttas,  in  saza  cadenteis, 
HomoiU  loogo  in  spado  pertundere  saza  ?**— IV.  127S. 

The  principal  subject  of.  the  fifth  book — >a  compositioD 
unrivalled  in  energy  and  richness  of  language,  in  full  and 
genuine  sublimity — is  the  origin  and  laws  of  the  visible  world, 
with  those  of  its  inhabitants.  The  poet  presents  us  with  a 
grand  picture  of  Chaos,  and  the  most  magnificent  account  of 
the  creation  that  ever  flowed  from  human  pen.  In  his  repre- 
sentation of  primeval  life  and  manners,  be  exhibits  the  dis- 
comfort -Of  this  early  stage  of  society  by  a  single  passage  of 
most  wild  and  powerful  imagery, — ^in  which  he  describes  a 
savage,  in  the  early  ages  of  the  world,  when  men  were  yet 
contending  with  beasts  for  possession  of  the  earth,  flying 
through  the  woods,  with  loud  shrieks,  in  a  stormy  night,  from 
the  pursuit  of  some  ravenous  animal,  which  had  invaded 
the  cavern  where  he  sought  a  temporary  shelter  and  repose : 


>*  Seda  feiannn 


Infeatam  miserisfaciebaDtacpe  quietam; 
Ejecteique  domo,  fugiebant  saxea  tecta 
Setigeii  mna  advento,  vaUdique  leonis ; 
Atque  intempestft  cedebant  noeta,  paventes, 
Hospitibus  sevis  instrata  cubUia  fronde.*' — ^V.  980. 

One  is  naturally  led  to  compare  the  whole  of  Lucretius* 
description  of  primeval  society,  and  the  origin  of  man,  with 
Ovid^s  Four  Ages  of  the  fVorU,  which  commence  his  MtAor 
morphoses^  and  which,  philosophically  considered,  certainly 
exhibit  the  most  wonderful  of  all  metamorphoses.  In  his 
sketch  of  the  Golden  Age,  he  has  selected  the  favourable  cir- 
cumstances alluded  to  by  Lucretius-— exemption  fi*om  war  and 
sea  voyages,  and  spontaneous  production  of  fruits  by  the  earth. 
There  is  also  a  beautiful  view  of  early  life  and  manners  in  one 
of  the  elegies  of  Tibullus*;  and  Thomson,  in  his  picture  of 
what  he  calls  the  '^  prime  of  days,"  has  combined  the  descrip- 
tions of  Ovid*'and  the  elegiac  bard.  Most  of  the  poets,  how- 
ever, who  have  painted  the  Golden  Age,  and  Ovid  in  particu- 
lar, have  represented  mankind  as  growing  more  vicious  and 
unhappy  with  advance  of  time — Lucretius,  more  philosophi- 
cally, as  constantly  improving.  He  has  fixed  on  connubial 
love  as  the  first  great  softener  of  the  human  breast ;  and  neither 
Thomson  nor  Milton  has  described  with  more  tenderness, 
truth,  and  purity,  the  joys  of  domestic  union.  He  follows  the 
progressive  improvement  of  mankind  occasioned   by  their 

•  Lib.I.El.iii.  V.  37. 


LUCRETIUS.  267 

subjection  to  the  bonds  of  civil  society  and  government ;  and 
the  book  concludes  with  an  account  of  the  orisin  of  the 
fine  arts,  particularly  music,  in  the  course  of  which  many 
impressive  descriptions  occur,  and  many  delicious  scenes  are 
lufolded : 

**  At  liquidafl  airHiBi  vooet  imf  terfer  ore 

Ante  fiHt  multo,  quam  kevia  canaina  cantu 

Concelebrare  homines  possent,  aurei^que  juvare. 

Et  zephyii,  cava  per  aUaiDorum,  sibila  primum 

A^stea  docuere  cavas  infiare  cicutas. 

Indemiaatatun  dulces  didicere  querelas 

Tibia  quas  iundit,  digitis  pulsata  caneotdm, 

Avia  per  nemore  ac  sylvas  saltusque  reperta. 

Per  loca  pastonim  deserta,  atque  otia  dia/'-— V.  1878. 

Id  consequence  q(  their  ignorance  and  superstitions,  the 
Roman  people  were  rendered  perpetual  slaves  of  the  moat 
idle  and  unfounded  terrors.  In  order  to  counteract  these 
popular  prejudices,  and  to  heal  the  constant  disquietudes  that 
accompanied  them,  Lucretius  proceeds,  in  the  sixth  book,  to 
account  for  a  variety  of  extraordinary  phenomena  both  in  the 
heavens  and  on  the  earth,  which)  at  first  view,  seemed  to  de^- 
viate  from  the  usual  laws  of  nature : — 


**  Simt  tampettates  et  fulmlna  ctera  caneoda." 

Having  discussed  the  various  theories  formed  to  account  for 
electricity,  water-spouts,  hurricanes,  the  rainbow,  and  volca- 
noes, he  lastly  considers  the  origin  of  pestilential  and  ende- 
mic disorders.  This  introduces  the  celebrated  account  of  the 
plague,  which  ravaged  Athens  during  the  Peloponnesian  war, 
with  which  Lucretius  concludes  this  book,  and  his  magnificent 
poem.  '*  In  this  narrative,"  says  a  late  translator  of  Lucretim, 
^- the  true  genius  of  poetry  is  perhaps  more  powerfiiily  and 
triumphantly  exhibited  than  in  any  other  poem  that  was  ever 
written.  Lucretius  has  ventured  upon  one  of  the  most  un- 
couth and  repressing  subjects  to  the  muses  that  can  possibly 
he  brought  forward^— the  history  and  symptoms  of  a  disease, 
^d  this  disease  accompanied  with  circumstances  naturally  the 
most  nauseating  and  indelicate.  It  was  a  subject  altogether 
new  to  numerical  composition ;  and  he  had  to  strive  with  all 
the  pedantry  of  technical  terms,  and  all  the  abstruseness  of  a 
science  in  which  he  does  not  appear*  to  have  been  profession- 
ally initiated.  He  strove,  however,  and  he  conquered.  In 
language  the  most  captivating  and  nervous,  and  with  ideas 
the  roost  precise  and  appropriate,  he  has  given  us  the  entire 
history  of  this  tremendous  pestilence.    There  is  not,  perhaps, 


268  LUCRETIUS. 

a  symptom  omitted,  yet  there  is  not  a  verse  with  which  the 
most  scrupulous  can  be  offended.  The  description  of  the 
symptoms,  and  also  the  various  circumstances  of  horror  and 
distress  attending  this  dreadful  scourge,  have  been  derived 
from  Thucydides,  who  furnished  the  racts  with  great  accu- 
racy, having  been  himself  a  spectator  and  a  sutferer  under  this 
calamity.  His  narrative  is  esteemed  an  elaborate  and  com- 
plete performance ;  and  to  the  faithful  yet  elegant  detail  of 
the  Greek  historian,  the  Roman  bard  has  added  all  that  was 
necessary  to  convert  the  description  into  poetry." 

In  the  whole  history  of  Roman  taste  and  criticism,  nothing 
appears  to  us  so  extraordinary  as  the  slight  mention  that  is 
made  of  Lucretius  by  succeeding  Latin  authors ;  and,  when 
mentioned,  the  coldness  with  which  he  is  spoken  of  by  all 
Roman  critics  and  poets,  with  the  exception  of  Ovid.  Per- 
haps the  spirit  of  free-thinking  which  pervaded  his  writings^ 
rendered  it  unsuitable  or  unsafe  to  extol .  even  his  poetical 
talents.  There  was  a  time,  wh^n,  in  this  country,  it  v^as 
thought  scarcely  decorous  or  becoming  to  express  high  admi- 
ration of  the  genius  of  Rousseau  or  Voltaire. 

The  doctnnes  of  Lucretius,  particularly  that  which  im- 
pugns the  superintending  care  of  Providence,  were  first  for- 
mally opposed  by  the  Stoic  Manilius  in  his  Astronomic  poem. 
In  modern  times,  his  whole  philosophical  system  has  been 
refuted  in  the  long  and  elaborate  poem  of  the  Cardinal  Poiig- 
nac,  entitled,  JltUi^Luicretius^  sive  de  Deo  et  Naiura.  This 
enormous  work,  though  incomplete,  consists  of  nine  books^ 
of  about  1300  lines  each,  and  the  whole  is  addressed  toQuin- 
tius,  an  atheist,  Who  corresponds  to  the  Lorenzo  of  the  Nigfd 
Thoughts.  Descartes  is  the  Epicurus  of  the  poem,  and  the 
subject  of  many  heavy  panegyrics.  In  the  philosophical  part 
of  his  subject,  the  Cardinal  has  sometimes  refuted,  at  too 
great  length,  propositions  which  are  manifestly  absurd — at 
others,  he  has  impugned  demonstrated  truths — and  the  moral 
system  of  Lucretius  he  throughout  has  grossly  misunderstood. 
But  he  has  rendered  ample  justice  to  his  poetical  merit;  and, 
in  giving  a  compendium  of  the  subject  of  his  great  antago- 
nist's poem,  he  has  caught  some  share  of  the  poetical  spirit 
with  which  his  predecessor  was  inspired : — 

"  Hie  agitarevclit  Cytheriam  ioglorius  artem : 
Hie  myrtam  floresque  legat,  quos  tinxit  Adoois 
Sanguine,  dileiStus  Venen  puer;  aut  Heliconenit 
£t  colles  Baccbo,  partim,  Phoeboque  aaentos 
Incolat.    Hie,  placidi  latebria  in  moUibuft  antri, 
Siienum  reeubantem,  et  amico  nectare  venas 
Inflatum  stUpeat  titubanti  voce  canentem ; 
Et  juvenom  cccos  ignei^  et  vulnen  dieat» 


LUCRETIUS.  369 

£t  ▼teiMB,  palsls  terroiibut,  otia  vite, 
Foecundosque  greg«s,  et  amcni  gaudU  niiii : 
Hbc  et  phira  eanens,  avid^  bibat  ore  diwrto 
Pegaaeoe  hUces ;  et  nomen  gnnde  Poets, 
NoQ  Sapientis,  amet    Lauro  ioaignire  poetam 
Qui  8  dubitet  ?  Primui  ^iiidanteia  ipse  coronas 
liDponam  capiti,  et  meritas  pro  caimine  iaudea 
Ante  alloa  dicam." ^ 

• 

Eotertaining  this  just  admiration  of  his  opponent,  the  Car* 
dinal  has  been  studious;  while  refuting  his  principles,  to  imi- 
tate as  closely  as  possible  the  poetic  style  of  Lucretius;  and» 
accordingly,  we  find  many  noble  and  beautiful  passages  inter- 
spersed amid  the  dry  discussions  of  the  Jlnii-Lucreiius.    In 
the  first  book,  there  is  an  elegant  comparison,  something  like 
that  by  Wolsey  in  Henry  VUl.y  of  a  man  who  had  wantoned 
in  the  sunshine  of  prosperity,  and  was  unprepared  for  the^ 
storms  of  adversity,  to  the  tender  buds  of  the  fruit-tree  blight- 
ed by  the  north- wind.     The  whole  poem,  indeed,  is  full  of 
nmny  beautifiil  and  appropriate  similes*    I  have  not  room  to 
traiucribe  tnem,  but  may  refer  the  reader  to  those  in  the  first 
book,  of  a  sick  man  turning  to  every  side  for  rest,  to  a  trav- 
eller following  an  igniafatuus;  in  the  second,  motes  dancing 
in  the  sun-beam  to  the  atoms  of  Epicurus  floating  in  the 
immeDsity  of  space ;  in  the  third,  the  whole  philosophy  of 
Epicurus  to  the  infinite  variety  of  splendid  but  fallacious 
appearances  produced  by  the  shifting  of  scenery  in  our  thea- 
tres) (line  90^)  and  the  identity  of  matter  amid  the  various 
shapes  it  assumes,  to  the  transformations  of  PraUua.    The 
foartb  book  commences  with  a  beautiful  image  of  a  traveller 
on  a  steep,  looking  back  on  his  journey ;  immediately  follow- 
ed by  a  fine  picture  of  the  unhallowed  triumph  of  Epicurus, 
and  Religion  weeping  during  the  festival  of  youths  to  his 
honour.     In  the  same  book,  there  is  a  nohle  description  of 
the  river  Anio,  (line  1459,}  and  a  comparison  of  the  rising  of 
sap  in  trees  during  spring  to  a  fountain  playing  and  falling 
hack  on  itself  (780 — 845).     We  have  in  the  fifth  book  a  beau- 
tiful argument,  that  the  soul  is  not  to  be  thought  material, 
because  affected  by  the  body,  illustrated  by  musical  instru- 
ments (745).     In  the  sixth  book  there  occurs  a  charming 
description  of  the  sensitive  plant;  and,  finally,  of  a  bird  sing- 
ing to  his   mate,  to  solace  her  while  brooding  over  her 
JouDg;  — 

'*  Haud  tecufl  in  sylvU,  ac  firondes  inter  opacas, 
iDgeoitum  cannen  modidatur  musicos  ales,*'  &c. 


•  Lib.  V.  24. 


270  LUCRETIUS. 

Almost  all  modern  didactic  poems,  whether  treating  of 
theology  or  physics,  are  composed  in  obvioiis  imitation  of  the 
style  and  manner  of  Lucretius.  The  poem  of  Aonius  Paiearius, 
De  Animi  ImmortalUate,  though  written  in  contradiction  to 
the  system  of  Lucretius,  concerning  the  mortality  of  the  soul, 
is  almost  a  cenio  made  up  from  lines  or  half  lines  of  the  Ro- 
man bard ;  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  that  extensive  class  of 
Latin  poems,  in  which  the  French  Jesuits  of  the  seventeenth 
century  have  illustrated  the  various  phenomena  of  nature*. 

Others  have  attempted  to  explain  the  philosophy  of  Newton 
in  Latin  verse  ;  but  the  Newtonian  system  is  better  calculated 
to  be  demonstrated  than  sung-^ 

**  Omaii  res  ipsa  negat— contaota  doceii." 

It  is  a  philosophy  founded  on  the  most  sublime  calculations;  and 
it  is  in  other  lines  and  numbers  than  those  of  poetry,  that  the 
book  of  nature  must  now  be  written.  If  we  attempt  to  express 
arithmetical  or  algebraical  figures  in  verse,  circumlocution  is 
always  required  ;mQre  frequently  they  cannot  be  expressed  at 
all;  and  if  they  could,  the  lines  would  have  no  advantage  over 
prose :  nay,  would  have  considerable  disadvantage,  from  ob- 
scurity and  prolixity.  All  this  is  fully  confirmed  by  an  examina- 
tion of  the  writings  of  those  who  have  attempted  to  embellish 
the  sublime  system  of  Newton  with  the  charms  of  poetry. 
If  we  look,  for  example,  into  the  poem  of  Boscovich  on 
Eclipses,  or  still  more,  into  the  work  of  Benedict  Stay,  we 
shall  see,  notwithstanding  the  advantage  they  possessed  of 
writing  in  a  language  so  flexible  as  the  Latin,  and  so  enable 
of  inversion, 

"  Tbe  shifts  and  tunis. 
The  expedients  and  inventions  multiform, 
To  which  the  mind  resorts  in  seardi  of  tennsf." 


The  latter  of  these  writers  employs  36  lines  in  expressing  the 
law  of  Kepler, "  that  the  squares  of  the  periodical  times  of  tbe 
revolutions  of  the  planets,  are  as  the  cubes  of  their  mean  dis- 
tances from  the  sun."  These  lines,  too,  which  are  considered 
by  Stay  himself,  and  by  Boscovich,  his  annotator,as  the  trium{A 
of  the  philosophic  muse,  are  so  obscure  as  to  need  a  long  com- 
mentary.  Indeed,  the  poems  of  both  these  eminent  men  con- 
sist of  a  string  of  enigmas,  whereas  the  principal  and  almost 

*  C.  Nocet,  M$  and  Aurora  BoreaHs^-lA  Febie,  Terrm  Mbtu$ — Souciet. 
CiMiieto— Malapertus,  De  VenUt,  These,  and  many  other  poems  of  a  simikr  de- 
scription, are  published  in  the  Poemata  Dida$eaUea.   3  Tom.    Paiis>  1813. 

t  Cowper. 


CATULLUS.  271 

only  ornament  of  philosophy  is  perspicuity.  After  all,  only 
what  are  called  the  round  numbers  can  be  expressed  in  verse, 
and  this  is  necessarily  done  in  a  manner  so  obscure  and  per^ 
pleied  as  ever  to  need  a  prose  explanation. 

With  Lucretius  and  tus  subject  it  was  totally  the  reverse. 
From  the  incorrectness  of  his  philosophical  views,  or  rather 
those  of  his  age,  much  of  his  labour  has  been  employed,  so  to 
speak,  in  embodying  straws  in  amber.  Yet,  with  all  its  defects, 
this  ancient  philosophy,  if  it  deserve  the  name,  had  the  advan* 
tage,  that  its  indefinite  nature  rendered  it  highly  susceptible 
of  an  embellishment,  which  can  never  be  bestowed  on  a  more 
precise  and  accurate  system.  Hence,  perhaps,  it  may  be 
»fely  foretold,  that  the  philosophical  poem  of  Lucretius  will 
remain  unrivalled ;  and  also,  that  the  prediction  of  Ovid  con- 
cerning it  will  be  verified — 

"  Canniua  subUmis,  tunc  8imt  peritum  Lucieti 
Exitio  terras  cum  dabit  una  diea/* 

The  refutations  and  imitations  of  Lucretius,  contained  in 
modem  didactic  poems,  have  led  me  away  from  what  may 
be  considered  as  my  proper  subject,  and  I  therefore  return 
to  those  poets  who  were  coeval  with  that  author,  with  whose 
works  we  have  been  so  long  occupied.  Of  these  the  most  dis- 
tinguished was 


CAIUS  VALERIUS  CATULLUS, 

who  was  nearly  contemporary  with  Lucretius,  having  come 
into  the  world  a  few  years  ailer  him,  and  having  survived  him 
but  a  short  period. 

In  every  part  of  our  survey  of  Latin  Literature,  we  have 
had  occasion  to  remark  the  imitative  spirit  of  Roman  poetry, 
^  the  constant  analogy  and  resemblance  of  all  the  produc- 
tions of  the  Latian  muse  to  some  Greek  original.  None  of 
his  poetical  predecessors  was  more  versed  in  Greek  literature 
than  Catullus ;  and  his  extensive  knowledge  of  its  beauties 
procured  for  him  the  appellation  of  Doctua*.    He  translated 

*  Bufm  M/oenana^  1.  88.  c.  7.  Funccius,  de  FiriHJEtate,  Ung.  Lot.  c.  3. 
Some  critics,  however,  are  of  opinion  that  he  was  called  Doctus  from  the  correctneai 
and  purity  of  his  Latin  style.  "  Latinae  puritatis  custos  fuit  religiosissimus,  unde  et 
^•^  cognomen  meruit."  ( Car.  Stephen. )  MQHer,  a  German  writer,  has  a  notable 
conjecture  on  this  subject.  He  says,  we  will  come  nearest  the  truth,  if  we  suppose 
that  Ovid,  whfle  menuoning  CatuUus,  applied  to  him  the  epithet  doehu  merely  to 
^1  up  the  measure  of  a  line,  and  that  his  successors  took  up  the  appellation  on  trust. 
-{EmUit.  Mur  Kenntniss  der  Lateiniuh.  Schr^steUer,  T.  tl.  p.  266.,  Mr 
Elton  tfiiiikf  d»t  the  epithet  did  not  mean  what  we  undeiftand  by  teamed,  but 


272  CATULLUS. 

many  of  the  shorter  and  more  delicate  pieces  of  the  Greeks; 
an  attempt  which  hitherto  had  been  thought  impcissiblei 
tbongh  the  broad  humour  of  their  comedies,  the  vehement 
pathos  of  their  tragedies,  and  the  romantic  interest  of  the 
Odyssey,  had  stood  the  transformation.  His  stay  in  Bithyniai 
though  little  advantageous  to  his  fortune,  rendered  him  better 
acquainted  than  he  might  otherwise  have  been  with  the 
productions  of  Greece,  and  he  was  therefore,  in  a  great 
degree,  indebted  to  this  expedition  (on  which  he  always 
appears  to  have  looked  back  with  mortification  and  disap- 
pointment) for  those  felicitous  turns  of  expression,  that  grace, 
simplicity,  and  purity,  which  are  the  characteristics  of  his 
poems,  and  of  which  hitherto  Greece  alone  had  afforded 
models.  Indeed,  in  all  his  verses,  whether  elegiac  or  heroic, 
we  perceive  his  imitation  of  the  trreeks,  and  it  must  be 
admitted  that  he  has  drawn  from  them  his  choicest  stores. 
His  Hellenisms  are  frequent — ^his  images,  similes,  metaphors, 
and  addresses  to  himself,  are  all  Greek;  and  even  in  the 
versification  of  his  odes  we  see  visible  traces  of  their  origin. 
Nevertheless,  he  was  the  founder  of  a  new  school  of  Zjotin 
poetry;  and  as  he  was  the  first  who  used  such  variety  of 
measures,  and  perhaps  himself  invented  some*,  he  was  amply 

rather  knowing  and  accomplished— what  the  old  English  authors  signify  by  cunning, 
as  cunning  in  music  and  the  mathemadcs. —  Specimens  of  the  CUuneM.>  Tins 
conjecture  seems  to  be  In  some  measure  confirmed  by  Horace's  application  of  the 
tenn  doehu  to  the  actor  Roscius : — 

**  Qus  gravis  ^sopus,  qus  doctus  Roscius  egitl" 

The  recent  translator  of  Catullus  conceives  (hat  the  title  of  learned  never  belonged 
peculiarly  to  him,  but  was  merely  confeired  on  him  in  common  with  all  poets,  as  it 
is  now  bestowed  on  all  lawyers. 

*  Catullus,  in  his  miscellaneous  poems,  has  employed  not  fewer  tfian  thirteea 
different  sorts  of  versification. 

1.  That  which  is  most  frequently  uaed  is  the  Phalecian  hendecasyUahle,  ooa- 
sisting  of  a  spondee,  dactyl,  and  three  trochees. 

**  Cm  do  I  no  lepi  |  dum  no  |  vum  H  |  bellum." 

ITiis  sort  of  measure  has  been  adopted  by  Catuflus  in  thirty-nine  poems. 

2.  Trimeter  iambus,  consisting  of  six  feet,  which  are  generally  aU  iambusn. 

"  Ait  I  Aiis  I  se  na  I  vium  |  celer  |  rimus  ;'* 

but  a  spondee  sometimes  forms  the  first,  third,  and  fifUi  feet.  Four  poems  are  ia 
thi9  measure— the  fourth,  twentieth,  twenty-ninth,  and  fifty-second. 

8.  Choliambus  or  scazon,  which  is  the  same  with  the  last  mentioned,  except  that 
the  concluding  foot  of  the  line  is  always  a  spondee. 

*<  Fulse  I  re  quon  |  dam  can  |  didi  |  tibi  |  soles.*' 

This  metre  is  used  seven  times,  being  employed  in  the  eighth,  twenty-second, 
thirty-first,  thirty-seventh,  thirty-ninth,  forty-fourth,  and  fi%-nindi  poems. 

4.  Trochaic  Stesichian,  consisting  of  six  feet — choreus  or  spondee,  a  dactyl,  a 
cietic,  a  choreus  or  spondee,  a  dactyl,  and  lastly  a  choreus. 

**  Alter  I  parva  fe  |  rens  manu  |  semper  |  munera  |  larga." 
litis  measure  appears  only  in  the  seventeenth,  eigjhteenth,  and  niaeteepth  poess. 


CATULLUS.  ^  273 

entitled  to  call  the  poetical  volume  which  he  presented  to 
Cornelius  Nepos,  Lepidum  J^ovum  lAbMum.  The  beautiful 
expressions,  too,  and  idioms  of  the  Greek  language,  which  he 
hag  so  carefully  selected,  are  woven  with  such  art  into  the 
texture  of  his  composition,  and  so  aptly  figure  the  impassioned 
ideas  of  his  amorous  muse,  that  they  have  all  the  fresh  and 
untarnished  hues  of  originality. 

This  elegant  poet  was  born  of  respectable  parents,  in  the 
territory  of  Verona,  but  whether  at  the  town  so  called,  or  on 
the  peninsula  of  Sirmio,  which  projects  into  the  Lake  Benacus, 
has  been  a  subject  of  much  controversy.  The  former  opinion 
has  been  maintained  by  MafTei  and  Bayle*,  and  the  latter  by 
Gyraldusf ,  Schoellj;,  Fuhrmann§,  and  most  modem  writers. 

5.  bmMc  tetrameter  catalectic,  formed  of  seven  feet  and  a  casura  at  the  close  of 
the  fine.    It  occurs  in  the  twenty-fifth  poem. 

6.  ChoriamhoB.  This  also  is  employed  but  once,  being  used  only  in  the  Chirtietfa. 
It  consists  of  fiF«  feet, — a  spondee,  three  choriambi,  and  a  pyTrhicnius. 

*<  Yentos  |  irrita  fer  |  et  nebulas  |  aerias  |  sinis." 

7.  A  surt  of  Phalecian,  consisting  of  two  spondees  and  three  chorei. 

'*  Quas  vul  I  tu  vi  I  di  ta  I  men  se  |  reno." 

But  i(  sometimas  consists  of  a  spondee  and  four  chorei.    This  measure  is  adopted 
in  BOffle  lines  of  the  fifty- fifth  ode 

8.  Giyconian,  generally  made  up  of  a  spondee  and  two  dactyles. 

<*  Jam  ser  |  vire  Tha  |  hosio." 

but  sometimes  of  a  trochsu^  and  two  dactyles. 

<«  Cinge  I  tempora  |  floribus." 

Thii  sort  of  verse  occurs,  but  mixed  with  other  measures  in  the  thirty-fourtti  ode, 
a^ldressed  to  Diana,  and  also  in  the  sixtieth. 

9.  Pherecratiao,  consisting  of  three  feet,  a  trochee,  spondee,  or  iambus  in  the 
fiist  place,  fdlowed  by  a  dactyl  and  spondee. 

Exer  1  ceto  ju  |  ventam 
Frige  I  rans  Aga  |  nippe 
Hymen  |  O  Hyme  |  nse. 

This  is  used  in  the  thirty-fourth  and  siiitieth,  mingled  with  giyconian  verse. 

16.  Galfiambic.  This  is  employed  only  in  the  poem  of  Atys,  which  Indeed  is  the 
sole  specimen  of  the  galliambic  measure,  in  the  Latin  ianeuage.  It  consists  of  six 
feet,  which  are  used  very  loosely  and  indiscriminately.  The  first  seems  to  be  at 
pleasure,  an  annpcst,  spondee,  or  tribrachys  i  second,  an  iambus,  tribrachys,  or 
<bctyr;  tiiird,  iambus  or  spondee ;  fourth,  dactyl  or  spondee ;  fifth,  a  dactyl,  or  various 
«ther  ieet  \  sixth,  generally  an  anapest,  but  sometimes  an  iambus. 

"  Super  alta  vectus  Atys  celeri  rate  maria.'* 

The  remsonine  three  species  of  measure  employed  by  Catullus,  are  the  sapphic 
stanzai,  used  in  the  seventh  and  fifty -first  odes ;  the  hexameter  lines,  wlilch  we  have 
in  the  epithalamium  of  FeUus  and  Thetis  f  and  the  pentameter  lines,  used  alter- 
nately with  the  hexameters,  and  thereby  constituting  elegiac  verse,  which  is  em- 
ployed in  all  the  elegies  of  CatuUus.  Of  these  three  measures,  the  structure  is  well 
knowD.— {Valpiu8,^ialnfre  deMetrU  CatuUi.- 

*  Verona  Bhutrata^  Parte  II.  c.  1.    Diet.  Hi$t.  Jhi.  CatuUus. 

t  De  Poet.  Dial.  x. 

iSchoell,  Bist.  Ah-eg.  de  la  LUt.  Rom.  T.  I.  p.  810. 
Oandbueh  dtr  Oaenaehen  LUL  T.  L  p.  187. 

Vol.  1—2  K 


S74  CATULLUS. 

The  precise  period,  as  well  as  place,  of  the  birth  of  CatulltUy 
is  a  topic  of  debate  and  uncertainty.  According  to  the 
Eusebian  Chronicle,  he  was  bom  in  666,  bat,  according  to 
other  authorities,  in  667*  or  668*  In  consequence  of  an  in?i* 
tation  from  Manlius  Torquatus,  one  of  the  noblest  patricians 
of  the  state,  he  proceeded  in  early  youth  to  Rome,  where  he 
appears  to  have  kept  but  indiiferent  company,  at  least  in  point 
of  moral  character.  He  impaired  his  fortune  so  much  by 
extravagance,  that  he  had  no  one,  as  he  complains, 

<*  Fractum  qui  veteiv  pedem  snbati 
In  coUo  sibi  coUoctre  posflit**^ 

This,  however,  must  partly  have  been  written  in  jest,  as  his 
finances  were  always  sufficient  to  allow  him  to  keep  up  a 
delicious  villa,  on  the  peninsula  of  Sirmio,  and  an  expensive 
residence  at  Tibur.     With  a  view  of  improving  his  pecuniary 
circumstances,  he  adopted  the  usual  Roman  mode  of  re-esta- 
blishing a  diminished  fortune,  and  accompanied  Caius  Mem- 
mitis,  the  celebrated  patron  of  Lucretius,  to  Bithynia,  when 
he  was  appointed  Praetor  of  that  province.     His  situation, 
however,  was  but  little  meliorated  by  this  expedition,  and, 
in  the  course  of  it,   he  lost  a  beloved   brother,  who  was 
along  with  him,  and  whose  death  he  has  lamented  in  verses 
never  surpassed  in  delicacy  or  pathos.     He  came  back  to 
Rome  with  a  shattered  constitution,  and  a  lacerated  heart. 
From  the  period  of  his  return  to  Italy  till  his  decease,  his  time 
appears  to  have  been  chiefly  occupied  with  the  prosecution 
of  licentious  amours,  in  the  capital  or  among  the  solitudes  of 
Sirmio.     The  Eusebian  Chronicle  places  his  death  in  696, 
and  some  writers  fix  it  in  705.     It  is  evident,  however,  that 
he  must  have  survived  at  least  till  708,  as  Cicero,  in  his  Let- 
ters, talks  of  his  verses  against  Csesar  and  Mamurra  as  newly 
written,  and  first  seen  by  Caesar  in  that  yearf .  The  distracted 
and  unhappy  state  of  his  country,  and  his  disgust  at  the  treat- 
ment which  he  had  received  from  Memmius,  were  perhaps 
sufficient  excuse  for  shunning  political  employments^ ;  but 
when  we  consider  his  taste  and  genius,  we  cannot  help  regret- 
ting that  he  was  merely  an  idler,  and  a  debauchee.  He  loved 
Clodia,  (supposed  to  have  been  the  sister  of  the  infamous 
Clodius,)  a  beautiful  but  shameless  woman,  whom  he  has 

*  Saxn  Onomastieon,  T.  I.  p.  148.  f  ^P-  ^  '^^'  ^11*  ^^' 

t  O  blame  not  the  bard,  if  he  fly  to  the  bowera, 

Where  Pleasure  lies  carelesflly  smiliDg  at  Fame ; 

He  was  bom  for  much  more,  and  in  happier  boun 

His  will  might  have  glowed  with  a  holier  flame. 

MOORC. 


CATULLUS.  276 

celebrated  under  the  name  of  Lesbia^^  as  comparing  her  to 
the  Lesbian  Sappho,  her  prototype  in  total  abandonment  to 
guilty  love.     He  also  numbered  among  his  mistresses,  Hypsi* 
thilla  and  Aufilena,  ladies  of  Verona.    Among  his  friends,  he 
ranked  not  only  most  men  of  pleasure  and  fashion  in  Rome, 
but  many  of  her  eminent  literary  and  political  characters,  as 
Cornelius  Nepos,  Cicero,  and  Asinius  Pollio.     His  enmities 
seem  to  have  been  as  ^numerous  as  his  loves  or  friendships, 
and  competition  in  poetry,  or  rivalship  in  gallantry,  appears 
always  to  have  been  a  sufficient  cause  for  his  dislike ;  and 
where  an  antipathv  was  once  conceived,  he  was  unable  to  put 
any  restraint  on  the  expression  of  his  hostile  feelings.     His 
poems  are  chiefly  employed  in  the  indulgence  and  commemo- 
ration of  these  various  passions.     They  are  now  given  to  us 
without  any  order  or  attempt  at  arrangement:  They  were 
distributed,  indeed,   by  Petrus  Crinitus,  into  three  classes, 
lyric,  elegiac,  aqd  epigrammatic,— a  division  which  has  been 
adopted  in  a  few  of  the  earlier  editions ;  but  there  is  no  such 
separation  in  the  best  MSS.,  nor  is  it  probable  that  they  were 
originally  thus  classed  by  the  author,  as  he  calls  his  book 
LiMkun  Singularem;  and  they  cannot  now  be  conveniently 
reduced  under  these  heads,  since  several  poems,  as  the  nnptiak 
of  Peleus  and  Thetis,  are  written  in  hexameter  measure.    To 
others,  which  may  be  termed  occasional  poems  expressing  to 
his  friends  a  simple  idea,  or  relating  the  occurrences  of  the 
day,  in  iambic  or  phalangian  verse,  it  would  be  difficult  to 
assign  any  place  in  a  systematic  arrangement.     Under  what 
class,  for  instance,  could  we  bring  the  poem  giving  a  detail 
of  his  visit  to  the  house  of  the  coqrtezan,  and  the  conversation 
which  passed  there  concerning  Bithynia?   The  order,  there- 
fore, in  which  the  poems  have  been  arbitrarily  placed  by  the 
latest  editors  and  commentators,  however  inunethodical,  is  the 
only  one  which  can  be  followed,  in  giving  an  account  of  the 
miscellaneous  productions  of  Catullus. 

1.  Is  a  modest  and  not  inelegant  dedication,  by  the  poet,  of 
the  whole  volume,  to  Cornelius  Nepos,  whom  he  compliments 
OD  having  written  a  general  history,  in  three  books,  an  under- 
taking which  had  not  prieviously  been  attempted  by  any 
Roman — 

I  I  **  Ausuf  6s  uous  Italonim 
Omne  eyum  tribus  expUcare  chartis.** 

2.  v9d  Passerem  LesbuB.  This  address  of  Catullus  to  the 
favourite  sparrow  of  bis  mistress,  Lesbia,  is  well  known,  and, 

*  Apuleittt,  M  Apologia. 


276  CATULLUS. 

has  been  always  celebrated  as  a  model  of  grace  and  elegance- 
Politian*,  Turnebus,  and  others,  have  discovered  in  iina  iittie 
poem  an  allegorical  signification,  which  idea  has  been  founded 
on  aline  in  an  epigram  of  Martial,  Adiiamam  et  Dindynwm^ 


"  Que  n  tot  fueiint,  quotUle  dixit, 
Donabo  tibi  paaseretn  CaiuUi\" 


That  by  the  passer  CatuUi,  however,  Martial  meant  nothing 
more  than  an  agreeable  little  epigram,  in  the  style  of  Catullus, 
which  he  would  address  to  Dindymus  as  his  reward,  is  evident 
from  another  epigram,  where  it  is  obviously  used  in  this 
sense— 

"  Sic  fonwn  t^ner  auras  est  CatuIItu 
Magno  mittere  passerem  Maronit." 

and  also  from  that  in  which  he  compares  a  fevourite  whelp  of 
Publius  to  the  sparrow  of  Lesbia^.  That  a  real  Bndfeathmd 
sparrow  was  in  the  view  of  Catullus,  is  also  evinced  by  the  fol- 
lowing ode,  in  which  he  laments  the  death  of  this  favourite  of 
his  mistress.  The  erroneous  notion  taken  up  by  Politian,  has 
been  happily  enough  ridiculed  by  Sannazzarius,  in  an  epigram 
entitled  Ad  PvUdanum — 


(C 


Atnescio  quis  PuUdanus,"  $tc. 


and  Muretus  expresses  his  astonishment,  that  the  most  grate 
and  learned  Benedictus  Lampridius  should  have  made  this 
happy  interpretation  by  Politian  the  theme  of  his  constani 
conversation,  "  Hanc  Politiani  sententiam  in  omni  sermone 
approbare  solitum  fui6se||."  Why  Lesbia  preferred  a  sparrow 
to  other  birds,  I  know  *not,  unless  it  was  for  those  qualities 
which  induced  the  widow  of  the  Emperor  Sigismond  to  es- 
teen}  it  more  than  the  turtle-dove  IT,  and  which  so  much  exci- 
ted the  envy  of  the  learned  Scioppius,  at  Ingolstadt. 

3.  Luetic  in  morte  Passeris.    A  lamentation  for  the  death 
of  the  same  sparrow — 

*<  Qui  nunc  it  per  iter  tenebricoram, 
Uluc  unde  negaotredire  quemquam : 
At  vobis  male  sit,  male  tenebne 
Orci,  que  omnia  bella  devoratis.'* 

The  idea  in  this  last  line  was  probably  taken  from  Bion's 

•  Ceniw.  Mseett.  I.  c.  6.  f  Lib.  XI.  Ep.  7. 

t  Lib,  IV.  Ep.  14.  §  Lib.  I.  Ep.  110. 

II  Muiet  m  CahM.  Commmi.  i  Bayle»  Diet,  m$t.  Art. 


CATULLUS-  277 

celebrated  IdytUum — ^the  lamentation  of  Venus  for  the  death 
of  Adonis,  where  there  is  a  similar  complaint  of  the  unrelenting 

Orcus— 

This  poem  on  the  death  of  Lesbia's  sparrow  has  suggested 
maDy  similar  productions.  Ovid's  elegy,  In  Mortem  PHttcun*^ 
where  he  extols  and  laments  the  favourite  parrot  of  his  mis- 
tress, Corinna,  is  a  production  of  the  same  description  ;  but  it 
has  not  so  much  delicacy,  lightness,  and  felicity  of  expression. 
It  differs  from  it  too,  by  directing  the  attention  chiefly  to  the 
parrot,  whereas  Catullus  fixes  it  more  on  the  lady,  who  had 
been  deprived  of  her  favourite.  Statins  also  has  a  poem  on 
the  death  of  a  parrot,  entitled  Psiitacus  Metunisf ;  and  Loti- 
chius,  a  celebrated  Latin  poet,  who  flourished  in  Germany 
aboptthe  middle  of  the  16th  century,  has,  in  his  elegies,  a 
similar  production  on  the  death  of  adolphin|.  Naugerius,  In 
OMttm  Borgetti  Catuli,  nearly  copies  the  poem  of  Catullus — 

'*  Nunc  mptufl  npido  maloque  fato, 
Ad  manes  abiit  tenebricosafl,"  &c. 

It  has  been  imitated  closely,  and  with  application  to  a  sparrow, 
by  Corrozet,  Durant,  and  Monnoye,  French  poets  of  the  16th 
century — by  Gacon  and  Richer,  in  the  beginning,  and  R.  de 
Juvigny,  in  the  end,  of  the  18th  century.  In  all  these  imita- 
tions, the  idea  of  a  departure  to  regions  of  darkness,  whence 
no  one  returns,  is  faithfully  preserved.  Most  of  them  are 
written  with  much  grace  and  elegance ;  and  this,  indeed,  is  a 
80rt  of  poetry  in  which  the  French  remarkably  excel. 

4.  Dedicatio  Phaadi  This  is  the  consecration  to  Castor 
snd  Pollux,  of  the  vessel  which  brought  the  poet  safe  from 
Bithynia  to  the  shores  of  Italy.  Bv  a  figure,  daring  even  in 
verse,  he  represents  the  ship  as  extolling  its  high  services,  and 
clainaing  its  well-earned  dedication  to  Uastor  and  Pollux,  gods 
propitious  to  mariners.  From  this  poem  we  may  trace  the 
progress  of  CatuUus's  voyage  :  It  would  appear  that  he  had 
<}mbarked  from  Pontus,  and  having  coasted  Thrace,  sailed 
through  the  Archipelago,  and  then  into  the  Adriatic,  whence 
the  vessel  had  been  brought  probably  up  the  course  of  the  Po, 
^done  of  its  branches,  to  the  vicinity  of  Sirmio. 

There  have  been  nearly  as  many  parodies  of  this  poem,  as 

'  Jbmor,  Lib.  II.  eleg.  6.  t  Sylo.  II.  8. 

t  Lib.  U.  elej.  7. 


278  CATULLUS. 

imitatioiiB  of  that  last  mentioned.  The  collector  of  the  Cata- 
lecta  FirgiUi,  has  attributed  to  Virgil  a  satire  on  Ventidius, 
(under  the  name  of  Sabinus,)  who,  from  a  muleteer,  became 
consul,  in  the  reign  of  Augustus,  and  which  is  parodied  from 
Catullus — 

"  SabinuB  iUe  quern  videtts  hospitei,*'  8cc. 

Another  parody  is  a  Latin  poem,  entitled  Lycoris^  by 
Adrien  Valois,  published  at  the  end  of  the  VdUsianaj  where 
a  courtezan,  retired  from  the  world,  is  introduced,  boasting 
of  the  various  intrigues  pf  her  former  life.  Nicol  Heinelius  pub- 
lished not  less  than  fifty  parodies  of  this  poem,  in  a  small  book 
entitled  "Phaselus  Catulli,  et  ad  eumdem  Parodiarum  a  diver- 
sis  auctoribus  scriptarum  decades  quinque;  ex  Bibliotheca 
Nic.  Heinelii,  Jurisconsulti,  Lips.  1642."  Scaliger  has  alflo 
translated  the  Phaselua  of  Catullus  into  Greek  iambics. 

5.  Jld  Lesbianir^  , 

"  Vivunus,  laeA  Lesbia,  atque  amemiu, 
Rumoresque  senum  sevcriorum 
Omnes  unius  estunemus  aasis. 
Soles  occidere  et  redire  possunt : 
Nobis,  cum  semel  oeddit  brevis  lux, 
Noz  est  perpetua  una  dormienda. 
Da  mlhi  basia  mille,  deinde  centum." 

This  sentiment,  representing  either  the  pleasure  of  conviTi- 
ality,  or  delights  of  love,  (and  much  more  so  as  when  here 
united,)  in  contrast  with  the  gloom  of  death,  possesses  some- 
thing exquisitely  tender  and  affecting.  The  picture  of  joy, 
with  Death  in  the  distance,  inspires  a  feeling  of  pensive  mo- 
rality, adding  a  charm  to  the  gayest  scenes  of  life,  as  the 
transientness  of  the  rose  enhances  our  sense  of  its  beauty  and 
fragrance ;  and  as  the  cloud,  which  throws  a  shade  over  the 
horizon,  sometimes  softens  and  mellows  the  prospect.  This 
opposition  of  images  succeeds  even  in  painting;  and  the 
Arcadian  landscape  of  Poussin,  representing  the  rural  festivity 
of  swains,  would  lose  much  of  its  charm  if  it  wanted  the 
monument  and  inscription.  An  example  had  been  set  of  such 
contrasted  ideas  in  many  epigrams  of  the  Greeks,  and  also  in 
the  Odes  of  Anacreon,  who  constantly  excites  himself  and 
fellow-passengers  to  unrestrained  enjoyment  at  every  stage^ 
by  recalling  to  remembrance  the  irresistible  speed  with  which 
they  are  hurried  to  the  conclusion  of  their  journey — 


CATULLUS.  279 

Mflbv  f/iu  /iJtKovflirai. 

Kovir,  oartmf  k¥^§rrmf.** 

Od.  IV. 

''The  ungodly/'  says  the  Wisdom  of  Solomon^  ^< reason 
with  themselves,  but  not  aright.  Our  life  is  short — our  time 
is  a  very  shadow  that  passeth  away — and,  after  our  eqd,  there 
is  00  returning.  Come  on,  therefore,  let  us  enjoy  the  good 
things  that  are  present,  and  let  us  speedily  use  the  creatures 
like  as  in  youth.  Let  us  fill  ourselves  with  costly  wine  and 
ointments,  and  let  no  flower  of  the  spring  pass  by  us ;  let  us 
crown  ourselves  with  rose-buds,  before  they  be  withered.  Let 
none  of  us  go  without  his  part  of  our  voluptuousness ;  let  us 
leave  tokens  of  our  joyfulness  in  every  place:  For  this  is 
our  portion,  and  our  lot  in  this*." 

Among  the  Latin  poets  no  specimen,  perhaps,  exists  so 
perfect  of  this  voluptuous  yet  pensive  morality  or  immorality, 
as  the  Vivaimas^  meaLesHa,  of  Catullus.  It  is  a  theme,  too, 
in  which  he  has  been  frequently  followed,  if  not  imitated,  by 
succeeding  poets — by  Horace  in  particular,  who,  amid  all  the 
delights  of  love  and  wine,  seldom  allows  himself  to  forget  the 
closing  scene  of  existence.  Manv  of  them  too,  like  Catullus, 
have  employed  the  argument  of  the  certainty  and  speediness 
of  death  for  the  promotion  of  love  and  pleasure — 

**  Interea,  dum  fata  dnunt,  juogamus  amores ; 
Jam  venlat  tenelMia  More  adoperta  caputt*" 

And,  in  like  manner,  Propertius — 

"  Dum  not  fata  tinunt,  oculos  sattemus  amore  i 
Nox  tibi  loDga  venit  nee  reditura  diea.*' 

There  is  not  much  of  this  in  the  amatory  or  convivial  poetry 
of  the  modems.  Waller  has  some  traces  of  it;  but  a  modern 
prose  writer  hath  most  beautifully,  and  with  greater  boldness 
than  any  of  his  predecessors,  represented  not  merely  the 
thoaghts,  but  the  actual  image  of  mortality  and  decay,  as  ex- 
citing to  a  more  full  and  rapid  grasp  at  tangible  enjoyments. 
Anastasius,  while  journeying  amid  the  tombs  of  Scutari, 
breathing  the  damp  deadly  effluvia,  and  treading  on  a  swel- 
ling soil,  ready  to  burst  with  its  festering  contents,  asks  him- 

*  C.  II.  t  TibuUufl,  Lib.  I.  £1. 1. 


280  CATULLUS. 

self, — "  Shall  I,  creature  of  clay  like  those  here  buried — ^I,  who 
travel  through  life  as  I  do  on  this  road,  with  the  remains  of 
past  generations  strewed  around  me — I,  who,  whether  my 
journey  last  a  few  hours,  more  or  less,  must  still,  like  those  here 
deposited,  in  a  short  time  rejoin  the  silent  tenants  of  a  cluster 
of  tombs — ^be  stretched  out  by  the  side  of  some  already  sleep- 
ing corpse^-and  be  left  to  rest,  for  the  remainder  of  time,  with 
all  my  hopes  and  fears,  all  ray  faculties  and  prospects,  con- 
signed to  a  cold  couch  of  clammy  earth — Shall  I  leave  the 
rose  to  blush  along  my  path  unheeded — ^the  poiple  grape  to 
wither  unculled  over  my  bead  ^'^^^  .Far  from  my  thoughts 
be  such  folly !  Whatever  tempts,  let  me  take — whatever  bears 
th^  name  of  enjoyment  henceforth,  let  me,  while  I  can,  make 
my  own*.'* — ^The  French  writers,  like  Chaulieu  and  Gresset, 
who  paint  themselves  as  finding  in  philosophy  and  the  Muses 
sufficient  compensation  for  the  dissatisfaction  attending 
worldly  pleasures,  frequently  urge  the  shortness  of  life,  not 
as  an  argument  for  indulging  in  wantonness  or  wine,  but 
for  enjoying,  to  the  utmost,  the  innocent  delights  of  rural  tran- 
quillity— 

«  Foiatenay,lieu  delicieiu, 
Ou  je  vi9  d*ahord  la  lumiere, 
BteDtf^t  au  bout  de  ma  carriere 
Chez  toije  joindrai  mes  ayeuz. 

*<  Muses,  qui  dans  ce  lieu  champ^tre 
Avec  soin  me  fites  nourrir — 
Beaux  arbres  qui  m*avez  vu  naitie 
Bient6t  yous  me  venez  mouiir: 

"  Cependautdu  frais  de  votre  ombre 

n  faut  sagement  profiter. 

Sans  regret  pret  a  rous  quitter 

Pour  ce  Manoir  terrible  et  aombre." — Chaaiiiiu, 

The  united  sentiment  of  enjoying  Jthe  delights  of  love,  and 
beauties  of  nature,  as  suggested  by  the  shortness  of  the  period 
allotted  for  their  possession,  has  been  happily  expressed  by 
Mallet,  in  his  celebrated  song  to  the  Scotch  tune,  Tk^  Birh 
of  Invermay: 

'*  Let  us,  Amanda,  timely  wise. 
Like  them  improve  the  hour  that  flies; 
For  soon  the  winter  of  tlie  year. 
And  Age,,  life's  winter,  will  appear. 
At  this  thy  living  bloom  must  fade. 
As  that  wUl  strip  the  verdant  shade : 


*  Vol.  in.  p.  14, 2d,  ed. 


CATULLUS.  281 


Our  taste  of  pleasure  then  is  o'l 
The  feathered  songsters  love  no  more 
And  when  they  droop,  and  we  decay, 
Adieu,  the  shades  of  inveimay }'' 


i»» 


It  will  not  fail,  however,  to  be  remarked,  that  in  the  ode  of 
Catullus,  which  has  recalled  these  verses  to  our  recollection, 
there  is  a  double  contrast,  from  comparing  the^  long,  dark, 
and  everlasting  sleep— the  tuxxgov^  arc^jULova,  vriygsrw  iflrvov,  with 
the  quick  and  constant  succession  of  suns,  by  which  we  are 
daily  enlightened — 


"  Soles  occidere  et  redire  poasunt : 
Nobis,  cufD  seinel  occidit  brevis  lux, 
Nox  est  perpetua  una  dormienda.' 


»> 


Poets,  in  all  ages,  have  been  fond  of  contrasting  the  destined 
course  of  human  life  with  the  reparation  of  the  sun  and  moon, 
and  with  the  revival  of  nature,  produced  by  the  succession  of 
seasons.  Tbe  image  drawn  from  the  sun,  and  here  employed 
by  Catullus,  is  one  of  the  most  natural  and  frequent.  It  has 
been  beautifully  attempted  by  several  modern  Latin  poets. 
Thus  by  Lotichius — 

*'  Ergo  ubi  permensus  ccelum  sol  occidit,  idem 

Purpureo  vestit  lumme  rursus  humum : 
Nos  ubi  decidimus,  defuncti  munere  vit«, 

Urget  perpetua  lumina  nocte  sopor." 

And  still  more  successfully  by  Jortin — 

'<  Hei  mihi  lege  ntk  sol  occidit  atque  resurgit 
•  •  •  • 

Nos  domini  rerum — nos  magna  et  pnlchra  minati, 
Cum  breve  ver  vite  robustaque  transiit  etas, 
Deficimus;  neque  nos  ordo  revoiubilis  auras 
Beddit  in  etheiias,  tumuli  nee  claustra  resolvif 

Other  modem  Latin  poets  have  chosen  this  ode  as  a  sort  of 
theme  or  text,  which  they  have  dilated  into  long  poems.  Of 
these,  perhaps  the  most  agreeable  is  a  youthful  production  of 
Muretus — 

"Ludamus,  mea  Blargaii,  et  jocemur,"  &c.. 

The  most  ancient  French  imitator  is  the  old  poet  Baif,  in  a 
sort  of  Madrigal.  He  was  followed  by  Ronsard,  Bellay,  Pel- 
lisson.  La  Monboye,  and  Dorat.  The  best  imitation,  I  think, 
is  that  by  Simon,  which  I  shall  give  at  full  length,  once  for 
^l  as  a  iair  specimen  of  the  French  mode  of  imitating  the 
Kghter  poems  of  CatuUuc 
Vol.  L— 2  L 


CATULLUS. 

"ViToncO  ma  Julie! 
Jurons  d'aimer  toijoun : 
Le  piiotemps  de  la  vie 
fist  bit  pour  lea  amouii. 
Si  Taust'Te  vieillesse 
Condamoe  nos  deaira, 
LaissoDs  \m  aa 


nmme, 
piaiaiif. 


£t  gardona  noe  p 

*<  L'Aatre  dont  la  huniere 
Nous  diapeuse  les  joun, 
Au  bout  de  aa  carriere 
Recommence  son  cours. 
Quand  le  temps,  dans  sa  rage, 
A  fletri  les  appaa» 
Les  roses  du  bei  Age 
Ne  refleurissent  pas. 

**  D'une  pudeur  &roache 
Puis  les  degulsemens ; 
Viens  donner  k  ma  bouche 

Cent  baisers  ravissans 

Mille  autres — Pose  encore 
Sur  mes  l^vres  de  feu 
Tea  Uyres  que  j'adore— 
Mourons  k  ce  doux  jeu. 

**  De  nos  baisers  sans  nombre 
Le  feu  raptde  et  doux 
S'^chappe  comme  Tombre, 
£t  passe  loin  de  nous : 
Mais  le  sentiment  tendre 
D'un  heureux  souvenir, 
Dans  mon  cceur  vlent  reprendre, 
La  place  du  plaisir." 

7.  Ad  Lesbiam.  His  mistress  had  asked  Catullus  how 
many  kisses  would  satisfy  him,  and  he  answers  that  they  must 
be  as  numerous  as  the  sands  of  the  sea — 

*'  Aut  quam  sidera  multa,  cum  taeet  box, 
Furtivos  bominum  vident  amoies." 

These  two  lines  seem  to  have  been  in  the  view  of  Ariosto,  in 
the  14th  canto  of  the  Orlando — 

<*  E  per  quanti  occhi  il  ciel  le  furtive  opre 
Degiiamatoii,  a  mezza  notte,  soopre.*' 


>» 


Martial  likewise  imitates,  and  refers  to  this  and  to  the  5th 
poem  of  Catullus,  in  the  S4th  epigram  of  the  6th  book*— 


"  Basia  da  nobis,  Diadumene,  pressa :  quot  ?  inqifi*-- 

OceaniflttetuB  me  numemre  jubes ; 
£t  maris  i£gei  spaisas  per  littoca  concbaa, 

Et  quse  Cecropio  monte  vagantur  apes. 
Nolo  quot  arguto  dedit  exorata  GatuOo 
Lesbia :  pauca  cupit,  qui  numerare  potest." 


CATULLUS,  283 

The  verses  of  Catullus  have  been  also  imitated  in  Latin  by 
Sannazzarius,  by  Joannes  Secundus,  of  course^  in  bis  JScwta, 
and  by  almost  all  the  ancient  amatory  poets  of  France. 

8.  Ad  Seipsum.  This  if  quite  in  the  Greek  taste:  About 
a  third  of  the  Odes  of  Anacreon  are  addressed  Ei^  <rsaur«v.' 
Catullus  here  playfully,  yet  feelingly,  remonstrates  with  him* 
self,  for  still  pursuing  his  inconstant  Lesbia,  by  whom  he  had 
been  forsaken. 

9.  Ad  Veranniam.  This  is  one  of  the  most  pleasing  of 
the  shorter  poems.  Catullus  couffratulates  his  friend  Veran- 
oias  on  his  return  from  Spain,  and  expresses  his  joy  in  terms 
more  touching  and  natural  than  anything  in  the  12th  Satire  of 
Juvenal,  or  the  36th  Ode  of  the  I  st  Book  of  Horace,  which 
were  both  written  on  similar  occasions. 

10.  De  Farri  Scorto.  Catullus  gives  an  account  of  a  visit 
which  he  paid  at  the  house  of  a  courtezan,  along  with  his 
friend  Vamis,  and  relates,  in  a  lively  manner,  the  conversa- 
tion which  he  had  with  the  lady  on  tne  subject  of  the  acqui- 
sitions made  by  him  in  Bithynia,  from  which  he  had  lately 
returned.  There  seems  here  a  hit  to  have  been  intended 
against  Caesar,  of  whose  conduct  in  that  country  some  scan- 
dalous anecdotes  were  afloat.  The  epigram,  however,  ap- 
pears chiefly  directed  against  those  cross-examiners,  who  are 
not  to  be  put  off  with  indefinite  answers,  and  in  whose 
company  one  must  be  constantly  on  guard.  In  fact,  the  lady 
detects  Catullus  making  an  unfound^  boast  of  his  Bithynian 
^uisitions,  and  he  accordingly  exclaims, 

**  Sed  ttt  insulsa  male,  et  moleita  Tivis, 
Per  quam  non  licet  esse  negligentem.'* 

11.  AdFurium  ei  Aurelium.  This  ode  commences  in  a 
higher  tone  of  poetry  than  any  of  the  preceding.  Catullus 
addresses  his  friends,  Furius  and  Aurelius,  who,  he  is  confi- 
dent, would  be  ready  to  accompany  him  to  the  most  remote 
^d  barbarous  quarters  of  the  globe — 

*'  Furi  et  Aureli,  comites  CatulU, 
Sive  in  extreroos  peaetrabit  Indos, 
Littitt  at  loiq;e  resonante  Eo& 

Tunditurunda.'* 

This  verse  was  no  doubt  in  the  view  of  Horace,  in  the  sixth 
Ode  of  the  second  Book,  where  he  addresses  his  friend  Sep- 
timius,  and  adopts  the  elegant  and  melodious  Sapphic  stanza 
employed  hj  Catullus — 


284  (5ATULLUS. 


cc 


Septimi,  Gades  aditure  mecnm,  et 
CaDtabnim  iDdoctum  juga  ferre  nostnt  et 
Barbaras  Syrtes,  ubi  Maura  semper 

iEstuat  anda.*' 

Horace,  however,  has  closed  his  ode  with  a  few  lines,  perhaps 
the  most  beautiful  and  tender  in  the  whole  circle  of  Latin 
poetry,  and  which  strike  us  the  more,  as  pathos  is  not  that 
poet's  peculiar  excellence —     , 

"  Die  te  mecum  locus  et  beati/'  &c. 

Catullus,  on  the  other  hand,  after  preserving  an  elevated 
strain  of  poetry  for  four  stanzas,  concludes  with  requesting 
his  friends  to  deliver  a  ridiculous  message  to  his  mistress, 
who 

•<  Nee  meum  respectet,  ut  ante,  aroorem, 
Qui  illiu?  culp'^  cecidit ;  velut  prati  - 
Ultimi  floe,  pretereuote  postquam 
Taetus  aiatro  est." 

This  last  most  beautiful  image  has  been  imitated  by  various 
poets.     Virgil  has  not  disdained  to  transfer  it  to  his  JSneid— 


**  Purpureus  vehiti  cum  flos  succisus  aratro 
LaDguescit  moriens* .' 


$t 


Fracastoro  has  employed  the  same  metaphor  with  hardly  less 
elegance  in  his  consolatory  epistle  to  Turri,  on  the  loss  of  bis 
child— 

•*  Jacet  ille  velut  succisus  aratro 

Flos  tener,  et  frustra  non  audit  tanta  gementem  ;'* 

and  Ariosto  has  introduced  it  in  the  eighteenth  canto  of  the 
Orlando— 

**  Come  purpureo  iior  languendo  muore 
Che  '1  vomere  al  passar  tagliato  lassa." 

13.  Jld  FabuUum.  Our  poet  invites  Fabullus  to  sup- 
per, on  condition  that  he  will  bring  his  provisions  along  with 
him — 


"NamtuiCatulU 


Plenus  sacculus  est  aranearum." 


•  Lib.  IX.  V.  436. 


CATULLUS.  285 

On  his  own  part,  he  promiseB  only  a  hearty  welcome,  and  the 
most  exquisite  ointments.  In  the  poetry  of  social  kindness 
and  friendship,  Catullus  is  eminently  happy;  and  we  regret  to 
fiud  that  this  tone,  which  has  so  much  prevailed  in  the 
preceding  odes,  subsequently  changes  into  bitter  and  gross 
invective. 

The  thirteen  following  poems  are  chiefly  occupied  with 
vehement  and  indelicate  abuse  of  those  friends  of  the  poet, 
Furius  and  Aurelius,  who  were  men  of  some  quality  and  dis* 
tinction,  but  had  wasted  their  fortunes  by  extravagance  and 
debauchery.  In  a  former  ode,  we  have  seen  him  confident 
that  they  would  readily  accompany  him.  to  the  wildest  or  re- 
motest quarters  of  the  globe  :  But  he  had  subsequently  quar- 
relled with  them,  partly  because  they  had  stigmatized  his 
verses  as  soft  and  efleminate ;  and,  in  revenge  for  this  affront, 
he  upbraids  them  with  their  poverty  and  vices.  Of  these 
thirteen  poems,  the  last,  addressed  to  Furius,  is  a  striking  pic- 
ture of  the  sheltered  situation  of  a  villa.  In  the  common 
editions,  the  description  refers  to  the  villa  of  Catullus  himself, 
but  Muretus  thinks,  it  was  rather  meant  to  be  applied  to  tliat 
of  Furius: 

**  Furi,  viUula  voetra  doo  ad  Austri,"  &c. 

27.  ^d  Pocillatorem  puerum.  This  address,  in  which 
Catullus  calls  on  his  cupbearer  to  pour  out  for  him  copious 
and  unmixed  libations  of  Falernian,  is  quite  in  the  spirit  of 
Anacreon:  it  breathes  all  his  easy  and  joyous  gaiety,  and  the 
enthusiasm  inspired  by  the  grape. 

28.  Ad  Ferannium  et  FabuUum — 

*<  Piflonis  comites  cohora  ioanis,"  &c. 

Catullus  condoles  with  these  friends  on  account  of  the  little 
advantage  they  had  reaped  from  accompanying  the  Praetor 
Piso  to  his  province — comparing  their  situation  to  the  similar 
circumstances  in  which  he  had  himself  been  placed  with 
Memmius  in  Bithynia. 

There  is  a  parody  on  this  piece  of  Catullus  by  the  celebra- 
ted Huet,  Bishop  of  Avranches — 

'<  Bocharti  comites  cohors  inanis,"  &c. 

In  his  youth,  Huet  had  accompanied  Bochart  to  Sweden,  on 
the  invitation  of  Queen  Christina,  and  appears  to  have  been  as 
little  gratified  by  his  northern  expedition,  as  Catullus  by  his 
voyage  to  Bithynia. 


286  CATULLUS. 

29.  In  CmMnm.  JuUim  Ciesar,  while  jret  but  the  general 
of  the  Roman  republic,  had  been  accustomed,  during  his  stay 
in  the  north  of  Italy,  to  lodge  at  the  house  of  the  father  of 
Catullus  in  Verona.  Notwithstanding  the  intimacy  which  io 
consequence  subsisted  between  Caesar  and  his  father,  Catullus 
lampooned  the  former  on  more  than  one  occasion.  In  the 
present  epigram,  he  pours  on  him  an  unmeasured  abuse,  chiefly 
for  having  bestowed  the  plunder  of  Britain  and  Gaul  on  his 
favourite,  the  infamous  Mamurra,  who  appropriated  the  public 
money,  and  the  spoils  of  whole  nations,  to  support  his  bound- 
less extravagance.  There  is  a  story  which  has  become  very 
common  on  the  authority  of  Suetonius,  that  CsBsar  invited 
Catullus  to  supper  on  the  day  on  which  he  first  read  some 
satirical  verses  of  the  poet  against  himself  and  Mamurra,  and 
that  he  continued  to  lodge  with  his  father  as  before*.  It 
appears  that  on  one  occasion,  when  some  scurrilous  verses  by 
Catullus  were  shown  to  him,  he  supped  with  Cicero  at  his 
villa  near  Puteoli.  On  the  19th,  he  staid  at  the  house  of 
Philippus  till  one  in  the  afternoon,  but  saw  nobody ;  he  then 
walked  on  the  shore  across  to  Cicero's  villa-— bathed  after  two 
o'clock,  and  heard  the  verses  on  Mamurra  read,  at  which  he 
never  changed  countenancef .  Now,  this  was  in  the  year  708, 
after  the  civil  war  had  been  ended,  by  the  defeat  and  death 
of  the  younger  Pompey  in  Spain.  It  is  most  likely  that  this 
S9th  epigram  was  the  one  which  was  read  to  him  at  Cicero's 
villa;  and  the  57th  epigram,  also  directed  against  Csesar  and 
Mamurra,  is  probably  that  concerning  which  the  above  anec- 
dote is  related  by  Suetonius.  Though  it  stands  last  of  the 
two  in  the  works  of  Catullus,  it  was  evidently  written  before 
the  29th.  He  talks  in  it  of  Caesar  and  Mamurra,  as  of  persons 
who  were  still  on  a  footing  of  equality — in  the  other,  he  speaks 
of  their  dividing  the  spoils  of  the  provinces,  Gaul,  Britain, 
Pontus,  and  Spain.  The  coolness  and  indifference  which 
Caesar  showed  with  regard  to  the  first  epigram  written  against 
him,  and  the  forgiveness  he  extended  to  its  author,  encouraged 
Cicero,  who  was  a  gossip  and  newsmonger,  or  those  who 
attended  him,  to  read  to  him  another  of  the  same  description 
while  bathing  at  the  Puteolan  Villa. 

^\.  Ad  Sirmionem  Penithsulafn.  This  heart-soothing  invo- 
cation, which  is  perhaps  the  most  pleasing  of  all  the  produc- 
tions of  Catullus,  is  addressed  to  the  peninsula  of  Sirmio,  in 

*  Valerium  Cafunttm,  a  quo  ribi  TenicuUs  de  Mamurrft  perpetoi  fltenala  inpo- 
■itanon  dUsimuIaverat,  saUsfacientein,  eddemdie  adhibuit  casam,  hMpitioque  fittrii 
ejus,  sicut  coDRuevenit,  uti  perseveravit. — Sueton.  Jn  OBMiar.  c  73. 

t  Cicero,  EpUt.  ad  AHie.  X 1 1 1 .  62.  Inde  ambolavit  in  Ilttore.  Poffthonn  vii . 
in  balneum ;  turn  audivit  de  MamunA;  vultom  non  mutavlt;  unctv  est;  aceubiilt. 


CATULLUS.  287 

the  territory  of  Verona,  on  which  the  prinoipal  and  fiivonrite 
villa  of  our  poet  was  situated.  Sirmio  was  a  peninsular 
promontory,  of  about  two  miles  circumference,  projecting 
into  the  Benacus,  now  the  Lago  di  Garda — a  lake  celebrated 
by  Virgil  as  one  of  the  noblest  ornaments  of  Italy,  and  the 
praises  of  which  have  been  loudly  re-echoed  by  the  modem 
Latin  poets  of  that  country,  particularly  by  Fracastoro,  who 
dwelt  in  its  vicinity,  and  who,  while  lamenting  the  untimely 
death  of  his  poetical  friend.  Marc  Antonio  del  Torri,  beauti« 
fully  represents  the  shade  of  Catullus,  as  still  nightly  wander* 
ing  amidst  these  favourite  scenes — 

« 

<*  Te  rips  flevere  Aches  is ;  te  voce  Tocare 
Andite  per  noctem  umbre,  manesque  CatuUi, 
£t  patrios  mulcere  novft  dulcedine  lucos*." 

• 

Vestiges  of  the  magnificent  house  supposed  to  have  belonged 
to  Catullus,  are  yet  shown  on  this  peninsula.  Its  ruins,  which 
lie  near  the  borders  of  the  lake,  still  give  the  idea  of  an 
extensive  palace.  There  are  even  now,  as  we  are  informed 
by  travellers!,  sufficient  remains  of  mason-woik,  pilasters, 
vaolts,  walls,  and  subterraneous  passages,  to  assist  the  imagi- 
nation in  representing  to  itself  what  the  building  was  when 
entire,  at  least  in  point  of  extent  and  situation.  The  length 
of  the  whole  construction,  from  north  to  south,  is  about  700 
feet,  and  the  breadth  upwards  of  300.  The  ground  on  which 
it  stood  does  not  appear  to  have  been  level,  and  the  fall  to 
the  west  was  supplied  by  rows  of  vaults,  placed  on  each  other, 
the  top  of  which  formed  a  terrace.  On  the  east,  the  structure 
had  been  raised  on  those  steep  and  solid  rocks  which  lined 
the  shore ;  on  the  front,  which  was  to  the  north,  and  com- 
manded a  magnificent  view  of  the  lake,  an  immense  portico 
leems  to  have  projected  from  the  building :  under  the  ruins^ 
there  are  a  number  of  subterraneous  vaults,  one  of  which  ran 
through  the  middle  of  the  edifice,  and  along  its  whole  lengtb{» 
The  peninsula  on  which  the  villa  of  Catullus  was  situated, 
is  not  surpassed  in  beauty  or  fertility  by  any  spot  in  Italy. 
^^Sirroione,"  says  Eustace^,  "appears  as  an  island,  so  low  and 
so  narrow  is  the  bank  that  unites  it  to  the  mainland.  The 
promontory  spreads  behind  the  town,  and  rises  into  a  hill 
entirely  covered  with  olives.  Catullus,''  he  continues,  '^  un- 
doubtedly inhabited  this  spot,  and  certainly  he  could  not  have 
chosen  a  more  delightful  retreat.    In  the  centre  of  a  magni- 

*  iS^pMK9,Lib.  I.  t  Colt  Hoare*8  CoDtinuat.  of  Eustace's  Travels. 

(Henin,  Journal  da  Siege  de  Peuhiera. 
CUtiHetd  2btcr,  Vol.  I.  c.  5.  8to  edition. 


288  CATULLUS. 

ficent  lake,  surrol^ided  with  scenery  of  the  greatest  variety 
and  majesty,  secluded  from  the  world,  yet  beholding  from 
his  garden  the  villas  of  his  Veronese  friends,  he  might  have 
enjoyed  alternately  the  pleasures  of  retirement  and  society; 
and  daily,  without  the  sacrifice  of  his  connexions,  which 
Horace  seemed  inclined  to  make  in  a  moment  of  despondency, 
he  might  have  contemplated  the  grandeur  and  agitation  of 
the  ocean,  without  its  terrors  and  immensity.  Besides,  the 
soil  is  fertile,  and  its  surface  varied ;  sometimes  shelving  in  a 
gentle  declivity,  at  other  times  breaking  in  craggy  magnifi- 
cence, and  thus  furnishing  every  requisite  for  delightful  walks 
and  luxurious  baths ;  while  the  views  vary  at  every  step,  pre- 
senting rich  coasts  or  barren  mountains,  sometimes  confined 
to  the  cultivated  scenes  of  the  neighbouring  shore,  and  at 
other  times  bewildered  and  lost  in  the  windings  of  the  lake, 
or  in  the  recesses  of  the  Alps.  In  short,  more  convenience 
and  more  beauty  are  seldom  united*."  No  wonder,  then,  that 
Catullus,  jaded  and  disappointed  by  his  expedition  to  Bithynia, 
should,  on  his  return,  have  exclaimed  with  transport,  that  the 
spot  was  not  to  be  matched  in  the  wide  range  of  the  world 
of  waters;  or  that  he  should  have  unloaded  his  mind  of  its 
cares,  in  language  so  perfect,  yet  simple,  that  it  could  only 
have  flowed  fi'om  a  real  and  exquisite  feeling.  No  poem  in 
the  Latin  language  expresses  tender  feelings  more  tenderly, 
and  home  feelings  more  naturally,  than  the  Invocation  to 
Sirmio,  in  which  the  verses  soothe  and  refresh  us  somewhat 

*  In  the  year  1797,  Buonaparte,  who  was  at  that  timecommander-in-chlef  of  the 
army  of  Italy,  visited  in  person  this  spot,  which,  during  the  life  of  Catullus,  had  been 
his  retreat  and  sanctuary,  even  from  the  despotisih  of  Cesar.  While  travelUnffffom 
Milan  to  Perseriano,  to  conclude  the  treaty  of  Campo  Formie,  he  turned  off  from 
the  road,  between  Brescia  and  Peschien,  to  visit  the  peninsula  of  Sirmio.  About 
two  years  afterwards,  the  French  offic««  employed  at  me  siege  of  Peschien,  which 
is  eight  miles  distant  from  Sirmio,  gave  a  brilliant /"£«  ehamp'tre  in  this  classic 
retirement,  in  honour  of  Catullus,  as  soon  as  their  militaiy  operations  anmst  Pe»- 
chiera  had  been  brought  to  a  successful  conclusion.  General  St  Michel,  who  bad 
conducted  them,  invited  all  the  Polish  officers  who  were  present  at  the  sieee,  and 
some  of  the  inhabitants  of  Sirmio—particularly  the  dramatic  poet,  AnelK.  Dunne 
the  repast,  this  bard,  and  the  French  generals,  Lacombe  and  St  Michel,  sung  and 
recited  in  turn  verses  of  their  own  composition ;  and  which  flowed  spontaneouslyt 
it  is  said  by  one  who  was  present,  from  the  inspiration  of  scenes  so  rich  in  poetic 
remembrances.  The  toasts  were — The  Memory  of  Catuttu$,  the  moat  ele^t  of 
Latin  poets — Buonaparte,  who  honours  great  men  amid  the  tumult  of  anas — ^who 
celebrated  Virgil  at  Mantua,  and  paid  homage  to  Catullus,  by  visiting  the  penin^ulft 
of  Sirmio— Gf^eraZ  MioUiSy  the  protector  of  sciences  and  fine  arts  in  Italy,  lite 
festivities  were  here  unpleasantly  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  all  the  uninvited  inba* 
bitants  of  Sirmio,  who  came  to  complain  of  having  been  pillaged  by  the  detachment 
of  French  troops  which  had  replaced  the  Austrian  garrison.  General  Chasseloop 
received  them  with  his  accustomed  urbanity;  and,  from  respect  to  Catullus,  tl» 
troops  were  marched  from  that  canton  to  another  district,  which  bad  not  yet  been 
plundered,  and  had  not  the  good  fortune  to  have  been  the  residence  of  a  hcentioos 
poet. — (Heoin,  Jour,  J^toriqut  des  Opcrat,  MiUtaires  du  SUge  dt  PescJdera^^ 


CATULLUS.  289 

in  the  manner  we  suppose  Catullus  himself  to  have  been,  by 
the  trees  that  shaded  the  promotitoryy  and  by  the  waters  of 
the  lake  below-— 

*'  Quam  te  Ubenter,  ouamqae  letus  inyiao ! 
Yix  me  ipse  credeat  Thyniam,  atque  Bilhynos 
Liquisse  (Sampos,  et  videre  te  fn  tuto. 
O  quid  solutis  est  beatius  curis  ? 
Cum  mens  onus  repoDit>  ae  peregrino 
Lat)ore  fessi  venimvs  larem  ad  nostmoi, 
Destderaloque  acquiescimUk  lecto. 
Hoc  est,  quod  auum  est  pro  laboribus  tantis. 
Salve,  O  venusta  Sinnio,  atque  iiero  gaude." 

These  lines  show  that  the  most  refined  and  tender  feelings 
were  as  familiar  to  the  bosom  of  Catullus  as  the  grossest. 
Nothing  can  be  more  delicate  than  his  description  of  the 
emotions  of  one,  who,  after  many  wanderings  and  vicissitudes 
of  fortune,  returns  to  his  home,  and  to  the  scenes  beloved  in 
youth  or  infancy :  Nothing  can  be  more  beautiful  than  his 
invocation  to  the  peninsula — his  fond  request  that  the  delight- 
fill  promontory,  and  the  waters  by  which  it  was  surrounded, 
should  join  in  welcoming  him  home ;  and,  above  all,  his  heart- 
felt expression  of  delight  at  the  prospect  of  again  reclining 
OD  his  accustomed  couch. 

It  appears  to  me,  however,  that  the  beauty  and  the  pathos 
of  the  poem  is  in  scMne  degree  injured  by  the  last  verse, — 

*'  Ridete  quicquid  est  domi  cachinnonim," 

which  introduced  the  idea  of  obstreperous  mirth,  instead  of 
that  tone  of  tenderness  which  pervades  the  preceding  lines 
of  the  ode.  One  would -almost  suppose,  as  probably  has 
happened  in  some  other  cases,  that  a  verse  had  been  subjoined 
to  this  which  properly  belonged  to  a  different  ode,  where 
mirth,  and  not  tenderness,  prevailed. 

The  modern  Latin  poets  of  Italy  frequently  apostrophize 
their  fisivourite  villas,  in  imitation  of  the  address  to  Sirmio. 
Flaminius,  in  a  poem,  Ad  AgeUum  ^utim,  has  described  his 
attachment  to  his  farm  and  home,  and  the  first  lines  of  it  rival 
the  tender  and  pleasing  invocation  of  Catullus.  Some  of  the 
subsequent  lines  are  written  in  close  imitation  of  the  Roman 
poet— 


^' Jam  libebit  in  cabiculo 

MoUes  inire  somnulos. 
Gandete,  fontea  livulique  limpldi. 


«> 


Vol.  I.— 2  M 


290  CATULLUS. 

As  also  the  whole  of  bis  address  to  the  same  villa,  commenc- 
ing— 

'*  Umbne  frigidule,  aiborum  susuiri." 

One  of  the  most  pleasing  features  in  the  works  of  the  modeni 
Latin  poets  of  Italy,  is  the  descriptions  of  their  villas,  their 
regret  at  leaving  them,  or  their  invitations  to  friends  to  come 
and  witness  their  happiness.     Hence  Fracastoro's  villa,  in  the 
vicinity  of  Verona,  Ambra,'and  Pulcherrima  MergeUina,  are 
now  almost  esteemed  classic  spots,  like  Tusculum  or  Tibor. 
The  invocation  to  the  peninsula  of  Sinnio  was  evidently 
written  soon  after  the  return  of  Catullus  from  Bithynia ;  and 
his  next  poem  worth  noticing  is  a  similar  address  to  his  villa 
near  Tibur.    The  thought,  however,  in  this  poem,  is  very 
forced  and  poor.    Catullus  having  been  invited  by  his  friend 
Sextius,  according  to  a  common  custom  at  Rome,  to  be  one 
of  a  party  assembled  at  his  house  for  the  purpose  of  hearing 
an  oration  composed  by  their  host,  bad  contracted  such  a 
cold  from  its  frigidity,  that  he  was  obliged  to  leave  Rome, 
and  retire  to  this  seat,  in  order  to  recover  from  its  effects. 
For  his  speedy  restoration  to  health,  he  now  gives  thanks  to 
his  salubrious  villa.    This  residence  was  situated  on  the  con- 
fines of  the  ancient  Latian  and  Sabine  teritories,  and  the  villas 
there,  as  we  learn  from  this  ode,  were  sometimes  called  Tibur- 
tine,  from  the  town  of  Tibur,  and  scmietimes  Sabine,  from 
the  district  where  they  lay ;   but  the  former  appellation,  it 
seems,  was  greatly  preferred  by  Catullus.  .  As  long  as  the 
odes  of  Horace  survive,  the 

«  Domufi  Albuneae  resonailtis, 
£t  pneceps  Anio,  et  Tibumi  lucU9»  et  uda 
Mobilibus  pomftria  rivis^" 

will  be  remembered  as  forming  one  of  the  most  delightful 
retreats  in  Italy,  and  one  which  was  so  agreeable  to  its  poet, 
that  he  wished  that  of  all  others  it  might  be  the  shelter  and 
refuge  of  bis  old  age.  From  the  present  aspect  of  TivoK,  the 
charm  of  the  villas  at  the  ancient  Tibur  mav  be  still  appre- 
ciated. ''We  ascended,"  says  Eustace, '4he  high  hill  on 
which  Tivoli  stands,  passing  through  groves  of  olives,  till  we 
reached  the  summit.  This  town,  the  Tibur  of  the  ancients, 
stands  in  a  delightful  situation,  sheltered  by  Monte  Catillo, 
and  a  semicircular  range  of  Sabine  mountains,  and  command- 
ing, on  the  other  side,  an  extensive  view  over  the  Campagna, 
bounded  by  the  sea,  Rome,  Mount  Soracte,  and  the  pyra- 
midal hills  of  Montidelli  and  Monte  Rotondoj  the  ancient 


CATULLUS.  291 

Eretum.    But  the  pride  and  ornament  of  Tivoli  are  still,  as 
anciently,  the  fails  and  the  windings  of  the  Anio,  now  Teve- 
rone.    This  river  having  meandered  from  its  source  through 
the  vales  of  Sabina,  glides  gently  through  Tivoli,  till,  coming 
to  the  brink  of  a  rock,  it  precipitates  itself  in  one  mass  down 
the  steep,  and  then  boiling  for  an  instant  in  its  narrow  chan- 
nel, rushes  headlong  through  a  chasm  in  the  rock  into  the 
caverns  below.*  ♦  *     To  enjoy  the  scenery  to  advantage,  the 
traveller  must  cross  the  bridge,  and  follow  the  road  which 
runs  at  the  foot  of  the  classic  Monte  Catillo,  and  winds  along 
the  banks  of  the  Anio.     As  he  advances  he  will  have  on  his 
left  the  steep  banks  covered  with  trees,  shrubs,  and  gardens, 
and  on  his  right  the   bold  but  varying  swells  of  the  hills 
shaded  with  groves  of  olives.     These  sunny  declivities  were 
anciently   interspersed   with   splendid   villas,   the    favourite 
abodes  of  the  most  luxurious  and  refined  Romans.     They  are 
now  replaced  by  two  solitary   convents,  but  their  site,  often 
conjectural  or  traditionary,  is  sometimes  marked  by  scanty 
vestages  of  ruins,  and  now  and  then  by  the  more  probable 
resemblance  of  a  name*."  Eustace  does  not  particularly  men- 
tion the  farm  or  villa  of  Catullus.     In  the  travels,  howeveri 
which  pass  under  the  name  of  M.  Blainville,  written  in  the 
beginning  of  last  century,  we  are  informed,  that  a  monastery 
of  the  religious  order  of  Mount  Olivet  was  then  established 
on  the  spot  where  formerly  stood  the  Tiburtine  villa  of  Ca- 
tullusf .     M.  de  Castellan  fixes  on  the  same  spot,  on  account 
of  its  situation  between  the  Sabine  and  Tiburtine  territorjr. 
"P'ailleurs,"  continues  he,  "il  n'est  pas  d'endroit  plus  retire, 
mieux  garanti  des  vents,  que  cet  angle  rentrant  de  la  vallee, 
entoure  de  tons  cl5tes  par  de  hautes  montagnes;  ce  qui  est 
encore  un  des  caracteres  du  local  choisi  par  notre  poete,  qui 
pretendoit  y  etre  a  Pabri  de  tout  autre  vent  que  de  celui  qui 
I'expose  a  la  vengeance  de  sa  muitresse|."     It  would  appear 
from  Forsyth's  Travels,  that  a  spot  is  still  fixed'  on  as  the  site 
of  the  residence  of  Catullus.     "  The  villa  of  Catullus,"  he 
says,  '<  is  easily  ascertained  by  his  own  minute  description  of 
the  place,  by  excavated  marbles,  and  by  the  popular  name  of 
Truglia."     This  spot,  which  is  close  to  the  church  of  St  An- 
gelo  in  Piavola,  is  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Anio  firom 
Tibur,  about  a  mile  north  from  that  town,  and  on  the  north 
side  of  Monte  Catillo,  or  what  might  be  called  the  back  of 
that  hill,  in  reference  to  the  situation  of  Tibur.    The  Anio 

•  Oassieai  Tow,  Vol.  11.  c.  7. 

t  lytmeU  through  Hottand^  4rc.  InU  e$peeiaUy  Rdly,  Vol.  II.  cl^p.  39. 

t  Uttren  9ur  rnoHe,  Tom.  II.  let.  8S.  Paiis,  1819.  ^ 


292  CATULLUS. 

divides  the  ancient  Latian  from  the  Sabine  territory,  and  the 
yilla  of  Catullus  was  on  the  Sabine  side  of  the  river,  bat  was 
called  Tiburtine  from  the  vicinity  of  Tibur*. 

The  Romans, -and  particularly  the  Roman  poets,  as  if  the 
rustic  spirit  of  their  Italian  ancestry  was  not  altogether  banish- 
ed by  the  buildings  of  Rome,  appear  to  have  had  a  geouloe 
and  exquisite  relish  for  the  delights  of  the  country.  This 
feeling  was  not  inspired  by  fondness  for  field-sports,  since,  al- 
though habituated  to  violent  exercises,  the  chase  never  was  a 
favourite  amusement  among  the  Romans,  and  they  preferred 
fleeing  wild  animals  baited  in  the  amphitheatre,  to  hunting 
them  down  in  their  native  forests.  The  country  then  was  not 
relished  as  we  are  apt  to  enjoy  it,  for  the  sake  of  exercise  or 
rural  pastimes,  but  solely  for  Us  amenity  and  repose,  and  the 
mental  tranquillity  which  it  diffused.  W  ith  them  it  seems  to 
have  been  truely, 

**  The  relish  for  the  calm  dettght 
Of  verdant  vaTeB  and  fountains  bright ; 
Treeathatnod  on  slopinebiUs* 
And  caves  that  echo  tmuing  liUs.". 


*  Nibby,  in  his  Viag^  JbUiptario  ne  eeniomi  di  Boina,  (Ed.  1819. 8  Tod. 
8vo,}  in  opposition  to  aS  previous  authority,  has  denied  that  thb  was  the  site  of  ite 
villa  of  Catullus,  which  he  has  removed  to  a  spot  due  east  from  Tibur,  between  the 
Acque  Albule  and  Ponte  Lucano.  His  opinion,  however,  is  rested  on  the  2<Kh 
poem  of  CatuUui,  of  which  he  has  totally  misunderstood  the  meaning,— 

**  Furi^YOlula  nostra  non  ad  Austri 
Flatus  opposita  est,  nee  ad  Favonl, 
Nee  8«vi  Bores,  aut  Apeltote  ; 
Verum  ad  millia  quindecim  et  ducentos— 
O  ventum  honibifem  atque  pestilentem.** 

Nibby  strangely  supposes  that  ttie  fourth  line  of  the  above  verses  maass  that  the 
▼ilia  is  16  miles  200  paces  from  Rome,  and,  therefore,  that  it  cannot  be  at  St  Aogek) 
in  Piavola,  the  distance  of  which  from  Rome  is  not  15  miles  200  pucea. — '*  Questi 
▼ersi,'*  says  he,  *'  non  solo  non  sono  cosk  decisivi  per  situaria  precisamente  a  St  An- 
gelo,  piu  tosto  che  in  altri  hioshi  di  questi  contomi ;  ma  assolutamente  laesdudooOt 
poich^  la  stabaBscono  quind^cl  ndglia,  e  duecento  passi  vicino  a  Roma." — {T.  I-  p- 

les.; 

Now,  in  the  first  place,  according  to  Muretus  and  the  best  commentaton,  this  ode 
does  not  at  all  rpfer  to  the  villa  of  Catullus,  but  of  Furius,  whom  he  'addresses,  sinc^ 
the  correct  reading  in  the  first  line  is  not  Villula  nostra,  but  Voitra.  Allowing, 
however,  that  it  should  be  nostra,  it  is  ^uite  impossible  to  extort  from  the  fourib 
Hne  any  proof  that  the  villa  was  16  miles  200  paces  from  Rome.  Translated  eerbtf* 
iim,  it  IS  as  follows : — **  Furius,  our  (your;  villa  is  not  exposed  ,or  liable  to  the  blast? 
of  Auster  or  Favonius,  or  the  sharp  Boreas,  or  the  Apeliot  wind,  but  to  fifteen  dtoo- 
sand  and  two  hundred^-O  horrible  and  pestilent  wind  !"  Now,  the  question  is,  ^ 
what  16,000,200  is  the  villa  exposed  ?  lopposita).  Every  commentator  whom  1 
have  consulted,  supplies  sesterces,  or  other  pieces  of  money ;  that  is  to  say,  it  wtf 
mortgaged  or  pledged  for  that  sum,  which  would  sweep  it  away  more  effectoaUy 
than  any  wind.  Nibby's  interpretation,  that  it  is  not  exposed  to  Auster  or  Borets. 
Ike.  but  is  16  miles  200  paces  distant  from  Rome,  is  not  many  mUes,  or  even  p«^ 
distant  from  abaolote  nonsense  i  and,  moreover,  quindecim  nUllia,  is  not  good  Latin 
lor  16  mllea. 


CATULLUS.  393 


Love  of  the  country  among  the  Romans  thus  became  C( 
with  the  ideaof  alife  of  pastoral. tranquillity  and  retirement,— * 
a  life  of  friendship,  liberty,  and  repose, — free  from  labour 
and  care,  and  ail  turbulent  passions*  .  Scenes  of  this  kind 
deJight  and  interest  us  supremely,  whether  they  be  painted 
zs  what  is  desired  or  what  is  enjoyed.  We  feel  how  na- 
tural it  is  for  a  mind  with  a  certain  disposition  to  relaxation 
EDd  indolence,  when  fatigued  with  the  bustle  of  life,  ^  long 
for  security  and  quiet,  and  for  those  sequestered  scenes  in  which 
they  can  be  most  exquisitely  enjoyed.  There  is  much  less  of 
this  in  the  writings  of  the  Greeks,  who  were  origmally  a  sea- 
faring and  piratical,  and  not,  like  the  Italians,  a  pastoral  peo- 
ple. It  is  thus  that,  even  iq  their  highest  state  of  refinementi 
the  manners  and  feelings  of  nations  bear  some  affinity  to  their 
original  rudeness,  though  that  rudeness -itself  has  been  imper- 
ceptibly converted  into  a  sourceof  elegance  and  ornament. 

34.  Seculare  carmen  ad  Dianam.  This  i^  the  first  strictly 
lyric  production  of  Catullus  which  occurs,  and  there  are  only 
three  other  poenis  of  a  similar  cls^s.  In  Greece,  the  public 
games  aiforded  a  noble  occasion  for  the  display  of  lyric  poetry, 
and  tlie  sensibility  of  the  Greeks  fitted  them  to  follow  its  high- 
est flights.  But  it  was  not  so  among  the  Romans.  They  had 
no  solemn  festivals  of  assembled  states  :  Their  active  and  am- 
bitious life  deadened  them  to  the  emotions  which  lyric  poetry 
should  excite  ;  and  the  gods,  whose  praises  form  the  noblest 
themes  of  the  iEolian  tyre,  were  with  them  rather  the  creatures 
of  state  policy,  than  of  feeling  or  inaagination. 

45.  Ve  Jlcme  et  Septifnio.  Here  our  poet  details  the  mu- 
tual blandishments  and  amorous  ^expressions  of  Acme  and  Sep- 
timius,  with  the  approbation  bestowed  on  them  by  Cupid. 
This  amatory  effusion  has  been  freely  translated  by  Cowley : — 

"  Whilst  on  SeptiiniuB'  panting  breast. 
Meaning  nothing  leas  than  rest,"  &c. 

49.  Ad  M.  TfMium.  In  this  poem,  which  is  addressed  to 
Cicero  as  the  most  eloquent  of  the  Romans,  Catullus  modestly 
returns  the  orator  thanks  for  some  service  he  had  rendered  him. 

51.  Ad  Lesbiam.  This  is  the  translation  of  the  celebrated 
ode  of  Sappho,  which  has  been  preserved  to  us  by  Longinus, 
^vsroi  fiof  mivo^,  &c.  The  fourth  stanza  of  the  original  Greek 
has  not  been  translated,  but  in  its,  place  a  verse  is  inserted  in 
all  the  editions  of  Catullus,  containing  a  moral  reflection, 
which  one  Would  hardly  have  expected  from  this  dissolute 
poet: 

'*  Qtium,  Catullc,  tibi  molestum  est ; 
Otio  exidtas,  nimiuroque  gestis ; 
Otium  reges  priu»  et  beatas 

Perdtdit  urfoes.*" 


294  CATULLUS. 

This  stunza  is  so  foreign  from  the  spirit  of  high  excitation  in 
which  the  preceding  part  of  the  ode .  is  written,  that  Mafiei 
inspected  it  had  belonged  to  some  other  poem  of  Catullus; 
and  Handius,  in  his  Obaervaiiones  CrUioB,  conjectures  that 
the  fourth  stanza,  which  Catullus  translated  from  the  original 
Greek,  having  been  lost,  and  a  chasm  being  thus  left,  some 
idle  librarian  or  scholia&t  of  the  middle  ages  had  interpolated 
these  i^ur  lines  of  misplaced  morality,  that  no  gap  might  ap- 
pear in  his  manuscript^.  It  is  not  impossible,  however,  that 
this  verse  may  have  been  intended  to  express  the  answer  of 
the  poet's  mistress. 

Many  amatory  poets  have  tried  to  imitate  this  celebrated 
ode ;  but  most  of  them  have  failed  of  success.  Boileau  has 
also  attempted  this  far-famed  fragment ;  but  although  he  has 
produced  an  elegant  enough  poe^i,  he  has  not  expressed  the 
vehement  passion  of  the  Greek  original  so  happily  as  Catullus. 
How  different  are  the  rapidity  and  emotion  of  the  following 
stanza* 

"  Ling^  sed  torpet,  tenuis  sob  artus 
Flainma  dimanat,  sonitu  suopte 
Tlndiuiat  aures — gemioa  teguntur 
Lumina  nocte,'* 

from  the  languor  of  the  cQrresponding  lines  of  the  French  poet! 

"  Unt  nuaipe  codIus  se  repand  sur  ma  vue, 

Je  n'entend  plus,  je  tombe  en  de  deuces  laofueuniy 

£t  passe,  sans  haleine,  interdite,   perdue  ; 

Vn  fiisson  me  saiait— je  tremble,  je  me  meurs." 


These  lines  give  us  little  idea  of  that  furious  passion  of  which 
Longinus  says  the  Greek  ode  expresses  all  the  symptoms. 
Racine  has  been  much  more  happy  than  Boileau  in  his  imitation 
of  Sappho.  Phaedra,  in  the  celebrated  French  tragedy  which 
bears  the  name  of  that  victim  of  love,  thus  paints  the  effects 
of  the  passion  with  which  she  was  struck  at  her  first  view  of 
Hippolytus : — 

"  Ath^nes  me  montra  men  superbe  ennemi : 

Je le ytSy  je rougis,  je  pilis  a sa  vue — 

Un  trouble  sVleva  dans  men  ame  ^perdue, 

Mes  yeux  ne  toyoient  plus,  je  ne  pouvois  parler ; 

Je  sends  tout  mon  coeur  et  transir  et  brJUerf." 

On  this  passage  Voltaire  remarks, "  Peut  on  mieux  imiter  Sap- 
pho?    Ces  vers,  quoique  imites,  coulent  de  source;  cbaque 

*  Obaerv.  CH^  tn  Catutti  Cartnina.  t  Acte  I.  so.  8. 


CATULLUS.  295 

mot  trouble  les  ames  sensibles,  et  les  penetre ;  ce  n'est  point 
une  amplification ;  c'est  le  chef  d'oeuvre  de  la  nature  et  de 
I'art*.^'  A  translation  by  De  Lille,  which  has  a  very  close 
resemblance  to  that  of  Boileau,  is  inserted  in  the  delightful 
chapter  of  the  Voyage  du  Jeune  Anacharria^  which  treats  of 
Lesbos  and  Sappho.  Philips,  it  is  well  known,  attempted  a 
version  of  the  lyric  stanzas  of  Sappho,  which  was  first  printed 
with  vast  commendation  in  the  229th  Number  of  the  Specta- 
tor, where  Addison  has  also  remarked,  ^'  that  several  of  our 
countrymen,  and  Dryden  in  particular,  seem  very  often  to 
have  copied  after  this  ode  of  Sappho,  in  their  dramatic  writings, 
and  in  their  poems  upon  love.'' 

58,  Ad  Codium  de  Lesbia.  In  this  ode,  addressed  to  one 
of  her  former  admirers,  Catullus  gives  an  account,  both  tender 
and  pathetic,  of  the  debaucheries  and  degraded  condition  of 
Lesbia,  to  his  passion  for  whoni,  he  had  attributed  sucb  pow* 
ful  effects  in  the  above  imitation  of  Sappho. 

61.  Jh  Nuptias  JoUub  et  Manlii.  We  come  now  to  the 
three  celebrated  epithalamiums  of  Catullus.  The  first  is  in 
honour  of  the  nuptials  of  Julia  and  Manlius,  who  is  generally 
suppo^d  to  have  been  Aulus  Manlius  Torquatus,  an  intimate 
friend  of  the  poet,  and  a  descendant  of  one  of  the  most  noble 
patrician  families  in  Rome.  This  poem  has  been  entitled  ao 
Bpithalamiiim  in  most  of  the  ancient  editions,  but  Muretus  con- 
tends that  this  is  an  improper  appellation,  and. that  it  should 
be  inscribed  Carmen  J^uptiale.  "  An  epithalamium,"  he  says, 
"was  supposed  to  be  sung  by  the  virgins  when  the  bride  had 
retired  to  the  nuptial  chamber,  whereas  in  this  poem  an  ear- 
lier part  of  the  ceremony  is  celebrated  and  described."  Thig 
earljer  part,  indeed,  occupies  the  greater  portion  of  the  poem, 
but  towards  the  conclusion  the  bride  is  represented  as  placed 
in  the  chamber  of  her  husband,  which  may  justify  Its  ordinary 
title: 

'*  Jam  licet  venias,  Maiite ; 
Uxor  in  thalamo  est  tibi,*'  &c. 

In  this  bridal  song  the  poet  first  addresses  Hjrmen ;  and  as 
the  bride  was  now  about  to  proceed  fi-om  her  paternal  man- 
sion to  the  house  of  her  husband,  invokes  his  aid  in  raising 
the  nuptial  hymn.    He  then  describes  the  bride : — 

**  Floridis  velut  enitens 
Myrtus  Asia  ratnuliA ; 


Diet.  Ph&Oi.Ast,  Jbapl^aH&n. 


296  CATULLUS. 

Qoofl  HamadiyadeB  De» 

Ludicrum  aibi  roscido  ■     • 

Nutriunt  humore.'* 

A  similar  image  is  frequent  with  other  poets,  and  has  been 
adopted  by  Pontanus*  and  Naugeriusf . 
The  praises  of  Hymen  follow  next : — 

«  Nil  potMt  niie  te  Venus, 
Ftma  quod  bona  comprobet, 
Commodi  capere :  at  potest 
Te  volente.    Quia  huic  Deo 
Compararier  auait  ? 

Nulla  quit  sine  te  donlus 
Liberos  dare,  nee  parens 
Stifpe  jungpier:  at  potest 
To  volente.    Quia  huic  Deo 
Compararier  auait  ?" 

Claudian,  in  his  epithalamium  on  the  nuptials  of  Palladius 
and  Celerina,  and  the  Gjprman  poet  Lotichius,  extol  Hymen 
in  terms  similar  to  those  employed  in  the  first  of  the  above 
stanzas :  and  the  advantages  he  confers,  alluded  to  in  the 
second,  have  been  beautifully  touched  on  by  Milton,  as  also 
by  Pope,  in  his  chorus  of  youths  and  virgins,  forming  part  of 
the  Duke  of  Buckingham's  intended  tragedy — ^BmfM: 

^  But  H3rmen'8  kinder  flames  unite* 

And  bum  for  ever  one,' 
Chaste  as  cold  Cynthia's  virfrtn  light. 

Productive  as  the  sun. 

•<  O  source  of  every  social  tye, 

United  wish  and  mutual  joy,  « 

What  various  joys  on  one  attend ! 

As  son,  as  fikther,  brother,  husband,  fiiend.*' 

Catullus  now  proceeds  to  describe  the  ceremonies  with  wbicb 
the  bride  was  conveyed  to  the  house  of  her  husband,  and  was 
there  received.  He  feigns  that  he  beholds  the  nuptial  pomp 
and  retinue  approaching,  and  encourages  the  bride  to  come 
forth,  by  an  elegant  compliment  to  hwer  beauty;  as  also,  by 
reminding  her  of  the  fair  fame  and  character  of  her  intended 
husband.  As  she  approaches,  he  intimates  the  freedom  of 
the  ancient  Fescennine  vierseS)  which  were  first  song  at  mar- 
riage festivals. 

The  bride  being  at  length  conducted  to  her  new  habitation^ 
the  poet  addresses  the  bridegroom,  and  shuts  up  the  married 
pair :  But  before  concluding,  in  reference  to  Torquatus,  one 

•  Ad  Fau&lam.  t  CfenetAiiacofiinim  nMk$. 


CATULLUS.  297 

of  the  husband's  names,  be  alludes,  wilb  exquisite  delicacy 
and  teoderness,  to  the  most-wished-for  consequence  of  this 
happy  onion : — 

'*  Torquatus,  yolo,  pannihifl 
M atria  e  gremio  sue 
Porrigens  teneraa  manOB, 
Dulce  rideatad  patrem, 
Semihiante  labello.*' 

The  above  verse  has  been  thus  imitated  in  an  Epithala^ 
mium  on  the  marriage  of  Lord  Spencer,  by  Sir  William 
Jones,  who  pronounces  it  a  picture  worthy  the  pencil  of  Dome- 

nichino : 

"  And  soon  to  be  completely  blest. 

Soon  may  a  young  Torquatus  rise. 
Who,  hanging  on  his  mother's  breast. 

To  his  known  sire  shall  turn  his  eyes. 
Outstretch  his  infant  arms  a  while. 

Half  ope  his  little  lips  and  smile.*' 

w 

And  thus  by  Leonard,  in  his  pastoral  romance  of  Alexis, 
where,  however,  he  has  omitted  the  semihiante  labeUOj  the 
finest  feature  in  the  picture : — 

**  Quel  tableau !  quand  un  jeone  en&nt, 
Penchc  sur  le  sein  de  sa  mere, 
Avec  un  sourire  innocent 
Etendra  ses  mains  vera  son  p^re.'' 

This  nuptial  hvmn  has  been  the  model  of  many  epitha- 
lamiums,  particularly  that  of  Jason  and  Creusa,  sunff  by  the 
chorus  in  Seneca's  Medea^  and  of  Honorius  and  Maria,  in 
Claudian.  The  modern  Latin  poets,  particularly  Justus  Lip- 
sius,  have  exercised  themselves  a  great  deal  in  this  style  of 
composition ;  and  most  of  them  with  evident  imitation  of  the 
work  of  Catullus.  It  has  also  been  highly  applauded  by  the 
commentators;  and  more  than  one  critic  has  declared  that  it 
must  have  been  written  by  the  hands  of  Venus  and  the  Graces 
---'' Veneris  et  Gratiarum  manibus  scriptum  esse."  I  wish, 
however,  they  had  excepted  from  their  unqualified  paneffyrics 
the  coarse  imitation  of  the  Fescennine  poems,  which  leaves 
on  our  minds  a  stronger  impression  of  the  prevalence  and 
extent  of  Roman  vices,  than  any  other  passage  in  the  Latin 
classics.  Martial,  and  Catullus  himself  elsewhere,  have 
branded  their  enemies ;  and  Juvenal,  in  bursts  of  satiric  indig- 
nation, has  reproached  his  countrymen  with  the  most  shocking 
crimes.  Bat  here,  in  a  complimentary  poem  to  a  patr<Mi  aoa 
Vol,.  L— 2  N 


29S  CATULLUS. 

intimate  friend,  these  are  jocularly  alluded  to  as  the  venial 
indulgences  of  his  earliest  youth. 

62.  Carmm  JVuptiak.  Some  parts  of  this  epithakmiuni 
have  been  taken  from  Theocritus,  particularly  from  his  eight- 
eenth Idyl,  where  the  Lacedeemonian  maids,  compaoioDs 
of  Helen,  sing  before  the  bridal-chamber  of  Menelaus*.  This 
second  nuptial  hymn  of  Catullus  may  be  regarded  as  a  con- 
tinuation of  the  above  poem,  being  also  in  honour  of  the 
marriage  of  Manlius  and  Julia.  The  stanzas  of  the  former  were 
supposed  to  be  sung  or  recited  in  the  person  of  the  poet,  who 
only  exhorted  the  chorus  of  youths  and  virgins  to  commence 
the  nuptial  strain.  But  here  these  bands  contend,  in  alternate 
verses ;  the  maids  descanting  on  the  beauty  and  advantages  of 
a  single  life,  and  the  lads  on  those  of  marriage. 

The  young  men,  companions  of  the  bridegroom,  are  sup- 
posed to  have  left  him  at  the  rising  of  the  evening  star  of 
love : — 


« 


Vesper  Olympo 


ExpecUta  diu  viz  tandem  lumina  toUit. 
Hespere,  qui  coelo  lucet  jucundior  ignis  ?" 

These  lines  appear  to  have  been  imitated  by  Spenser  in  his 
Epithalamium — 

«  Ah !  ^hen  will  this  long  weary  dav  have  done ! 
Long  thou^  it  be,  at  last  I  see  it  ^oom, 
Aad  the  bright  evening  star,  with  golden  crest. 

Appear  out  of  the  east ; 
Fair  child  of  beauty,  elorious  lamp  of  love. 
How  cheerfully  thou  lookest  from  above !" 

The  mitids  who  had  accompanied  the  bride  to  her  hus- 
band's house,  approached  the  youths  who  had  just  left  the 
bridegroom,  and  they  commence  a  very  elegant  contention 
concerning  the  merits  of  the  star,  which  the  chorus  of  virgins 
is  pleased  to  characterize  as  a  cruel  planet.  They  are  silenced, 
however,  by  the  youths  hinting  that  they  are  not  such  enemies 
to  Hesper  as  they  pretend  to  be.  Then  tl^e  maids,  draw  a 
beautiful,  and,  with  Catullus,  a  favourite  comparison  between 
an  unblemished  virgin,  and  a  delicate  flower  in  a  garden : 

**  Ut  flos  in  septis  secretus  naadtur  hortis, 
Ignotus  pecoii,  miUo  convulsus  aretro, 
Quem  mulcent  aure,  firmat  sol,  educat  I 


*  See  also  Moschus,  Idyl  7. 


CATULLUS.  299 


Midti  ilhim  pueii,  miilt»  optavere  puells. 
Idem  cum  tenui  catptus  defloruit  UDCui* 
Nulli  ilium  pueri,  nulle  optavere  puelle. 
Sic  virgu  dam  intacta  manet,  turn  cara  auia ;  aed 
Cum  castum  amisit,  polluto  corpora,  florem» 
Nac  pueria  jucunda  manet,  nee  caia  pualiia/ 


ff« 


To  the  sentiment  delineated  by  this  image,  the  vouths  reply 
by  one  scarcely  less  beautiful,  emblematical  of  the  happiness 
of  the  married  state;  and  as  this  was  a  theme  in  which  the 
maidens  were  probably  not  unwilling  to  be  overcome,  they 
unite  in  the  last  stanza  with  the  chorus  of  young  men,  in 
recooifflending  to  the  bride  to  act  the  part  of  a  submissive 
spouse. 

Few  passages  in  Latin  poetry  have  been  more  frequently 
imitated,  and  none  more  deservedly,  than  the  above-quoted' 
verses  of  Catullus,  who  certainly  excels  almost  all  other 
writers,  in  the  beauty  and  propriety  of  his  similes.  The  great- 
est poets  have  not  disdained  to  transplant  this  exquisite  flower 
of  song.  Perhaps  the  most  successful  imitation  is  one  by  the 
Prince  of  the  romantic  bards  of  Italy,  in  the  first  canto  of  his 
OrlandOy  and  which  it  may  be  amusing  to  compare  with  the 
original : 

**  La  Veisinella  ^  aimiie  alia  roaa, 

Che  in  bel  gpiardin  8u  la  nativa  ap^, 

Ifeatre  sola,  e  aictva  ai  riposa, 

Hh  gregge,  n^  pastor  ae  le  av vicina ; 

L'aura  soave,  o  I'alba  nu^doaa,  - 

L'acqua,  la  terra  al  suo  ravor  s'inchina : 

Giovini  vaghi,  e  doone  iuoamorate* 

Amano  averae  e  seni,  e  temple  ornate. 

Ma  non  at  tosto  dal  matemo  atelo 
Bimoaaa  viene,  e  dal  suo  ceppo  venle; 
Che  quanto  a^ea  dagli  uonuni,  e  dal  delo, 
Payor,  fnax^,  e  1;)ellezza  tutto  perde. 
.    La  vergme,  che  11  fior,  di  che  piOi  zelo, 
Che  de  begll  occhi,  e  deDa  vita,  arer  d^, 
Laacia  altrui  corre,  il  pr^o,  ch'avea  dinanti, 
Perde  nel  cor  de  tutti  gli  al^  amanti." 

The  reader  may  perhaps  like  to  see  how  this  theme  has 
been  managed  by  an  old  IVencA  poet  nearly  contemporary 
with  Ariosto : 

'*  La  jeune  vlerge  eat  Mmhlable  k  la  rose, 
Att  beau  jardin,  sur  l*6pine  native, 
Tandis  que  aikre  et  aeulette  repose. 
Sans  otie  troupeau  ni  berser  y  arrive ; 
L'air  doux  T^chaufle,  et  r  Aurore  I'arrose, 
La  terre,  l*eau  par  sa  faveur  I'avive ; 
Iftais  jeunea  gens  et  dames  amoureoses, 


300  CATULT.US. 

0e  la  cuefllir  ont  les  mftiof  eDvieutes ; 
La  teire  et  Pair,  qui  la  soulaient  nounir. 
La  quittent  Ion  et  la  hoMent  fl6tiir*." 

It  U  evident  that  Ariosto  has  suggested  several  things  to  the 
French  poet,  as  he  has  also  done  to  the  imitators  in  our  own 
language,  in  which  the  simile  has  been  frequently  attempted, 
but  not  with  much  success.  Ben  Jonson  has  translated  it 
miserably,  substituting  doggerel  verse  for  the  sweet  flow  of 
the  Latin  poetry,  and  verbal  antithesis  and  conceit  for  that 
beautiful  simplicity  of  idea  which  forms  the  chief  charm  of 
the  original : 

'*  Look  how  a  flower  that  dofe  in  dofet  grows. 
Hid  from  rade  catde,  bniifled  by  no  plows.    Sec. 

One  of  the  best  of  the  numerous  English  imitations  is  that  in 
the  Lay  of  lolanUy  introduced  in  Bland's  Fovar  Shmes  ^ 
Cythera : 

**  A  tender  maid  is  Uke  a  flow'ret  sweet. 

Within  the  covert  of  a  nrden  bom ; 
Nor  flock  nor  hind  distuiS  the  calm  retreat, 

But  on  tlie  parent  stalk  it  blooms  untom, 
Refresh'd  by  vernal  rains  and  gentle  beat. 

The  balm  of  evening,  and  the  dews  of  mom: 
Tooths  and  enamoured  maidens  vie  to  wear 
This  flowei^-their  bosoms  gmce,  or  twined  around  their  hair. 

**  No  sooner  gathered  from  the  vernal  bough, 
Where  frem  and  blooming  to  the  sight  it  grew. 

Than  all  who  marked  its  opening  beauty  blow. 
Forsake  the  tainted  sweet,  and  fiided  hue. 

And  she  who  yields,  forgetful  of  her  vow, 
To  one  but  newly  loi^,  another's  due. 

Shall  live,  though  high  for  heavenly  beauty  prised. 

By  youths  unhonoured,  and  by  maids  despised.*' 

One  of  the  lines  in  the  passage  of  Catullus, 

**  Multi  ilium  pueri— mult»  optavere  puells," 

and  its  converse, 

**  NuUi  Ulum  pueri— nunc  optavere  puelle," 

have  been  copied  by  Ovid  in  his  Metamorphaaesf^  and  applied 
to  Narcissus, 

"  Multi  ilium  pueri,  multe  cupiere  puelle. 
Bed  fiiit  in  teneiA  tam  dura  superbia  formA, 
Nulli  ilium  juvenes,  nuUe  tetigere  puells.** 

•  €ohony«  f  Lib.  III. 


CATULLUS.  301 

The  origin  of  the  line, 

*'  Nee  pueiif  jueondt  manet,  nee  ean  piielUt,** 

may  be  traced  to  a  fragment  of  the  Greek  poet  Mimnermus : 

63.  De  AH. — ^The  story  of  Atis  is  one  of  the  most  myste- 
rious of  the  mythological  emblems.  The  fable  was  explained 
by  Porphyry;  and  the  Emperor  Julian  afterwards  invented 
and  pablished  an  allegory  of  this  mystic  tale.  According  to 
tfaem,  the  voluntary  emasculation  of  Atis  was  typical  of  the 
revolution  of  the  sun  between  the  tropics,  or  the  separation 
of  the  human  soul  from  vice  and  error.  In  the  literal  accep- 
tation in  which  it  is  presented  by  Catullus,  the  fable  seems 
an  unpromising  and  rather  a  peculiar  subject  for  poetry : 
indeed,  there  is  no  example  of  a  similar  event  being  cele- 
brated in  verse,  except  the  various  poems  on  the  fate  of 
Abelard.  It  is  likewise  the  only  specimen  we  have  in  Latin 
of  the  Galliambic  measure ;  so  called,  because  sung  by  Galli, 
the  eiTeminate  votaries  of  Cybele.  The  Romans,  bemg  a  more 
Bober  and  severe  people  than  the  Greeks,  gave  less  encou- 
ragement than  they  to  the  celebration  of  the  rites  of  Bacchus, 
and  have  poured  forth  but  few  dithyrambic  lines.  The  genius 
of  their  language  and  of  their  usual  style  of  poetry,  as  well 
as  their  own  practical  and  imitative  character,  were  unfavour- 
able to  the  composition  of  such  bold,  figurative,  and  discur- 
8i?e  strains.  They  have  left  no  verses  which  can  be  strictly 
called  dithyrambic,  except,  perhaps,  the  nineteenth  ode  of 
the  second  book  of  Horace,  and  a  chorus  in  the  (Edipus  of 
Seneca.  If  not  perfectly  dithyrambic,  the  numbers  of  the 
Aw  of  Catullus  are,  however,  strongly  expressive  of  distrac- 
tion and  enthusiasm.  The  violent  bursts  of  passion  are  admi- 
rably aided  by  the  irresistible  torrent  of  words,  and  by  the 
cadence  of  a  measure  powerfully  denoting  mental  agony  and 
remorse.  In  this  production,  now  unexampled  in  every  sense 
of  the  word,  Catullus  is  no  longer  the  light  agreeable  poet, 
who  counted  the  kisses  of  his  mistress,  and  called  on  the 
Cupids  to  lament  her  sparrow.  His  ideas  are  full  of  fire,  and 
bis  language  of  wildness :  He  pours  forth  his  thoughts  with 
an  energy,  rapidity,  and  enthusiasm,  so  different  from  his  usual 
tone,  and,  indeed,  from  that  of  all  Latin  poets,  that  this  pro- 
duction has  been  supposed  to  be  a  translation  from  soine 
ancient  Greek  dithyrambic,  of  which  it  breathes  all  the  pas- 
sion and  poetic  phrensy.  The  employment  of  long  compound 
epithets,  which  constantly  recur  in  the  Atia^ — 


303  CATULLUS. 

«  Ubd  eerva  sylviailtriz,  ubi  aper  nemoriittgof,"— 

is  also  a  strong  mark  of  imitation  of  the  Greek  dithyrambicB; 
it  being  supposed,  that  such  sonorous  and  new-invented  wordi 
were  most  befitting  intoxication  or  religious  enthusiasm*. 
Anacreon,  in  his  thirteenth  ode,  alludes  to  the  lamentatioos 
and  transports  of  Atis,  as  to  a  well-known  poetical  tradition: 

Tof  ifAtBnKyf  'Attif 
Aryno-tf  f»^«F«F<tl.** 

Atisy  it  appears  from  the  poem  of  Catullus,  was  a  beautiful 
youth,  probably  of  Greece,  who,   forsaking  his  home  and 

(parents,  sailed  with  a  few  companions  to  Phrygia,  and,  having 
anded,  hurried  to  the  grove  consecrated  to  the  great  goddess 
Cybeley — 

*'  Adiitque  opaea  sylvis  redimita  loca  De»,*' 

There,  struck  with  superstitious  phrensy,  he  qualified  himself 
for  the  service  of  that  divinity ;  and,  snatching  the  musical 
instruments  used  in  her  worship,  he  exhorted  his  companions) 
who  had  followed  his  example,  to  ascend  to  the  temple  of 
Cybele.  At  this  part  of  the  poem,  we  follow  the  new  votary 
of  the  Phrygian  goddess  through  all  bis  wild  traversing  of 
woods  and  mountains,  till  at  length,  having  reached  the  ten|ple> 
Atis  and  his  companions  drop  asleep,  exhausted  by  fatigue 
and  mental  distraction.  Being  tranquillized  in  some  measure 
by  a  night's  repose,  Atis  becomes  sensible  of  the  misery  of 
his  situation;  and,  struck  with  horror  at  his  rash  deed,  he 
returns  to  the  sea-shore.  There  he  casts  his  eyes,  bathed  m 
tears,  over  the  ocean  homeward ;  and  comparing  his  former 
happiness  with  his  present  wretched  condition,  he  pours  forth 
a  complaint  unrivalled  in  energy  and  pathos.  Gibbon  talks 
of  the  different  emotions  produced  by  the  transition  of  Atis 
from  the  wildest  enthusiasm  to  sober  pathetic  complaint  for 
his  irretrievable  lossf ;  but,  in  fact,  his  complaint  is  not  soberly 
pathetic — to  which  the  Galliambic  measure  would  be  little 
suited :  it  is.  On  the  contrary,  the  most  impassioned  expressioo 
of  mental  agony  and  bitter  regret  in  the  wide  compass  of 
Roman  literature : 


*  Aiiatotfe,JRA«tor.  Lib.  III.  c.  8. 

t  Decline  tmdfdUofthe  Bom,  Emp.  c.28. 


CATULLUS.  303 

*<  Abero  fbro,  palaitift,  stadio  et  gymnaiiif  ? 

Miser,  ah  miser !  querendum  est  etiam  atque  etiam,  mime : 

Ego  puber,  eso  adolesceiu,  ego  ephebus,  ego  puer; 

Ego  symnasn  fiii  floa,  ego  enm  decua  olei ; 

l£hi  janu«  frequeotea,  mihi  limina  tepida, 

Mihi  floridis  corollis  redimita  domus  erat, 

Linquendum  uU  esset,  orto  mihi  Sole,  cubiculum. 

Egooe  Dedm  miniitm  et  Cybelea  fiunuia  ferar  ? 

Ego  Bfenas,  ego  met  pais,  ego  vir  sterilia  ero  ? 

Ego  yifidis  algida  Ide  nive  amicta  loca  colara  ? 

Ego  yitam  acam  sub  altia  Phrygie  coiuminibua, 

Ubi  cerva  symcultiiz,  ubi  aper  nemoriva^  ? 

Jam  jam  dolet  quod  egi,  jam  jamque  pcemtet.'* 

One  is  vexed,  that  the  conclusion  of  this  splendid  production 
should  be  so  puerile.  Cybele,  dreading  the  defection  and 
escape  of  her  newly  acquired  votary,  lets  loose  a  lion,  which 
driTeshim  back  to  her  groves, — 

**  Ubi  aemper  omne  vits  apatium  frmula  fait." 

Muretus  attempted  a  Latin  Galliambic  Address  to  Bacchus  in 
imitation  of  the  measure  employed  in  the  Atis  of  Catullus, 
aod  he  has  strenuously  tried  to  make  his  poem  resemble  its 
model  by  an  affected  use  of  uncouth  compound  epithets. 
Pigna,  an  Italian  poet,  has  adopted  similar  numbers  in  a  La« 
tio  poem,  on  the  metamorphosis  of  the  water  nymph,  Pitys,  who 
was  changed  into  a  fir-tree,  for  having  fled  from  the  embraces 
of  Boreas.  In  many  of  the  lines  he  has  closely  followed  Ca- 
tullus ;  but  it  seems  scarcely  possible  that  any  modern  poet 
could  excite  in  his  mind  the  enthusiasm  essential  for  the  pro- 
duction of  such  works.  Catullus  probably  believed  as  little 
iu  Atis  and  Cybele  as  Muretus,  but  he  lived  among  men  who 
did;  and  though  his  opinions  might  not  be  influenced,  his  ima- 
gination was  tinged  with  the  colours  of  the  age. 

^tis  is  the  name  of  one  of  the  tragic  operas  of  Quinault, 
which,  I  believe,  was  the  most  popular  of  his  pieces  except 
Arwide;  but  it  has  little  reference  to  the  classic  story  of  the 
votdry  of  Cybele.  The  French  Atis  is  a  vehement  and  pow- 
erful lover,  who  elopes  with  the  nymph  Sangaride  on  the 
wings  of  the  Zephyrs,  which  had  been  placed  by  Cybele,  who 
was  herself  enamoured  of  the  youth,  at  the  disposal  of  Atis« 
It  seems  a  poor  production  in  itself,  (how  different  from  the 
operas  of  Metastasio !)  but  it  was  embellished  by  splendid  sce- 
nery, and  the  music  of  Lulli,  adapted  to  the  chorus  of  Phry- 
gians, and  Zephyrs,  and  Dreams,  and  Streams,  and  Cory  bantes* 

64.  Epiihalamitm  Pdei  et  Thetidis.— This  is  the  longest 
and  most  elaborate  of  the  productions  of  Catullus.  It  dis- 
plays much  accurate  description,  as  well  as  pathetic  and  im- 


304  CATULLUS. 

Eassioned  incident.  Catullus  was  a  Greek  scholar,  and  ail 
is  commentators  seem  determined  that  his  best  poems  should 
be  considered  as  of  Greek  invention.  I  do  not  believe,  how- 
ever, that  the  whole  of  this  epithalamium  was  taken  from  any 
one  poet  of  Greece,  as  the  Coma  Berenices  was  from  Calli- 
machus;  but  the  author  undoubtedly  borrowed  a  great  deal 
from  various  writers  of  that  country.  Hesiod  wrote  an  Epi- 
thalamium, 'Etc  IlfiXsa  xoi  e^riv*,  some  fragments  of  which  hare 
been  cited  by  Tzetzes,  in  his  prokgomena  to  LycophroD's 
Cassandra;  and  judging  from  these,  it  appears  to  have  sug- 
gested several  lines  of  the  epithalamium  of  Catullus.  The 
adornment,  however,  and  propriety  of  its  language,  and  the 
usual  practice  of  Catullus  in  other  productions,  render  it  pro- 
bable, that  he  has  chiefly  selected  his  beauties  from  the  Alex- 
andrian poets.  Valckenar,  in  his  edition  of  Theocritus,  (1779,) 
has  shown,  that  the  Idyls  of  Theocritus,  particularly  the 
•Sdaniazusii  have  been  of  much  service  to  our  Latin  poet;  and 
a  late  German  commentator  has  pointed  out  more  than  tweotj 
passages,  in  which  he  has  not  merely  imitated,  but  actually 
translated,  Apollonius  Rhodiusf . 

The  proper  subject  of  this  epithalamium  is  the  festivals  held 
in  Thessaly  in  honour  of  the  nuptials  of  Peleus  and  Thetis; 
but  it  is  chiefly  occupied  with  a  long  episode,  containing  the 
story  of  Ariadne.  It  commences  with  the  sailing  of  the  ship 
Argo  on  the  celebrated  expedition  to  which  that  vessel  has 
given  name.  The  Nereids  were  so  much  struck  with  the  un- 
usual spectacle,  that  they  all  emerged  from  the  deep ;  and 
Thetis,  one  of  their  number,  fell  in  love  with  Peleus,  who  had 
accompanied  the  expedition,  and  who  was  instantly  seized  with 
a  reciprocal  passion.  Little  is  said  as  to  the  manner  in  which 
the  courtship  was  conducted,  and  the  poet  hastens  to  the  pre- 
parations for  the  nuptials.  On  this  joyful  occasion,  all  the  in- 
habitants of  Thessaly  flock  to  its  capital,  Pharsalia.  Every 
thing  in  the  royal  palace  is  on  a  magnificent  scale ;  but  the 
poet  chiefly  describes  the  strag%ila,  or  coverlet,  of  the  nuptial 
couch,  on  which  was  depicted  the  concluding  part  of  the  story 
of  Theseus  and  Ariadne.  Ariadne  is  represented  as  standing 
on  the  beach,  where  she  had  been  abandoned,  while  asleepi 
by  Theseus,  and  gazing  in  fixed  despair  at  the  departing  sail 
of  her  false  lover.  Never  was  there  a  finer  picture  drawn  of 
complete  mental  desolation.  She  was  incapable  of  exhibiting 
violent  signs  of  grief:  She  neither  beats  her  bosom,  nor  bursts 
into  tears ;  but  the  diadem  which  had  compressed  her  locks-- 
the  light  mantle  which  had  floated  around  lier  form — ^the  veil 

*  FaMduB,  Bih.  Lot.  t  Blitseheittcfaius,  in  Uct.  ad  ObM 


CATULLUS.  305 

1 

vhich  had  covered  het  bosom — all  neglected,  and  fallen  at  her 
feet,  were  the  sport  of  the  waves  which  dashed  the  strand, 
while  she  herself,  regardless  and  stupified  with  horror  at  her 
frgiitful  situation,  stood  like  the  motionless  statue  of  a  Bac- 
chante,— 

"  Saxea  ut  effigies  Bacchantis  protpicit  Evoe ; 

Non  flavo  retineDs  subtilem  vertice  mitrajd, 

Non  cootecta  levi  velatum  pectiu  amictu,  v 

Non  tereti  strophio  luctantes  vincta  papiUas ; 

Oninia  quae  toto  delapsa  e  corpore  passim 

IpsiuB  ante  pedea  fluctus  sails  alludebant." 

The  above  passage  is  thus  imitated  by  the  author  of  the  elegant 
poem  CiriSj  which  has  been  attributed  to  Virgil,  and  is  not 
unworthy  of  his  genius  : 

*'  lofeliz  Tirgo  tota  bacchatur  in  urbe  : 
-Non  styrace  Idaeo  fragrantes  picta  capillos^ 
Cognita  non  teoeris  pedibus  Sicyonia  servans, 
Non  niveo  retinens  baccata  monilia  collo." — v.  1G7. 

Catullus,  leaving  Ariadne  in  the  attitude  above  described, 
recapitulates  the  incidents,  by  which  she  had  been  placed  in 
this  agonizing  situation.  He  relates,  in  some  excellent  Imes, 
the  magnanimous  entcrprize  of  Theseus— *his  voyage,  and  ar- 
rival in  Crete  :  He  gives  us  a  picture  of  the  youthful  innocence 
of  Ariadne,  reared  in  the  bosom  of  her  mother,  like  a  myrtle 
springing  up  on  the  solitary  banks  of  the  Euphrates,  or  a  flower 
whose  blossom  is  brought  forth  by  the  breath  of  spring.  The 
combat  of  Theseus  with  the  Minotaur  is  but  shortly  and  coldly 
described.  It  is  obvious  that  the  poet  merely  intended  to 
raise  our  idea  of  the  valour  of  Theseus,  so  far  as  to  bestow  in- 
terest and  dignity  on  the  passion  of  Ariadne,  and  to  excuse 
her  for  sacrificing  to  its  gratification  all  feelings  of  domestic 
duty  and  affection.  Having  yielded  and  accompanied  her 
'over,  she  was  deserted  by  him,  in  that  forlorn  situation,  her 
deep  sense  of  which  had  changed  her  to  the  likeness  of  a  Bac- 
chante sculptured  in  stone.  Her  first  feelings  of  horror  and 
atstonishment  had  deprived  her  of  the  power  of  utterance  ;  but 
she  at  length  bursts  into  exclamations  against  the  perfidy  of 
men,  and  their  breach  of  vows,  which 

— '*  Gtmcta  aerti  discerpunt  inita  venti. 

Jam  jam  nulla  viro  juianti  femina  credat» 

NuHa  viri  speret  sermones  esse  fideles : 

Qui,  dum  aliquid  cupiens  animus  prsgestit  apisel, 

Nil  metuunt  jurare,  nihil  promittere  parcunt. 

8ed  simal  ac  cupidse-  mentis  satiata  libido  est,] 

Dicta  nihil  metu^re,  nihil  pe^uria  cuniat." 

Vol-  I 2  O 


306  CATULLUS. 

This  passage  has  been  obviously  imitated  by  AriostOi  in  his 
Orlando — 

"  Donne,  alcana  di  voi  mai  piii  non  sia 
Che  a  parole  d'amante  abbia  a  dar  fede. 
L'amante  per  aver  quel  che  deaa, 
Senza  curar  che  Dio  tutto  ode  e  vede» 
AvvUuppa  promesee,  e  giuramenti, 
Che  tutti  spaigon  poi  per  Taiia  i  venti." 

After  indulging  in  such  general  reflections,  Ariadne  complains 
of  the  cruelty  and  ingratitude  of  Theseus  in  particular,  whom 
she  thus  apostrophizes — 

"  Qusnam  te  genuit  solft  sub  rupe  leena  ? 

Quod  mare  conceptual  spumantibus  exspuit  undis  ? 

Qua  Syrtia,  quae  Scyila,  vorax  que  vaata  Charybdls  ?'* 

These  lines  seem  to  have  been  suggested  by  the  address  of 
Patroclus  to  Achilles,  near  the  commencement  of  the  sixteenth 
book  of  the  Iliad — 


*'  *Oy»  ufA  9-oi  yt  ird/ni^  if  i^gwor*  IlirXitfCt 

ITffT^aU  /*  ixtfittru/iri  toi  F«of  W»  A^nftf." 

Catullus,  having  put  the  expression  of  this  idea  in  the  mouth 
of  a  princess  abandoned  by  her  lover,  it  became  a  sort  of  Fcr- 
inula  for  deserted  heroines  among  subsequent  poets.  Thus 
Ovid,  in  the  eighth  book  of  his  Metamorphose^--' 


**  Non  genitriz  Europa  tibi  est,  sed  inhoapita  Sjrrtis, 
Armenia  tigres,  austroque  agitata  Chaiybdia ;" 


and  thus  Virgil  makes  Dido  address  iEneas — 

"  Nee  tibi  Diva  parens,  geaeiis  nee  Dardanus  auctor, 
Perfide,  sed  duris  genuit  te  cautibus  -horrens 
Caucasus,  Hyrcanxque  admdrunt  ubera  tigres.*' 

Tasso,  who  was  a  great  imitator  of  the  Latin  poets,  attributes, 
from  the  lips  of  Armida,  a  similar  genealogy  to  Rinaldo — 

« 

"  Nr^  te  Sofk  produsse,  e  non  sei  nato 
Dell'  Azzio  sangue  tu.    Te  Tonda  insana 
Del  mar  produsse,  e  '1  Caucaso  gelato, 
£  le  manune  allattar  de  tigie  Ircana.*' 

Boileau  had  happily  enough  parodied  those  rodomontades  in 
the  earlier  editions  of  the  iJurin;  but  the  passage  has  been 
omitted  in  all  those  subsequent  to  that  of  1683 — 


CATULLUS.  307 

*'  Non»  ton  p^re  k  Paris  ne  fut  point  boulanger, 
Et  tu  n'es  point  du  sang  de  Genrais,  I'horloeer; 
Ta  m^re  ne  fut  point  ia  mattrease  d*une  codie : 
Caucase  dans  ses  flancs  te  forma  d'uae  roche, 
Vne  tigresse  affreuse  en  quelque  antre  6cait6, 
Te  fit  sucer  son  lait  avec  sa  cniaute.'* 

I  do  oot  think  the  circumstances  in  which  Armida  pours  forth 
her  reproaches  are  judiciously  selected.  The  Ariadne  of 
Catullus  vents  her  complaints  when  her  betrayer  is  beyond 
reach  of  hearing,  and  Dido,  though  in  his  presence,  before  he 
had  taken  his  departure:  But  Armida  runs  after,  and  over- 
takes Rinaldo,  in  which  there  is  something  degrading.  She 
expresses,  however,  more  tenderness  and  amorous  devotedness 
amid  her  revilings,  than  any  of  her  predecessors — 

*'  Stniegi  la  fede  nostra ;  anch'io  t'affretto ; 
Che  dico  nostra  ?  Ah  non  piU  mia :  fedele 
Sono  a  te  solo,  idolo  mio  ciudele  !*' 

When  she  has  ended  her  complaints  of  the  cruelty  and 
ingratitude  of  Theseus,  Ariadne  expresses  a  very  natural  wish, 
that  the  ship  Argo  had  never  reached  her  native  shores— 


**  Jupiter  Omnlpotens,  udnam  ne  tempore  prime 
Gnoela  Cecrepue  tetigissent  littora  puppes." 


Thus,  apparently,  imitated  by  Virgil — 

**  Felix,  heu  nimium  felix !  si  littora  tantum 
Nonquam  Dardanie  tetigissent  nostra  carina 


*t 


But  both  these  passages,  it  is  probable,  were  originally  drawn 
from  the  beginning  of  the  Medea  of  Euripides — 


Catullus  proceeds  with  a  much  closer  imitation  of  Euripides-— 

**  Nunc  quo  me  refiwam  ?  quali  spe  penfita  nitar  ? 
'  An  patris  auxilium  sperem,  quemne  ipsa  reliqui  ?" 

which  is  almost  translated  from  the  Medea — 

The  grief  and  repentance  of  Ariadne  are  at  length  followed 
^y  a  sense  of  personal  danger  and  hardship;  and  her  pathetic 


308  CATULLUS. 

soliloquy  terminates  with  execrations  on  the  author  of  her 
misfortunes,  to  which — 

-  **  AnQiiit  inTicto  ccelestiim  numine  rector ;  • 

Quo  tuuc  et  teHufl,  atque  horrida  contremuerunt 
iEquora,  cpncussitque  micantia  sidera  mundus," 

an  image  probably  derived  from  the  celebrated  description  in 
the  Iliad — 'H  xat  xuav^rjCiv,  ifec.  This  promise  of  Jupiter  wa« 
speedily  accomplished,  in  the  well-known  and  miserable  fate 
of  iEgeus,  the  father  of  Theseus. 

We  are  naturally  led  to  compare  with  Catullus,  the  efforts 
of  his  own  countrymen,  particularly  those  of  Ovid  and  Virgil, 
in  portraying  the  agonies  of  deserted  nymphs  and  princesses. 
Both  these  poets  have  borrowed   largely  from  their   prede- 
cessor.    Ovid  has  treated  the  subject  of  Ariadne  not  less  than 
four  times.     In  the  epistle  of  Ariadne  to  Theseus,  he   has 
painted,  like  Catullus,  her  disordered  person — her  sense  of 
desertion,  and  remembrance  of  the  benefits  she  had  conferred 
on  Theseus:  But  the  epistle  is  a  cold  production,  chiefly 
because  her  grief  is  not  immediately  presented  before  us;  and 
she  merely  tells  that  she  had  wept,  and  sighed,  and  raved. 
The  minute  detail,  too,  into  which  she  enters,  is  inconsistent 
with  her  vehement  passion.     She  recollects   too  well  each 
heap  of  sand  which  retarded  her  steps,  and  the  thorns  on  the 
summit  of  the  mountain.     Returning  from  her  wanderings, 
she  addresses  her  couch,  of  which  she  asks  advice,  till  she 
becomes  overpowered  by  apprehension  for  the  wild  beasts  and 
marine  monsters,  of  which  she  presents  her  false  lover  with 
a  faithful  catalogue.     The  simple  ideas  of  Catullus  are  fre- 
quently converted   into  conceits,  and  his  natural  bursts  of 
passion,  into  quibbles  and  artificial  points.     In  the  eighth 
book  of  the  Metamorphoses^  the  melancholy  part  of  Ariadne's 
story  is  only  recalled,  in  order  to  introduce  the  transformation 
of  her  crown  into  a  star.     In  the  third  book  of  the  Faatiy  she 
deplores  the  double  desertion  of  Theseus  and  Bacchus.    It 
is  in  the  first  book  of  the  Art  of  Love,  that  Ovid  approaches 
nearest  to  Catullus,  particularly  in  the  sudden  contrast  between 
the  solitude  and  melancholy  of  Ariadne,  and  the  revelry  of 
the  Bacchanalians.     Some  of  Virgil's  imitations  of  Catullus 
have  been  already  pointed  out:  But  part  of  the  complaint  of 
Dido  is  addressed  to  her  betrayer,  and  contains  a  bitterness 
of  sarcasm,  and  eloquence  of  reproof,  which  neither  Catullus 
nor  Ovid  could  reach. 

The  desertion  of  Olimpia  by  Bireno,  related  in  the  tenth 
canto  of  the  Orlando  Furiosoj  has,  in  its  incidents  at  least,  a 


CATULLUS.  sot 

strong  resemblance  to  the  poem  of  Catullus.  Bireno,  Duke 
of  Zealand,  while  on  a  voyage*  from  Holland  to  his  own 
country,  touches  on  Frisia;  and,  being  smit  with  love  for 
Olimpia,  daughter  of  the  king,  carries  her  off  with  him;  but, 
in  the  farther  progress  of  the  voyage,  he  lands  on  a  desert 
island,  and,  while  Olimpia  is  asleep,  he  leaves  her,  and  sets 
sail  in  the  darkness  of  night.  Olimpia  awakes,  and,  finding 
herself  alone,  hurries  to  the  beach,  and  then  ascends  a  rock, 
whence  she  descries,  by  light  of  the  moon,  the  departing  sail 
of  her  lover.  Here,  and  afterwards  while  in  her  tent,  she 
pours  forth  her  plaints  against  the  treachery  of  Bireno.  In 
the  details  of  this  story,  Ariosto  has  chiefly  copied  from  Ovid; 
but  he  has  also  availed  himself  of  several  passages  in  Catullus. 
As  Ariosto,  in  his  story  of  Olimpia,  principally  chose  Ovid  for 
his  medel,  so  Tasso,  in  that  of  Armida,  seems  chiefly  to  have 
kept  his  eye  on  Virgil  and  Catullus.  But  Armida  is  not  like 
Ariadne,  an  injured  and  innocent  maid,  nor  a  stately  queen, 
like  Dido;  but  a  voluptuous  and  artful  magician, 


JK 


Che  nena  doglia  amara 


Oia  tutte  non  obblia  Tarte  e  le  frodi.*' 

It  has  been  mentioned,  that  the  desertion  of  Ariadne  was 
represented  on  one  compartment  of  the  coverlet  of  the  nuptial 
couch  of  Peieus — on  another  division  of  it,  the  story  of  Bac- 
chus and  Ariadne  was  Exhibited.  The  introduction  of  Bacchus 
and  his  train  closes  the  episode  with  an  animated  picture,  and 
forms  a  pleasing  contrast  to  the  melancholy  scenes  that  pre- 
cede it:  At  the  same  time,  the  poet,  delicately  breakmg  off 
without  even  hinting  at  the  fair  one's  ready  acceptance  of  her 
new  lover,  leaves  the  pity  we  feel  for  her  abandonment  un- 
weakened  on  the  mind. 

65.  ^d  Ortalum.  This  is  the  first  of  the  elegies  of  Catullusi 
and  mdeed  the  earliest  of  any  length  or  celebrity  which  had 
hitherto  appeared  in  the  Latin  language.  Elegies  were  origi- 
nally written  by  the  Greeks  in  alternate  hexameter  and  pen- 
tameter lines,  "versibus  impariter  junctis."  This  measure, 
which  was  at  first  appropriated  to  deplore  misfortunes,  parti- 
cularly the.  loss  of  friends.  \vas  soon  employed  to  complain  of 
unsuccessful  love,  and,  by  a  very  easy  transition,  to  describe 
the  delights  of  gratified  passion : 

**  Querimonia  primikm. 


Post  etiam  inclusa  est  voti  sententia  compos." 

Matters  were  in  this  state  in  the  age  of  Mimnermus,  who  was 
contemporary  with  Solon,  and  was  the  most  celebrated  elegiac 


810  CATULLUS. 

» 

poet  pf  the  Greeks.  Hence,  from  bis  time  every  poem  in  thai 
measure,  whatever  was  the« subject,  came  to  be  denominated 
elegy.  The  mixed  species  of  verse,  however,  was  always 
considered  essential,  so  that  the  complaint  of  Bion  on  the 
death  of  Adonis,  or  that  of  Moschus  on  the  loss  of  Bion,  is 
hardly  accounted  such,  being  written  in  a  different  sort  of 
measure.  In  the  strict  acceptation  of  the  term,  scarcely  any 
Greek  elegy  has  descended  to  us  entire, /except  perhaps  a  few 
lines  by  Callimachus  on  the  death  of  Heraclitus. 

This  elegy  of  Catullus  maybe  considered  as  a  sort  of  intro- 
duction to  that  which  follows  it.  Hortalus,  to  whom  it  b 
addressed,  had  requested  him  to  translate  from  Callimachus 
the  poem  De  Coma  Berenices,  He  apologizes  for  the  delay 
which  had  taken  place  in  complying  with  the  wishes  of  his 
friend,  on  account  of  the  grief  he  had  experienced  from  the 
premature  death  of  his  brother,  for  whom  he  bursts  forth  into 
this  pathetic  lamentation : — 


c« 


Nunquam  ego  te,  Titft  frater  amabOior, 
Asptciaoi  postbac ;  at  certe  semper  amabo. 

Semper  moesta  tu&  carmina  morte  canam ; 
Qualia  sub  densis  ramorum  concinit  umbris 

Dauliaa,  abeumpti  &ta  gemens  ItylL' 


)f 


This  simile  i^  taken  from  the  19th  book  of  the  Odyssey — 

Kaxo*  Auinca^  lot^ec  nor  io-Tdt/uiroiftt 
^fv/gi»v  tr  frvra/iOta-if  KAdf^c^im  frvrufcwtf 
IlAii*  oxo^v^o/Ecira  Itvxof  ^ixov," 

*  • 

and  it  appears  in  turn  to  have  been  the  foundation  of  Virgil's 
celebrated  comparison : —   ^ 

«  Qualia  popuIeA  moereAs  PhQomela  sub  wBabt^ 
AmissoB  queritur  foetus,'^  &c. 

This  simile  has  been  beautifully  varied  and  adorned  by  Mos- 
chus* and  Quintus  Calaberf ,  among  the  Greeks ;  and  among 
the  modern  Italians  by  Petrarch,  in  his  exquisite  sonnet  on 
the  death  of  Laura : — 

'*  Qual  Rossignuol  che  si  soave  plagne,"  ^cc 

and  by  Naugerius,  in  his  ode  M  Auroram, 

"  Nunc  ab  umbroso  simul  esculeto, 
Daulias  late  queritur :  querelas 
*  Consonum  dit:a  nemus,  et  jocosa  reddit  imago.*' 


*  Eidul.  IV.  V.  21.  t  Lib.  XII.  ▼.  489. 


CATULLUS.  311 

66.  De  Coma  Berenicea,  is  the  poem  alluded  to  in  the  former 
elegy:  it  is  translated  from  a  production  of  Callimachus,  of 
which  only  two  distichs  remain,  one  preserved  by  Theon,  a 
scholiast,  on  Aratus,  and  the  other  in  the  Scholia  on  Apollo* 
nios  Rhodius*. 

Callimachus  was  esteemed  by  all  antiquity  as  the  finest 
elegiac  poet  of  Greece,  or  at  least  as  next  in  merit  to  Mim- 
nennus.  He  belonged  to  the  poetic  school  which  flourished 
at  A.lexandria  from  the  time  of  Ptolemy  Philadelphus  to  that 
of  Ptolemy  Physcon,  and  which  still  sheds  a  lustre  over  the 
dynasty  of  the  Lagides,  in  spite  of  the  crimes  and  personal 
deformities  with  which  their  names  have  been  sarcastically 
associated. 

After  the  partition  of  the  Greek  empire  among  the  succes- 
sors of  Alexander,  the  city  to  which  he  had  given  name  be- 
came the  capital  of  the  literary  world ;  and  arts  and  learning 
long  continued  to  be  protected  even  by  the  most  degenerate 
of  the  Ptolemies.  But  the  school  which  subsisted  at  Alex- 
andria was  of  a  very  different  taste  and  description  from  that 
which  had  flourished  at  Athens  in  the  age  of  Pericles.  In 
%ypt  the  Greeks  became  a  more  learned,  and  perhaps  a  more 
philosophical  people,  than  they  had  been  in  the  days  of  their 
ancient  glory  at  home;  but  they  were  no  longer  a  nation,  and 
with  their  freedom  their  whole  strength  of  feeling,  and  pecu- 
liar tone  of  mind,  were  lost.  Servitude  and  royal  munificence, 
with  the  consequent  spirit  of  flattery  which  crept  in,  and  even 
the  enormous  library  of  Alexandria,  were  injurious  to  the 
elastic  and  native  spring  of  poetic  fandy.  The  Egyptian 
court  was  crowded  with  men  of  erudition,  instead  of  such 
men  of  genius  as  had  thronged  the  theatre  and  Agora  of 
Athens.  The  courtly  literati^  the  academicians,  and  the  libra- 
rians of  Alexandria,  were  distinguished  as  critics,  gramma- 
rians, geographers,  or  geometricians.  With  them  poetry 
became  a  matter  of  study,  not  of  original  genius  or  invention, 
and  consequently  never  reached  its  highest  flights.  Though 
not  without  amenity  and  grace,  they  wanted  that  boldness, 
sublimity,  and  poetic  enthusiasm  by  which  the  bards  of  the 
Greek  republics  were  inspired.  When,  like  Apollonius  Rho- 
dius,  they  attempted  poetry  of  the  highest  class,  they  rose 
not  above  an  elegant  mediocrity;  or  when  they  attained  per- 
fection, as  in  the  instance  of  Theocritus,  it  was  in  the  inferior 
and  more  delicate  branches  of  the  art.  Accordingly,  these 
erudite  and  ornate  poets  chiefly  selected  as  the  subjects  of 
their  muse  didactic  topics  of  astronomy  and  physics,  or  ob« 

•  Muretus,  Comment,  m  Catutt. 


312  CATULLUS. 

scure  traditions  derived  from  ancient  fable.  Lycopbron  im- 
mersed himself  in  such  a  sea  of  fabulous  learning,  that  he 
became  nearly  unintelligible,  and  all  of  them  were  marked 
with  the  blemishes  of  affectation  and  obscurity,  into  whtch 
learned  poets  are  most  apt  to  fall.  Among  the  pleiad  of 
Alexandrian  poets,  none  had  so  many  of  the  faults  and  beau- 
ties of  the  school  to  which  he  belonged  as  Cailimachus.  He 
was  conspicuous  for  his  profound  knowledge  of  the  ancient 
traditions  of  Greece,  for  his  poetic  art  and  elegant  versifica- 
tion, but  he  was  also  noted  for  deficiency  of  invention  and 
original  genius : — 

'*  Battiades  semper  toto  cantebitur  orbe, 
Quamvis  togenio  non  valet,  arte  valet*." 

The  poem  of  Catullus  has  some  faults,  which  may  be  fairly 
attributed  to  his  pedantic  model — a  certain  obscurity  in  point 
of  diction,  and  that  ostentatious  display  of  erudition,  which 
characterized  the  works  of  the  Alexandrian  poets.  The 
Greek  original,  however,  being  lost,  except  two  distichs,  it  is 
impossible  to  institute  an  accurate  comparison;  but  the  Latin 
appears  to  be  considerably  more  diffuse  than  the  Greek.  One 
distich,  which  is  still  extant  in  the  Scholia  on  Apollonius,  has 
been  expanded  by  Catullus  into  three  lines;  and  the  following 
preierved  by  Theon  has  been  dilated  into  four : — 


**  *H  I't  Key*?  /u*  f^gxt^tr  fv  it^t  to?  Bffirix«c 

Bo^T{i/;^er,  of^KUfn  ^Av-tv  i9»«f  Bius''  " 


.»  *■ 


"  Idem  me  Ule  Conon  ccelesti  lumine  vidit 

E  BereDiceo  vertice  caesariem, 
Fulgentem  clare ;  quam  multis  ilia  Deorum, 
Levia  protendeos  brachia,  polUcita  est." 

Here  the  three  words  tqv  Bs^vixt);  ^^rp^w  have  been  extended 
into  '^  E  Bereniceo  verti  csesariem  fulgentem,"  and  the  single 
word  i^xB  has  formed*  a  whole  Latin  line, 

*<  Lsvia  protendens  brachia,  pollidta  estf." 

The  Latin  poem,  like  its  Greek  original,  is  in  elegiac  verse, 
and  is  supposed  to  be  spoken  by  the  constellation  called 
Coma  Berenices.  It  relates  how  Berenice,  the  queen  and 
sister  of  Ptolemy,  (Eucrgetes,)  vowed  the  consecration  of  her 

*  Ovid,  Amor.  Lib.  I.  el.  15,  v.  14. 
t  MUUer,  EUaeUwigy  T.  II.  p.  aSI . 


CATULLUS.  3ia 

locks  to  the  immortals,  provided  her  husband  was  restored  to 
her,  safe  and  successful,  from  a  military  expedition  on  which 
be  had  proceeded  against  the  Assyrians.     The  king  having 
returaed  according  to  herwish,  and  her  shorn  locks  having 
disappeared,  it  is  supposed  by  one  of  those  fictions  which 
poetry  alone  can  admit,  that  Zephyrus,  the  son  of  Aurora, 
and  brother  of  Memnon,  had  carried  them  up  to  heaven,  and 
thrown  them  into  the  lap  of  Venus,  by  whom  they  were  set  in 
the  sky,  and  were  soon  afterwards  discovered  among  the  con- 
stellations by  Conon,  a  court  astronomer.     In  order  to  relish 
this  poem,  or  to  enter  into  its  spirit,  we  must  read  it  imbued 
as  it  were  with  the  belief  and  manners  of  the  ancient  Egyp- 
tians.   Tll^  locks  of  Berenice  might  be  allowed  to  speak  and 
desire,  because  they  had  been  converted  into  stars,  which,  by 
an  ancient  philosophic  system,  were  supposed  to  be  possessed 
of  animation  and  intelligence.     Similar  honours  had  been 
conferred  on  the  crown  of  Ariadne  and  the  ship  of  Isis,  and 
the  belief  in  such  transformations  was  at  least  of  that  popular 
or  traditionary  nature  which  fitted  them  for  the  purposes  of 
poetry.    The  race,  too,  of  the  Egyptian  Ptolemies,  traced 
their  lineage  to  Jupiter,  which  would  doubtless  facilitate  the 
reception  of  the  locks  of  Berenice  among  the  heavenly  orbs. 
Adulation,  however,  it  must  be  confessed,  could  not  be  carried 
higher;  the   beautiful  locks  of  Berenice,  though  metamor- 

E hosed  into  stars,  are  represented  as  regretting  their  former 
appy  situation,  and  prefer  adorning  the  brow  of  Berenice,  to 
blazing  by  night  in  the  front  of  heaven,  under  the  steps  of 
immortals,  or  reposing  by  day  in  the  bosom  of  Tethys: — 

'*  Non  his  tam  letor  rebus,  quam  me  abfore  semper, 
Abfore  me  a  domiiue  vertice  discrucior.*' 

Bat  though  the  poem  of  Callimachus  may  have  been  seriously 
written,  and  gravely  read  by  the  court  of  Ptolemy,  the  lines 
of  Catullus  often  approach  to  something  like  pleasantry  or 
perriflage  : . 

■ 

"  Invita,  O  Regina,  tuo  de  vertice  cess!  .  .  . 

Sed  qui  se  ferro  postulet  esse  parem  ? 
lUe  quoque  eversus  moas  est,  quem  maximum  in  oris 

Progenies  Phthiae  clara  supervehitur ; 
Qtium  Medi  properare  novum  mare,  quumque  juventus 

Per  medium  classi  barbara  navit  Athon. 
<2uid  iacient  crines,  quum  ferro  taiia  cedant  ?'* 

These  lines  seem  intended  as  a  sort  of  mock-heroic,  and  re- 
mind us  strongly  of  the  jRope  qf  the  Lock : 
Vol..  I.— 2  P 


314  CATULLUS. 

'*  Steel  could  flie  labours  of  the  godt  destroy. 
And  strike  to  dust  the  iin{>erial  towers  of  Troy ; 
Steel  could  the  works  of  mortal  pride  confound, 
And  hew  triumphal  arches  to  the  ground. 
What  wonder,  then,  tdt  nymph  !  my  hairs  should  feel 
The  conquering  force  of  unresisted  steel  ?'* 

The  Coma  Earini  of  Statius*,  is  a  poem  of  the  same  de- 
scription as  the  Coma  Berenices,  It  is  written  in  astrleof 
Stttliciently  elegant  versification  ;  but  what  in  Callimachus  is 
a  courtly,  though  perhaps  rather  extravagant  compliment,  is  in 
Statius  a  servile  and  disgusting  adulation  of  the  loathsome 
monster,  whose  vices  he  so  disgracefully  flattered.  Antonio 
Sebastiani,  a  Latin  poet  of  modern  Italy,  has  imitated  Catullus, 
by  celebrating  the  locks  of  a  princess  of  San-Sev^ino.  The 
beauty  and  virtues  of  his  heroine  had  excited  the  admiration 
of  earth,  and  the  love  of  the  gods,  but  with  these  the  jealousy 
of  the  goddesses.  By  their  influence,  a  malady  evoked  from 
Styx  threatens  the  life  of  the  princess,  and  occasions  the  loss 
of  her  hair.  The  gods,  indignant  at  this  base  conspiracy, 
commission  Iris  to  convey  the  fallen  locks  to  the  sky,  and  to 
restore  to  the  princess,  along  with  healthy  her  former  freshness 
and  beauty. 

68.  ^d  Mafdium.  The  principal  subject  of  this  elegy,  is 
the  story  of  iuaodamia:  The  best  parts,  however,  are  those 
lines  in  which  the  poet  laments  his  brother,  which  are  truly 
elegiac — 

"Tu,  mea,  tu-moriens,  fregisti  commoda,  frater; 
Tecum  uni  tota  est  nostra  sepulta  domus ; 
Omnia  tecum  unii  perierunt  eaudia  nostra. 

Que  tuus  in  vitt  dulcis  alebat  amor : 
Quojus  ego  interitu  toti  de  mente  fugavi 

Hec  studia,  atque  omnes  delicias  animi/* 

Catullus  seems  to  have  entertained  a  sincere  affection  for  bis 
brother,,  and  to  have  deeply  deplored  his  loss ;  hence  he  gene* 
rally  writes  well  when  touching  on  this  tender  topic.  Indeed, 
the  only  remaining  elegy  of  Catullus,  worth  mentioning,  is 
that  entitled  Inferue  ad  Fratris  Tumulum,  which  is  another 
beautiful  and  atfectionate  tribute  to  the  memory  of  this  be- 
loved youth.  Vulpius  had  said,  in  a  commentary  on  Catul- 
lus, that  his  brother  died  while  accompanying  him  in  his 
expedition  with  Memmius  to  Bithynia.  This,  however,  is 
denied  by  Ginguene,  who  quotes  two  lines  from  the  hiferic^ 

**  Multas  per  gentes,  et  multa  per  couora  vectus, 
Adveni  has  miseras,  frater,  ad  inferias," 


*  a^itM,  Lib.  m. 


CATULLUS.  816 

in  order  to  show^  that  the  poet  was  at  a  distance  at  the  time 
of  his  brother's  death,  and  celebration  of  his  funeral  rites.  It 
is  possible,  however,  that  these  lines  may  refer  to  some  sub- 
sequent pilgrimage  to  his  tomb,  or,  what  is  most  probable, 
his  brother  may  have  died  at  Troy,  while  Catullus  was  in 
Birhynia. 

None  of  the  remaining  poems  of  Catullus,  though  written 
in  elegiac  verse,  are  at  all  of  the  description  to  which  we 
now  give  the  name  of  elegy.  They  are  usually  termed  epi- 
grams, and  contain  the  most  violent  invectives  on  living  cha- 
rafters,  for  the  vices  in  which  they  indulged,  and  satire  the 
most  unrestrained  on  their  personal  deformities ;  but  few  of 
them  are  epigram^  in  the  modern  acceptation  of  the  word. 
Ad  epigram,  as  is  well  known,  was  oi^iginally  what  we  now 
call  a  device  or  inscription,  and  the  term  remained,  though 
the  thing  itself  was  changed*.  A  Greek  anthology  consisting 
of  poems  which  expressed  a  simple  idea — a  sentiment,  regret, 
or  wish,  without  point  or  double  meaning,  had  been  compiled 
by  Meleager  before  the  time  of  Catullus;  and  hence  he  had 
an  opportunity  of  imitating  the  style  of  the  Greek  epigrams, 
and  occasionally  borrowing  their  expressions,  though  gene- 
rally with  application  to  some  of  his  enemies  at  Rome,  whom 
he  wished  to  hold  up  to  the  derision  or  hatred  of  his  country- 
men. Most  of  these  poems  were  called  forth  by  real  occur- 
rences, and  express,  without  disguise,  his  genuine  feelings  at 
the  time:  His  Contempt,  dislike,  and  resentment,  all  burst 
out  in  poetry.  So  little  is  known  concerning  the  circum- 
stances of  his  life,  or  the  history  of  his  enmities  or  friendships, 
that  some  of  the  lighter  productions  of  Catullus  are  nearly 
onintelligible,  while  others  appear  flat  and  obscure ;  and  in 
none  can  we  fully  relish  the  felicity  of  expression  or  allusion. 

These  epigrams  of  Catullus  are  chiefly  curious  and  valuable, 
when  considered  as  occasional  or  extemporary  productions, 
which  paint  the  manners,  as  well  as  echo  the  tone  of  thought 
^d  feeling,  which  at  the  time  prevailed  in  fashionable  society 
^t  Rome.  What  chiefly  obtrudes  itself  on  our  attention,  is  the 
gross  personal  invective,  and  indecency  of  these  compositions, 
80  foreign  from  anything  that  would  be  tolerated  in  modern 
times.  The  art  of  rendering  others  satisfied  with  themselves, 
and  consequently  with  us — the  practice  of  dissembling  our 
feelings,  at  first  to  please,  and  then  by  habit, — the  custom,  if 
not  of  flattering  our  foes,  at  least  of  meeting  those  we  dislike, 
without  reviling  them,  were  talents  unknown  in  the  ancient 

*  Fadle  inteUi^us,  mansisse  vocem,  mutatft  significatioiie  et  poteitate  vodf. 
Varanor^  He  Eptgrammaiey  c.  3. 


316  CATULLUS. 

republic  of  Rcnne.  The  freedom  of  the  times  was  accompa* 
nied  by  a  frankness  and  sincerity  of  language,  which  we 
would  consider  as  rude.  Even  the  best  friends  attacked  each 
other  in  the  Senate,  and  before  the  various  tribunals  of  justice, 
in  the  harshest  and  most  unmeasured  terms  of  abase  Philip 
of  Macedon,  in  an  amicable  interview  with  the  Roman  gene- 
ral Flaminius,  who  was  accounted  the  most  polite  man  of  hir 
day,  apologized  for  not  having  returned  an  immediate  answer 
to  some  proposition  which  had  been  made  to  him,  od  the 

f  round  that  none  of  those  friends,  with  whom  he  was  in  the 
abit  of  consulting,  were  at  band  vfhen  he  received) it;  to 
which  Flaminius  replied,  that,  the  reason  he  had  no  friends 
near  him  was,  that  he  had  assassinated  them  all.  Matters 
were  little  better  in  the  days  of  Catullus.  At  the  tinoe  he 
flourished,  everything  was  made  subservient  to  political  ad- 
vancement ;  and  what  we  should  consider  as  the  most  inex- 
piable offences,  were  forgotten,  or  at  least  forgiven,  as  soon 
as  the  interests  of  ambition  required.  Accordingly,  no  per- 
son seems  to  have  blamed  the  bitter  invectives  of  Catullus;  and 
none  of  his  contemporaries  were  surprised  or  shocked  at  the 
unbridled  freedom  with  which  he  reviled  his  enemies.  He 
was  merely  considered  as  availing  himself  of  a  privilegCi 
which  every  one  was  entitled  to  exercise.  In  his  days,  ridi- 
cule and  raillery  were  oftener  directed  by  malice  than  by  wit: 
But  the  Romans  thought  no  terms  unseemly,  which  expressed 
the  utmost  bitterness  of  private  or  political  animosity,  and  an 
excess  of  malevolence  was  received  as  sufficient  compensation 
for  deficiency  in  liveliness  or  humour.  As  little  were  the 
Romans  offended  by  the  obscene  images  and  expressions 
which  Catullus  so  frequently  employed.  Such  had  not  yet 
been  proscribed  in  the  conversation  of  the  best  company. 
^<  Among  the  ancients,"  says  Person,  in  his  review  of  Bninck's 
Aristophanes* 9  *^  plain  speaking  was  the  fashion;  nor  was  that 
ceremonious  delicacy  introduced,  which  has  taught  men  to 
abuse  each  other  with  the  utmost  politeness,  and  express  the 
most  indecent  ideas  in  the  most  modest  language.  The 
ancients  had  little  of  this :  They  were  accustomed  to  call  a 
spade,  a  spade-— to  give,  everything  its  proper  name.  There 
is  another  sort  of  indecency  which  is  infinitely  more  dange- 
rous, which  corrupts  the  heart  without  offending  the  ear/* 
Hence  the  Muse  of  light  poetry  thought  not  of  having  re- 
course to  the  circumlocutions  or  suggestions  of  modern  times. 
Nor  did  Catullus  suffer  in  his  reputation,  either  as  an  author 
or  man  of  fashion,  from  the  impurities  by  which  his  poem^ 


CATULLUS.  317 

were  poisoned.  All  this  would  have  been  less  remarkable  in 
the  first  age  of  Roman  literature,  as  indelicacy  of  expression 
is  characteristic  of  the  early  poetry  of  almost  every  nation* 
The  French  epigrams  of  Regnier,  and  his  c(Mitemporarie« 
Motin  and  fiertheiot,  are  nearly  as  gross  as  those  of  Catullus; 
but  at  the  close  of  the  Roman  republic,  literature  was  far  ad- 
vanced ;  and  if  it  be  true,  that  as  a  nation  grows  corrupted  its 
language  becomes  pure,  the  words  and  expressions  of  the 
Romans,  in  these  last  days  of  liberty,  should  have  been  suffici* 
ently  chaste.  The  obscenities  of  Catullus,  however,  it  must  be 
admitted,  are  oftener  the  sport  of  satire,  than  the  ebullitions  of 
a  voluptuous  imagination.  His  sarcastic  account  of  the  de* 
baucheries  of  Lesbia,  is  more  impure  than  the  pictures  of  his 
enjoyment  of  her  love. 

No  subject  connected  with  the  works  of  Catullus  is  more 
curious  than  the  different  sentiments,  which,  as  we  have  seen, 
he  expresses  with  regard  to  this  woman.  His  conflict  of 
mind  breathes  into  his  poetry  every  variety  of  passion.  We 
behold  him  now  transported  with  love,  now  reviling  and  de- 
spising her  as  sunk  in  the  lowest  abyss  of  shame,  and  yet, 
with  this  full  knowledge  of  her  abandoned  character,  her 
blandishments  preserve  undiminished  sway  over  his  affections. 
*^  At  one  time,''  says  a  late  translator  of  Catullus,  *'we  find 
him  upbraiding  Lesbia  bitterly  with  her  licentiousness,  then 
bidding  her  farewell  for  ever;  then  beseeching  from  the  gods 
resolution  to  cast  her  off;  then  weakly  confessing  utter  impo- 
tence of  mind,  and  submission  to  hopeless  slavery ;  then,  in 
the  epistle  to  Manlius,  persuading  himself,  by  reason  aiid  ex- 
^ple,  into  a  contented  acquiescence  in  her  falsehoods,  and 
yet  at  last  accepting  with  eagerness,  and  relying  with  hopoi 
on  her  profiered  vow  of  constancy.  Nothing  can  be  more 
genuine  than  the  rapture  with  which  he  depicts  his  happiness 
in  her  hours  of  affection;  nor  than^  the  gloomy  despair  with 
which  he  is  overwhelmed,  when  he  believes  himself  resolved 
to  quit  her  for  ever."  And  all  this,  he  wrote  and  circulated 
concerning  a  Roman  lady,  belonging,  it  is  believed,  to  one 
of  the  first  and  most  powerful  families  of  the  state! 

Lesbia,  as  formerly  mentioned,  is  universally  allowed  to  be 
Clodia,  the  sister  of  the  turbulent  Clodius;  but  there  has  been 
^  great  deal  of  discussion  and  dispute,  with  regard  to  the 
identity  of  the  other  individuals  against  whom  the  epigrams 
are  directed.  Justus  Lipsius*  has  written  a  dissertation  with 
regard  to  Vettius  and  Cominius.  The  former  he  supposes  to 
be  the  person  mentioned  in  Cicero's  Letters  to  Atticus,  and 

♦  Vixr,  Lect,  Lib.  III.  c.  5. 


3S0  CATULLUS. 

none,  certainly,  ever  possessed  a  more  happy  art  of  embel- 
lishing trivial  incidents,  by  the  manner  in  which  he  treated 
them.  Indeed,  the  most  exquisite  of  his  productions,  in  point 
of  grace  and  delicacy,  are  those  which  were  called  forth  by 
the  most  trifling  occasions;  while,  at  the  same  time,  his  Epi- 
thalamium  of  Peleus  and  Thetis  proves,  that  he  was  by  no 
means  deficient  in  that  warmth  of  imagination,  energy  of 
thought,  and  sublimity  of  conception,  which  form  the  attri- 
butes of  perfection  in  those  bards  who  tread  the  higher  paths 
of  Parnassus.  Catullus  is  a  great  favourite  with  all  the  early 
critics  and  commentators  of  the  16th  century.  The  elder 
Scaliger  alone  has  pronounced  on  him  a  harsh  and  unmerited 
sentence:  ''Catullo,"  says  he,  ^'docti  nomenquare  sit  abanti- 
quis  attributum,  neque  apud  alios  comperi,  neque  dum  in 
mentem  venit  mihi.  Nihil  enim  non  vulgare  est  in  ejus  libris: 
ejus  autem  syllabsB  ciim  durse  sint,  tum  ipse  non  raro  durus; 
aiiquando  vero  adeo  mollis,  ut  fluat,  neque  consistat.  Multa 
impudica,  quorum  pudet — ^multa  languida,  quorum  miseret— 
multa  coacta,  quorum  piget*."  In  conclusion,  the  reader 
may,  perhaps,  like  to  hear  the  opinion  of  the  pure  and  saintly 
Fenelon,  concerning  this  obscene  pagan. — '^  CatuUe,  qu'on  ne 
pent  nommer  sans  avoir  horreur  de  ses  obscenitez,  est  au 
comble  de  la  perfection  pour  une  simplicite  passionnee — 

<  Odi  et  amo :  quare  id  fadam  fortasse  requiria. 
Nescio ;  sed  fieri  seYitio,  et  exerudor.' 

Combien  Ovide  et  Martial,  avec  leurs  traits  ingenieux  et 
fa<;onnez,  sont  ils  au  dessous  de  ces  paroles  negligees,  ou  le 
coBur  saisi  parle  seul  dans  un  espece  de  desespoir." 

The  different  sorts  of  poetry  which  Catullus,  though  not 
their  inventor,  first  introduced  at  Rome^  were  cultivated  and 
brought  to  high  perfection  by  his  countrymen.  Horace  fol- 
lowed, and  excelled  him  in  Lyric  compositions.  The  elegiac 
measure  was  adopted  with  success  by  Ovid,  Tibullus,  and 
Propertius,  and  applied  by  them  to  the  expression  of  amatory 
sentiments,  which,  if  they  did  not  reach  the  refinement,  or 
pure  devotedness  of  the  middle  agesf ,  were  less  gross  than 
those  of  Catullus. 

•  PoeHc.  Lib.  VI.  c.  7. 

t  There  is  more  tenderness  and  delicacy  in  a  sinele  love-yene  of  an  old  Troubi' 
dour,  than  in  all  the  amatory  compositions  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans.  What  tf 
there  in  Anacreon  or  Ovid,  to  compare  to  these  verses  of  Thibault,  King  of  ^^' 
vane? — 

'<  Las !  Si  j*avois  pouvoir  d'oublier, 
Sa  beaulte — <ion  bien  dire, 
Et  son  tr^s  doulx  regarder, 
Fimrois  non  martyre. 


CATULUS.  321 

In  his  epigrammatic  compositions,  Catullus  was  imitated  by 
feveral  of  his  own  contemporaries,  most  of  whom  mIso  ranked 
in  the  number  of  his  friends.  Their  works,  however,  have 
almost  entirely  perished.  Quintus  Lutatius  Catulus,  who  is 
praised  as  an  orator  and  historian  by  Cicero*,  has  left  two 
epigrams— one,  Ad  Theotimum^  translated  from  Callimachus, 
the  name  Theotimus  being  merely  substituted  for  that  of 
Cephissus — and  the  other,  Ad  Roadum  Puerum^  addressed 
to  the  celebrated  actor  in  his  youth,  and  quoted  by  Cicero  in 
his  treatise,  De  Aaturd  DeoTum\ — 

"  Constttaram,  exorientem  Auronm  forte  salutans ; 

Cum  Bubito  a  ]«v&  Roflcius  exoritur. 
Pace  mihi  liceat,  Ccelestes,  dicere  vestii ; 

Mortalis  yisus  pulchiior  esse  deo{.*' 

This  epieraon  formed  a  theme  and  subject  of  poetical  contest 
BfDODg  the  French  beaux  esprits  of  the  ITth  century,  who 
vied  with  each  other  in  sonnets  and  madrigals,  entitled  ^a 
Bdle  Matineuse,  written  in  imitation  of  the  above  verses.  One 
will  suffice  as  a  specimen-^ 

La  BbLLX  MATIlfXTTSX. 

**  Le  sileDce  regnait  sur  la  terre  et  sur  I'onde, 
L'alr  devenait  sexeio,  et  l*01yrope  vermeilv 
Kf  Tainoureux  Zephyr  affranchi  du  sommeil 
Beeeuacitait  lea  fleura  d'une  haleine  fecoDde,   ^ 
l^'Aurore  d^ployait  Tor  de  sa  treese  blonde, 
Et  aemait  de  rabis  le  chemin  du  aoleil. 
Enfin  ce  Dteu  venait  au  plus  nand  appareU» 
Qu'U  fCit  jamais  venus  pour  ^ciairer  le  moude. 
Quand  la  jeune  Philis  au  visage  riant, 
Sortant  de  son  palais;  plus  clair  que  TOrient, 
Fit  voir  une  lumi^re  et  plus  vive  et  plus  belle. 
Sacre  flambeau  dejour,  n'en  soyez  point  jalouz; 
Vous  parAtes  alon  aussi  peu  devant  elle, 
Que  les  feux  de  la  nuit  avotent  fait  devant  vous." 

From  a  vast  collection  of  Italian  sonnets  on  the  same  sub- 
ject, I  select  one  by  Annibal  Caro,  the  celebrated  translator 
of  Virgil— 


"  Maia  las !  Comment  oubMer 
Sabeault^,  son  bien  dire, 
Et  son  tr^s  doulx  regarder ! 
Bfieux  aime  mon  martyre." 
*  Amhw,  c.  86. 

t  "Hicilli,  (Catulo)  Deo  pulchiior,"  says  Cicero,  «at  eiat,  sicttt  hodie  est, 
perrersiasimia  oculis."    Lib.  L  c.  28. 
t  "  I  stood,  and  to  the  Dawn  my  vows  addressed. 
When  RoBcius  rose  refulgent  in  the  west. 
Forgive,  ye  Powers !  A  mortal  seemed  more  bri^t, 
Thin  the  bri«^t  god  who  darts  the  abafta  of  light." 

Vol.  1.— 2  Q 


S3S  CALVU8. 

"  Eftnl'aer  traoquUlo,e  ronde  chlarey 
8o«tj)irava  Fayonio,  e  fuegia  Clori, 
L*alaia  Ciprigna  nnana  ai  primi  albori 
Bidendo  empia  d'amor  la  tenra  e  '1  mare. 

**  La  rueiadota  Aurora  io  del  piii  rare 
Facea  le  stelle ;  e  di  piu  bei  eolori 
Sparse  le  nubi,  e  i  monti ;  UBcia  gb  fbori 
Febo,  qual  pi^  lucente  in  DeUo  appare. 

'*  Quando  altia  Aurora  un  piii  vezzoso  oftello 

Aperse,  e  lampeggi^  sereno,  e  puro 

II  Sol,  che  8ol  m^bbagUa,  e  mi  dii&ce. 

«'  Volaimi,  e  'n  contro  a  lei  mi  parve  oscuroi 
(Santi  lumi  del  ciel,  con  vostra  pace) 
L'Oriente,  che  dianzi  en  si  bello." 

Licinius  Calviis  was  equally  distinguished  as  an  orator  vsA 
a  poet.  In  the  former  capacity  he  is  mentioned  with  distinc- 
tion by  Cicero ;  but  it  was  probably  his  poetical  talents  that 
procured  for  him  the  friendship  of  Catullus,  who  has  addressed 
to  him  two  Odes,  in  which  he  is  commemorated  as  a  most 
delightful  companion,  from  whose  society  he  could  scarcelj 
refrain.  Calvus  was  violently  enamoured  of  a  girl  called 
Quintilia,  whose  early  death  he  lamented  in  a  number  of  verses, 
none  of  which  have  descended  to  ns.  There  only  remain, 
an  epigram  against  Pompey,  satirizing  his  practice  of  scratch- 
ing his  head  with  one  finger,  and  a  fragment  of  another 
against  Julius  Csesar*.  The  sarcasm  it  contains  would  not 
have  been  pardonable  in  the  present  age ;  but  the  dictator, 
hearing  that  Calvus  had  repented  of  his  petulance,  and  ^&9 
desirous  of  a  reconciliation,  addressed  a  letter  to  him,  with 
assurances  of  unaltered  friendshipf .  The  fragments  of  his 
epigrams  which  lemain,  do  not  enable  us  to  judge  for  ourselves 
of  his  poetical  merits.  He  is  classed  by  Ovid  among  the 
licentiotis  writers]:;  but  he  is  generally  mentioned  along  v^ith 
Catullus,  which  shows  that  he  was  not  considered  as  greatly 
inferior  to  his  friend — 


**  Nil  prater  Calvum  et  doctus  cantare  CatuDum.'* 

Pliny,  in  one  of  his  letters,  talking  of  his  friend  Pompeios  Sa- 
turnius,  mentions,  that  he  had  composed  several  poetical  pieces 
in  the  manner  of  Calvus  and  Catullus^;  and  Aagurinas,  as 
quoted  by  Pliny  in  another  of  his  epistles,  says, 

*  Sueton.  M  Jul.  Casare,  c.  49.  t  ^^^'  ^'  '^• 

t  0?id.  Dristia.  Lib.  II.  4  ^Pif^-  ^l>.I.  ep.  W 


VALERIUS  iEDITUUS.  333 

'*  Ctnto  earmixia  ▼ereibaB  roinutii 
His  olim  quibus  et  meus  CatuUua, 
Et  Caln»— "• 


VALERII^S  iEDITUUS, 

Of  Valerius  iEdiluus,  another  writer  of  epigrams  and  amo^ 
rons  Terses  in  the  time  of  Catullus,  little  is  known ;  but 
the  following  lines  by  him,  to  a  slave  carrying  a  torch  before 
him  to  the  house  of  his  mistress,  have  been  quoted  by  Aulus 
Gellias— 

**  Quid  faculam  pnefere,  PhUeros,  qua  nil  opu'  nobis  ? 

Ibimus,  hoc  lucet  pectore  flamma  satis. 
tstitn  nam  pods  est  vis  seva  extineuere  venti» 

Aut  imber  coelo  candidus  praccipitans  : 
At  contra,  hunc  ignem  Veneris,  nisi  si  Venus  ipsa. 

Nulla  'st  que  possit  vis  alia  oppiimeret*" 

Aulus  Gellius  has  also  preserved  the  following  verses  of  Por- 
cius  Licinius-^ 

"  Custodes  ovium,  tenereque  propaginis  a^Qm, 
Queris  ignem  ? — Ite  hue :  queritis  ?  ignis  homo  est. 

^i  digito  attigero,  incendam  silvam  simul  omnem, 
Omne  pecus :  flamma  'st  omnia  qu»  video}.*' 

Daring  the  period  in  which  the  works  of  Lucretius  and 
Catullus  brought  the  Latin  language  to  such  perfection,  the 
drama,  which  we  have  seen  so  highly  elevated  in  the  days  of 
the  Scipios,  bad  sunk  into  a  state  of  comparative  degradation. 
National  circumstances  and  manners  had  never  been  favoura- 
ble to  the  progress  of  the  dramatic  art  at  Rome ;  but,  subse- 
quently to  the  conquest  of  Carthage,  the  increasing  size  and 
magnificence  of  the  Roman  theatres,  some  of  which  held  not 
less  than  60,000  people,  required  splendid  spectacles,  or  ex- 
travagant buffoonery,  to  fill  the  eye,  and  catch  the  attention 
of  a  crowded,  and  often  tumultuous  assembly. 

Accordingly,  in  the  long  period  from  the  termination  of  the 

♦  EpUt.  Lib.  rV.  ep.  27. 

t  "  Why  Phileros,  a  torch  before  me  bear  ? — 
A  heart  on  fire  all  other  light  may  spare. 
That  feeble  flame  can  iD  resist  the  power 
Of  the  keen  tempest  and  the  headlong  shower ; 
But  this  still  glows  whatever  storms  may  drencli. 
What  Venus  kmdles,  she  alone  can  quench." 

X  **  Ye  guardians  of  the  tender  flock,  retire, 
Why  seek  ye  flames,  when  man  himself  is  fire  ? 
Whate'erl  touch  bursts  forth  in  sudden  blaze. 
And  the  ifoods  kindle  with  my  scorching  gaze. 


» 


324  MIMES. 

Punic  wars  till  the  Augustan  age,  there  scarcely  appeared  a  sin' 
gle  successor  to  Plautus  or  Pacuvius.  That  the  pieces  of  the 
ancient  tragic  or  comic  writers  still  continued  to  be  occasioii- 
ally  represented,  is  evident  from  the  immense  wealth  amassed, 
in  the  time  of  Cicero,  by  iEsopus  and  Roscius,  who  never,  so 
far  as  we  know,  condescended  to  appear,  except  in  the  regular 
drama;  but  a  new  tragedy  or  comedy  was  rarely  brought  out. 
This  deficiency  in  the  fund  of  entertainment  and  novelty,  in 
the  province  of  the  legitimate  drama,  was  supplied  by  the 
Mimes,  which  now  became  fashionable  in  Rome. 

Though  resembling  them  in  name,  the  Latin  Mimes  differed 
essentially  from  the  Greek  MijUboi,  from  which  they  derived  their 
appellation.  The  Greek  Mimes,  of  which  Sophron  of  Syra- 
cuse was  the  chief  writer,  represented  a  single  adventure 
taken  from  ordinary  life,  and  exhibited  characters  without  any 
gross  caricature  or  buffoonery.  The  fifteenth  Idyl  of  Theo- 
critus is  said  to  be  written  in  the  manner  of  the  Greek  Mimes*; 
and,  to  judge  from  it,  they  were  not  so  much  actions  as  con- 
versations with  regard  to  some  action  which  was  supposed  to 
be  going  OQ  at  the  time,  and  is  pointed  out,  as  it  were,  by  the 
one  interlocutor  to  the  other,  or  an  imitation  of  the  action, 
whence  their  name  has  been  deriyed.^  They  resembled  de- 
tached or  unconnected  scenes  of  a  comedy,  and  required  no 
more  gesticulation  or  mimetic  art,  than  is  employed  in  all 
dramatic  representations.  On  the  oth^r  hand,  mimetic  ges- 
tures of  every  species,  except  dancing,  were  essential  to  the 
Roman  Mimes,  as  also  the  exhibition  of  grotesque  characters, 
which  had  often  no  prototypes  in  real  life.  The  Mimes  of  the 
Romans,  again,  differed  from  their  pantomime  in  this,  that,  in 
the  former,  most  of  the  gestures  were  accompanied  by  recita- 
tion, whereas  the  pantomimic  entertainments,  carried  to  such 
perfection  by  Pylades  and  Bathyllus,  were  baUets,  often  of  a 
serious,  and  never  of  a  ludicrous  or  grotesque  description,  in 
which  everything  was  expressed  by  dumb  show,  and  in  which 
dancing  constituted  so  considerable  a  part  of  the  amusement, 
that  the  performers  danced  a  poem,  a  chorus,  or  whole  drama, 
{Canticum  saltabant.) 

It  is  much  more  difficult  to  distinguish  the  Mimes  from  the 
FabuUB  Mellanm^  than  froni  the  Pantomimes  or  (ireek  J^fitwt; 
and  indeed  they  have  been  frequently  confoundedf .  It  ap- 
pears, however,  that  the  characters  represented  in  theAtellane 
dramas  were  chiefly  provincial,  while  those  introduced  in  the 

*  Sulzer,  TheoriCt  Tom.  I.  Comodie. 

t  "  Non  ignoro,"  Rays  Salmasius,  in  his  Notes  to  Vopfscus'  Life  of  AoreliaD,  '*  q^*^ 
distent  AteUanae  et  Mimi ;  recentiores,  tamen,  coniudtsse  videntur.'*  F.  Vopifc^ 
Vit.  AureLc.  42.  ap.  Bistor.  Jlugust,  Script, 


MIME&  326 

Mimes  were  the  lowest  class  of  citizens  at  Rome.  Antic  ffes- 
tares,  too,  were  more  employed  in  the  Mimes  than  the  Atelfane 
fables,  and  they  were  more  obscene  and  ludicrous :  "  Toti,** 
says  Vossius,  "  erant  ridiculi."  The  Atellanes,  though  full  of 
mirth,  were  always  tempered  with  something  of  the  ancient 
Italian  seventy,  and  consisted  of  a  more  liberal  and  polite  kind 
of  humour  than  the  Mimes.  In  this  respect  Cicero  places  the 
Mimes  and  Atellane  fables  in  contrast,  in  a  letter  to  Papyrius 
Paetus,  where  he  says,  that  the  broad  jests  in  which  his  corres- 
pondent had  indulged,  immediately  after  having  quoted  the 
tragedy  of  (Enomaus,  reminds  him  of  the  modern  method  of 
introducing,  at  the  end  of  such  graver  dramatic  pieces,  the 
buffboneiy  of  the  Mimes,  instead  of  the  more  delicate  humour 
of  the  old  Atellane  farces*. 

These  Mimes,  (which,  with  the  Atellane  fables,  and  regular 
tragedy  and  comedy,  form  the  four  great  branches  of  the  Ro- 
man drama,)  were  represented  by  actors,  who  sometimes  wore 
masks,  but  more  frequently  had  their  faces  stained  like  our 
clowns  or  mountebanks.  There  was  always  one  principal 
actor,  on  whom  the  jests  and  ridicule  chiefly  hinged.  The 
second,  or  inferior  parts,  were  entirely  subservient  to  that  of 
the  first  performer :  They  were  merely  introduced  to  set  him 
off  to  advantage,  to  imitate  his  actions,  and  take  up  his  words — 

*<  Sic  iterat  voces,  et  Terba  cadentia  tollit ;  , 

Ut  puerum  sevo  credas  dictata  magUtro 
Reddere,  vet  partes  xnimum  tiactare  secundas." 

Some  writers  have  supposed,  that  a  Mime  was  a  sort  otmono- 
drame,  and  that  the  partes  secunda,  here  alluded  to  by  Horace, 
meant  the  part  of  the  actor  who  gesticulatedf ,  while  the  other 
declaimed,  or  that  of  the  declaimer|.  It  is  quite  evident, 
however,  from  the  context  of  the  lines,  that  Horace  refers  to 
the  inferior  characters  of  the  Mime<^.  I  doubt  not  that  the 
chief  performer  assumed  more  than  one  character  in  the 
course  of  the  piece  ||,  in  the  manner  in  which  the  Admirable 
Crichton  is  recorded  to  have  performed  at  the  court  of 
MantualT;  but  there  were  also  subordinate  parts  in  the  Mime 
— ^  fool  or  a  parasite,  who  assisted  in  carrying  on  the  jests  or 
tricks  of  his  principal : — "  C,  Volumnius,"  says  Festus,  "  qui 

*  Cicero,  EpUL  FamUiar.  Lib.  IX.  ep.  16. 

t  Flogel,  Geschichte  der  komiseh.  LUter.  T.  IV.  p.  101.    MaUer,  EinUitwig. 
i  Donatos,  Praf.  in  Terent, 

§  HofTmaDDi,  Lexicon,  voce  Mitnue,    Ziesler,  De  MimU  Roma$wrum,  p.  81, 
ed.Gottiog.  17S9. 
I)  Manillas,  Be  Astronomic,  Lib.  V .  v.  472. 

*  Tytlcr**  lAfi  of  Crichton,  p.  46.  Ist  ed. 


326  MIMES. 

ad  tibicinem  salUrit,  secundarum  partium  fuerit,  qui,  fere 
omnibus  Mimis,  parasitus  inducatur*;"  and  to  the  same  pur- 
pose Petronius  Arbiter, — 


'*  Grez  agit  in  acenft  Mimum—- Pater  iUe  vocatur, 
FiUuB  hie,  nomen  Divitis  ille  tenetf-*' 


>t 


The  performance  of  a  Mime  commenced  with  the  appear- 
ance of  the  chief  actor,  who  explained  its  subject  in  a  sort  of 
prologue,  in  order  that  the  spectators  might  fully  understand 
what  was  but  imperfectly  represented  by  words  or  gestures. 
This  prolocutor,  also,  was  generally  the  author  of  a  sketch  of 
the  piece ;  but  the  actors  were  not  conjfined  to  the  mere  out- 
line which  he  had  furnished.  In  one  view,  the  province  of  the 
mimetic  actor  was  of  a  higher  description  than  that  of  the 
regular  comedian.  He  was  obliged  to  trust  not  so  much 
to  memory  as  invention,  and  to  clothe  in  extemporaneous 
effusions  of  his  own,  those  rude  sketches  of  dramatic  scenes, 
which  were  all  that  were  presented  to  him  by  his  author. 
The  performers  of  Mimes,  however,  too  often  gave  full  scope, 
not  merely  to  natural  unpremeditated  gaiety,  but  abandoped 
themselves  to  every  sort  of  extravagant  and  indecorous  action. 
The  part  written  out  was  in  iambic  verse,  but  the  extemporary 
dialogue  which  filled  up  the  scene  was  in  prose,  or  in  the 
rudest  species  of  versification.  Through  the  course  of  the 
exhibition,  the  want  of  refinement  or  dramatic  interest  was 
supplied  by  the  excellence  of  the  mimetic  part,  and  the 
amusing  imitation  of  the  peculiarities  or  personal  habits  of 
various  classes  of  society.  The  performers  were  seldom 
anxious  to  give  a  reasonable  conclusion  to  their  extravagant 
intrigue.  Sometimes,  when  they  could  not  extricate  thena- 
selves  from  the  embarrassment  into  which  they  had  thrown 
each  other,  they  simultaneously  rushed  off  the  stage,  iUid  the 
performance  terminated|. 

The  characters  exhibited  were  parts  taken  from  the  dregs 
of  the  populace — courtezans,  thieves,  and  drunkards.  The 
Sannio,  or  Zany,  seems  to  have  been  common  to  the  Mimes 
and  Atellane  dramas.  He  excited  laughter  by  lolling  oat  his 
tongue,  and  making  asses'  ears  on  his  head  with  his  fingers. 
There  was  also  the  Panniculus,  who  appeared  in  a  party- 
coloured  dress,  with  his  head  shaved,  feigning  stupidity  or 
folly,  and  allowing  blows  to  be  inflicted  on  himself  without 

*  Festus  in  Saha  re$  eat. 

t  Sahfrieofiy  c.  60.    See  also  Suetonius,  CVi%tiia,  c.  67. 

X  **  N^imi  ereo  est  jam  exitus,"  says  Cicero,  "  non  Fabule :  In  quo,  cum  cbufoti 
non  invenitur,  ftigit  aliquis  e  maaibuB ;  deinde  acabella  coDcrepant,  aulcum  toBttiir ' 
^OnU.fro  Cm0,c.  27. 


MIMES.  337 

eaiMe  or  moderation.  That  women  performed  characters  in 
these  dramas,  and  were  often  the  favourite  mistresses  of  the 
great,  is  evident  from  a  passage  in  the  Satires  of  Horace,  Who 
mentions  a  female  Mime,  called  Origo,  on  whom  a  wealthy 
R^'fuan  bad  lavished  his  paternal  inheritance*.  Corneliua 
Gallus  wrote  four  books  of  Llegies  in  praise  of  a  Mime  called 
Cytheris,  who,  as  Aurelius  Victor  informs  us,  was  also  beloved 
by  Antony  and  Brutus — ^'  Cytheridam  Mimam,  cum  Antonio 
et  Gallo,  amavit  Brutus."  It  appears  from  a  passage  in  Vale- 
rius Maximus,  that  these  Mimse  were  often  required  to  strip 
themselves  of  their  clothes  in  presence  of  the  spectatorsf . 

As  might  be  expected  from  the  characters  introduced^  the 
Mimes  were  appropriated  to  a  representation  of  the  lowest 
follies  and  debaucheries  of  the  vulgar*  ^'Argumenta,''  says 
Valerius  Maximus,  '<  majore  ex  parte,  stuprorum  continent 
actus."  That  they  were  in  a  great  measure  occupied  with 
the  tricks  played  by  wives  on  their  husbands,  (somewhat,  pro- 
bably, in  the  stvie  of  those  related  by  the  Italian  novelists,) 
we  learn  from  Ovid ;  who,  after  complaining  in  his  Tristia  of 
having  been  undeservedly  condemned  for  the  freedom  of  his 
verses,  asks—* 

'*  Quid  Q  leripflifMin  Bfimos  obfCoenaiocaDtea? 

Qui  semper  juncU  crimen  amoris  babent; 
In  quibut  assidue  cultus  procedit  adulter, 

Verbaque  dat  atulto  eaUida  Dupta  vliot.** 

We  learn  from  another  passage  of  Ovid  that  these  were  by 
much  the  most  popular  subjects, — 

'*  Cumque  fefeUit  amain  aliquA  novitate  maritum, 
Plauditur,  et  magno  palma  favore  datur." 

The  same  poet  elsewhere  calls  the  Mimes,  "  Imitantes  turpia 
Mimos;"  and  Diomedes  defines  them  to  be  ^^  Sermonis  cujus- 
libet,  motiisque,  sine  reverentia,  vel  factorum  turpium  cum 
lascivia  imitatio,  ita  ut  ridiculum  faciant.'^ 

These  Mimes  were  originally  represented  as  a  sort  of  after- 
piece, or  interlude  to  the  regular  dramas,  and  were  intended 
to  fill  up  the  blank  which  had  been  left  by  omission  of  the 
Chorus.  But  they  subsequently  came  to  form  a  separate  and 
fashionable  public  amusement,  which  in  a  great  measure  super- 
seded all  other  dramatic  entertainments.  Sylla  (in  whom  the 
gloomy  temper  of  the  tyrant  was  brightened  by  the  talents  of 
a  mimic  and  a  wit)  was  so  fond  of  Mimes,  that  he  gave  the 

*  8at.  Lib.  1.  2.  V.  55.  f  Lib.  H.  c.  5. 

t  TMtOoL,  Ub.  U.  V.  487. 


328  LABERIU6. 

actors  of  them  many  acres  of  the  public  land* ;  and  we  shall  soon 
see  the  high  importance  which  Julius  Caesar  attached  to  this 
sort  of  spectacle.  It  appears,  at  first  view,  curious,  that  the 
Romans — the  most  grave,  solid,  and  dignified  nation  on  earth, 
the  gens  togata,  and  the  domini  rerum — should  have  been  so 

Eirtial  to  the  exhibition  of  licentious  buffoonery  on  the  stage, 
ut,  perhaps,  when  people  have  a  mind  to  divert  themselves, 
they  choose  what  is  most  different  from  their  ordinary  temper 
and  habits,  as  being  most  likely  to  amuse  them.  '*  Strangely,'' 
says  Isaac  Bey,  while  relating  his  adventures  in  France^  ^^  was 
my  poor  Turkish  brain  puzzled,  on  discovering  the  favourite 
pastime  of  a  nation  reckoned  the  merriest  in  the  world.  It  con- 
sisted in  a  thing  called  tragedies,  whose  only  purpose  is  to 
make  you  cry  your  eyes  out.  Should  the  performance  raise 
a  single  smile,  the  author  is  undonef ." 

The  popularity  and  frequent  repetition  of  the  Mimes  came 
gradually  to  purify  their  grossness ;  and  the  writers  of  them, 
at  length,  were  not  contented  merely  with  the  fame  of  amusing 
the  Roman  populace  by  ribaldry.  They  carried  their  preten- 
sions higher ;  and,  while  they  sometimes  availed  themselves 
of  the  licentious  freedom  to  which  this  species  of  drama  gave 
unlimited  indulgence,  they  interspersed  the  most  striking  truths 
and  beautiful  moral  maxims  in  these  ludicrous  and  indecent 
farces.  This  appears  from  the  Mimes  of  Decibius  Laberius 
and  PuBLius  Strus,  who  both  flourished  during  the  dictatorship 
of  Julius  Csssar. 


LABERIUS. 

In  earlier  periods,  as  has  been  already  mentioned,  the  writer 
was  also  the  chief  representer  of  the  Mime.  Laberius,  how- 
ever, was  not  originally  an  actor,  but  a  Roman  knight  of 
respectable  family  and  character,  who  occasionally  amused 
himself  with  the  composition  of  these  farcical  productions. 
He  was  at  length  requested  by  Julius  Csesar  to  appear  on  the 
stage  after  he  had  reached  the  age  of  sixty,  and  act  the 
Mimes,  which  he  had  sketched  or  written|.  Aware  that  the 
entreaties  of  a  perpetual  dictator  are  nearly  equivalent  to 
commands,  he  reluctantly  complied;  but  in  the  prologue  to 
the  first  piece  which  he  acted,  he  complained  bitterly  to  the 
audience  of  the  degradation  to  which  he  had  been  subjected — 

*  Athencus,  De^pnos,  Lib.  VL  f  ^neatimm,  VoL  II.  p.  886.  M  ed. 

%  Macrobius,  SatwnaUay  Lib.  II.  c.  7. 


LABERIUS.  asa 

«  Bfo,bl*  trBeenit  aonia  aetls,  tine  noti, 

Eques  Romanua  lare  egrewus  meo, 

Domum  revertar  Bfimus.    Nimirum  hoc  die 

Vno  plus  vixi  mihi,  qukm  vivendum  fuf t 

Fortuna,  immoderata  in  bono  eque  atqoe  in  niftlo. 

Si  dbi  emt  iibitum,  literarum  laodibus 

Floris  cacumen  nostne  fiuiue  firangeire. 

Cur  cum  vigebam  membiis  pne  viiidantibua, 

Sadafiicere  popolo,  et  tali  cum  poteram  viro. 

Nod  flexibifem  me  concurvftsti  ut  caperes  ?  * 

Nunc  me  qu6  dejicis  ?  quid  ad  scenam  affero, 

Decorem  forma,  an  dig^tatem  corporis  ? 

Animi  virtutem,  an  vocisjucundc  sonum? 

Ut  hedera  serpens  vires  arboreas  necat ; 

Ita  me  vetustas  amplexu  annorum  enecat*.** 

The  wkole  prologue,  consisting  of  twenty-nine  lines,  which 
have  been  preserved  by  Macrobius,  is  written  in  a  fine  vein  of 
poetry,  and  with  all  the  high  spirit  of  a  Roman  citizen.  It 
Dreathes  in  every  verse  the  most  bitter  and  indignant-feelings 
of  vvoanded  pride,  and  highly  exalts  our  opinion  of  the  man, 
who,  yielding  to  an  irresistible  power,  preserved  his  dignity 
while  performing  a  part  which  he  despised.  It  is  difficult  to 
conceive  how,  in  this  frame  of  mind,  he  could  assume  the 
jocand  and  unrestrained  gaiety  of  a  Mime,  or  how  the  Roman 
people  could  relish  so  painful  a  spectacle.  He  is  said,  how* 
ever,  to  have  represented  the  feigned  character  with  inimitable 
grace  and  spirit.  But  in  the  course  of  his  performance  he 
could  not  refrain  from  expressing  strong  sentiments  of  free- 
dom and  detestation  of  tyranny.  In  one  of  the  scenes  he 
personated  a  Syrian  slave ;  and,  while  escaping  from  the  lash 
of  his  master,  he  exclaimed, 


n 


*«PoiTO,  Quiritesy  ttbeitatem  petdldimus; 

tnd  shortly  after,  he  added, 

*  <*  For  threescore  years  since  first  I  saw  tbe  Ilf^t,    . 
I  lived  without  reproach — ^A  Roman  Kitioht. 
As  such  I  left  my  sacred  home ;  but  soon 
Bhall  there  return  an  actor  and  buffoon, 
ffince  stretch'd  beyond  the  point  where  honour  endtf. 
One  day  too  long  my  term  of  life  extends. 
Fortune,  extreme  alike  in  good  and  ill. 
Since  thus  to  blast  my  fame  has  been  thy  will ; 
Why  didst  thou  not,  ere  spent  my  youthnil  race, 
Bend  me  yet  pliant  to  this  dire  disgrace  ? 
Whife  power  remain'd,  with  yet  unbroken  frame, 
Him  to  have  pleased,  and  eam'd  the  crowd's  acclain  > 
But  now  why  drive  me  to  an  actor's  part. 
When  nought  remains  of  all  the  actor's  art ; 
Kor  life,  nor  fire,  which  could  the  scene  rejoice. 
Nor  grace  of  form,  nor  harmony  of  voice  ? 
As  fades  the  tree  round  which  the  ivy  twines, 
80  in  the  clasp  of  age  my  strength  deellntffe.' 

Vol.  I.— .2  R 


» 


330  LA6ERIUS. 

'<  Neeana  est  nidtM  timett,  quern  milti  tinmt," 

on  which  the  whole  audience  turned  their  eyes  to  Csfiar,  who 
was  present  in  the  theatre*. 

It  was  not  merely  to  entertain  the  people,  who  woald  have 
been  as  well  amused  with  the  representation  of  any  other 
actor;  nor  to  wound  the  private  feehngs  of  Laberins,  that 
Csesar  forced  him  on  the  stage.  His^sole  object  was  to  degrade 
the  Roman  knighthood,  to  subdue  their  spirit  of  independence 
and  honour,  and  to  strike  the  people  with  a  sense  of  his  unli- 
mited sway.  This  policy  formed  part  of  the  same  system  which 
afterwards  led  him  to  persuade  a  senator  to  combat  among 
the  ranks  of  gladiators.  The  practice  introduced  by  Caesar 
became  frequent  during  the  reigns  of  his  successors ;  and  in 
the  time  of  Domitian,  the  Fabii  and  Mamerci  acted  as  plasi- 
pedes,  the  lowest  class  of  buffoons,  who,  barefooted  and 
smeared  with  soot,  capered  about  the  stage  in  the  intervab 
of  the  play  for  the  amusement  of  the  rabble ! 

Though  Laberius  complied  with  the  wishes  of  Ca&sar,  in 
exhibiting  himself  on  the  stage,  and  acquitted  himself  with 
ability  as  a  mimetic  actor,  it  would  appear  that  the  Dictator 
had  been  hurt  and  offended  by  the  freedoms  which  he  used 
in  the  course  of  the  representation,  and  either  on  this  or  some 
subsequent  occasion  bestowed  the  dramatic  crown  on  a  Syrian 
slave,  in  preference  to  the  Roman  knight.  Laberius  submitted 
with,  good  grace  to  this  fresh  humiliation ;  he  pretended  to 
regard  it  merely  as  the  ordinary  chance  of  theatric  competi- 
tion, as  he  expressed  to  the  audience  in  the  following  lines: — 

**  Non  poMunt  prinii  ene  omnea  omni  io  tempore. 

Sumrnum  ad  gradam  cum  claritatia  veneris, 
Gonsistes  eg^ :  et  dthis  quam  ascendas,  deddet. 
Ceddi  ego— cadet  qui  sequiturt."-^- 

Laberius  did  not  long  survive  this  double  mortification:  be 
retired  from  Rome,  and  died  at  PuteoU  about  ten  months  after 
the  assassination  of  Cffi8ar|. 

The  titles  and  a  few  fragihents  of  forty-three  of  the  Mimes 
of  Laberius  are  still  extant;  but,  excepting  the  prologue, 
these  remains  are  too  ini^onsiderabie  and  detached  to  enable 
us  to  judge  of  their  subject  or  merits.  It  would  appear  that 
he  occasionally  dramatized  the  passing  follies  or  absurd  oc- 

*  Macfobius,  SaiumaUa,  Lib.  II.  c.  7. 

t  "  All  are  not  always  first — ^few  have  been  known 

To  rest  long  on  the  summit  of  renown. 

In  fame  we  faster  fall  than  we  ascend : 

I  fall — who  foUows,  thus  his  course  must  end.** 
t  Cfhron.  Eunb,  ad  Olymp.  1S4. 


LABERIUS. .  331 

currences  of  the  day :  for  Cicero,  writing  to  the  lawyer  Tre- 
bonius,  who  expected  to  accompany  Caesar  from  Gaul  to 
Britaiii,  tells  him  .he  had  best  return  to  Rome  quickly,  as  a 
longer  pursuit  to  no  purpose  would  be  so  ridiculous  a  circum- 
stance, that  it  would  hardly  escape  the  drollery  of  that  arch 
fellow  Laberius ;  and  what  a  burlesque  character,  he  continues, 
would  a  British  lawyer  furnish  out  for  the  Roman  stage* ! 
The  only  passage  of  sufficient  length  in  connection  to  give  us 
any  idea  of  his  manner,  is  a  whimsical  application  of  a  story 
concerning  the  manner  in  which  Democritus  put  out  his  eyes-*- 


«« 


Democritus  Abderites,  physicus  pbiloeophufl, 
Clypeum  con«Utuit  contra  exortum  Hyperionis ; 
Oculos  effodere  ut  poss«t  splendore  ereo. 
Ita,  radiiB  wlia  aciem  effodit  luiDints, 
Mails  beoe  erae  ne  videret  civibus. 
Sic  ego,  fulgentis  splendore  pecimic,. 
Volo.elueificare  exitum  etatb  iDe«, 
He  'm  re  bonA  «Me  vidaam  nequam  fiUumt.' 


It 


According  to  Aulus  Gellius,  Laberius  has  taken  too  much 
license  in  inventing  words;  and  that  author  also  gives  various 
examples  of  his  use  of  obsolete  expressions,  or  such  as  were 
employed  only  by  the  lowest  dregs  of  the  people|.  Horace 
seems  to  have  considered  an  admiration  of  the  Mimes  of  La- 
berius as  the  consummation  of  critical  folly^.  I  am  far,  how- 
ever, from  considering ,  Horace  as  an  infallible  judge  of  true 
poetical  excellence.  He  evidently  attached  more  importance 
to  correctness  and  terseness  of  style,  than  to  originality  of 
genius  or  fertility  of  invention.  I  am  convinced  he  would 
not  have  admired  Shakspeare:  He  would  have  considered 
Addison  and  Pope  as. much  finer  poets,  and  would  have  in- 
cluded Falstafi^  and  Autolycus,  and  Sir  Toby  Belch,  the 
clowns  and  the  boasters  of  our  ffreat  dramatist,  in  the  same 
censure  which  he  bestows  on  the  Plauiinos  sales  and  the  Mimes 


*  JBfiit.  Fama.  Lib.  Vll.ep.  11. 

t  "  Democritus,  the  philosophic  sage 
Of  Abdeca,  deep  read  in  Nature's  page. 
Opposed  a  brazen  shield  of  polish  bright 
To  fidl-oii>ed  Phoebus*  mid-day  shafts  of  ttgbt» 
That  the  rouod  mirror,  havipg  catched  ihe  rayf , 
Might  blast  his  vision  with' the  dazzline  blaze; 
Thus  his  extinguished  eyes  could  ne*er  Mhold 
The  widwd  prosper.    O  that  thus  my  gold 
Might,  with  the  lustre  of  its  yellow  light. 
Din  through  my  closing  years  these  orbs  of  sight. 
Whose  danness  would  not  see  a  thriftless  son 
Waste  the  fair  fortune  which  hb  fadien  wool" 

iJ>roa.  jSitU.  Ub.  XVi.  c*  7. 
aotar.  Lib.  1. 10. 


332  PUBLIUS  SYRUS. 

of  Laberiofl.  Probably,  too,  the  freedom  of  die  prologue,  and 
other  passages  of  bis  dramas,  contributed  to  draw  down  the 
disapprobation  of  this  Augustan  critic,  as  it  already  bad  placed 
the  dramatic  wreath  on  the  brow  of 


PUBLIUS  SYRUS. 

The  celebrated  Mime,  called  Publius  Syrus,  was  brought 
from  Asia. to  Italy  in  early  youth,  in  the  same  vessel  with  his 
countryman  and  kinsman,  Manlius  Antiochus,  the  professor 
of  astrology,  and  Staberiiis  Eros,  the  grammarian,  who  all,  by 
some  desert  in  learning,  rose  above  their  original  fortune. 
He  received  a  good  education  and  liberty  from  his  master,  io 
reward  for  his  witticisms  and  facetious  disposition.  He  first 
represented  his  Mimes  in  the  provincial  towns  of  Italy,  whence, 
his  fame  having  spread  to  Rome,  he  was  summoned  to  the 
capital,  to  assist  in  those  public  spectacles  which  Caesar  afford- 
ed his  countrymen,  in  exchange  for  their  freedom*.  On  one 
occasion,  he  challenged  all  persoi>s  of  his  own  profession  to 
contend  with  him  on  the  stage ;  and  in  this  competition  he 
succesrsively  overcame  every  one  of  his  rivals.  By  his  success 
in  the  representation  of  these  popular  entertainments,  be 
amassed  considerable  wealth,  and  lived  with  such  luxury,  that 
he  never  gave  a  great  supper  without  having  sow's  udder  at 
table — a  dish  which  was  prohibited  by  the  censors,  as  being 
too  great  a  luxury  even  for  the  table  of  patriciansf . 

Nothing  farther  is  known  of  hid  history,  except  that  he  was 
atill  continuing  to  perform  his  Mimes  with  applause  at  the  pe- 
riod of  the  death  of  Laberius. 

We  have  not  the  names  of  any  of  the  Mimes  of  Publius; 
nor  do  we  precisely  know  their  nature  or  subject, — all  that  is 
preserved  from  them  being  a  number  of  detached  sentiments 
or  maxims,  to  the  number  of  800  or  900,  seldom  exceeding  a 
aingle  line,  but  containing  reflections  of  unrivalled  force,  truth, 
and  beauty,  on  all  the  various  relations,  situations,  and  feel* 
ings  of  human  life — friendship,  love,  fortune,  pride,  adversity, 
avarice,  generosity.  Both  the  writers  and  actors  of  Mimes 
were  probably  careful  to  have  their  memory  stored  with  com* 
mon-places  and  precepts  of  morality,  in  order  to  introduce 
them  appropriately  in  their  extemporaneous  performances. 
The  maxims  of  Publius  were  interspersed  through  his  dramas, 
but  being  the  only  portion  of  these  productions  now  remaining} 

*  Macrobius,  Satumal,  Lib.  11.  c.  7. 
t  Plin.  Out.  JV^it  Lib.  VIU.  c.  «1. 


PUBLIUS  SYRUB.  383 

they  Iiave  just  the  appearance  of  thoughts  or  •entimentfl,  like 
those  of  Rochefoucauld.  His  Mimes  must  either  have  been 
very  numerous,  or  very  thickly  loaded  with  these  moral  apho* 
risms.  It  is  also  surprising  that  they  seem  raised  far  above 
the  ordinary  tone  even  of  regular  comedy,  and  appear  for  the 
greater  part  to  be  almost  stoical  maxims.  Seneca  has  re- 
marked that  many  of  his  eloquent  verses  are  fitter  for  the 
bu.skin  than  the  slipper*.  How  such  exalted  precepts  should 
ha/e  been  grafted  on  the  lowest  farce,  and  how  passages, 
which  would  hardly  be  appropiate  in  the  most  serious  senti- 
mental comedy,  were  adapted  to  the  actions  or  manners  of 
gross  and  drunken  buffoons,  is  a  difficulty  which  could  only 
be  solved  had  we  fortunately  received  entire  a  larger  portion 
of  these  productions,  which  seem  to  have  been  peculiar  to 
Roman  genius. 

The  sentiments  of  Publius  Syrus  now  appear  trite.  They  . 
have  become  familiar  to  mankind,  and  have  been  re-echoed 
by  poets  and  moralists  from  age  to  age.  All  of  them  are  most 
felicitously  expressed,  and  few  of  them  seem  erroneous,  while 
at  the  same  time  they  are  perfectly  free  from  the  selfish  or 
worldly-minded  wisdom  of  Rochefoucauld,  or  Lord  Burleigh. 

**  Amicofl  res  opims  parant,  adverWD  probant 
Miaerrifna  fortuna  eat  qu»  inimico  caret* 
Ingratua  udus  miaeria  omnibua  nocet. 
Tiraidua  vocat  ae  eautum»  parcum  aordidua. 
Etiam  obUviaci  quid  acia  interdum  prodeat. 
Id  nullum  avania  bonua,  in  ae  peastmus. 
Cuivia  doloii  remedium  eat  padentia. 
Honeatua  rumor  altenim  eat  patrimonium. 
Tam  deeat  avaro  quod  habet  quam  quod  non  habet. 
0  vitamiaero  longa— felici  brevia !" 

This  last  sentiment  has  been  beautifully,  but  somewhat  diffusely 
expressed  by  Metastasio : 

"  Perch^  tarda  k  mai  la  morte 
Quando  *'  termine  al  roartir  ? 
A  chi  Tive  in  Ueta  aorte 
£  Bollecito  il  morir." — JMasene. 

The  same  idea  is  thus  expressed  by  La  Bruyere  : ''  La  vie  est 
coorte  pour  ceux  qui  sont  dans  les  joyes  du  roonde  :  Elle  ne 
paroit  longue  qu'a  ceux  qui  languissent  dans  Tafiliction.  Job 
88  plaint  de  vivre  long  temps,  et  Salomon  craint  de  mourir  trop 
jeane."  La  Bruyere,  indeed,  has  interspersed  a  vast  number 
of  the  maxims  of  the  Roman  Mime  in  his  writings, — expanding, 
modifying,  or  accooomodating  them  to  the  manners  of  his  age 

•  Ep.  TW. 


334  MATIUS. 

and  country,  as  best  suited  his  purpose.  Que  of  them  only, 
he  quotes  to  reprehend  : 

"  lU  amicum  habeas,  poase  ut  fieri  mimicum  patea." 

This  sentiment,  which  Publius  had  borrowed  from  the  Greeks, 
and  which  is  supposed  to  have  been  originally  one  of  the  say- 
ings of  Bias,  has  been  censured  by  Cicero,  in  his  beautiful 
treatise  De  Amicitiay  as  the  bane  of  friendship.  It  would  be 
endless  to  quote  the  lines  of  the  different  Latin  poets,  par- 
ticularly Horace  and  Juvenali  which  are  nearly  copied  from 
the  maxims  of  Publius  Syrus.  Seneca,  too,  has  availed  him- 
self of  many  of  his  reflections,  and,  at  the  same  time,  does  iiill 
justice  to  the  author  from  whom  he  has  borrowed.  Publius, 
says  he,  is  superior  in  genius  both  to  tragic  and  comic  writen : 
Whenever  he  gives  up  the  follies  of  the  Mimes,  and  that  lan- 
guage which  is  directed  to  the  crowd,  he  writes  many  things 
not  only  above  that  species  of  composition,  but  worthy  of  the 
tragic  buskin^. 

Cneius  Matius,  also  a  celebrated  writer  of  Mimes,  was  con- 
temporary with  Laberius  and  Publius  Syirus.  Some  writers 
have  confounded  him  with  Caius  Matius,  who  was  a  correspon- 
dent of  Cicero,  and  an  intimate  friend  of  Julius  Csesar. 
Ziegler,  though  he  distinguishes  him  from  Cicero's  correspon- 
dent, says,  that  he  was  the  same  person  as  the  friend  of  Csesarf. 

Aulus  Gellius  calk  Matius  a  very  learned  man,  {ham 
erudUua  et  impenae  doctuaf)  and  frequently  quotes  him  for 
obsolete  terms  and  forms  of  expression^.  Like  other  writers 
of  Mimes,  he  indulged  himself  a  good  deal  in  this  sort  of  phra- 
seology, but  his  diction  was  considered  as  agreeable  and 
hiffhly  poetical^. 

The  Mimes  of  Matius  were  called  Mimiambi,  because  chiefly 
written  in  iambics ;  but  not  more  than  a  dozen  lines  have  de- 
scended to  us.  The  following  verses  have  been  praised  for 
elegance  and  a  happy  choice  of  expressions — 

"  Quapropter  edulcare  conyenit  vitam, 
Curaaque  acerbaa  aeoaibuB  suberoare ; 
Sinaque  amicam  redpere  fi^dam  caldo 
Columbatimque  labra  conaerena  labris|(." 

«  Seaec.  Epiat,  t  ^  MUnii  liamanonunf  p.  66. 

iJVoctAtHe.Uh,Xy.c.2S,   Lib.X.e.24. 
Tereat.  Maurui,  De  MetrU  i  Ziegler,  De  JHun,  jRom.  p.  OS  and  67. 

II  «<  Xia  fit  that  we  &e  meaoa  employ. 
To  aweeteD  life,  and  life  eiyoy. 
Let  pleaaure  lay  your  earea  to  reat. 
And  claap  the  nir  one  to  yourbreaat, 
Give  and  receive  the  melting  Idaa, 
UQw  dovetia  houia  of  anoroul  Uiw.** 


M  ATinS.  336 

The  age  of  Laberias,  P.  Syrus,  and  Matiiiff,  wai  the  moit 
brilliant  epoch  in  the  history  of  the  actora  of  Mimes.     After 
that  period,  they  relapsed  into  a  race  of  impudent  buffoons ; 
and,  in  the  reign  of  Augustus,  were  classed,  by  Horace,  with 
moantebanks  and  mendicants*.     Pantomimic  actors,  who  did 
not  employ  their  voice,  but  represented  everything  by  gesticu- 
lation and  dancing,  became,  under  Augustus,  the  idols  of  the 
multitude,  the  minions  of  the  great,  and  the  favourites  of  the 
fair.    The  Mimi  were  then  but  little  patronized  on  the  stage^ 
but  were  atill  admitted  into  convivial  parties,  and  even  the 
court  of  the  Emperors,  to  entertain  the  guestsf ,  like  the  His- 
trions.  Jongleurs,  or  privileged  fools,  of  the  middle  ages  ;  and 
they  were  also  employed  at  funerals,  to  mimic  the  manners  of 
the  deceased.    Thus,  the  Arcbimimus,  who  represented  the 
character  of  the  avarioious  Vespasian,  at  the  splendid  celebra- 
tion of  his  obsequies,  inquired  what  would  be  the  cost  of  all 
this  posthumous  parade ;   and  on  being  told  that  it  would 
amount  to  ten  millions  of  sesterces,  he  replied,  that  if  they 
would  give  him  a  hundred  thousand,  they  might  throw  his 
body  into  the  riverf.     The  audacity,  however,  of  the  Mime9 
was  carried   still  rarther,  as  they  satirized  and  insulted  the 
most  ferocious  Emperors  during  their  lives,  and  in  their  own 
presence.     An  actor,  in  one  of  these  pieces  which  was  per- 
formed during  the  reign  of  Nero,  while  repeating  the  words 
"  yak  pater  J  vale  mater,*^  signified  by  his  gestures  the  two 
modes  of  drowning  and  poisoning,  in  which  that  sanguinary 
fiend  had  attempted  to  destroy  both  his  parents^.     The  Mimi 
currently  bestowed  on  Commodus  the  most  opprobrious  appel- 
labonll.     One  of  their  number,  who  performed  before  the  enor-» 
mous  Maximin,  reminded  the  audience,  that  he  who  was  too 
strong  for  an  individual,  might  be  massacred  by  a  multitude, 
and  that  thus  the  elephant,  lion,  and  tiger,  are  slain.    The 
tyrant  perceived  the  sensation  excited  in  the  Theatre,  but  the 
suggestion  was  veiled. in  a  language  unknown  to  that  barba- 
rous and  gigantic  Thracian^. 

The  Mimes  may  be  traced  beyond  the  age  of  Constantine^ 
as  we  find  the  fathers  of  the  church  reprehending  the  inmio- 
rality  and  licentiousness  of  such  exhibitions^f .  Tradition  is 
never  so  faithful  as  in  the  preservation  of  popular  pastimes; 
and  accordingly,  many  of  those  which  had  amused  the  Romans 

*  Satir,  Lib.  I.  2.  t  Vopiscus.  Vit.  Aunl.  c.  42. 

X  Suetonius,  .M  Vetptu*  e.  19,  §  Id.  At  Mrone,  c.  29. 

i  Appenatufl  est  a  Bfimis  quasi  obstupratos.— 'Lampridtus,  Ftl.  CommodL  c.  8. 
Y  Jid.  CapitoUnoB.  M  Maximin.  c.  9. 

*t  Tertuffian,  De  S^aac^  c.  17 ^Lactantius,  Dw,  hut.  Lib.  VI.  c.  20.— Wal- 
ker on  the  RaHtm  Drama,  p.  8. 


3S6  MATIU8. 

minriTed  their  dominion.  The  annual  celebration  of  Carmral 
prolonged  the  remembrance  of  them  during  the  dark  aget. 
Hence,  the  Mimes,  and  the  Atellaiie  fables  formerly  mentiooed, 
became  the  origin  of  the  Italian  pantomimic  parts  introduced  in 
the  Camme^ieddFarte^  in  which  a  subject  was  assigned,  and  the 
scenes  were  enumerated ;  but  in  which  the  dialogue  was  left 
to  the  extemporary  invention  of  the  actors,  who  represented 
buffoon  characters  in  masks,  and  spoke  the  dialect  of  diAe- 
rent  districts.  ^*  As  to  Italy,'^  says  Warburton,  in  an  account 
given  by  him  of  the  Rise  and  Progress  of  the  Modern  Stage, 
**  the  first  rudiments  of  its  theatre,  with  regard  to  the  matter, 
were  profane  subjects,  and  with  regard  to  the  form,  a  corrup- 
tion of  ancient  Mimes  and  Atellanes." — Zanni  is  one  of  the 
names  of  the  Harlequin  in  the  Italian  comedies ;  and  Sannio,  ai 
we  learn  from  ancient  writers,  was  a  ridiculous  personage, 
who  performed  in  these  Latin  farces,  with  his  head  shaved*, 
his  face  bedaubed  with  sootf ,  and  clothed  in  party-coloured 
garments — a  dress  universally  worn  by  the  ancient  Italian 
peasantry  during  the  existence  of  the  Roman  Republicf. 
The  lowest  species  of  mimic  actors  were  called  plantpede^,  be- 
cause they  performed  without  sock  or  buskin,  and  generalif 
barefooted,  whence  Harlequin's  flat  unsho'd  feet.  A  passage  of 
Cicero,  in  which  he  speaks  of  the  Sannio,  seems  almost  inten- 
ded to  describe  the  perpetual  and  flexible  motion  of  the  limbs, 
the  ludicrous  gestures,  and  mimetic  countenance  of  Harlequin* 
"Quid  enim,"  says  he,  "potest  tam  ridiculum  quam  Sannio 
esse?  qui  ore,  vultu,  imitandis  motibus,  voce,  denique  cor- 
pore  ridetur  ipso^."  Among  the  Italians,  indeed,  this  cha- 
racter soon  degenerated  into  a  booby  and  glutton,  who  became 
the  butt  of  his  more  sharp-sighted  companions.  In  France, 
Harlequin  was  converted  into  a  wit, — sometimes  even  a  mo- 
ralist ;  and  with  us  he  has  been  transformed  into  an  expert 
magician,  who  astonishes  by  sudden  changes  of  the  scene: 
But  none  of  these  was  his  original,  or  native  character,  which, 
as  we  have  seen,  corresponded  to  the  Sannio  of  the  Mimes  and 
Atellane.  fables.  In  the  year  1727,  a  bronze  figure  of  high 
antiquity,  and  of  which  Quadrio  gives  an  engraving!),  was 
found  at  Rome ;  and  it  appears  from  it,  that  the  modern  Pol* 
licinella  of  Naples  is  a  lineal  descendant  of  the  JlimM  iO^ 
of  the  Atellanesir.  Ficoroni,  who,  in  his  work  Larve  Sceni(Mi 
compares  his  inmiense  collection  of  Roman  masks  with  tbc 

*  Rasis  capitibiu.    Vossius,  BuHhU.  Poeik.  Ub.  II.  c.  82.  §  4. 

t  Diomed.  De  Orat,  Lib.  III. 
Celsus,  De  Re  Ru8tiea,  Lib.  I.  c  8.  ^^ 

Jh  Oratare,  Lib.  II.  c.  61.  \\  Storia  D"  Ogm  Poena,  Ton.  V.  p.  f^ 

Ri^oboni,  iS$L  de  Theatre  nahen.  Tom.  I.  p.  21. 


ROMAN  THEATRE.  3*7 

modern  Italian  characters,  was  possessed  of  an  onyx,  which  re- 
preseotetl  a  Mime  with  a  long  nose  and  pointed  cap,  carrying 
a  bag  of  money  in  one  hand,  and  two  brass  balls  in  the  other, 
which  he  sonnded,  as  is  supposed,  like  castanets  when  he  dan- 
ced. These  appendages  correspond  to  the  attributes  which 
distio^uished  the  Italian  dancer  of  Catana^  known  by  the  name 
of  Giaogorgolo.  Another  onyx  exhibits  a  figure  resembling 
that  of  Pantalone.  It  is  also  evident  from  the  Antiques  col- 
lected by  Ficoroni,  that  the  Roman  Mind  were  fond  of  repre- 
senting caricatures  of  foreign  nations,  as  we  find  among  these 
ancient  figures  the  attires  of  the  oriental  nations,  and  the  garb 
of  old  Gaul — ^a  species  of  exhibition  in  which  the  Cmnmedia 
deU'  arte  also  particularly  delighted. 

These  dmimedie  ddP  arte  were  brought  to  the  highest 
pitch  of  comic  and  grotesque  perfection  by  Ruzzante,  an  Ita- 
lian dramatist,  who  both  wrote  and  performed  a  numberof 
tbem  about  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  who,  in 
addition  to  Zany  and  PoUicinella,  peopled  the  stage  with  a 
Dew  and  enlivening  crowd  of  mimetic  characters.  There  ap- 
pears to  be  something  so  congenial  to  the  Italian  taste  in  ' 
these  exhibitions,  that  they^  long  maintained  their  ground 
against  the  regular  dramas,  produced  by  the  numerous  suc- 
cessors of  Trissino  andBibbiena,  and  kept  supreme  possession 
of  the  Italian  stage^  till  at  length  Goldoni,  by  introducing 
beauties  which  were  incongruous  with  the  ancient  masks,  gra- 
dually refined  the  taste  of  his  audience,  made,  them  ashamed 
of  their  former  favourites,  and  then,  in  some  of  his  piecest 
ventured  to  exclude  fi-om  the  stage  the  whole  grotesque  and 
gesticulating  family  of  Harlequin. 


Having  said  so  much  (and,  I  fear,  too  much)  of  the  Mimes^ 
and  other  depairtments  of  the  Roman  drama,  it  would  not  be 
suitable  to  conclude  without  some  notice,  I.  of  the  mechanical 
construction  of  the  theatre  where  the  dramatic  entertainments 
Were  produced;  and,  IL  of  the*  actprs'  declamation,  as  also  of 
the  masks  and  other  attributes  of  the  characters  which  were 
chiefly  represented.  • 

I*  Such  was  the  severity  of  the  ancient  republican  law, 
that  it  permitted  no  places  of  amusement,  except  the  circuSi 
where  games  were  specially  privileged  from  having  been 
institute  by  Ronmlus,  and  exhibited  in  honour  of  the  gods. 
Satiric  and  dramatic  representations,  however,  as  we  nave 
seen,  gradually  became  popular;  and,  at  length,  so  increased 

Vol..  I.~2  S 


338  ROMAN  THEATRE. 

in  number  and  importance,  that  a  Theatre  was  reqaiied  for 
their  performance. 

Tfae  subject  of  the  construction  of  the  Roman  theatre  ii 
attended  with  difficulty  and  confusion.  While  there  are  suU 
considerable  remains  of  amphitlieatres,  scarcely  any  roina  oi 
vestiges  of  theatres  exist.  The  writings  of  the  ancients  throw 
little  light  on  the  topic ;  and  there  is  much  contradictiou,  or 
at  least  apparent  inconsistency,  in  what  has  been  written,  in 
consequence  of  the  alterations  which  took  place  in  the  con- 
struction of  theatres  in  the  progress  of  time. 

Those  stages,  which  were  erected  in  the  earliest  periods  of 
the  Roman  republic,  for  the  exhibitions  of  dancers  and  bis- 
trions,  were  probably  set  up  according  to  the  Etruscan  mode, 
in  places  covered  with  boughs  of  trees,  (Nemorosa  palatia,) 
in  tents  or  booths,  or,  at  best,  in  temporary  and  moveable 
buildings — perhaps  not  much  superior  in  dignity  or  accom- 
roodation  to  the  cart  of  Thespis. 

But,  though  the  Etruscan  histrions  probably  constructed 
the  stage  on  which  they  were  to  perform,  according  to  tbe 
fashion  of  their  own  country,  the  Grreek  was  the  model  of  the 
regular  Roman  theatre,  as  much  as  the  pieces  of  Euripides 
and  Menander  were  the  prototypes  of  the  Latin  tragedies  and 
comedies.  The  remains  of  a  playhouse  believed  to  be  £tni»- 
can,  were  discovered  at  Adria  about  the  middle  of  the  seven- 
teenth century.  But  there  was  a  wider  difference  between  it 
and  the  Roman  theatre,  than  between  the  Roman  and  the 
Greek.  The  Greeks  had  a  large  orchestra,  and  a  very  limited 
stage-^the  Romans,  a  confined  orchestra,  and  extensive  stage; 
while  in  the  Adrian  theatre,*  the  orchestra  was  larger  even 
than  in  the  Greek*. 

The  first  regular  theatre  at  Rome  was  that  constructed  for 
Livius  Andronicus  on  the  Aventine  Hill.  This  building,  bo^' 
ever,  was  but  temporary,  and  probably  existed  no  longer  than 
the  distinguished  dramatist  and  actor  for  whose  accommoda- 
fion  it  was  erected.  In  the  year  575,  M.  iEmilius  Lepidus  got 
a  theatre  constructed  adjacent  to  the  temple  of  Apollof ;  bat 
it  also  was  one  of  those  occasional  buildings;  which  v^^ 
removed  after  the  series  of  dramatic  exhibitions  for  which 
they  had  been  intended  were  concluded.  A  short  while  before 
the  commencement  of  the  third  Punic  war,  a  playhouse,  which 
the  censors  were  fitting  up  with  seats  for  the  convenience  of 
the  spectators,  was  thrown  down  by  a  decree  of  the  senate, 

■ 

*  Di$$ert.deU^cadem,  JStnuc.  Tom.  Uh 

t  Liyy,  Lib.  XL.  c.  61.    Theatrum  et  prodcenium  ad  ApoDuDiis  sdem  Joiif  ^ 
Capitotio,  columoaaque  eirca  poUendas  aibo  locavit. 


ROMAN  THEATRE.  330 

as  prejudicial  to  public  morals ;  and  the  people  continued  fi>r 
some  time  longer  to  view  the  representations  standing,  as 
formerly^.  At  length,  M.  JEmilim  Scaurus  built  a  theatre 
capable  of  containing  80,000  spectators,  and  provided  with 
every  possible  accommodation  for  the  public.  It  was  also 
adorned  with  amazing  magnificence,  and  at  almost  incredible 
expense.  Its  stage  had  three  lofts  or  stories,  rising  above  each 

'^er,  and  supported  by  360  marble  columns.  The  lowest 
floor  was  of  marble — the  second  was  incrusted  with  glass; 
and  the  third  was  formed  of  gilded  boards  or  planks.  The 
pillars  were  thirty-eight  feet  in  height ;  and  bietween  them 
were  placed  bronze  statues  and  images,  to  the  number  of  not 
fewer  than  3000.  There  was  besides  an  immense  superfluity 
of  rich  hangings  of  cloth  of  gold ;  and  painted  tablets,  the 
most  exquisite  that  could  be  procured,  were  disposed  ail 
around  the  pulpiium  and  scenesf . 

Curio,  being  unable  to  rival  such  profuse  and  costly  deco- 
ratidn,  distinguished  himself  by  a  new  invention,  which  lie 
introduced  at  the  ibneral  entertainments  given  by  h'un  in  honour 
of  bis  father's  memory.  He  constructed  two  large  edifices  of 
wood  adjacent  to  each  other,  and  suspended  on  hinges  so 
contrived  that  the  buildings  eould  be  united  at  their  centre  or 
separated,  in  such  ^  manner  as  to  form  a  theatre  or  amphi- 
theatre, according  to  the  nature  of  the  exhibition.  In  both 
these  &bric8  he  made  stage  plays  be  acted  in  the  early  part 
of  the  day — the  semicircles  being  placed  back  to  back,  so 
that  the  declamation,  music,  and  applauses,  in  the  one,  did 
not  reach  the  other;  and,  then,  having  wheeled  them  round  in 
the  afternoon,  so  that,  by  completing  the  circle,  they  formed 
an  amphitheatre,  he  exhibited  combats  of  gladiators^.  All 
these  changes  were  performed  without^  displacing  the  specta- 
tors, who  seem  to  have  fearlessly  trusted  themselves  to  the 
strength  of  the  machinery,  and  skill  of  the  artist. 

The  theatres  of  Scaurus  and  Curio,  though  they  far  sur- 
passed in  extent  anJ  sumptuous  decoration-  all  the  permanent 
theatres  of  modern  times;  yet^  being  built  of  wood,  and  being 
only  destined  for  a  certain  number  of  representations  during 
certain  games  or  festivals,  were  demolished  when  these  were 
concluded.  The  whole  furnishings  and  costly  materials  of 
the  theatre  of  Scaurus  were  immediately  removed  to  his  pri- 
vate villa,  where  they  were  burned,  it  is  said,  by  his  servants, 

*  Livy,  IDpUam,  Lib.  XLVIII.    Qumn  locattim  a  eensoribiu  theatram  ezstroere* 
tttr;  P.  C.  Naiidl  auctore,  tanquam  inutile,  et  nocitunim  publicis  moribua,  «i 
toKonsQlto  destnictum  est :  populusque  aiiquandiu  itaas  kudos  spectif  it4 

t  PHq.  Hisf.  JVbt.  lib.  XXXVI.  c  1& 


340  ROMAN  THEATRE. 

in  a  transport  of  indignation  at  the  extravagant  profiuion  of 
their  master*. 

Pompey  was  the  first  person  who  erected  a  permaoent 
theatre  of  stone.  After  the  termination  of  the  Mithridatic 
war,  he  made  a  coasting  voyage  along  the  shores  and  islands 
of  Greece.  In  the  whole  <^  his  progress  he  showed  the  atten- 
tion of  a  liberal  and  cultivated  mind  to  monuments  of  art. 
The  theatre  of  Mitylene  particularly  pleased  htm,  both  in  its 
outward  form,  and  interior  construction.  He  carried  away 
with  him  a  model  of  this  building,  that  he  might  erect  at 
Rome  a  theatre  similar  to  itf ,  but  on  a  larger  scale.  The 
edifice  which  he  built  on  the  plan  of  this  theatre,  after  his 
return  to  Rome,  was  situated  in  the  field  of  Flora,  near  the 
temple  of  Venus  Victrix,  and  held  just  one  half  of  the  number 
of  spectators  which  the  playhouse  of  Scaurus  contaiDed|.  It 
was  completed  during  rompey's  second  consulship,  in  the 
year  698.  On  the  day  on  which  it  was  opened,  iEsopus,  the 
great  tragic  actor,  appeared  for  the<  last  time  in  one  of  his 
favourite  characters,  but  his  strength  and  voice  failed  himi 
and  he  was  unable  to  finish  the  part. 

The  construction  of  this  theatre  was  speedily  followed  by 
the  erection  of  others.  But  all  the  Roman  theatres  which 
were  built  towards  the  close  of  the  republic,  and  comnieoce- 
ment  of  the  empire,  were  formed,  in  most  respects,  on  the 
model  of  the  Greek  theatre,  both  in  their  external  plan  aD<l 
interior  arrangement.  They  were  oblong  semicircular  build- 
ings, forming  the  half  of  an  amphitheatre;  and  were  thus 
rounded  at  one  end,  and  terminated  on  t4ie  other  by  a  long 
straight  line.  The  interior  was  divided  into  tliree  parts— !• 
The  place  for  the  spectators;  2.  The  orchestra;  and,  3.  The 
8tage<^ 

1 .  The  universal  passion  of  the  Roman  people  for  all  sorts 
of  exhibitions,  rendered  the  places  firom  which  they  were  to 
view  them  a  matter  of  competition*  and  importance.  Origi- 
nally there  were  no  seats  in  the  theatres,  and  the  senators 
stood  promiscuously  with  the  people ;  yet,  such  in  those  davs 
was  the  reverence  felt  by  the  plebeians  for  their  digrified 
superiors,  that,  notwithstanding,  their  rage  for  spectacles, 
they  never  pushed  before  a  senator||.  It  was  in  the  year  559. 
during  the  consulship  of  the  elder  Scipio  Africanus  with 
Sempronius  Longus,  that  the  former  carried  a  law,  by  «bi<^t) 
separate  places  were  assigned  to  the  senatorsl.     This  regu- 

•  Plln.  Hist  JVat  Lib.  XXXVI.  c.  16,  t  Wutwcb,  /n  Ptmp^ 

X  Plin.  msl.  J>rat.  Lib.  XXXVI.  c.  16.  §  Vitruvius,  Lib.  V.  c  € 

II  Alexander  ab  Aleiaadio,  Dwa  Oemales,  LU>.  V.  c,  16. 
IT  Aui. 


ROMAN  THEATRE.  341 

latioQ  was  renewed  frcmn  time  to  time,  as  circumstances  of 
political  confusion  removed  the  line  of  distinction  which  had 
beeo  drawn.  Scipio  lost  much  of  his  popularity  by  this  aris- 
tocratic innovation,  and  is  said  to  have  severely  repented  of 
the  share  he  had  taken  in  it*.  By  the  law  of  Scipio,  part  of 
the  orchestra,  (which,  in  the  Greek  theatre,  was. occupied  by 
the  chorus,)  was  appropriated  to  the  senators.  The  knights 
and  plebeians,  however,  continued  to  sit  promiscuously  for 
more  than  100  years  long'er ;  but  at  length,  in  685,  a  regulation 
of  the  tribune,  Roscius  Otho,  allotted  to  the  knights,  tribunes,  , 
and  persons*  of  a  certain  census,  fourteen  rows  of  circular 
beaches  immediately  behind  the  orchestra.  This  was  a  still  more 
unpopular  measure  than  that  introduced  by  the  edict  of  Afri* 
canus.  Otho,  during  the  consulship  of  Cicero,  having  entered 
the  theatre,  was  hissed  by  the  multitude,  while  Roscius  was 
acting  one  of  his  principal  parts;  but  Cicero  presently  called 
them  out  to  the  temple  of  Bellona,  where  he  delivered  a 
harangue,  which  appeased  their  fury  and  reconciled  them  to 
the  tribunef .  Henceforth  the  senators  held  undisputed  pos- 
session of  the  orchestra;  and  the  knights,  with  the  better 
classes,  retained  the  fourteen  rows  of  seats  immediately  sur- 
rounding it. 

The  seats  for  the  senators,  arranged  in  the  orchestra,  were 
straight  benches,  pUced  at  equal  distances  from  each  other, 
and  were  not  fixed|.  The  other  benches,  which  were  as- 
signed to  the  knights  and  people,  were  semicircularly  disposed 
around  the  circumference  of  the  theatre,  and  spread  from  the 
orchestra  to  the  rounded  end  of  the  building.  The  extremi- 
ties of  the  seats  joined  the  orchestra,  and  they  were  carried 
one  above  another,  sloping,  till  they  reached  the  remotest 
part,  and  ascended  almost  to  the  ceiling.  .  Thus  the  benches 
which  were  lowest  and  most  contiguous  to  the  orchestra, 
described  a  smaller  circumference  than  those  which  spread 
more  towards  the  outer  walls  of  the  theatre^.  Over  the 
higher  ti^r  of  seats  a  |)brtico  was  constructed,  the  roof  of 
which  ranged  with  the  lofliest  part  of  the  scene,  in  order  that 
the  voice  expanding  equally,  might  be  carried  to  the  upper- 
most seats,  and  thence  to  the  top  of  the  building||.  The 
benches,  which  were  gently  raised  above  each  other,  were 
separated  into  three  sets  or  tiers;  each  tier,  at  least  in  most 
theatres,  consisting  of  seven  benches.     According  to  some 

*  Aleniider  ab  Alexandra,  Dies  Oeniale$,Liib,  V.  c.  IS. 

t  Sch^ilz,  ad  Fragment,  Oper.  Ciceroni$,  Tom.  XVI. 

i  WflkiiM'  VUruvius,  Vol.  II.  p.  185.  §  Urid.  Lib.  V.  c.  8. 

H  iWrf.  JLib.  V.  c.  7. 


843  ROMAN  THEATRE. 

V 

writers,  die  eefwration  of  these  tiers  was  a  passage,  or  gaHery, 
which  went  quite  round  them  for  facility  of  communication; 
according  to  others^  it  was  a  belt^  or  precinction,  which  was 
twice  the  height,  and  twice  the  breadth  of  the  seats*.  It 
Would  appear,  however,  from  a  passage  in  Vitruiius,  that 
both  a  raised  belt,  and  a  gallery  or  eorridore,  surrounded 
each  tier  of  seat^f  •  One  of  the  precinctions  fimned  the 
division  between  the  places  of  the  knights  and  those  of  the 
people}.  In  a  different  and  angular  direction,  the  tiers  and 
ranges  of  seats  were  separated  by  stairs,  making  so  many 
lines  in  the  circumference  of  the  seats,  and  leading  from 
the  orchestra  to  the  doors  of  the  theatre.  The  benches 
were  cut  by  the  stairs  into  the  form  of  wedges.  The  steps  of 
the  stairs  were  always  a  little  lower  than  the  seats ;  but  the 
number  of  stairs  varied  in  different  theatres.  Pompey's 
theatre  had  fifteen,  that  of  Marcellus  only  seven^.  As  luxury 
increased  at  Rome,  these  stairs  were  bedewed  with  streams  of 
fragrant  water,  for  the  purposes  of  coolness  and  refreshment. 
At  the  top  of  each  flight  of  steps  were  doors  called  pomiioria^ 
which  gave  egress  from  the  theatre,  and  communicated 
directly  with  the  external  stair-cases  ||. 

In  the  ancient  temporary  Roman  theatres,  tbe  body  of  the 
building,  or  place  where  the  spectators  sat,  was  open  at  top 
to  receive  the  light.  But  Quintus  Catulus,  during  the  enter- 
tainments exhibited  at  his  dedication  of  the  Capitol,  intro- 
duced the  luxury  of  canvass,  which  was  drawn  partially  or 
completely  over  the  theatre  at  pleasurelT.  This  curtain  was 
at  first  of  simple  unornamented  woof,  and  was  merely  used  as 
a  screen  from  the  sun,  or  a  protection  firom  rain;  but,  in 

Eroccss  of  time,  silken  hangings  of  glossy  texture  and  splendid 
ues  waved  from  the  roof,  flinging  their  gorgeous  tints  on  the 
pro9cemum  and  spectators : — 

«<  Et  yulgo  laciuat  id  Itttea  raasaque  veh, 
Et  femigina,  quum,  magnis  intenta  theaUii, 
Per  malos  vulgata  trabesque,  trementia  fluctaat. 
Namque  ibi  consessum  caveai  aubter,  et  omnem 
Scenalem  apeeiem,  patium,  matramque,  deommqiM, 
Infickmt,  coguntque  suo  fluitare  oolore'f.'' 

2.  The  Orchestra  was  a  considerable  mmlcc  in  the  cratre 
i6f  the  theatre,  part  of  which  was  allotted  for  the  seats  of  the 

*  Montfaucon,  VAnHquU^  DevaiU,  Liv.  11.  c.  1. 

Lib.  V.  c.  8.  }  Mont&ucon,  Liv.  11.  c  S. 

MoDtfaocoD,  LIv.  II.  c.  L 

Ibid,  and  Macrobiua,  SatwrndtiOt  Lib.  VL  c.  4. 
ir  Plin.  But.  Jm,  Lib.  XIX.  c.  I.  *t  Lucietiaa,  Ub.  IT. 


HOMAN  THEATRE.  S43 

lefuUmi.  The  remainder  was  occupied  by  tkose  who  |rfayed 
upon  musical  iustruments,  whose  office  it  was,  in  the  pep> 
formance  both  of  tragedies  and  comediesy  to  give  to  the 
actors  and  audience  the  tone  of  feeling  which  the  dramatio 
parts  demanded.  In  tragediies,  the  music  invariably  accom- 
panied the  Chorus.  It  was  not,  however,  confined  to  the 
Chorus;  but  appears  to  have  been  also  in  the  monologues, 
and  perhaps  in  some  of  the  most  impassioned  parts  of  the  dia* 
Ipgue;  for  Cicero  tells  of  Roscius,  that  he  said,  when  he  grew 
older,  he  would  make  the  mu^ic  play  slower,  that  he  might 
the  more  easily  keep  up  with  it*.  I  do  not,  however,  believe, 
that  comedy  was  a  musical  performance  throughout :  Mr  Haw* 
kins,  after  quoting  a  number  of  authorities  to  this  purpose, 
concludes,/^  that  comedy  had  no  music  but  between  the  acts, 
^cept,  perhaps,  occasionally  in  the  case  of  marriages  and 
sacrifices,  if  any  such  were  represented  on  the  stagef." 

Every  play  had  its  own  musical  prelude,  which  distinguished 
it  from  others,  and  from  which  many  of  the  audience  at  once 
knew  what  piece  was  about  to  be  performed];.  The  chief 
musical  instruments  employed  in  th<3  theatre  were  the  liMtf^ 
or  flutes,  with  which  the  comedies  of  Terence  are  believe^  to 
have  been  represented.  The  Andria  is  said  to  have  been 
acted,  <'  Tibiis  paribus,  deztris  et  sinistris ;" — the  Eunuch, ''  Ti- 
biis  duabus  dextris  f* — the  Heaidontimorymmos,  on  its  first 
appearance,  '^Tibiis  imparibus;"  on  its  second,  *'  Duabus  dex** 
tiis;"— the  Addphi,  ''Tibiis  sarranis;"— the  Hecyraj  *'  Tibiis 
paribus," — and  the  Phanmo^  "Tibiis  imparibus."  It  thus 
appears,  thai  the  theatrical  flutes  were  classed  as  "dextrse  et 
ainistrsB,"  and  also  as  ''  pares  et  impares,"  and  that  there  were 
likewise  '*  Tibise  Serransd,"  or  ''  Sarranae,"  to  which,  it  is  be- 
lieved, the  Phrygiae  were  opposed.  There  has  been  much 
dispute,  however,  as  to  what  constituted  the  distinction  be- 
tween these  different  sets  of  pipes.  Scaliger  thinks,  that  the 
"Tibiae  dextrce  et  sinistrae''  were  formed  by  catting  the  reed 
into  two  parts ;  that  portion  which  was  next  to  the  root  mak- 
ing the  left,  and  that  next  to  the  top  the  right  flute, — whence 
the  notes  of  the  former  were  more  grave,  and  those  of  the 
latter  more  acute^^.  Mad.  Dacier,  hoi^^ver,  is  of  opinion,  that 
flutes  were  denominated  right  and  left  from  the  valves,  in 
playing,  being  stopped  with  the  right  or  left  hand.    There  is 

*  De  Oraiore,  Lib.  I.  c.  60. 

t  Hmwkins*  fnqwry  into  Greek  and  Latin  Poetry,  §  xiii. 

i  Cicero,  Aeademiea,  Lib.  IL  c.  7. — ^**Primo  tnnatu  tibicinis,  ADtiopam  esse 
aiuat,  ant  Andromacham." 

§  Poet.  Lib.  I.  c.  20. — See  also  Theophrastus  ap.  Bartholimis,  De  TIbiU  Vett- 
mm.  Lib.  I.  c. 4,  and  Plin.  IRst.  JVat.  Lib.  XYL  c.  86. 


344  ROMAN  THEATRE. 

■till  more  difficulty  with  re^rd  to  the  '*  Tibiae  pares  et  im* 
pares."  Some  per&ons  conjecture,  that  the  Tibiae  pares  were 
a  set  of  two  or  more  pipes  of  the  same  pitch  in  the  musical 
scale,  and  Impares  such  as  did  not  agree  in  pitch*.  The 
opinion,  that  flutes  were  called  Pares  when  they  had  an  even, 
and  Impares  when  an  odd  number  of  valves,  is  not  inconsistent 
with  this  notion;  nor  with  that  adopted  by  Dempsterf,  that 
the  difference  depended  on  their  being  equal  or  unequal  dis- 
tances between  the  valves.  It  may  be  also  reconciled  with 
the  idea  of  Salroasius,  that  when  the  same  set  of  flutes  were 
employed,  as  two  right  or  two  left,  a  play  was  said  to  be  acted 
Tibiis  paribus;  and,  when  one  or  more  right  with  one  or  more 
left  were  used,  it  was  announced  as  performed  Tibiis  impari- 
bus.  This  idea,  however,  of  Salmasius,  is  inconsistent  with 
what  is  said  as  to  the  Andria  being  acted  with  equal  flutes 
light  and  left;  unless,  indeed,  we  suppose,  with  Mad.  Dacier, 
that  this  is  to  be  understood  of  different  representations,  and 
that  the  flutes  weie  of  the  same  description  at  each  perform- 
ance, but  were  sometimes  a  set  of  right,  and  at  other  times  a 
set  of  left  flutes. 

As  to  the  TibisB  Serranoe,  some  have  supposed  that  they 
were  so  called  from  Serra,  since  they  produced  the  sharp  grat- 
ing sound  occasioned  by  a  saw| ;  some,  that  they  were  de- 
nominated Sarranae  from  Sarra,  a  city  in  Phoenicia,  where 
such  flutes  are  believed  to  have  been  invented^^ ;  and  others, 
that  they  derived  their  name  from  Sero  to  lock ;  because  in 
these  flutes,  there  were  valves  or  stops  which  opened  and  shut 
alternately II .  It  is  only  farther  known,  that  the  TibiBe  Ser- 
ranffi  belonged  to  the  class  called  Pares,  and  the  Phrygiie,  to 
which  they  were  opposed,  to  that  styled  Impares. 

All  flutes,  ef  whatever  denomination^  were  entremely  simple 
in  the  commencement  of  the  dramatic  art  at  Rome.  Their 
form  was  plain,  and  they  had  but  few  notes.  In  progress  of 
time,  however,  they  became  more  complex,  and  louder  in 
their  toneslT. 

Several  chorded  instruments  were  also  used  in  the  orchestra, 
as  the  lyre  and  harp,  and  in  later  times  an  hydraulic  organ 
was  introduced.  Thit  instrument,  which  is  described  in  the 
Organon  of  Pub.  Optatianus,  emitted  a  sound  which  was  pro- 
dueed  from  air  created  by  the  conc^ussion  of  water.  Corne- 
lius Severus,  in  his  poem^  of  ^tna,  alludes  to  it,  under  the 
name  of  Corlifia— 


*  Hawkiiu'  hupnTy  into  Lot.  Poet  p.  184. 

t  AntiquUatea  Ranumm,  %  Tumebus,  Adnen.  Lib.  S^LYUI.  c.  84 

Servius  ap.  Bartholin   Dt  TWm  Veter. 

HawUxui'  ^i^titry,  p.  187.  .  t  Horat.  Jti,  Poet,  ▼.  MS. 


\ 


ROMAN  THEATRE.  34$ 

"  Carmmeque  irriguo  magni  Cortina  Theatri 
ImparibuB  numerosa  mows  canit  arte  regends,. 
Que  tenuemimpelleDS  animam  aubremigat  undam*." 

3.  The  Stage.  The  front  area  of  the  stage  was  a  little  ele- 
vated above  that  part  of  the  orchestra  where  the  musicians 
were  placed,  and  was  called  the  Proscenium  On  the  prosce- 
nium a  wooden  platform,  termed  the  pulpitum,  was  raised  to 
the  height  of  five  feetf .  This  the  actors  ascended  to  |>erfbrm 
their  characters;  and  here  all  the  dramatic  representations  of 
the  Romans  were  exhibitedt,  except  the  Mimes,  which  were 
acted  on  the  lower  floor  of  tne  proscenium.  Certain  architec- 
tural proportions  Were  assigned  to  all  these  different  parts  of 
the  theatre. 

The  whole  space  or  area  behind  the  pulfntum  was  called 
the  Soena,  because  the  scenery  appropriate  to  the  piece  was  • 
there  exhibited.  "The  three  varieties  of  scenes,"  says  Vitru- 
vius, "  are  termed  tragic,  comic,  and  satyric,  each  of  which 
has  a  style  of  decoration  peculiar  to  itself.  In  the  tragic 
scene  columns  are  represented,  with  statues,  and  other  em- 
bellishments suitable  to  palaces  and  public  buildings.  The 
comic  scene  represents  the  houses  of  individuals,  with  their 
balconies  and  windows  arranged  in  imitation  of  private  dwel- 
lings. The  satyric  is  adorned  with  groves,  dens,  and  moun- 
tains, and  other  rural  objects."  The  rigid  adherence  of  the 
ancients  to  the  unity  of  place,  rendered  unnecessary  that  fre- 
quent shifting  of  scenes  which  is  required  in  our  dramas. 
When  the  side  scenes  were  changed,  the  frames,  or  painted 
planks,  were  turned  by  machinery,  and  the  scene  was  then 
called  versatiUa^  or  revolving:  When  it  was  withdrawn  alto- 
gether, and  another  brought  forward,  it  was  called  ductUis^  or, 
sliding.  There  were  also  trapdoors  in  the  fl6or  of  this  part  of 
the  theatre,  by  which  ghosts  and  the  Furies  ascended  when 
their  presence  was  required;  and  machines  were  disposed 
above  the  scene,  as  also  at  its  sides,  by  which  cods  and  other 
superior  beings  were  suddenly  brought  upon  the  stage. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  scene,  or  end  most  remote  from  the 
spectators,  there  was  a  curtain  of  painted  canvass,  which 
was  first  used  after  the  tapestry  of  Attains  had  been  brought 
to  Rome§.  It  was  dropped  when  the  play  began,  remained 
down  duiing  the  performance,  and  was  drawn  up  when  the 

*  V.  295.    On  the  subject  of  the  HydrauIicoD,  see  Wemsdorff,  Poet,  Lot,  JMMh 
Tom.  II  p.  894 ;  and  Busby's  History  ofMuaie. 
t  VitruYiiis,  Lib.  V.  c.  6.    Mont&iicon,  Li  v.  II.  c.  1. 
i  Ibid.  §  Stephens,  De  Theahir. 

Vol.  I-— 2  T 


346  ROMAN  THEATKE* 

representation  concluded.  This  was  certainly  the  case  dar- 
ing the  existence  of  the  republic ;  but  I  imagine  that  an  alte- 
ration took  place  in  the  time  of  the  emperors,  and  that  the 
curtain,  being  brought  more  forward  on  the  scene,  was  then, 
as  with  us,  raised  at  the  commencement,  and  dropped  at  the 
end  of  the  piece : — 


*<  Moz  ubi  ridendaB  incliiflit  pagina  partes, 
Veraredit  fades,  dissimulata  perit*.'' 


f> 


At  each  side  of  the  9cena  there  were  doors  called 
by  which  the  actors  entered  and  made  their  exits. 

That  part  of  the  theatre  which  comprehended  the  stage  and 
scene  was  originally  covered  with  branches  of  trees,  which 
served  both  for  shelter  and  ornament.  It  was  afterwards  shut 
in  with  planks,  which  were  painted  for  the  first  time  in  the 
year  654.  About  the  san^e  period  the  scene  was  enriched 
with  gold  and  silver  hangings,  and  the  proscenium  was  deco- 
rated with  columns,  statues,  and  altars  to  the  god  in  whose 
honour,  or  at  whose  festival,  the  stage  plays  were  represented. 

II.  In  turning  our  attention  to  the  ador^  who  appeared  on 
the  jndpUum  of  the  Roman  stage,  the  point  which  first  attracts 
our  notice  is  that  supposed  separation  of  the  dramatic  labour, 
by  which  one  performer  gesticulated  while  the  other  declaim- 
ed. This  division,  however,  did  not  take  place  at  all  in  co- 
medy, or  in  the  ordinary  dialogue  {Diverbia)  of  tragedy  ;  as  is 
evinced  by  various  passages  in  the  Latin  authors,  which  show 
that  iEsopus,  the  chief  tragic  actor,  and  Roscius,  the  celebrated 
comedian,  both  gesticulated  and  declaimed.  Cicero  informs 
us,  that  .£sopus  was  hissed  if  he  was  in  the  least  degree 
hoarsef  ;  and  he  also  mentions  one  remarkable  occasion,  on 
which,  having  returned  to  the  stage  after  he  had  long  retired 
from  it,  his  voice  suddenly  failed  him  just  as  he  commenced 
an  adjuration  in  the  part  he  represented]:.  This  evinces 
that  i^sopus  declaimed ;  and  the  same  author  affords  us  proof 
that  he  gesticulated :  For,  in  the  treatise  De  Dwinatiane^  he 
introduces  his  brother  Quintus,  declaring,  that  he  had  him- 
self witnessed  in  ^opu9  such  animation  of  countenance,  and 
vehemence  of  gesture,  that  he  seemed  carried  beside  himself 


*  Pet.  Axbiter,  StOyrie.  c.  80. 

t  ^sopum,  si  paulium  irrauserit,  explodi.  De  Oraiorey  Ub.  I.  c.  80. 
X  Noster  ifisopus,  jurare  quum  cospisflet,  vox  eum  defeoit  in  Ulo  loco  '*  Si 
fano.''    JEJpiff.  Ama.  lib.  VU.  ep.  1.  Ed.  Schiitz. 


ROMAN  THEATRE.  347 

by  MBie  irresistible  power*.  Roscius,  indeed,  is  chiefly  talked 
of  for  the  gracefulness  of  bis  gesturesf ,  but  there  are  also  pas- 
sages which  refer  to  the  modulation  of  his  voice|.  It  may 
perhaps,  however,  be  said,  that  the  above  citations  only  prove 
that  the  same  actor  gesticulated  in  some  characters,  and  de- 
claimed in  others ;  it  seems,  however,  much  more  probable 
that  iEsopus  went  through  the  whole  dramatic  part,  than  that 
he  appeared  in  some  plays  merely  as  a  gesticulating,  and  in 
others  as  a  declaiming,  performer. 

There  was  thus  no  division  in  the  ordinary  dialogue,  or  dp- 
verJnum^  as  it  was  called,  and  it  was  employed  only  in  the 
monologues,  and  those  parts  of  high  excitement  and  pathos, 
which  were  declaimed  somewhat  in  the  tone  of  reciiativo  in 
an  Italian  opera,  and  were  called  CafUica^  from  being  accom- 
panied either  by  the  flutes  or  by  instrumental  music.  That 
one' actor  should  have  recited,  and  another  performed  the  cor- 
responding gestures  in  the  scenes  of  a  tragedy,  and  that,  too,  in 
parts  of  the  highest  excitement,  and  in  which  theatric  illusion 
should  have  been  rendered  most  complete,  certainly  appears  the 
most  incongruous  and  inexplicable  circumstance  in  the  history 
of  the  Roman  Drama.  This  division  did  not  exist  on  the 
Greek  stage,  but  it  commenced  at  Rome  as  early  as  the  time 
of  Livius  Andronicus,  who,  being  encored^  as  we  call  it,  in  his 
monologues,  introduced  a  slave,  who  declaimed  to  the  sound 
of  the  flute,  while  he  himself  executed  the  corresponding 
gesticulationa^.  To  us  nothing  can  seem  at  first  view  more 
ridiculous,  and  more  injurious  to  theatric  illusion,  than  one 
person  going  through  a  dumb  show  or  pantomime,  while  ano- 
ther, who  must  have  appeared  a  supernumerary  on  the  pulpi- 
tam,  recited,  with  his  arms  across,  the  corresponding  verses, 
in  tones  of  the  utmost  vehemence  and  pathos ||.    It  must, 

*  Vidi  in  Mwpo  fiuniliaii  tuo»  taotum  ardorem  Tultuum  atque  motuum,  ut  eum 
^  quedaiB  abstraxisse  a  aensu  mentiB  videretur.  c,  87. 
t  Cicero,  jMv  Arekh,  e.  8.    Valer.  Maxim.  Lib.  VIH.  c.  7. 

S  Cicero,  De  LegOmi,  Lib.  1.  c.  4. 
Livy.  Lib.  Vlf  c.  2. 
n  I  at  one  time  was  iaelioed  to  think  that  the  reciting  actor  was  concealed  behind 
tbs  polpitum,  wliieh  was  elevated  on  tlie  stase  about  the  height  of  a  man,  and 
^ce  that  (he  spectators  saw  only  the  gesticuMtinff  actor.  If  mis  plan  was  actu- 
%  adopted,  the  representatipn  may  have  been  conducted  without  any  apparent  in- 
coQgnii^  or  violation  of  the  scenic  illusioo.  In  Lord  Oardenstoun's  "  l)raoeUing 
^morandums,"  we  have  an  account  of  a  play  wiiich  he  saw  acted  at  Paris,  where* 
io  order  to  elude  a  privilege,  the  actors  who  app*>ared  on  the  stage  did  not  speak 
one  word.  ** Their  fips,'^  continued  his  lordship,  "move,  and  they  go  on  with 
coneepondiBg  action  and  attitudes.  But  every  word  of  the  play  is  uttered  with 
lorpnsing  propriety  and  character  by  persons  behind  the  scenes.  The  play  was 
nearly  over  before  this  singularity  was  discovered  to  me  and  others  of  our  party. 
'Tbe  whole  was  so  strangely  managed,  that  we  could  have  sworn  the  visible  actors 


348  ROMAN  THEATRE. 

however,  be  recollected,  that  the  Roman  theatres  were  larger 
and  worse  lighted  than  ours  ;  that  the  mask  prevented  evon  the 
nearest  spectators  from  perceiving  the  least  motion  of  the  lips, 
and  they  thus  heard  only  the  words  without  knowing  whether 
they  proceeded  from  him  who  recitea  or  gestured  ;  and,  finally, 
that  these  actors  were  so  well  trained,  that  they  agreed  pre- 
cisely in  their  respective  parts.  We  are  informed  by  Cicero, 
that  a  comedian  who  made  a  movement  out  of  time  was  9S 
much  hissed  as  one  who  mistook  the  pronunciation  of  a  word 
,  or  quantity  of  a  syllable  in  a  verse*.  Seneca  says,  that  it  is 
surprising  to  see  the  attitudes  of  eminent  comedians  on  the 
stage  overtake  and  keep  pace  with  speech,  notwithstanding 
the  velocity  of  the  tonguef. 

ISo  nuich  importance  was  attached  to  the  art  of  dramatic 
gesticulation,  that  it  was  taught  in  the  schools  ;  and  there  were 
instituted  motions  as  well  as  natural.  These  artificial  gestur^ 
however,  of  arbitrary  signihcation,  were  chiefly  employed  ia 
pantomime,  where  speech  not  being  admitted,  more  action 
was  required  to  make  the  piece  intelligible :  And  it  appean 
from  Quintilian,  that  comedians  who  acted  with  due  decorum, 
never,  or  but  very  rarely,  made  use  of  instituted  signs  in  their 
gesticulation|.  The  movements  suited  to  theatrical  decla- 
mation were  subdivided  into  three  ditterent  sorts.  The  first, 
called  Emmelia,  was  adapted  to  tragic  deelamatibo ;  the 
second,  Cordax,  was  fitted  to  comedies ;  and  the  third,  Sidnr 
ms,  was  proper  to  satiric  pieces,  as  the  Mimes  and  ExoiHa^. 

The  recitation  was  also  accounted  of  high  importance,  so 
that  the  player  who  articulated  took  prodigious  pains  to  im- 
prove his  voice,  and  an  almost  whimsical  care  to  preserve  it||. 
Nearly  a  third  part  of  Dubos'  once  celebrc^d  work  on  Poetrf 
and  Painting,  is  occupied  with  the  theatric  declamation  of 
the  Roman  actors.  The  art  of  framing  the  declamation  of 
dramatic  pieces  was,  he  informs  us,  ttie  object  of  a  particular 
Study,  and  indeed  profession,  at  Rome.  It  was  composed  and 
signified  in  notes,  placed  over  each  verse  of  the  play,  to  direct 
the  tones  and  inflection  of  voice  which  were  to  be  observed 
in  recitation.    There  were  a  certain  number  of  accents  in  the 

were  also  the  speakers."  (Vol.  I.  p.  24.)  I  have  not,  however,  heen  aUe  to  dis- 
cover any  ancient  authority,  from  which  it  can  be  inferred  that  the  represeDtafion  oC 
a  Roman  play  was  conducted  in  this  manner  by  the  reciting  actor  being  placed 
either  behind  the  scenes  or  pulpitum ;  and  ail  authorities  concur  as  to  this  stianga 
division  of  dramatic  Iatx>ur,  at  least  in  the  monologues  of  tngedies. 

*  Cicero,  Paradox.  III.  c.  2.  f  Epist.  121. 

t  hiMt.  Orat,  Lib.  XI.  c.  8. 

6  Athensus,  Lib.  I.  Dubos,  R^/kxUm$  nw  la  pQ^ne,  Lib.  III.  c.  14. 

n  Cicero,  Jk  OraUre,  Lib.  I. 


ROMAN  THEATRE.  349 

Latin  language,  and  the  composer  of  a  declamation  marked 
each  syllable  requiring  to  be  accented,  the  grave  or  the  acute 
accent  which  properly  belonged  to  it,  while  on  the  remaining 
syllables,  he  noted,  by  means  of  conventional  marks,  a  tone 
conformable  to  the  tenor  of  the  discourse.  The  declamation 
was  thus  not  a  musical  song,  but  a  recitation  subject  to  the 
liirection  of  a  noted  melody  -  Tragic  declamation  was  graver 
and  more  harmonious  than  comic,  but  even  the  comic  was  more 
musical  and  varied  than  the  pronunciation  used  in  ordinary 
conversation*.  This  system,  it  might  be  supposed,  would 
have  deprived  the  actors  of  much  natural  fire  and  enthusiasm, 
firom  the  constraint  to  which  they  were  thus  subjected ;  but 
the  whole  dramatic  system  of  the  ancients  was  more  artificial 
than  ours,  and  something  determinate  and  previously  arranged, 
as  to  quantities  and  pauses,  was  perhaps  essential  to  enable 
the  gesticulating  actor  to  move  in  proper  concert  with  the 
reciter.  The  whole  system,  however,  of  noted  declamation, 
is  denied  by  Duclos  and  Racine,  who  think  it  impossible  that 
accentuated  tones  of  passion  could  be  devised  or  employedf . 

Both  the  actor  who  declaimed,  and  he  who  gesticulated, 
wore  maaks;  and,  before  concluding  the  subject  of  the  Roman 
theatre,  it  may  not  be  improper  to  say  a  few  words  concerning 
this  singular  dramatic  contrivance,  as  also  concerning  the 
attire  of  the  performers. 

From  the  opportunity  which  they  so  readily  afforded,  of 
personally  satirizing  individuals,  by  representing  a  caricatured 
resemblance  of  their  features,  masks  were  first  used  in  the  old 
Greek  comedy,  which  assumed  the  liberty  of  characterizing 
living  citizens  of  Athens.     It  is  most  probable,  however,  that 
the  hint' of  dramatic  masks  was  given  to  the  Romans  by  the 
EtruAcans^.     That  they  were  employed  by  the  histrions  of 
that  latter  nation,  can  admit  of.no  doubt.     The  actors  repre- 
sented on  the  Etruscan  vases  are  all  masked,  and  have  caps 
on  their  heads§.     We  also  know,  that  in  some  of  the  satirical 
exhibitions  of  the  ancient  Italians,  they  wore  masks*  made  .of 
wood: 

"  Nee  Don  Attsonii,  Trojft  gens  missa,  colon! 
Versibus  incompds  ludunt,  rUuque  soluto : 
Oraque  corlicibus  samiiDthorrcndacavatisH." 


*  Quiotil.  IM^.  Orat.  Lib.  11.  c.  10. 

t  Mem.  de  VAcad.  des  Inscriptions,  T.  21. 

BonaroU,  Addit.  ad  Dempster.  £truria  RegaKs,  §  36. 

Dissert.  deW  Acad.  Etrusc.  T.  HI. 
0  VirgU.  Georg.  Lib.  11. 


{ 


360  ROMAN  THEATRE. 

Originally,  and  in  the  time  of  L.  AndronicuS)  the  aetonon 
the  Roanan  stage  used  only  caps  or  beavers^,  and  their  bcei 
were  daubed  and  disguis^  with  the  lees  of  wine,  as  at  the 
commencement  of  the  dramatic  art  in  Greece.  The  increased 
size,  however,  of  the  tlieatres,  and  consequent  distance  of  the 
spectators  from  the  stage,  at  length  compelled  the  Roman 
placers  to  borrow  from  art  the  expression  of  those  passioss 
which  could  no  longer  be  distinguished  on  the  living  coaste- 
nance  of  the  actor. 

Most  of  the  Roman  masks  covered  not  merely  the  face,  bat 
the  greater  part  of  the  headf ,  so  that  the  beard  and  hair  were 
delineated,  as 'well  as  the  features*  This  indeed  is  impUed  in 
one  of  the  fables  of  PhsBdrus,  where  a  fox,  after  having 
examined  a  tragic  mask,  which  he  found  lying  in  hie  way, 
exclaims,  "  What  a  vast  shape  without  brains^ !" — An  observa- 
tion obviously  absurd,  if  applied  to  a  mere  vixard  for  the.face, 
which  was  not  made,  and  could  not  have  been  expected,  to 
contain  any  brains.  Addison,  in  his  TraveU  in  lialy^  men- 
tions,  that,  in  that  country,  he  had  seen  statues  of  actors,  with 
the  larva  or  mask.  One  of  these  was  not  merely  a  vizard  for 
the  face  $  it  had  false  hair,  and  came  over  the  whole  head  like 
an  helmet.  He  also  mentions,  however,  that  he  has  seen 
jfigures  of  Thalia,  sometimes  with  an  entire  head-piece  in  her 
hand,  and  a  frix  runninjg  round  the  edges  of  the  &ce;  bat  at 
others,  with  a  mask  merely  for  the  countenance,  like  the 
modern  vizards  of  a  masquerade* 

The  masks  of  the  regular  theatre  were  made  of  chalk,  or 
pipe-clay,  or  terra  cotta.  A  few  were  of  metal,  but  these 
were  chiefly  the  masks  of  the  Mimes.  The  chalk  or  clay 
masks  were  so  transparent  and  artftiUy  prepared,  that 'the  plaj 
of  the  muscles  could  be  seen  through  them;  and  it  appears 
that  an  opening  was  frequently  left  Tot  the  eyes,  since  Cicero 
informs  us  expressly,  that  in  parts  of  high  pathos  or  indigna- 
tion,  the  actor's  eyes  were  often  observed  to  sparkle  under  the 
vizard^.  From  a  vast  collection  of  Roman  masks  engraved  in 
the  work  of  Ficoroni,  De  LarvU  Scenicis^  it  appears  that  most 
of  them  represented  features  considerably  distorted,  and 
enlarged  beyond  the  natural  proportions.  A  wide  and  gaping 
mouth  is  one  of  their  chief  characteristics.  The  mask  being 
in  a  great  measure  contrived  to  prevent  the  dispersion  of  the 


*  Berger,  Comment,  de  Penanie,  Lib.  II.  sect.  9. 
t  Au.  Gellitts,  J^oet.  JUHe.  Lib.  V.  c.  7. 

lib.  I.  Fab.  7.    *<  O  quanta  qpecies,  inqult,"  &c. 

JM  Oraiore,  Lib.  IL  c.  47. 


I 


ROMAN  THEATRE.  351 

Toic6,  the  moath  was  8o  formed,  and  was  so  incnisted  with 
metal,  as  to  have  somewhat  the  effect  of  a  speaking-trampet — 
hence  the  Romans  gave  the  name  of  jiersana  to  masks,  because 
tiief  rendered  the  articulation  of  those  who  wore  them  more 
distinct  and  sonorous"*.  There  are,  however,  a  few  figures  in 
the  work  of  Ficoroni,  carrying  in  their  hands  masks  which  are 
not  anoaturally  distorted,  and  which  have,  in  several  instances, 
a  resemblance  to  the  actor  who  holds  them.  M.  Boindin,  on 
the  authority  of  a  passage  in  Lucian's  Dialogue  an  Dancings 
thinks  that  these  less  hideous  masks  were  employed  by  dancers, 
or  pautomimic  actors,  who,  as  they  did  not  speak,  had  no 
occasion  for  the  distended  mouthf  • 

Roscius,  who  had  some  defect  in  his  eyes,  is  said  to  have 
been  the  first  actor  who  used  the  Greek  mask  j: ;  but  it  was  not 
invariably  worn  even  by  him,  as  appears  from  a  passage  of 
Cicero.-^*^  All,''  says  that  author, "  depends  upon*the  face,  and 
all  the  power  of  the  face  is  centred  in  the  eyes.  Of  this  our 
old  men  are  the  best  judges,  for  they  were  not  lavish  of  their 
applause  even  to  Roscius  in  a  mask^.'' 

The  diffisrent  characters  who  chiefly  appeared  on  the  Ro* 
man  stage^— the  fiither,  the  lover,  the  parasite,  the  pander,  and 
the  courtesan,  were  distinguished  by  their  appropiate  masks. 
A  particular  physiognomy  was  considered  as  so  essential  to 
each  character,  that- it  was  thought,  that  without  a  proper 
niask,  a  complete  knowledge  of  the  personage  could  pot  be 
comomnicated.  ^*  In  tragedies,"  says  Quintilian,  *^  Niobe  ap- 
pears with  a  sorrowful  countenance — and  Medea  announces 
her  character  by  the  fierce  expression  of  her  physiognomy 
—stem  courage  is  painted  on  the  mask  of  Hercules,  whue  that 
of  Ajaz  proclaims  his  transport  and  phrensy.  In  comedies, 
the  masks  of  slaves,  pimps,  and  parasites— -peasants,  soldiers, 
old  women,  courtezans,  and  female  sliives,  have  each  their 
particular  character||."  Julius  Pollux,  in  his  Onamasticanf 
has  given  a  minute  description  of  the  mask  appropriate  to 
every  dramatic  eharacterlT.    His  work,  however,  was  written 

*  JToct,  jiOus.  Ub.  V.  c.  7. 

t  •Afem.  de  FAcadem.  des  InseriptUms,  kc,  Tom.  IV. 

\  AthensBiu,  Lib.  XIY .  Pitiscus,  Lexicon,  voce  Per$ona,  Beiger,  Comment* 
^  PertonU,  c.  IL  §  9. 

§  Dt  Oratort,  Clb.  IIL  e.  59.  <*  Noetri  itli  aenes  peraonatum  ne  Rosdum  qui- 
deoi  magnopere  laudabaot."  This  passage,  however,  is  of  somewhat  doubtful  inter- 
pretatioD.  It  may  mean  that  these  old  men,  having  been  accustomed  to  the  natural 
countenance,  did  not  applaud  even  so  neat  an  actor  as  Roscius,  because  he  was 
invariably  masked :  or  it  may  signify,  mat  they  did  not  gready  admiie  him  when 
masked,  and  only  applauded  him  when  be  appeared  in  his  natural  aspect  Aa  some 
authorities  say  tfiat  Kosdus  rmariabhf  used  the  mask,  the  former  ioterpietatlon 
<^y>  perhaps,  appear  the  most  probable. 

!(  tuHtui.  Orator,  Lib.  XL  c.  8.  t  Lib.  lY.  c.  19. 


362  ROMAN  THEATRE. 

in  the  reign  of  the  Emperor  Commodus,  and  hig  obs^vatioos 
are  chiefly  formed  on  the  practice  of  the  Greek  theatre,  »o 
that  there  may  have  been  some  difference  between  the  various 
mask$  he  describes,  and  those  of  the  Roman  stage,  towards 
the  end  of  the  republic.  The  matron,  virgin,  and  courtezan, 
he  informs  us,  were  particularly  distinguished  from  each  other 
by  the  manner  in  which  their  hair  was  arranged  and  braided. 
The  mask  of  the  parasite  had  brown  and  curled  hair:  That 
of  the  braggart  captain  had  black  hair,  and  a  swarthy  com- 
plexion*; and  it  farther  appears  from  the  engravings  of  masb 
in  Ficoroni,  that  he  had  a  distended  or  inflated  countenance. 
The  masks,  likewise,  distinguished  the  severe  from  the  indul- 
gent father — the  Micio  from  the  Demea — ^and  the  sober  youth 
from  the  debauched  rakef.  If,  in. the  course  of  the  comedy, 
the  father  was  to  be  sometimes  pleased,  but  sometimes  in- 
censed, one  of  the  brows  of  his  vizard  was  knit,  and  the  other 
smooth ;  and  the  actor  was  always  careful,  during  the  course 
of  the  representation,  to  turn  to  the  spectators,  along  with  the 
change  of  passion,  the  profile  which  expressed  the  feeling 
predominant  at  the  ttme|.  Julius  Pollux  has  also  described 
the  dresses  suited  to  each  character :  The  youth  was  clad  in 
purple,  the  parasite  in  black,  slaves  in  white,  the  pander  in 
party-coloured  garments,  and  the  courtezan  in  flowing  yellow 
robes^. 

It  wpuld  introduce  too  long  discussion,  were  I  to  enter  on 
the  much-agitated  question  concerning  the  advantages  and 
disadvantages  of  masks  in  theatric  representations.  The  lat- 
ter are  almost  too  apparent  to  be  enlarged  on  or  recapitulated. 
It  is  obvious  to  remark,  that  though  masks  might  do  very  well 
for  a  Satyr  and  Cyclops,  who  have  no  resemblance  to  human 
features,  they  are  totally  unsuitable  for  a  flatterer,  a  miser,  or 
the  like  characters,  which  abound  in  our  own  species,  in  whom 
the  expression  of  countenance  is  more  agreeable  even  than 
the  action,  and  forms  a  considerable  part  of  the  histrionic  art. 
Could  we  suppose  that  a  vizard  represented  ever  so  naturally 
the  general  numour  of  a  character,  it  can  never  be  assimilated 
with  the  variety  of  passions-  incident  to  each  person,  in  the 
whole  course  of  a  play.  The  grknace  may  be  proper  on  some 
occasions,  but  it  is  too  fixed  and  steady  to  agree  with  all.  b 
consequence,  however,  of  the  great  size  of  the  ancient  theatres, 
there  was  not  so  much  lost  by  the  concealment  of  the  living 

*  OnomagHean,  Lib.  rv.  c.  19.    See  also  Scaliger,  Poet.  Lib.  I.  c.  14, 15,  !<• 
t  Quintil.  huHt,  Orator.  Lib.  XI.  c.  8.  |  ibid. 

4  Onomaaieon^  Lib.  IV.  c.  18.    See  alfo  Stephenf ,  Do  Theairio, 


ROMAN  THEATRE.  359 

coan  ienance,  as  we  are  apt  at  first  to  suppose.  It  was  impose 
flible  tiiat  those  alterations  of  visage,  wtMch  are  hidden  by  a 
masii,  could  have  been  distinctly  perceived  by  one-tenth  of 
the  40^000  spectators  of  a  Roman  play.  The  feelings  por- 
trayt  d  id  the  ancient  drama  were  neither  so  tender  nor  versa- 
tile i  Li  those  in  modern  plays,  and  the  actors  did  not  require 
the  ^ime  flexibility  of  features-^there  were  fewer  flashes  of 
joy  iiQ  sorrow,  fewer  gleams  of  benignity  in  hatred.  Hercules^ 
the  Satyrs,  the  Cyclops,  and  other  characters  of  superhuman 
stT'j  rtgth  or  deformity,  were  more  frequently  introduced  on  the 
ftn  .ent  than  the  modern  stage,  and,  by  aid  of  the  mask,  were 
m  jre  easily  invested  with  their  appropriate  force  or  ugliness. 
By  means,  too,  of  these  masks,  the  dramatists  introduced  for- 
eign nations  on  the  stage  with  their  own  peculiar  physiognomy, 
and  among  others,  the  Atf/i  persona  Batavi.  Their  use,  be- 
sides, prevented  the  frequenters  of  the  theatre  from  seeing  an 
actor,  far  advanced  in  years,  play  the  part  of  a  young  lover, 
'ince  the  vizard,  under  which  the  performer  appeared,  was  al-^ 
ways,  to  that  extent  at  least,  agreeable  to  the  character  he 
as8ttined.  In  addition  to  all  this,  by  concealing  the  mouth  it 
preyented  the  spectators  from  observing  whence  the  sound 
issued,  and  thus  palliated  the  absurdity  of  one  actor  declaim- 
ing, and  the  other  beating  time,  as  it  were  by  gestures.  Fi- 
nally, as  the  tragic  actor  was  elevated  by  his  cothumM^  or 
buskin,  above  the  ordinary  stature  of  man,  it  became  neces- 
KU-y,  in  order  to  preserve  the  due  proportions  of  the  human 
form,  that  his  countenance  also  should  be  enlarged  to  corre- 
sponding dimensions. 


i  shall  here  close  the  first  Volume  of  the  History  of  Ro« 
<UN  LiTEBATURE,  iu  which  I  havc  treated  of  the  Origin  of  the 
Romans — the  Progress  of  their  Language,  and  the  difierent 
Poets  by  whom  their  Literature  was  illustrated,  till  the  era  of 
Augustus.  At  that  period  Virgil  beautifully  acknowledges 
the  superiority  of  the  Greeks  in  statuary,  oratory,  and  science ; 
but  he  might,  with  equal  justice,  (and  the  avowal  would  have 
come  from  him  With  peculiar  propriety,)  have  confessed  that 
the  Muses  loved  better  to  haunt  Pindus  and  Parnassus,  than 
Soracte  or  the  Alban  Hill.  From  the  days  of  Ennius  down^ 
^vards,  the  literature  and  poetry  of  the  Romans  was,  with  ex- 
^^ption,  perhaps,  of  satire^  and  some  dramatic  entertainments 
Vol.  I— 2  U 


354  ROMAN  THEATRE. 

of  a  satiric  description,  wholly  Greek— consisting  merely  ot 
imitations,  and,  in  some  instances,  almost  of  translations  from 
that  language.  We  may  compare  it  to  a  tree  transplanted  in 
full  growth  to  an  inferior  soil  or  climate,  and  which,  though 
still  venerable  or  beautiful,  loses  much  of  its  verdure  and 
freshness,  sends  forth  no  new  shoots,  is  preserved  alive  with 
difficulty,  and,  if  for  a  short  time  neglected,  sbrivek  and^  de- 
cays. 


KND  OF  VOLUME  I. 


James  Kay^  Jun.  Printer, 

S,  E,  Comei  of  Race  Sr  Sixth  Streets, 

PhilculelpJiia. 


HISTORY 


OF 


ROMAN  LITERATURE, 


FROM 


ITS  EARLIEST  PERIOD 


TO 


THE  AUGUSTAN  AGE. 


IN   TWO  VOLUMES. 


BY 

JOHN  DUNLOP, 

AUTHOR  OF  THE  HISTORY  OF  FICTION. 
FROM  THE  LAST  LONDON  EDITION. 


VOL.  n. 


PUBLI8BXO  BT 
E,  LITTELL,  CHESTNUT  STREET,   PHILADEPHIA. 
O.  &  C.  CARVILI«>  BROADWAY,  KEW  YORK. 


1827. 


James  -K^oy,  Jun,  Printer^ 
&  jB.  Otmtr  of  Race  ^  Sixth  Streets, 

Philadelphia . 


HISTORY 


OF 


iiDsiAsr  ^Liva^ftAirwma^  ^^^ 


I    ♦ 


HISTORY 


or 


ttiMitMr  xavamAW^KB*  tt«« 


I 


N  almost  all  States,  poetical  compo8itk)n  has  been  em- 
ployed and  considerably  improved  before  prose.  First,  be- 
cause the  imagination  expands  sooner  than  reason  or  judgment; 
and,  secondly,  because  the  early  language  of  nations  is  best 
adapted  to  the  purposes  of  poetry,  and  to  the  expression  of 
those  feelings  and  sentiments  with  which  it  is  conversant 

Thus,  in  the  first  ages  of  Greece,  verse  was  the  ordinary 
written  language,  and  prose  was  subsequently  introduced  as  an 
art  and  invention.  In  like  manner,  at  Rome,  during  the  early 
advances  of  poetry,  the  progress  of  which  has  been  detailed  in 
the  preceding  volume,  prose  composition  continued  in  a  state 
of  neglect  and  barbarism. 

The  most  ancient  prose  writer,  at  least  of  those  whose  works 
have  descended  to  us,  was  a  man  of  little  feeling  or  imagina- 
tion, but  of  sound  judgment  and  inflexible  character,  who 
exercised  his  pen  on  the  subject  of  ^IgricuUure^  which,  of 
all  the  peaceful  arts,  was  most  highly  esteemed  by  his  country- 
men. 

The  long  winding  coast  of  Greece,  abounding  in  havens, 
and  the  innumerable  isles  with  which  its  seas  were  studded, 
rendered  the  Greeks,  from  the  earliest  days,  a  trafficking,  sea- 
faring, piratic  people :  And  many  of  the  productions  of  their 
oldest  poets,  are,  in  a  great  measure,  addressed  to  what  may 
be  called  the  maritime  taste  or  feeling  which  prevailed  among 
their  countrymen.  This  sentiment  continued  to  be  cherish- 
ed as  long  as  the  chief  literary  state  in  Greece  preserved 


6  AGRICULTURE. 

the  sovereignty  of  the  seas — compelled  its  allies  to  furnish 
vessels  of  war,  and  trusted  to  its  naval  armaments  for  the  su- 
premacy it  maintained  during  the  brightest  ages  of  Greece.  In 
none  either  of  the  Doric  or  Ionian  states,  was  agriculture  of 
such  importance  as  to  exercise  much  influence  on  manners  or 
literature.     Their  territories  were  so  limited,  that  the  inhabi- 
tants were  never  removed  to  subh  a  distance  from  the  capital 
as  to  imbibe  the  ideas  of  husbandmen.     In  Thessaly  and  La- 
cedsemon,  agriculture  was  accounted  degrading,  and  its  cares 
were  committed  to  slaves.     The  vales  of  Bceotia  were  fruitful, 
but  were  desolated  by  floods.     Farms  of  any  considerable  ex- 
tent could  scarcely  be  laid  down  on  the  limited,  though  lovely 
isles  of  the  iGgean  and  Ionian  seas.     The  barren  soil  and 
mountains  of  the  centre  of  Peloponnesus  confined  the  Arca- 
dians to  pasturage — an  employment  beturing  some  analogy  to 
agriculture,  but  totally  different  in  its  mental  effects,  leading 
to  a  life  of  indolence,  contemplation,  and  wandering,  instead 
of  the  industrious,  practical,  and  settled  habits  of  husbandmen, 
Though  the  Athenians  breathed  the  purest  air  beneath  the 
clearest  skies,   and   their  long   summer  was  gilded  by  the 
brightest  beams  of  Apollo,  the  soil  of  Attica  was  sterile  and 
metallic;  while,  from  the  excessive  inequalities  in  its  surface, 
all  the  operations  of  agriculture  were  of  the  most  difficult  and 
hazardous  description.  The  streams  were  overflowing  torrents, 
which  stripped  the  soil,  leaving  nothing  but  a  light  sand,  on 
which  grain  would  scarcely  grow.     But  it  was  with  the  oom- 
mencement  of  the  Peloponnesian  war  that  the  exercise  of  agri- 
culture terminated  in  Attica.     The  country  being  left  unpro- 
tected,  owing   to   the   injudicious   policy   of  Pericles,  was 
annually  ravaged  by  the  Spartans,  and  the  husbandmen  were 
forced  to  seek  refuge  within  the  walls  of  Athens«    In  the 
early  part  of  the  age  of  Pericles,  the  Athenians  possessed 
ornamented  villas  in  the  country ;  but  they  always  returned  to 
the  city  in  the  evening*.     We  do  not  hear  that  the  great  men 
in  the  early  periods  of  the  republic,  as  Themistocles  and  Aris- 
tides,  were  farmers ;  and  the  heroes  of  its  latter-  ages,  as  Iphi- 
crates  and  Timotheus,  chose  their  retreats  in  Thrace,  the 
islands  of  the  Archipelago,  or  coast  of  Ionia. 

A  picture,  in  every  point  of  view  the  reverse  of  this,  is  pre- 
sented to  us  by  the  Agreate  Latium.  The  ancient  Italian 
mode  of  life  was  almost  entirely  agricultural  and  rural;  and 
with  exception,  perhaps,  of  the  Etruscans,  none  of  the  Italian 
states  were  in  any  degree  maritime  or  commercial.  Italy 
was  well  adapted  for  every  species  of  agriculture^  and  was 

*  Voyage  du  Jetme  Jinaeh€tr$i$,  T.  II.  c.  20. 


AGRICULTUUE.  7 

most  jusdy  tensed  by  her  greatest  poet,  magtM  parenBjrugum. 
Dinoysius  of  Halicarnaesiis*,  Sirabof ,  and  Pliuyl,  talk  with 
entliufiiasai  of  its  fertile  soil  and  benignant  climate.  Where 
the  groiuid  was  most  depressed  and  marshy,  the  meadows  were 
stretched  out  for  the  pasturage  of  cattle.  In  the  level  coun- 
try, the  rich  arable  lands,  such  as  the  Carapanian  and  Capojn 
plains,  extended  in  vast  tracts,  and  produced  a  profusion  of 
fnuts  of  every  species,  while  on  the  acclivities,  where  the  skirts 
of  the  mountains  began  to  break  into  little  hills  and  sloping 
fields,  the  olive  and  vine  basked  on  soils  famed  for  Messapian 
oil,  and  for  wines  of  which  the  very  names  cheer  and  revive 
us.  The  mountains  themselves  produced  marble  and  timber, 
aod  poured  from  their  sides  many  a  delightful  stream,  which 
watered  the  fields,  gladdened  the  pastures,  and  moistened  the 
meads  to  the  very  brink  of  the  shore.  Well  then  might  Virgil 
exclaim,  in  a  burst  of  patriotism  and  poetry  which  has  never 
been  surpassed, — 

**  Sed  Deque  Medomm  syW»,  ditisfUna  terra, 
Nee  pulcher  Ganges,  atque  auro  turbidus  Hermu), 
LaudibiM  Italie  certent ;  non  Bactra,  neque  Indi, 
Totaque  Uiiiriferb  Pancbaia  pinguw  arenis. 
H'c  ver  assidauiD,  atque  alienia  menaibus  mtsia; 
Bis  gravidse  pecudes,  bis  pomia  utUis  arbor. 

0  m  0  • 

Saire,  magna  parena  fragum,  Satumia  tefiuaj  !*' 

One  would  not  suppose  that  agricultural  care  was  very  con- 
jiistent,  at  least  in  a  small  state,  with  frequent  warfare.  But 
in  no  period  of  their  republic  did  the  Romans  neglect  the 
advantages  which  the  land  they  inhabited  presented  for  hus- 
bandry. Romulus,  who  had  received  a  rustic  education,  and 
had  spent  his  youth  in  hunting,  had  no  attachment  to  any 
peacefiil  arts,  except  to  rural  labours ;  and  this  feeling  per- 
vaded his  legislation.  His  Sabine  successor,  Numa  Pompilius, 
who  well  understood  and  discharged  the  duties  of  sovereignty, 
divided  the  whole  territory  of  Rome  into  different  cantons. 
An  exact  account  was  rendered  to  him  of  the  manner  in  which 
these  were  cultivated ;  and  he  occasionally  went  in  person  to 
survey  them,  in  order  to  encourage  those  farmers  whose  lands 
were  well  tilled,  and  to  reproach  others  with  their  want  of 
industry  II .  By  the  institution,  too,  of  various  religious  festi- 
vals, connected  with  agriculture,  it  came  to  be  regarded  with 
a  sort  of  sacred  reverence.     Ancus  Martins,  who  trod  in  the 

*  AnHquUai.  Mom.  Lib.  I.  t  Geograph.  Ub.  YI. 

t  Higt.  JVat.  Lib.  XVIIL  c  11.;  XXXVIL  c.  12. 

§  VirgO,  Geerg,  Lib.  II.  ||  Plutarch,  in  JVttma, 


8  AGRICULTURE. 

steps  of  Numa,  recommended  to  his  people  the  assiduous  cul- 
tivation of  their  lands.  After  the  expulsion  of  the  kings,  m 
Agrarian  law,  by  which  only  seven  acres  were  allotted  to  each 
citizen,  was  promulgated,  and  for  some  time  rigidly  enforced. 
Exactness  and  economy  in  the  various  occupations  of  agricul- 
ture were  the  natural  consequences  of  such  regulations.  Each 
Roman  having  only  a  small  portion  of  land  assigned  to  him, 
and  the  support  of  his  family  depending  entirely  on  the  pro- 
duce which  it  yielded,  its  culture  necessarily  engaged  his 
whole  attention. 

In  these  early  ages  of  the  Roman  commonwealth,  when  the 
greatest  men  possessed  but  a  few  acres,  the  lands  were  labour- 
ed by  the  proprietors  themselves.  The  introduction  of  com- 
merce, and  the  consequent  acquisition  of  wealth,  had  not  yet 
enabled  individuals  to  purchase  the  estates  of  their  fellow-citi- 
zens, and  to  obtain  a  revenue  from  the  rent  of  land  rather  than 
from  its  cultivation. 

The  patricians,  who,  in  the  city,  were  so  distinct  from  the 
plebeian  orders,  were  thus  confoimded  with  them  in  the  coun- 
try, in  the  common  avocations  of  husbandry.  After  having 
presided  over  the  civil  affairs  of  the  republic,  or  commanded 
its  armies,  the  most  distinguished  citizens  returned,  without 
repining,  to  till  the  lands  of  their  forefathers.  Cincinnatus, 
who  was  found  at  labour  in  his  fields  by  those  who  came  to 
announce  his  election  to  the  dictatorship,  was  not  a  singu- 
lar example  of  the  same  hand  which  held  the  plough  guiding 
also  the  helm  of  the  state,  and  erecting  the  standard  of  its 
legions.  So  late  as  the  time  of  the  first  Carthaginian  war, 
Regulus,  in  the  midst  of  his  victorious  career  in  Africa,  asked 
leave  from  the  senate  to  return  to  Italy,  in  order  to  cultivate  bis 
farm  of  seven  acres,  which  had  been  neglected  during  his  ab- 
sence*. Many  illustrious  names  among  the  Romans  oriffinated 
in  agricultural  employments,  or  some  circumstances  of  rustic 
skill  and  labour,  by  which  the  founders  offiunilies  were  distin- 
guished. The  Fabii  and  Lentuli  were  supposed  to  have  been 
celebrated  for  the  culture  of  pulses,  and  the  Asinii  and  Vitellii 
for  the  art  of  rearing  animals.  In  the  time  of  thd  elder  Cato, 
though  the  manual  operations  were  performed  for  the  most 
part  by  servants,  the  great  men  resided  chiefly  on  their  fannst^ 
and  they  continued  to  apply  to  the  study  and  practice  of  agri- 
culture long  after  they  had  carried  the  victorious  arms  of  their 
country  beyond  the  confines  of  Italy.  They  did  not,  indeed, 
follow  agriculture  as  their  sole  avocation;  but  they  prose- 

•  Livy,  Epitome,  Liv.  XVIII.    Valer.  Maxim.  Lib.  IV.  c.  4.  §  6. 
t  Cicero,  De  SeneetuUt  c.  IS. 


AGRICULTURE.  9 

cuted  it  during  the  internals  of  peace,  and  in  the  vacations  of 
the  Forum.  The  art  being  thus  exercised  by  men  of  high 
capacity,  received  the  benefit  of  all  the  discoveriesi  invention!, 
or  experiments  suggested  bv  talents  and  force  of  intellect. 
The  Roman  warriors  tilled  their  fields  with  the  same  intelli- 
gence as  they  pitched  their  camps,  and  sowed  corn  with  tlie 
same  care  with  which  they  drew  up  their  armies  for  battle. 
Hence,  as  a  modern  Latin  poet  observes,  dilating  on  the  ex- 
pression of  Pliny,  the  earth  yielded  such  an  exuberant  return, 
that  she  seemed  as  it  were  to  delight  in  being  ploughed  with 
a  share  adorned  with  laurels,  and  by  a  ploughman  who  had 
earned  a  triumph : — 

"  Hanc  etiam,  ut  perhlbeDt,  sese  formabat  ad  tttenii 
C&m  domito  Fabius  Dictator  ab  hoste  redlbat: 
Nod  veiitui,  medio  dederat  qyi  jura  Senatu, 
Ferre  idem  arboribuaque  suis,  terreque  colends, 
Vlctriceaque  maDiis  ran  prsatare  Mteodo. 
Ipsa  triumphalea  telliu  ezperta  eolonos, 
Atqae  ducum  manibua  quondam  vecsata  auonim, 
Bfojorea  fractus,  iniyora  aibuata  ferebat*." 

Nor  were  the  Romans  contented  with  merely  labouring  the 
ground:  They  also  delivered  precepts  for  its  proper  cuUiva- 
tioQ,  which,  being  committed  to  writing,  formed,  as  it  were, 
a  new  science,  and,  being  derived  from  actual  experience, 
had  an  air  of  originality  rarely  exhibited  in  their  literarv 
productiona.  Such  maxims  were  held  by  the  Romans  in  high 
respect,  since  they  were  considered  as  founded  on  the  obser- 
vation of  men  who  had  displayed  the  most  eminent  capacity 
and  knowledge  in  governing  the  state,  in  framing  its  laws,  and 
leading  its  armies. 

The^e  precepts  which  formed  the  works  of  the  agricultural 
writers — ^the  RuatidB  rei  scriptaree — ^are  extremely  interesting 
and  comprehensive*  The  Romans  had  a  much  greater  variety 
than  we,  of  grain,  pulse,  and  roots;  and,  besides,  had  vines, 
olives,  and  other  plantations,  which  were  regarded  as  profitable 
crops.  The  situation,  too,  and .  construction  of  a  villa,  with 
the  necessary  accommodation  for  slaves  and  workmen,  the 
wine  and  oil  cellars,  ihe  granaries,  the  repositories  for  pre- 
Irving  fruit,  the  poultry  yard,  and  aviaries,  form  topics  of 
much  attention  and  detail.  These  were  the  appertenancies 
of  the  villa  rusHcdy  or  complete  farm-house,  which  was  built 
for  the  residence  only  of  an  industrious  husbandman,  and  with 
a  view  towards  profit  from  the  employments  of  agriculture. 
As  luxury,  indeed,  increased,  the  villa  was  adapted  to  the 

*  Rapin«  Hbrtonim,  lib.  IV* 

Vol..  II.— B 


10  AGRICULTURE. 

accommodation  of  an  opulent  Roman  citizen,  and  the  country 
was  resorted  to  rather  for  recreation  than  for  the  purpose  of 
lucrative  toil.  What  would  Cato  the  Censor,  distinguished 
for  his  industry  and  unceasing  attention  to  the  labours  of  the 
field|  have  thought  of  the  following  lines  of  Horace? 

«<  O  ni8,  quando  e^  te  tspiciam  ?  qaandoque  licebit 
Nunc  veteniiD  Ubn8>  nunc  sonmo  et  inertibus  hoiis, 
Dacere  soUicits  jucunda  obUvia  viUe  ?" 

It  was  this  more  refined  relish  for  the  country,  so  keenly 
enjoyed  by  the  Romans  in  the  luxurious  ages  of  the  state,  tliat 
furnished  the  subject  for  the  finest  passages  and  allusions  in 
the  works  of  the  Latin  poets,  who  seem^  to  vie  with  each  other 
in  their  praises  of  a  country  life,  and  the  sweetness  of  the 
numbers  in  which  they  celebrate  its  simple  and  tranquil 
enjoyments.    1  he  Epode  of  Horace,  commencing, 

**  Beatus  ille,  cjui  procul  negotiis/' 

• 

which  paints  the  charms  of  rural  existence,  in  the  variov 
seasons  of  the  year — the  well-known  passages  in  VirgiPs 
GeorgicSy  and  those  in  the  second  book  of  Lucretius,  are  the 
roost  exquisite  and  lovely  productions  of  these  triumvirs  of 
Roman  poetry.  But  the  ancient  prose  writers,  with  whom  we 
are  now  to  be  engaged,  regarded  agriculture  rather  as  an  art 
than  an  amusement,  and  a  country  life  as  subservient  to  pro- 
iStable  employment,  and  not  to  elegant  recreation.  In  thezn* 
selves,  however,  these  compositions  are  highly  curious;  thej 
are  curious,  too,  as  forming  a  conmientary  and  illustration  of 
the  subjects, 

'*  QuAB  et  lacundi  Imctavit  Mun  Maronis." 

It  is  likewise  interesting  to  compare  them  with  the  works  of 
the  modem  Italians  on  husbandry,  as  the  Liher  RurcixM^ 
Cammodorum  of  Crescenzio,  written  about  the  end  of  the 
thirteenth  century,— the  CoUivazione  Toacana  of  Davanzati, 
— Vittorio's  treatise,  Degli  Ulivi, — and  even  Alamanni's  poem 
CoUivazione^  which  closely  follows,  particularly  as  to  the 
situation  and  construction  of  a  villa,  the  precepts  of  Cato, 
Yarro,  and  Columella.  The  plough  used  at  this  day  by  the 
peasantry  in  the  Campagna  di  Roma,  is  of  the  same  form  as 
that  of  the  ancient  Latian  husbandmen*;  and  many  other 
points  of  resemblance  may  be  discovered,  on  a  perusal  of  the 

*  BoDftettOD)  V9§age  dan»  le  JLoftum,  p.  274. 


CATO.  11 

most  recent  writers  on  the  subject  of  Italian  cultivation** 
Dickson,  too,  w^ho,  in  his  Husbandry  of  the  jhycierUs,  gives 
an  account  of  Roman  agriculture  so  far  as  connected  with 
the  labours  of  the  British  farmer,  has  shown,  that,  in  spite  of 
tfae  great  difference  of  soil  and  climate,  many  maxims  of  the 
old  Roman  husbandmen,  as  delivered  by  Cato  and  Varro, 
corresponded  with  the  agricultural  system  followed  in  his  day 
in  Eogland. 

Of  the  distinguished  Roman  citizens  who  practised  agricul- 
ture, none  were  more  eminent  than  Cato  and  Varro ;  and  by 
them  the  precepts  of  the  art  were  also  committed  to  writing. 
Their  works  are  original  compositions,  founded  on  experience^ 
and  not  on  Grecian  models,  like  so  many  other  Latin  produc- 
tions. Varro,  indeed,  enumerates  about  fifty  Greek  authors, 
who,  previous  to  his  time,  had  written  on  the  subject  of  agricul- 
ture; and  Mago,  the  Carthaginian,  composed,  in  the  Punic 
language,  a  much-approved  treatise  on  the  same  topic,  in 
thirty-two  books,  which  was  afterwards  translated  into  Latin 
by  desire  of  the  senate.  But  the  early  Greek  works,  with  the 
exception  of  Xenophon's  (Economics^  and  the  poem  of  Hesiod 
called  fVorka  and  Days,  have  been  entirely  lost;  the  tracts 
published  in  the  collection  entitled  Geoponicaj  being  subse- 
quent to  the  age  of  Varro. 


MARCUS  PORCIUS  CATO, 

better  known  by  the  name  of  Cato  the  Censor,  wrote  the  ear- 
liest book  on  husbandry  which  we  possess  in  the  Latin  lan- 
guage. This  distinguished  citizen  was  born  in  the  519th 
year  of  Rome.  Like  other  Romans  of  his  day,  he  was  brought 
up  to  the  profession  of  arms.  In  the  short  intervals  of  peace 
he  resided,  during  his  youth,  at  a  small  country-house  in  the 
Sabine  territory,  which!  he  had  inherited  from  his  father.  Near 
it  there  stood  a  cottage  belonging  to  Manius  Curius  Dentatus, 
who  had  repeatedly  triumphed  over  the  Babines  and  Samnites, 
and  had  at  length  driven  Pyrrhus  from  Italy.  Cato  was  ac- 
customed frequently  to  walk  over  to  the  humble  abode  of  this 
renowned  commander,  where  he  was  struck  with  admiration 
at  the  firugality  of  its  owner,  and  the  skilful  management  of  the 
htm  which'  was  attached  to  it.  Hence  it  became  his  great 
object  to  emulate  his  illustrious  neighbour,  and  adopt  huu  as 
his  modelf .  Having  made  an  estimate  of  his  house,  lands,  slaves, 

*  J.  C.  L.  Sfsmondl,  Tableau  de  V  Jagrieulture  To8cane,  aod  Chastomvieux, 
Uttre»  BcrUes  tFUaiiB,  Puis,  1816.  2  Tom. 
tPIutareh»ti»Cbto. 


12  CATO. 

and  expenses,  he  applied  himself  to  husbandry  with  new  ar- 
dour, and  retrenched  all  superfluity.     In  the  morning  be  went 
to  the  small  towns  in  the  vicinity,  to  plead  and  defend  the  causei 
of  those  who  applied  to  him  for  assistance.    Thence  be  re- 
turned to  his  fields ;  where,  with  a  plain  cloak  ovef  his  shoul- 
ders in  winter,  and  almost  naked  in  summer,  he  laboured  with 
his  servants  till  they  had  concluded  their  tasks,  after  which  he 
sat  down  along  with  them  at  table,  eating  the  same  bread, 
and  drinking  the  same  wine*.     At  a  more  advanced  period  of 
life,  the  wars,  in  which  he  commanded,  kept  him  frequently 
at  a  distance  from  Italy,  and  his  forensic  avocations  detained 
him  much  in  the  city ;  but  what  time  he  could  spare  was  still 
spent  at  the  Sabine  farm,  where  he  continued  to  employ  him- 
self in  the  profitable  cultivation  of  the  land.     He  thus  became 
by  the  universal  consent  of  his  contemporaries,  the  best  fa^ 
tter  of  his  age,  and  Was  held  unrivalled  for  the  skill  and  suc- 
cess of  his  agricultural  operationsf .    Though  everywhere  a 
rigid  economist,  he  lived,  it  is  said,  more  hospitably  ajthis 
farm  than  in  the  city.    His  entertainments  at  his  villa  were  at 
first  but  sparing,  and  seldom  siven ;  but  as  his  weakh  increased, 
he  became  more  nice  and  delicate.     **  At  first,^  says  Plutarch, 
'*  when  he  was  but  a  poor  soldier,  he  was  not  difficult  in  aojf- 
thing  which  related  to  his  diet ;  but  afterwards,  when  he  grew 
richer,  and  made  feasts  for  bis  friends,  presently,  when  sup* 
per  was  done,  he  seized  a  leathern  thong,  and  scourged  those 
who  had  not  given  due  attendance,  or  dressed  anything  care- 
lessly^.^'    Towards  the  close  of  his  life,  he  almost  daily  mvited 
some  of  his  friends  in  the  neighbourhood  to  sup  with  him ;  and 
the  conversation  at  these  meals  turned  not  chiefly,  as  night 
have  been  expected^  on  rural  affairs,  but  on  the  praises  of 
great  and  excellent  men  among  the  Romans^. 

It  may  be  supposed,  that  in  the  evenings  after  the  agricul' 
tural  labours  of  the  morning,  and  after  his  friends  had  left  him, 
he  noted  down  the  precepts  suggested  by  the  observations  and 
experience  of  the  day.  That  he  wrote  such  maxims  for  his 
own  use,  or  the  instruction  of  others,  is  unquestionable ;  but 
the  treatise  De  Re  Rustica^  which  now  bears  his  name,  appears 
to  hav^  been  much  mutilated,  since  Pliny  and  other  writers 
allude  to  subjects  as  treated  of  by  Cato,  and  to  opinions  as  de- 
livered by  him  in  this  book,  which  are  nowhere  to  be  found  io 
any  part  of  the  work  now  extant. 

In  its  present  state,  it  is  merely  the  loose  unconnected  jour- 
nal of  a  plain  farmer,  expressed  with  rude,  sometimes  with 

*  Plutarch,  m  Cato. 

t  Plin.  a$L  J>rat,  Lib.  XIV.  c.  4 ;  Lib.  XTI.  c.  89. 

X  PluUrch»  in  Cato.  ^JbU. 


CATO.  13 

alinoit  oracular  brevity ;  and  it  wants  all  those  elegant  topics 
of  embellishment  and  illustration  which  the  subject  might  have 
so  naturally  suggested.  It  solely  consists  of  the  dryest  rules 
of  agriculture,  and  some  receipts  for  making  various  kinds  of 
cakes  and  wines,  Servius  says,  it  is  addressed  to  the  authoi't 
son ;  but  there  is  no  such  address  now  extant.  It  begins  rather 
abruptly,  and  in  a  manner  extremely  characteristic  of  the  sim- 
ple manners  of  the  author :  '^  It  would  be  advantageous  to  seek 
profit  from  commerce,  if  that  were  not  hazardous  ;  or  by  usury, 
if  that  were  honest :  but  our  ancestors  ordained,  that  the  thief 
should  forfeit  double  the  sum  he  had  stolen,  and  the  usurer 
quadruple  what  he  had  taken,  %vhence  it  may  be  concluded, 
that  they  thought  the  usurer  the  worst  of  the  two.  When 
they  wished  highly  to  praise  a  good  man,  they  called  him  a 
good  farmer.  A  mercliant  is  sealoos  in  push'ing  his  fortune, 
but  his  trade  is  perilous  and  liable  to  reverses.  But  farmers 
make  the  bravest  men,  and  the  stoutest  soldiers.  Their  gain 
is  the  most  honest,  the  most  stable,  and  least  exposed  to  envy. 
Those  who  exercise  the  art  of  agriculture,  are  of  all  others 
least  addicted  to  evil  thoughts." 

Our  author  then  proceeds  to  his  rules,  many  of  which  are 
sufficiently  obvious.  Thus,  he  advises,  that  when  one  is  about 
to  purchase  a  feim,  he  should  examine  if  the  climate,  soil,  and 
exposure  be  good :  he  should  see  that  it  can  be  easily  supplied 
with  plenty  of  water, — that  it  lies  in  the  neighbourhood  of  a 
town, — and  near  a  navigable  river,  or  the  sea.  The  directions 
for  ascertaining  the  quality  of  the  land  are  not  quite  so  clear 
er  self^vident.  He  recommends  the  choice  of  a  farm  where 
there,  are  few  implements  -of  labour,  as  this  shews  the  soil  to 
be  easily  cultivated  ;  and  where  there  are,  on  the  other  hand, 
a  number  of  casks  and  vessels,  which  testify  an  abundant  pro- 
duce. With  regard  to  the  best  way  of  laying  out  a  farm  when 
it  is  purchased,  supposing  it  to  be  one  of  a  hundred  acres,  the 
most  profitable  thing  is  a  vineyard  ;  next,  a  garden,  that  can 
be  watered  ;  then  a  willow  grove ;  4th,  an  olive  plantation  ;  5th, 
meadow-ground  ;  6th,  com  fields  ;  and,  lastly,  forest  trees  and 
brushwood.  Varro  cites  this  passage,  but  he  gives  the  prefe- 
rence to  meadows :  These  required  little  expense ;  and,  by  his 
time,  the  culture  of  vines  had  so  much  increased  in  Italy,  and 
such  a  quantity  of  foreign  wine  was  imported,  that  vineyards 
had  become  less  valuable  than  tki  the  days  of  the  Censor. 
Columella,  however,  agrees  with  Cato :  He  successively  com** 
pares  the  profits  accruing  from  meadows,  pasture,  trees,  and 
com,  with  those  of  vineyards ;  and,  on  an  estimate,  prefers  the 
last. 

When  a  farm  has  been  purchased,  the  new  proprietor  should 


14  CATO. 

perambulate  the  fields  the  day  he  arnves,  or,  if  be  cannot  do 
so,  on  the  day  after,  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  what  has  been 
done,  and  what  remains  to  be  accomplished.  Rules  are  given 
for  the  most  assiduous  employment  without  doors,  and  the 
most  rigid  economy  within.  When  a  servant  is  sick  he  will 
require  less  food.  All  the  old  oxen  and  the  cattle  of  delicate 
frame,  the  old  wagons,  and  old  implements  of  husbandry,  are 
to  be  sold  off.  The  sordid  parsimony  of  the  Censor  leads 
bim  to  direct,  that  a  provident  paterfamUuM  should  sell  such 
of  his  slaves  as  are  aged  and  infirm;  a. recommendation  which 
has  drawn  down  on  him  the  well-merited  indignation  of 
Plutarch*.  These  are  some  of  the  duties  of  the  master ;  and 
there  follows  a  curious  detail  of  the  qualifications  and  duties 
of  the  viV^Dua,  or  overseer,  who,  in  particular,  is  prohibited 
from  the  exercise  of  religious  rites,  and  consultation  .of  augurs. 

It  is  probable  that,  in  the  time  of  Cato,  the  Romans  had 
begun  to  extend  their  villas  considerably,  which  makes  him 
warn  proprietors  of  land  not  to  be  rash  in  building.  .  When  a 
landlord  is  thirty^ix  years  of  age  he  may  build,  provided  his 
fields  have  been  brought  into  a  proper  state  of  cultivation. 
His  direction  with  regard  to  the  extent  of  the  villa  is  concise, 
but  seems  a  very  proper  one; — he  advises,  to  build  in  such  a 
manner  that  the  villa  may  not  need  a  farm,  nor  the  farm  a 
villa.  Lucullus  and  Scaevola  both  violated  this  golden  j'ule, 
as  we  learn  from  Pliny;  who  adds,  that  it  will  be  readily 
conjectured,  from  their  respective  characters,  that  it  was  the 
farm  of  Scceyola  which  stood  in  need  of  the  villa,  and  the 
villa  of  Lucullus  which  required  the  farm. 

A  vast  variety  of  crops  was  cultivated  by  the  Romans,  and 
the  different  kinds  were  adapted  by  them,  with  great  care,  to 
the  different  soils.  Cato  is  very  particular  in  his  injunctions 
on  this  subject.  A  field  that  is  of  a  rich  and  genial  soil 
should  be  sown  with  com ;  but,  if  wet  or  moist,  with  turnips 
and  raddish.  Figs  are  to  be  planted  in  chalky  land;  and 
willows  in  watery  situations,  in  order  to  serve  as  twigs  for 
tying  the  vines.  This  being  the  proper  mode  of  laying  out 
a  farm,  our  author  gives  a  detail  of  the  establishment  necessary 
to  keep  it  np ; — the  number  of  workmen,  the  implements  o( 
husbandry,  and  the  farm-ofllices,  with  the 'materials  necessary 
for  their  construction. 

He  next  treats  of  the  m^agement  of  vineyards  and  olives; 
the  proper  mode  of  planting,  grafting,  propping,  and  fencing: 
And  he  is  here  naturally  led  to  furnish  directions  for  making 
and  preserving  the  different  sorts  of  wine  and  oil ;  as  also  to 

*  In  Cato. 


CATO.  16 

speciiy  how  much  of  each  is  to  be  allowed  to  the  lenrants  of 
the  family. 

In  discoursing  of  the  cultivation  of  fieJds  for  com,  Cato 
enjoins  the  farmer  to  collect  all  sorts  of  weeds  for  manure. 
Pigeoos'  dung  he  prefers  to  that  of  every  animal.  He  gives 
orders  for  burning  lime,  and  for  making  charcoal  and  ashes 
from  the  branches  or  twigs  of  trees.  The  Romans  seem  to 
bave  been  at  great  pains  in  draining  their  fields;  and  Cato 
directs  the  formation  both  of  open  and  covered  drains.  Oxen 
being  employed  in  ploughing  the  fields,  instructions  are  added 
for  feeding  and  taking  due  care  of  them.  The  Roman  plough 
has  been  a  subject  of  much  discussion :  Two  sorts  are  men- 
tioned by  Cato,  which  he  calls  Ramanicum^  and  Campanicum 
—the  first  being  proper  for  a  stifi*,  and  the  other  for  a  light 
soil.  Dickson  conjectures,  that  the  Rofnanicum  had  an  iron 
Share,  and  the  Campanicum  a  piece  of  timber,  like  the 
Scotch  plough,  and  a  sock  driven  upon  it.  The  plough,  with 
other  agricultural  implements,  as  the  crates,  rostrum,  lif^o^ 
and  sarculum^  most  of  which  are  mentioned  by  Cato,  form  a 
curious  point  of  Roman  antiquities. 

The  preservation  of  corn,  after  it  has  been  reaped,  is  a 
subject  of  much  importance,  to  which  Cato  has  paid  particu- 
lar attention.  This  was  a  matter  of  considerable  difficulty  in 
Italy,  in  the  time  of  the  Romans;  and  all  their  agricultural 
writers  are  extremely  minute  in  their  directions  for  preserving 
it  from  rot,  and  from  the  depredations  of  insects,  by  which  it 
was  frequently  consumed. 

A  great  part  of  the  work  of  Cato  is  more  appropriate  to  the 
housewife  than  the  farmer.  We  have  receipts  for  making  all 
sorts  of  cakes  and  puddings,  fattening  hens  and  geese»  pre- 
serving figs  during  winter;  as  also  medical  prescriptions  for 
the  cure  of  various  diseases,  both  of  man  and  beast.  Alala 
punica,  or  pomegranates,  are  the  chief  ingredient,  in  his 
remedies,  for  Diarrhoea,  Dyspepsia,  and  Stranguary.  Some- 
times, however,  his  cures  for  diseases  are  not  medical  recipes, 
hut  sacrifices,  atonements,  or  charms.  The  prime  of  all  is 
hi*  remedy  for  a  luxation  or  fracture. — "Take,"  says  he,  *'a 
S^een  reed,  and  slit  it  along  the  middle— throw  the  knife 
upwards,  and  join  the  two  parts  of  the  reed  again,  and  tie  it 
so  to  the  place  broken  or  disjointed,  and  say  this  charm — 
'Daries,  Dardaries,  Astataries,  Dissunapiter.'  Or  this — ^Huat, 
Hanat,  Huat,  Ista,  Pista,  Fista,  Domiabo,  Damnaustra.'  This 
^^11  make  the  part  sound  again*." 

The  most  remarkable  feature  in  the  work  of  Cato,  is  its 

•  C.  ISO. 


16  CATO. 

total  want  of  arrangement.  It  is  divided,  indeed,  into  chap- 
ters, but  the  author,  apparently,  had  never  taken  the  trouble 
of  reducing  his  precepts  to  any  sort  of  method,  or  of  follow- 
ing any  general  plan.  The  hundred  and  sixty-two  cbapten, 
of  which  his  work  consists,  seem  so  many  rules  committed  (o 
writing,  as  the  daily  labours  of  the  field  suggested.  He  gives 
directions  about  the  vineyard,  then  goes  to  his  com-fields, 
and  returns  again  to  the  vineyard.  His  treatise  was,  therefore, 
evidently  not  intended  as  a  regular  or  well-composed  book, 
but  merely  as  a  journal  of  incidental  observations.  That  this 
was  its  utmost  pretensions,  is  farther  evinced  by  the  brevity 
of  the  precepts,  and  deficiency  of  all  illustration  or  embellish- 
ment»  Of  the  style,  he  of  course  would  be  little  careful,  as 
his  Memoranda  were  intended  for  the  use  only  of  his  family 
and  slaves.  It  is  therefore  always .  simple, — sometimes  evea 
rude ;  but  it  is  not  ill  adapted  to  the  subject,  and  suita  our 
notion  of  the  severe  manners  of  its  author,  and  character  of 
the  ancient  Romans.  »     » 

Besides  this  book  on  agriculture,  Cato  left  behiod  hiia 
various  works,  which  have  almost  entirely  perished.  He  left 
a  hundred  and  fifty  orations*,  which  were  existing  in  the  tiooe 
of  Cicero,  though  almost  entirely  neglected,  and  a  book  on 
military  disciplinef ,  both  of  which,  if  now  extant,  woald  be 
highly  interesting,  as  proceeding  from  one  who  was  equally 
ilistinguished  in  the  camp  and  forum.  A  good  many  of  his 
orations  were  in  dissuasion  or  favour  of  particular  laws  aod 
measures  of  state,  as  those  entitled — ^'  Ne  quis  iterum  Consul 
fiat — ^De  bello  Carthaginiensi,''  of  which  war  he  was  a  vehe- 
ment promoter — ^^Suasio  in  Legem  Voconiam, — ^Pro  Lege 
Oppia,"  &c.  Nearly  a  third  part  of  these  orations  were  pro* 
nounced  in  his  own  defence.  He  had  been  about  fifty  times 
accused|,  and  as  often  acquitted.  When  charged  virith  a 
capital  crime,  in  the  85th  year  of  his  age,  he  pleaded  his  o«v 
cause,  and  betrayed  no  failure  in  memory,  no  decline  of 
"vigour,  and  no  (altering  of  voice^.  By  his  readiness,  aod 
pertinacity,  and  bitterness,  he  completely  wore  out  his  adver- 
sariesll,  and  earned  the  reputation  of  being,  if  not  the  most 
eloquent,  at  least  the  most  stubborn  speaker  among  the  B^ 
mans. 

Cato's  pration  in  favour  of  the  Appian  law,  which  was  a 
sumptuary  restriction  on  the  expensive  dresses  of  the  Romaa 

^  Cicero,  Brvlu»t  c.  17.  f  Vegetius,  Lib.  I.  c.  8. 

1  Plutarch,  m  Cato. 

%  Vakiiin  MudmuB,  nb.  VIII.  c.  7.  Valerius  saye,  he  was  in  fait  SSth  ^j 
hut  Cato  did  not  lurvive  beyond  his  85th.  Cicero,  m  Anito,  c  20.  Ftioy*  ^ 
AU.  Ub.  XIX.  e.  1. 

il  Livy,  Lib.  XXXIX.  c.  40. 


CATO.  17 

^natrons,  it  given  by  Livy*.    It  was  delivered  pn  opposition  to 
the  tribune  Valerius,  who  proposed  its  abrogation,  and  affords 
08  some  notion  of  his  style  and  manner,  since,  if  not  copied 
by  the  historian  from  his  book  of  orations,  it  was  doubtless 
adapted  by  him  to  the  character  of  Cato,  and  his  mode  of 
speaking.    Aulus  Gellius  cites,  as  equally  distinguished  for 
its  eloquence  and  energy,  a  passage  in  his  speech  on  the 
division  of  spoil  among  the  soldiery,  in  which  he  complains 
of  their  unpunished  peculation  and  licentiousness.     One  of 
his  most  celebrated  harangues  was  that  in  favour  of  the  Rho> 
diaoB,  the  ancient  allies  of  the  Roman  people,  who  had  fallen 
under  the  suspicion  of  affording  aid  to  Perseus,  during  the 
second  Macedonian  war.    The  oration  was  delivered  after  the 
overthrow  of  that  monarch,  when  the  Rhodian  envoys  were 
introduced  into  the  Senate,  in  order  to  explain  the  conduct  of 
their  countr)nnen,  and  to  deprecate  the  vengeance  of  the 
Romans,  by  throwing  the  odium  of  their  apparent  hostility  on 
the  turbulence  of  a  few  fiictious  individuals.  It  was  pronounced 
in  answer  to  those  Senators,  who,  after  hearing  the  supplica- 
tions of  the  Rhodians,  were  for  declaring  war  against  them; 
&od  it  turned  chiefly  on  the  ancient,  long-tried  fidelity  of  that 
people, — taking  particular  adyantage  of  the  circumstance, 
that  the  assistance  rendered  to  Perseus  had  not  been  a  national 
^t,  proceeding  firom  a  public  decree  of  the  people.     Tiro, 
the  freedman  of  Cicero,  wrote  a  long  and  elaborate  criticism 
on  this  oration.    To  the  numerous  censures  it  contains,  Aulus 
Gellius  has  replied  at  considerable  length,  and  has  blamed 
Tiro  for  singlihg  out  from  a  speech  so  rich,  and  so  happily 
connected,  small  and  insulated  portions,   as  objects  of  his 
reprehensiVe  satire.    All  the  various  topics,  he  adds,  which 
are  enlarged  on  in  this  oration,  if  they  could  have  been  intro- 
duced with  more  perspicuity,  me^od,  and  harmony,  could  not 
have  been  delivered  with  more  energy  and  strengthf . 

Both  Cicero  and  Livy  have  expressed  themselves  very  fiilly 
on  the  subject  of  Cato's  orations.  The  former  admits,  that 
his 'language  is  antiquated,  and  some  of  his  phrases  harsh 
and  inelegant :  but  only  change  that,"  he  continues,  ''  which 
it  was  not  in  his  power  to  change — add  number  and  cadence 
—-give  an  easier  turn  to  his  sentences — and  regulate  the 
structure  and  connection  of  his  words,  (an  art  which  was  as 
little  practised  by  the  older  Greeks  as  by  him,)  and  you  will 
find  no  one  who  can  claim  the  preference  to  Cato.  The  Greeks 
themselves  acknowledge,  that  the  chief  beauty  of  composition 
results  from  the  frequent  use  of  those  forms  of  expression, 

*  lib.  XXXnr.  c.  2.  t  JWct.  AtUe.  lAb,  VII.  e.  S. 

Vol,,  n. 


18  CATO. 

whi<4K  they  call  tropes,  and  of  those  varieties  of  language 
and  sentiment,  which  they  call  figures ;  but  it  is  almost  inete- 
dibla  with  what  copiousness,  and  with  what  variety,  they  are 
all  employed  by  Cato*.''  Livy  principally  speaks  of  the  faci- 
lity, asperity,  and  freedom  of  his  tonguef .  Aulus  Gellios  has 
instituted  a  comparison  of  Caiu9  Gracchus,  Cato,  and  Cicero, 
in  passages  where  these  three  orators  declaimed  against  the 
same  species  of  atrocity — the  illegal  scourging  of  Roman 
citizens ;  and  Gellius,  though  he  admits  that  Cato  bad  not 
reached  the  splendour,  harmony,  and  pathos  of  Cicero,  consi- 
ders him  as  far  superior  in  force  and  copiousness  to  Gracchtts|. 
Of  the  book  on  Military  Discipline,  a  good  deal  has  been 
incorporated  into  the  work  of  Vegetius ;  and  Cicero's  orations 
may  console  us  for  the  wont  of  those  of  Cato.  But  the  loss 
of  the  seven  books,  De  OriginibuSy  which  he  commenced  in 
his  vigorous  old  age,  and  finished  just  before  his  death,  must 
ever  be  deeply  deplored  by  the  historian  and  antiquary.  Cato 
is  said  to  have  begun  to  inquire  into  the  history,  antiquities, 
and  language  of  the  Roman  people,  with  a  view  to  counteract 
the  influence  of  the  Greek  taste,  introduced  by  the  Scipios; 
and  in  order  to  take  from  the  Greeks  the  honour  of  having 
colonized  Italy,  he  attempted  to  discover  on  the  Latin  soil 
the  traces  of  ancient  national  manners,  and  an  indigenous 
civilization.  The  first  book  of  the  valuable  work  De  Origir 
nibuSj  as  we  are  infonned  by  Cornelius  Nepos,  in  his  short 
life  of  Cato,  contained  the  exploits  of  the  kings  of  Rome. 
Cato  was  the  first  author  who  attempted  to  fix  the  era  of  the 
foundation  of  Rome,  which  he  calculated  in  his  Ortgine^ 
and  determined  it  to  have  been  in  the  first  year  of  the  7th 
Olympiad.  In  order  to  discover  this  epoch,  he  had  recourse 
to  the  memoirs  of  the  Censors,  in  which  it  was  noted,  that  the 
taking  of  Rome  by  the  Gajjls,  was  119  years  after  the  expul- 
sion of  the  kings.  By  addmg  this  period  to  the  aggregate 
duration  of  the  reigns  of  the  kings,  be  found  that  the  amount 
answered  to  the  first  of  the  7th  Olympiad.  This  is  the  com- 
putation followed  by  Dionysius  of  Halicamassus,  in  his  great 
work  on  Roman  antiquities.  It  is  probably  as  near  the  truth 
as  we  can  hope  to  arrive ;  but  even  in  the  time  of  Cato,  the 
calculated  duration  of  the  reigns  of  the  kings  was  not  founded 
on  any  ancient  monuments  then  extant,  or  on  the  testimony 
of  any  credible  historian.  The  second  and  third  books  treated 
of  the  origin  of  the  difierent  states  of  Italy,  whence  the  whole 
work  has  received  the  name  of  Origines*    The  fourth  and 

*  BruiUB,  c.  17.  f  Lib.  XXXIX.  c.  40. 

t  J^oct.  JiitU.  Lib.  X.  c.  S. 


CATO.  19 

fifth  books  comprehended  the  history  of  the  first  atld  second 
Punic  wars ;  and  in  the  two  remaining  books,  the  author  dis- 
cussed the  other  campaigns  of  the  Romans  till  the  time  of 
Ser.  Galba,  who  overthrew  the  Lusitanians.  . 

In  his  accottnt  of  these  later  contests,  Cato  merely  related 
the  facts,  without  mentioning  the  names  of  the  generals  or 
leaders ;  but  though  he  has  omitted  this,  Pliny  informs  us  that 
he  did  not  forget  to  take  notice,  that  the  elephant  which  fought 
most  stoutly  in  the  Carthaginian  army  was  called  Surus,  and 
wanted  one  of  his  teeth*.     In  this  same  work  he  incidentally 
treated  of  all  the  wonderful  and  admirable  things  which  exis* 
ted  io  Spain  and  Italy.     Some  of  his  orations,  too,  as  we  learn 
from  Livy,  were  incorporated  into  it,  as  that  for  giving  freedom 
to  the  Lusitanian  hostages ;  and  Plutarch  farther  mentions, 
that  he  omitted  no  opportunity  of  praising  himself,  and  extoll- 
ing his  services  to  the  sta^Q.     The  work,  however,  exhibited 
great  industry  and  learning,  and,  had  it  descended  to  us,  would 
ui)qae8tionably  have  thrown  much  light  on  the  early  periods 
of  Roman  history  and  the  antiquities  of  the  different  states  of 
Italy.    Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus,  himself  a  sedulous  inquirer 
into  antiquities,  bears  ample  testimony  to  the  research  and  ac- 
curacy of  that  part  which  treats  of  the.  origin  of  the  ancient 
Italian  cities.     The  author  lived  at  a  time  which  was  favour- 
able to  this  investigation.     Though  the  Samnites,  Etruscans, 
and  Sabines,  had  been  deprived  of  their  independence,  they 
had  not  lost  their  monuments  or  records  of  their  history,  their 
individuality  and  national  manners.    Cicero  praises  the  sim- 
ple and  concise  style  of  the  OrigineSy  and  laments  that  the 
work  was  neglected  in  his  day,  in  consequence  of  the  inflated 
manner  of  writing  which  had  been  recently  adopted ;  in  the 
same  manner  as  the  tumid  and  ornamented  periods  of  Theopom- 
pus  had  lessened  the  esteem  for  the  concise  and  unadorned 
narrative  of  Thucydides,  or  as  the  lofty  eloquence  of  Demos- 
thenes impaired  the  relish  for  the  extreme  attic  simplicity  of 
Lysiasf. 

In  the  same  part  of  the  dialogue,  entitled  Bruius,  Cicero 
asks  what  flower  or  light  of  eloquence  is  wanting  to  the  Origi- 
1^ — ^^  Quem  florem,  aut  quod  lumen  eloquentise  non  habent?" 
But  on  Atticus  considering  the  praise  thus  bestowed  as  exces- 
sive, he  limits  it,  by  adding,  that  nothing  was  required  to  com- 
plete the  strokes  of  the  author's  pencil  but  a  certain  lively 
glow  of  colours,  which  had  not  been  discovered  in  his  age. — 
"*  Intelliges,  nihil  illius  lineamentis,  nisi  eorum  pigmentorum, 
quse  inventa  nondum  erant,  florem  et  calorem  defuisse^.'' 

*  mti.  JSnu,  Ub.  YIII.  c.  6.  t  BrutUB,  c.  17.  {  BnHw,  c.  87. 


30  *  C  ATO. 

The  pretended  fragments  of  the  Origine&j  pubKshed  by  the 
Dominican,  Nannie  better  known  by  the  name  of  Annius  Viter- 
biensis,  and  inserted  in  his  ^fUiquitaies  Farkt^  printed  at 
Rome  in  1498,  are  spurious,  and  the  imposition  was  detected 
soon  after  their  appearance.  The  few  remains  first  collected 
by  Riccobonus,  and  published  at  the  end  of  his  Treatise  on 
History,  (Basil,  1579,)  are  believed  to  be  genuine.  They  have 
been  enlarged  by  Ausonius  Popma,  and  added  by  him,  with 
notes,  to  the  other  writings  of  Cato,  published  at  Leyden  in 
1590. 

Any  rudeness  of  style  and  language  which  appears  either  in 
the  orations  of  Cato,  or  in  his  agricultural  and  historical  works, 
cannot  be  attributed  to  total  carelessness  or  neglect  of  the 
graces  of  composition,  as  he  was  the  first  person  in  Rome  who 
treated  of  oratory  as  an  art*,  in  a  tract  entitled  De  Oratart 
ad  FUium. 

Cato  was  also  the  first  of  his  countrymen  who  wrote  on  the 
subject  of  medicinef .     Rome  had  existed  for  500  years  with* 
out   professional  physicians^.     A   people   who  as   yet  were 
strangers  to  luxury,  and  consisted  of  farmers  and  soMiers, 
(though  surgical  operations  might  be  frequently  necessary,) 
would  be  exempt  from  the  inroads  of  the  **  grisly  troop,"  so 
much  encouraged  by  indolence  and  debauchery.     Like  all 
semi-barbarous  people,  they  believed  that  maladies  were  to  be 
cured  by  the  special  interposition  of  superior  beings,  and  that 
religious  ceremonies  were  more  efficacious  for  the  recovery 
of  health  than  remedies  of  medical  skill.    Deriving,  as  they 
did,  much  of  their  worship  from  the  Etruscans,  they  probably 
derived  from  them  also  the  practice  of  attempting  to  overcome 
disease  by  magic  and  incantation.    The  Augurs  and  Aruspices 
were  thus  the  most  ancient  physicians  of  Rome.    In  epidemic 
distempers  the  Sibylline  books  were  consulted,  and  the  cores 
they  prescribed  were  superstitious  ceremonies.     We  have  seen 
that  it  was  to  free  the  city  from  an  attack  of  this  sort  that 
scenic  representations  were  first  introduced  at  Rome.     During 
the  progress  of  another  epidemic  infliction  a  temple  was  built 
to  Apollo^ ;  and  as  each  periodic  pestilence  naturally  abated 
in  course  of  time,  faith  was  confirmed  in  the  efficacy  of  the 
rites  which  were  resorted  to.     Every  one  has  heard  of  the 
pomp  wherewith  Esculapius  was  transported  under  the  form  of 
a  serpent,  from  Epidaurus  to  an  islet  in  the  Tiber,  which  was 
thereafter  consecrated  to  that  divine  physician.    The  appre* 
hension  of  diseases  raised  temples  to  Febris  and  Tussis,  and 

•  Qdntil.  Jfut.  Orat,  Lib.  IIT.  c.  1.  t  Pliny,  Hut,  JVtU.  Ub.  XXT.  c  S. 

}  Plloy»  iB9t,  Ma.  Lib.  XXY.  c.  2,  §  Uvy,  Ub.  lY.  c.  SI. 


CATO.  21 

other  imaginary  beings  belonging  to  the  painful  family  of 
death,  io  order  to  avert  the  disorders  which  they  were  supposed 
to  inflict.     It  was  perceived,  however,  that  religious  profes- 
sions and  lustrations  and  lectistermumB  were  ineffectual  for 
the  cure  of  those  complaints,  which,  in  the  6th  century,  luxury 
began  to  exasperate  and  render  more  frequent  at  Rome.     At 
length,  in  5M,  Archagatus,  a  free-born  Greek,  arrived  in  Italy, 
where  he  practised  medicine  profe^ionally  as  an  art,  and  re* 
ceiYed  in  return  for  his  cures  the  endearing  appellation  of 
Camifex*.     But  though  Archagatus  wa^  the  first  who  prac* 
tised  medicine,  Cato  was  the  first  who  wrote  of  diseases  and 
their  treatment  as  a  science,  in  his  work  entitled  Commen- 
tariuB  ^uo  Medetur  FUio^  Senria^  FamiUaribui.    In  this  book 
of  domestic  medicine--^ck,  pigeons,  and  hare,  were  the  foods 
he  chiefly  recommended  to  the  sickf.  His  remedies  were  prin- 
cipaHy  extracted  from  herbs ;  and  colewort,  or  cabbage,  was 
his  favourite  curej.     The  recipes,  indeed,  contained  in  his 
work  on  agriculture,  show  that  his  medical  knowledge  did  not 
exceed  that  which  usually  exists  among  a  semi-barbarous  race, 
and  only  extended  to  the  most  ordinary  mmples  which  nature 
affords.    Cato  hated  the  compound  drugs  introduced  by  the 
Greek   physicians — considering   these  foreign    professors  of 
medicine  as  the  opponents  of  his  own  system.     Such,  indeed, 
was  his  antipathy,  that  he  believed,  or  pretended  to  believe, 
that  they  had  entered  into  a  league  to  poison  all  the  barba- 
rians, among  whom   they  classed  the   Romans. — *'  Jurarunt 
inter  se,''  says  he,  in  a  passage  preserved  by  Pliny,  ^^  barbaros 
necare  omnes  medicina :  Et  hoc  ipsum  mereede  faciunt,  ut 
fides  iis  sit,  et  facile  disperdant^.**    Cato,  finding  that  the  pa- 
tients lived  notwithstanding  this  detestable  conspiracy,  began 
to  regard  the  Greek  practitioners  as  impious  sorcerers,  who 
counteracted  the  course  of  nature,  and  restored  dying  men  to 
life,  by  means  of  unholy  charms ;  and  he  therefore  advised  his 
countrymen  to  remain  stedfast,  not  only  by  their  ancient  Ro- 
man principles  and  manners,  but  also  by  the  venerable  un- 
guents and  salubrious  balsams  which  had  come  down  to  them 
ftom  the  wisdom  of  their  grandmothers.     Such  as  they  were, 
Cato's  old  jnedical  saws  continued  long  in  repute  at  Rome. 
It  is  evident  that  they  were  still  esteemed  in  the  time  of  Pliny, 
who  expresses  the  same  fears  as  the  Censor,  lest  hot  baths  and 
potions  should  render  his  countrymen  effeminate,  and  corrupt 
their  mannerslj. 

*  Pria.  Hui.  Ma.  Lib.  XXIX.  c.  1.  t  Plutarch,  in  Cato, 

1  PKo.  Hiat,  JVat.  Lib.  XX.  c.  9.  §  Ibid.  Ub.  XXIX.  c.  1. 

H  Pltny*  jESii.  MU.  Lib.  XXIX.  c.  1. 


22  CATO. 

Every  one  knows  what  was  the  consequence  of  Gate's  dislike 
to  the  Greek  philosophers,  who  were,  expelled  the  city  by  a  de- 
cree of  the  senate.  But  it  does  not  seem  certain  what  be- 
came of  Archagatus  and  his  followers.  The  author  of  the 
Diogene  Modeme,  as  cited  by  Tiraboschi,  says  that  Archa- 
gatus was  stoned  to  death*,  but  the  literary  historian  who 
quotes  him  doubts  of  his  having  any  sufficient  authority  for 
the  assertion.  Whether  ti^e  physicians  were  comprehended 
in  the  general  sentence  of  banishment  pronounced  on  the 
learned  Greeks,  or  were  excepted  from  it,  has  been  the 
subject  of  a  great  literary  controversy  in  modern  Italy  and  in 
Francef. 

Aulus  Gelliusj:  mentions  Cato's  Libri  qtuBsfionum  EpiiiO' 
Kcarum,  and  Cicero  his  Apophthegmata^,  which  was  probably 
the  first  example  of  that  class  of  works  which,  under  the 
appellation  of  Ana^  became  so  fashionable  and  prevalent  in 
France. 

The  only  other  work  of  Cato  whioh  I  shall  mention,  is  the 
Carmen  de  Moribus.  This,  however,  was  not  written  in  verse, 
as  might  be  supposed^  from  the  title.  Precepts,  imprecationSi 
and  prayers,  or  any  set  formuUB  whatever,  were  called  Car^ 
tnina.  I  do  not  know  what  maxims  were  inculcated  in  this 
carmen,  but  they  probably  were  not  of  very  rigid  morality,  at 
least  if  we  may  judge  from  the  "  Sententia  Dia  Catonis,"  men- 
tioned by  Horace : 


"  Quidam  notus  homo  ciiiii  exiret  fonuce»  Macte 
Yirtute  esto,  inquit  sententia  dia  Catoni8||.' 


» 


•  Stor.  del  Let.  Ral.  Part.  III.  Lib.  III.  c.  5.  §  6. 

t  See  Spon,  Reeherehes  CwrieuBts  d^AntiqiuU,    DiM.  27.  Bayle,  Diet.  B^ 
art.  Porciiu,  Rem.  H. 

In  what  degree  of  estimation  medicine  was  held  at  Rome,  and  by  what  ch«  w 
people  it  was  practised,  were  among  the  questiones  vexaia  of  classical  Mteraturt  m 
our  own  country  in  the  beginning  and  middle  of  last  century.  Dr  Mead,  in  his 
Orotic  Herveiana,  and  Spon,  in  his  Recherches  d*jirUiquiU,  followed  out  an  idet 
first  suggested  by  Casaubon,  in  his  animadversions  on  Suetonius,  that  physiciiQsin 
Rome  were  held  in  high  estimation,  and  were  frequent^  free  citizens ;  tiiat  it  was 
^  ■  the  surgeons  who  were  the  servile  pecusf  and  tliatthe  erroneous  idea  of  physictao! 
being  slaves,  arose  from  confounding  the  two  orders.  These  authors  chiefly  itsted 
their  argument  on  classical  passages,  from  which  it  appears  that  physicians  were 
called  the  friends  of  Cicero,  Cesar,  and  Pompey.  Middleton,  in  a  well  known  I^- 
tin  dissertation,  maintains  that  there  was  no  distinction  at  Rome  between  the  phy- 
aician,  surgeon,  and  apothecary,  and  tbat,  till  the  time  of  Julius  Caesar  at  least,  the 
art  of  medicine  was  exercised  only  by  foreigners  and  slaves,  or  by  freedmeo,  who, 
having  obtained  liberty  for  their  proficiency  in  its  various  branches,  opened  a  shop 
for  its  practice. — De  Medicorum  apud  veteres  JRomanos  degentium  Cbnditiove 
Diasertatio.  MUcellaneotu  JVorka,  Vol.  IV.  See  on  this  topic,  Schlager,  Bis- 
tor.  Utis,  De  Medicorum  apud  veteres  Ronianos  degentium  Conditione.  Helf^* 
1740. 

1  JVbct.  Jtttie.  Lib.  VII.  c.  10. 

§  De  Offtciis,  Lib.  I.  c.  29.    Multa  sunt  multorum  &cete  dicta :  ut  ea,  qQ>  > 
sene  Catone  collecta  sunt,  que  vocant  apophthegmata. 

li  Sat.  Lib.  I.  2. 


VARRO.  23 

Misled  by  the  title,  some  critics  have  erroneously  assigned  to 
the  Censor  the  Disticha  de  Moribvs^  now  generally  attributed 
to  Dionysius  Cato,  who  lived,  according  to  Scahger  in  the  age 
of  Commodus  and  Septimius  Severus*. 
The  work  of 


MARCUS  TERENTIUS  VARRO, 

• 

On  agriculture,  has  descended  to  us  more  entire  than  that  of 
Cato  on  the  same  subject;  yet  it  does  not  appear  to  be  com- 
plete. In  the  early  times  of  the  republic,  the  Romans,  like 
the  ancient  Greeks,  being  constantly  menaced  with  the  incur- 
sions of  enemies,  indulged  little  in  the  luxury  of  expensive  and 
ornamental  villas.  Even  that  of  Scipio  Africaiius.  the  rival 
and  contemporary  of  Cato  the  Censor,  and  who  in  many  other 
respects  anticipated  the  refinements  of  a  later  age,  was  of  the 
simplest  structure.  It  was  situated  at  Liternum,  (now  Patria,) 
a  few  miles  north  from  Cumae,  and  was  standing  in  the  time 
of  Seneca.  This  philosopher  pajd  a  visit  to  a  friend  who  resi- 
ded in  it  during  the  age  of  Nero,  and  he  afterwards  described 
it  in  one  of  his  epistles  with  many  expressions  of  wonder  and 
admiration  at  the  frugality  of  the  great  Africanusf .  When, 
however,  the  scourge  of  war  was  removed  from  their  imme- 
diate vicinity,  agriculture  and  gardening  were  no  longer  exer- 
cised by  the  Romans  as  in  the  days  of  the  Censor,  when  great 
crops  of  grain  were  raised  for  profit,  and  fields  of  onions  sown 
for  the  subsistence  of  the  labouring  servants.  The  patricians 
now  became  fond  of  ornamental  gardens,  fountains,  terraces, 
artificial  wildernesses,  and  grottos,  groves  of  laurel  for  shelter 
in  winter,  and  oriental  planes  for  shade  in  summer.  Matters, 
in  short,  were  fast  approaching  to  the  state  described  in  one 
of  the  odes  of  Horace — 

*  For  Cato's  femily,  lee  Aulu9  Gellius,  JVbd.  JUtU,  Lib.  XIII.  c.  19. 

t  We  have  many  mlDUte  descriptions  of  the  villas  of  luxurious  Romans,  from  the 
time  of  Hortensius  to  Pliny,  but  there  are  so  few  accounts  of  those  in  the  simpler  age 
of  i^cipio,  that  1  have  subjoined  the  description  of  Seneca,  who  saw  this  mansion 
precisely  in  the  same  state  it  was  when  possessed  and  inhabited  by  the  Hlus- 
trious  conqueror  of  Hannibal.  '*  Vidi  viHam  structam  lapide  quadrato,  murum  cir- 
<umdatum  sylvae,  turres  quoque  in  propugnaculum  viUae  utrimque  subrectas. 
Cistemam  aedificiis  et  viridibus  subditam,  que  sufficere  in  usum  exercitOs  posset. 
Baloeohmi  angustum,  tenebricosum  ex  consuetodine  antiquA.  Magna  ei^  me 
voluptassubit  contemplantem  mores  Scipionis  et  nostros.  In  hoc  angulo  ille  Car- 
thaginis  horror,  cui  Roma  debet  quod  tantum  semel  capta  est,  abluebat  corpus  labo- 
ribus  rust^cis  fessum ;  exercebat  enim  opeift  se,  terramque,  ut  mos  fuit  priscis,  ipse 
subi^ebat  Sub  hoc  Ule  tecto  tarn  sordido  stetit— hoc  ilium  pavimentum  tam  vile 
^'istmuit.*'    Senec.  JEjrist.  86. 


24  VARRO. 

"  Jam  paucft  amtro  jugera  legbB, 
Moles  relinquedt :  undique  latiua 
Extenta  visentur  Lucrino 

Stagnalacu :  platanuaqoe  codeba 
Evincei  ulmoa :  turn  violaria,  et 
Myrtus,  et  omnia  eopia  naTium, 
Spargent  olivetis  odorem 
Fertilibua  doraiao  priori. 
Tom  spisaa  ramis  laurea  fervidoa 
Exchidet  ictus.    Nod  ita  Romuli 
PrBflcriptum,  et  intonsi  Catonia 
Auspiciia,  Tetenimqae  normi*.**  # 

Agriculture,  however,  still  continued  to  be  so  respectable  an 
employment,  thkt  its  practice  was  not  considered  unworthy 
the  friend  of  Cicero  and  Pondpey,  nor  its  precepts  undeserving 
to  be  delivered  by  one  who  was  indisputably  the  first  scholar 
of  his  age — who  was  renowned  for  his  profound  erudition  and 
thorough  insight  into  the  laws,  the  literature,  and  antiquities 
of  his  country, — and  who  has  been  hailed  by  Petrarch  as  the 
third  great  luminary  of  Rome,  being  only  inferior  in  lustre  t« 
Cicero  and  Virgil : — 

<*  Qui'  vid*  10  noatra  gente  aver  per  dace 
Varrone,  il  terzo  grran  lume  Romano, 
Che  quanto  '1  mtro  plh,  tanto  pidi  lucef.'* 


Varro  was  bom  in  the  637th  year  of  Rome,  and  was  descended 
of  an  ancient  senatorial,  family.  It  is  probable  that  his  youth, 
and  even  the  greater  part  of  his  manhood,  were  spent  in  lite- 
rary pursuits,  and  in  the  acquisition  of  that  stupendous  know- 
ledge, which  has  procured  to  him  the  appellation  of  the  most 
teamed  of  the  Romans,  since  his  name  does  not  appear  in  the 
civil  or  military  history  of  his  country,  till  the  year  680,  when 
he  was  Consul  along  with  Cassius  Varus.  In  686,  he  served 
under  Pompey,  in  bis  war  against  the  pirates,  in  which  he 
commanded  the  Greek  ships|.  To  the  fortunes  of  that  Chief 
he  continued  firmly  attached,  and  was  appointed  one  of  his 
lieutenants  in  Spain,  along  with  Afranius  and  Petreius,  at  the 
commencement  of  the  war  with  Csesar.  Hispania  Ulterior 
was  specially  confided  to  his  protection,  and  two  legions  were 
placed  under  his  command.  After  the  surrender  of  his  col- 
leagues in  Hither  Spain,  Ca)sar  proceeded  in  person  against 
him.  Varro  appears  to  have  been  little  qualified  to  cope  with 
such  an  adversary.  One  of  the  legions  deserted  in  his  own 
sight,  and  his  retreat  to  Cadiz,  where  he  had  meant  to  retire, 

•  Lib.  11. 

t  Driofrfb  deUa  Fama,  c.  S. 

t  Varro,  De  Me  RtuHed,  lib.  II.piooBin. 


VARRO.  25 

f 

having  been  cut  oflf,  he  surrendered  at  discretion,  with  the 
other,  in  the  vicinity  of  Cordova*.  From  that  period  he  de- 
spaired of  the  salvation  of  the  republic,  or  found,  at  least,  that 
he  was  not  capable  of  saving  it;  for  although,  after  receiving 
bis  freedom  from  Csesar,  he  proceeded  to  Dyracchium,  to  give 
Pompey  a  detail  of  the  disasters  which  had  occurred,  he  left 
it  almost  immediately  for  Rome.  On  his  return  to  Italy  he 
withdrew  from  all  political  concerns,  and  indulged  himself  dur-* 
ing  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  the  enjoyment  of  literary  lei- 
sure. The  only  service  he  performed  for  Caesar,  was  that  of 
arranging  the  books  which  the  Dictator  had  himself  procured, 
or  which  had  been  acquired  by  those  who  preceded  him  in 
the  management  of  public  affairsf .  He  lived  during  the  reign 
of  Caesar  in  habits  of  the  closest  intimacy  with  Cicero ;  and 
his  feelings,  as  well  as  conduct,  at  this  period,  resembled  those 
of  his  illustrious  friend,  who,  in  all  his  letters  to  Varro,  bewails, 
with  great  freedom,  the  utter  ruin  of  the  state,  and  proposes 
that  they  should  live  together,  engaged  only  in  those  studies 
which  were  formerly  their  amusement,  but  were  then  their 
chief  support.  "  And,  should  none  require  our  services  for 
repairing  the  ruins  of  the  republic,  let  us  employ  our  time  and 
thoughts  on  moral  and  political  inquiries.  If  we  cannot  bene- 
fit the  commonwealth  in  the  forum  or  the  senate,  let  us  en* 
deavoar,  at  least,  to  do  so  by  our  studies  and  writings ;  and, 
after  the  example  of  the  most  learned  among  the  ancients, 
contribute  to  the  welfare  of  our  country,  by  useful  disquisi- 
tions concerning  laws  and  government."  Some  farther  notion 
of  the  manner  in  which  Varro  spent  his  time  during  this  period 
may  be  derived  from  another  letter  of  Cicero,  written  in  June, 
707.  "Nothing,"  says  he,  "raises  your  character  higher  in 
my  esteem,  than  that  you  have  wisely  retreated  into  harbour 
— ^that  you  are  enjoying  the  happy  fruits  of  a  learned  leisure, 
and  employed  in  pursuits,  which  are  attended  with  more  pub- 
lic advantage,  as  well  as  private  satisfaction,  than  all  the  am- 
bitious exploits,  or  voluptuous  indulgences,  of  these  licentious 
victors.  The  contemplative  hours  you  spend  at  your  Tusculan 
villa,  are,  in  my  estimation,  indeed,  what  alone  deserves  to  be 
called  life|." 

Varro  passed  the  greatest  portion  of  his  time  in  the  various 
villas  which  he  possessed  in  Italy.  One  of  these  was  at  Tus- 
culum,  and  another  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Cumse.  The 
latter  place  had  been  among  the  earliest  Greek  establishments 
in  Italy,  and  was  long  regarded  as  pre-eminent  in  power  and 

*  CsMT,  Comment,  de  BeUo  CiviU,  Lib.  II.  c.  17,  tec. 

t  Suetonias,  in  Jul.  Cos.  c.  44. 

t  JE^t.  Fam.  Lib.  IX.  £p.  6.  £d.  Schiitz. 

Vol.  II.— D 


26  VARRO. 


% 


population.  It  spread  prosperity  over  the  adjacent  coBsts; 
and  its  oracle,  Sibyl,  and  temple,  long  attracted  votaries  and 
visitants.  As  the  Roman  power  increased,  that  of  Cums 
decayed ;  and  its  opulence  had  greatly  declined  before  the 
time  of  Varro.  Its  immediate  vicinity  was  not  even  frequently 
selected  as  a  situation  for  villas.  The  Romans  bad  a  well- 
founded  partiality  for  the  coasts  of  Puteoli,  and  Naples,  so 
superior  in  beauty  and  salubrity  to  the  flat,  marshy  neighbour- 
hood of  Cums.  The  situation  of  Varro's  other  villa,  at  Tus- 
culum,  must  have  been  infinitely  more  agreeable,  from  its 
pure  air,  and  the  commanding  prospect  it  enjoyed. 

Besides  immense  flocks  of  sheep  in  Apulia,  and  many  horses 
in  the  Sabine  district  of  Reate*,  Varro  had  considerable  farms 
both  at  his  Cuman  and  Tusculan  villas,  the  cultivation  of 
which,  no  doubt,  formed  an  agreeable  relaxation  from  his 
severe  and  sedentary  studies.  He  had  also  a  farm  at  a  third 
villa,  where  he  occasionally  resided,  near  the  town  of  Casinunif 
in  the  territory  of  the  ancient  Volscif,  and  situated  on  the 
banks  of  the  Cassinus,  a  tributary  stream  to  the  Liris.  This 
stream,  which  was  fifty-seven  feet  broad,  and  both  deep  and 
clear,  with  a  pebbly  channel,  flowed  through  the  middle  of 
his  delightful  domains.  A  bridge,  which  crossed  the  rivet 
from  the  house,  led  directly  to  an  island,  which  was  a  tittle 
farther  down,  at  the  confluence  ot  the  Cassinus  with  a  rivulet 
called  the  Vinius|.  Along  the  banks  of  the  larger  water 
there  were  spacious  pleasure-walks  which  conducted  to  the 
farm;  and  near  the  place  where  they  joined  the  fields,  thete 
was  an  extensive  aviary^.  The  site  of  Varro's  villa  was  visited 
by  Sir  R.  C.  Hoare,  who  says,  that  it  stood  close  to  Casinum, 
now  St  Germano:  Some  trifling  remains  still  indicate  its  site; 
but  its  memory,  he  adds,  will  shortly  survive  only  in  the  page 
of  the  historian  II . 

After  the  assassination  of  Caesar,  this  residence,  along  with 
almost  all  the  wealth  of  Varro,  which  was  immense,  was  forci- 
bly seized  by  Marc  AntonylT.  Its  lawless  occupation  by  that 
profligate  and  blood-thirsty  triumvir,  on  his  return  from  his 
dissolute  expedition  to  Capua,  is  introduced  by  Cicero  into 
one  of  his  Philippics,  and  forms  a  topic  of  the  most  eloquent 
and  bitter  invective.  The  contrast  which  the  orator  dranrs 
between  the  character  of  Varro  and  that  of  Antony — ^between 
the  noble  and  peaceful  studies  prosecuted  in  that  delightfiil 
residence  by  the  rightful  proprietor,  and  the  shameful  debaa- 

*  De  Re  Jhuiicd,  Lib.  11.  f  Cicero,  PkiUp,  II.  c.  40. 

X  See  CasteU's  ViUa$  of  the  AneienU.  i  De  Re  Rmtied,  Lib.  III.  c.  5. 

II  Oasswd  Tour  in  Raly.  %  Appian,  De  BtUo  CmH,  Lib.  IV.  47 


VARRO.  27 

cheries  of  the  wretch  by  whom  it  had  been  usurped,  forms  a 
picture,  to  which  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  parallel  in 
ancient  or  modem  oratory. — *^How  many  days  did  you  shame* 
fully  revel,  Antony,  in  that  villa  ?  From  the  third  hour,  it 
was  one  continued  scene  of  drinking,  gambling,  and  uproar. 
The  very  roofs  were  to  be  pitied.  O,  what  a  change  of 
masters!  But  how  can  he  be  called  its  master?  And,  if 
master — rgods !  how  unlike  to  him  he  had  dispossessed !  Marcus 
Varro  made  his  house  the  abode  of  the  muses,  and  a  retreat 
for  study — ^not  a  haunt  for  midnight  debauchery.  Whilst  he 
was  there,  what  were  the  subjects  discussed — what  the  topics 
debated  in  that  delightful  residence?  I  will  answer  the 
question — ^The  rights  and  liberties  of  the  Roman  people*— the 
memorials  of  our  ancestors — the  wisdom  resulting  from  reason 
combined  with  knowledge.  But  whilst  you,  Antony,  was  its 
occupant,  (for  you  cannot  be  called  its  master,}  every  room 
rung  with  the  cry  of  drunkenness — the  pavements  were 
swimming  with  wine,  and  the  walls  wet  with  riot." 

Antony  was  not  a  person  to  be  satisfied  with  robbing  Varro 
of  his  property.  At  the  formation  of  the  memorable  trium- 
virate, the  name  of  Varro  appeared  in  the  list  of  the  pro- 
scribed, among  those  other  friends  of  Pompey  whom  the 
clemency  of  Caesar  had  spared.  This  illustrious  and  blame- 
less individual  had  now  passed  the  ace  of  seventy ;  and  nothine 
can  afford  amorefirightfulproof  of  me  sanguinary  spirit  which 
guided  the  councils  of  the  triumvirs,  than  their  devoting  to 
the  dagger  of  the  hired  assassin  a  man  equally  venerable  by 
his  years  and  character,  and  who  ought  to  have  been  protected, 
if  not  by  his  learned  labours,  at  least  by  his  retirement,  from 
such  inhuman  persecution.  But,  though  doomed  to  death  as 
a  friend  of  law  and  liberty,  his  firiends  contended  with  each 
other  for  the  dangerous  honour  of  saving  him.  Calenus 
having  obtained  the  preference,  carried  him  to  his  country- 
house,  where  Antony  frequently  came,  without  suspecting 
that  it  contained  a  proscribed  inmate.  Here  Varro  remained 
concealed  till  a  special  edict  was  issued  by  the  consul,  M. 
Plancus,  under  the  triumviral  seal,  excepting  him  and  Messala 
Corvinus  fi-om  the  general  slaughter*. 

But  though  Varro  thus  passed  in  security  the  hour  of  danger, 
he  was  unable  to  save  his  library,  which  was  placed  in  the 
garden  of  one  of  bis  villas,  and  fell  into  the  hands  of  an  illite* 
rate  soldiery. 

After  the  battle  of  Actium,  Varro  resided  in  tranquillity  at 
Rome  till  his  decease,  which  happened  in  727,  when  he  was 

"  Berwick'0  Lioe$  of  Ann.  PolUo,  M.  Varro,  ^c. 


2B  VARRO. 

ninety  years  of  age.  The  tragical  deaths,  however,  of  Pompey 
and  Cicero,  with  the  loss  of  others  of  his  firiends, — the  ruin  of 
his  country, — the  expulsion  from  his  villas, — and  the  loss  of 
those  literary  treasures,  which  he  had  stored  up  as  the  solace 
of  his  old  age,  and  the  want  of  which  would  be  doubly  felt 
by  one  who  wished  to  devote  all  his  time  to  study, — ^must  have 
cast  a  deep  shade  over  the  concluding  days  of  this  illustrious 
acholar.  His  wealth  was  restored  by  Augustus,  but  his  boob 
could  not  be  supplied. 

It  is  not  improbable,  that  the  dispersion  of  this  library, 
which  impeded  the  prosecution  of  his  studies,  and  prevented 
the  composition  of  such  works  as  required  reference  and  coO" 
sultation,  may  have  induced  Varro  to  employ  the  remaining 
hours  of  his  life  in  delivering  those  precepts  of  agricultare, 
which  had  been  the  result  of  long  experience,  and  which 
needed  only  reminiscence  to  inculcate.  It  was  some  time 
after  the  loss  of  his  books,  and  when  he  had  nearly  leached 
the  age  of  eighty,  that  Varro  composed  the  work  on  husban- 
dry, as  he  himself  testifies  in  the  introduction.  "  If  I  ^^^ 
leisure,  I  might  write  these  things  more  conveniently,  which 
I  will  now  explain  as  well  as  I  am  able,  thinking  that  I  must 
make  haste;  because,  if  a  man  be  a  bubble  of  air,  much  more 
80  is  an  old  man,  for  now  my  eightieth  year  admonishes  me  to 
et  my  baggage  together  before  I  leave  the  world.  Wherc- 
>re,  as  you  have  bought  a  farm,  which  you  are  desirous  to 
render  profitable  by  tillage,  and  as  you  ask  me  to  take  this 
task  upon  me,  I  will  try  to. advise  you  what  must  be  done,  not 
only  during  my  stay  here,  but  afler  my  departure."  The 
remainder  of  the  introduction  forms,  in  its  ostentations  displaf 
of  erudition,  a  remarkable  contrast  to  Cato's  simplicitj' 
Varro  talks  of  the  Syrens  and  Sibyls, — invokes  all  the  Roman 
deities,  supposed  to  preside  over  rural  affairs, — and  enume- 
rates all  the  Greek  authors  who  had  written  on  the  subject  of 
agriculture  previous  to  his  own  time. 

The  first  of  the  three  books  which  this  agricultural  treatise 
comprehends,  is  addressed,  by  Varro,  to  Fundanius,  who  had 
recently  purchased  a  farm,  in  the  management  of  which  be 
wished  to  be  instructed.  The  information  which  Varro  under- 
takes to  give,  is  communicated  in  the  form  of  dialogue.  H^ 
feigns  that,  at  the  time  appointed  for  rites  to  be  performed  in 
the  sowing  season,  (aemeniivis  feriis,)  he  went,  by  invitati(Mi 
of  the  priest,  to  the  temple  of  Tellus.  There  he  met  his 
father-in-law,  C.  Fundanius,  the  knight  Agrius,  and  Agrasins, 
a  fal'nker  of  imposts,  who  were  gazing  on  a  map  of  Italji 
painted  on  the  inner  walls  of  the  temple.  The  priest,  whose 
duty  it  was  to  officiate,  having  been  summoned  by  the  ediie 


£ 


VARftO.  29 

to  attend  him  dn  aflSiirs  of  importance,  they  were  awaiting 
his  return ;  and,  in  order  to  pass  the  time  till  bis  arriva^ 
Agrasius  commences  a  conversation,  (suggested  by  the  map 
of  Italy,)  by  inquiring  at  the  others  present  in  the  temple^ 
whether  they,  who  had  trayeiled  so  much,  had  ever  visited 
any  country  better  cultivated  than  Italy.  This  introduces  an 
eulogy  on  the  soil  and  climate  of  that  favoured  region,  and 
of  its  various  abundant  productions,-— the  Apulian  wheat,  the 
Venafrian  olive,  and  the  Falernian  grape.  All  this,  again^ 
leads  to  the  inquiry,  by  what  arts  of  agricultural  skill  and 
industry,  aiding  the  luxuriant  soil,  it  had  reached  such  unex-' 
ampied  fecundity.  These  questions  are  referred  to  Licinius 
Stolo,  and  Tremellius  Scrofa,  who  now  joined  the  party,  and 
who  were  well  qualified  to  throw  light  on  the  interesting  dis- 
cussion— the  first  being  of  a  family  distinguished  by  the  pains 
it  had  taken  with  regard  to  the  Agrarian  laws,  and  the  second 
being  well  known  for  possessing  one  of  the  best  cultivated 
farms  in  Italy.  Scrofa,  too,  had  himself  written  on  husbandry, 
as  we  learn  from  Columella ;  who  says,  that  he  had  first  ren** 
dered  agriculture  eloquent.  This  first  book  of  Varro  is 
accordingly  devoted  to  rules  for  the  cultivation  of  land,  whe- 
ther for  the  production  of  grain,  pulse,  olires,  or  vines,  and 
the  establishment  necessary  for  a  well-managed  and  lucrative 
farm;  excluding  from  consideration  what  is  strictly  the  busi- 
ness of  the  grazier  and  shepherd,  rather  than  of  the  farmer. 

After  some  general  observations  on  the  object  and  end  of 
agriculture,  and  the  exposition  of  some  general  principles 
with  regard  to  soil  and  climate,  Scrofa  and  Stole,  who  are  the 
chief  prolocutors,  proceed  to  settle  the  size,  as  also  the  situa- 
tion of  the  villa.  They  recommend  that  it  should  be  placed 
at  the  foot  of  a  well-wooded  hill,  and  open  to  the  most  health- 
ful breeze.  An  eastern  exposure  seems  to  be  preferred,  as  it 
will  thus  have  shade  in  summer,  and  sun  in  winter.  They 
farther  advise,  that  it  should  not  be  placed  in  a  hollow  valley, 
as  being  there  subject  to  storms  and  inundations;  nor  in  front 
of  a  river,  as  that  situation  is  cold  in  winter,  and  unwhole- 
some in  summer;  nor  in  the  vicinity  of  a  marsh,  where  it  would 
be  liable  to  be  infested  with  small  insects,  which,  though 
invisible,  enter  the  body  by  the  mouth  or  nostrils,  and  occa- 
sion obstinate  diseases.  Fundanius  asks,  what  one  ought  to 
do  who  happens  to  inherit. such  a  villa;  and  is  answered, 
that  be  should  sell  it  for  whatever  sum  it  may  bring;  and  if  it 
will  bring  nothing^  he  should  abandon  it.  After  this  follow 
the  subjects  of  enclosure-^-the  necessary  implements  of  hus<« 
bandry — ^the  number  of  servants  and  oxen  required — and  the 
soil  in  Vkhich  different  crops  should  be  sown.    We  have  then 


30  VARRO. 

a  ftort  of  calendar,  directing  what  operations  ought  to  be  per- 
formed  in  each  season  of  the  year.  Thus,  the  author  recoco- 
mends  draining  betwixt  the  winter  solstice  and  approach  of 
the  zephyrs,  which  was  reckoned  to  be  about  the  beginaiDg 
of  February.  The  sowing  of  grain  should  not  be  commenced 
before  the  autumnal  equmox,  nor  delayed  after  the  winter 
solstice;  because  the  seeds  which,  are  sown  previous  to  the 
equinox  spring  up  too  quickly,  and  those  sown  subsequent  to 
the  solstice  scarcely  appear  above  ground  in  forty  days.  A 
taste  for  flowers  had  begun  to  prevail  at  Rome  in  the  time  of 
Varro;  he  accordingly  recommends  their  cultivatioD,  and 
points  out  the  seasons  for  planting  the  lily,  violet  and  crocus. 

The  remainder  of  the  first  book  of  Varro  is  well  and  natural!} 
arranged.  He  considers  his  subject  from  the  choice  of  the 
aeed,  till  the  grain  has  sprung  up,  ripened,  been  reaped, 
secured,  and  brought  to  market.  The  same  course  is  followed 
in  treating  of  the  vine  and  the  olive.  While  on  the  subject 
of  selling  farm-produce  to  the  best  advantage,  the  convena- 
tion  is  suddenly  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  the  priest's 
freedman,  who  came  in  haste  to  apologize  to  the  guests  for 
having  been  so  long  detained,  and  to  ask  them  to  attend  od 
the  following  day  at  the  obsequies  of  his  master,  who  bid 
been  just  assassinated  on  the  public  street  by  an  onknown 
hand.  The  party  in  the  temple  immediately  separate.— *^Dc 
casu  humano  magis  querentes,  quam  admirantes  id  RonuB 
factum." 

The  subject  of  agriculture,  strictly  so  called,  having  bees 
discussed  in  the  &st  book,  Varro  proceeds  in  the  second, 
addressed  to  Niger  Turranus,  to  treat  of  the  care  of  flocks 
and  cattle,  {De  Re  Pecuaria).  The  knowledge  which  he  here 
communicates  is  the  result  of  his  own  observations,  blended 
with  the  information  he  had  received  from  the  great  pastureis 
of  Epirus,  at  the  time  when  he  commanded  the  Grecian  ships 
on  its  coast,  in  Pompey's  naval  war  with  the  pirates.  As  i° 
the  former  book,  the  instruction  is  delivered  in  the  shape  of 
dialogue.  Varro  being  at  the  house  of  a  person  called  Cos^- 
nius,  his  host  refuses  to  let  him  depart  till  he  explain  to  him 
the  origin,  the  dignity,  and  the  art  of  pasturage.  Our  author 
undertakes  to  satisfy  him  as  to  the  first  and  second  points, 
but  as  to  the  third,  he  refers  him  to  Scrofa,  another  of  the 

Suests,  who  had  the  management  of  extensive  sheep-walks  in 
le  territory  of  the  Brutii.  Varro  makes  but  a  pedantic  figure 
in  the  part  which  he  has  modestly  taken  to  himself.  H^ 
account  of  the  origin  of  pasturage  is  nothing  bu)  some  very 
common-place  observations  on  the  early  stages  of  society; 
and  its  dignity  is  proved  from  several  signs  of  the  sodiac  beiflg 


f 

I 


VARRO.  31  X 


called  after  anj  me  of  the  most  celebrated  spots 

on  the  globe,-L^^^  he  Bosphorus,  the  ^gean  sea, 

said  Italy,  which  Varro  deriveslrom  Vitulus.  Scrofa,  in  com- 
mencing his  part  of  the  dialogue,  divides  the  animals  concern- 
ing which  he  is  to  treat  into  three  classes:  1.  the  lesser;  of 
which  there  are  three  sorts — sheep,  goats,  and  swine ;  2.  the 
larger;  of  which  there  are  also  three»-oxen,  asses,  and  horses; 
and,  lastly,  those  which  do  not  themselves  bring  profit,  but  are 
essential  to  the  care  of  the  others — the  dog,  the  mule,  and' 
the  shepherd.  With  regard  to  all  animals,  four  things  are  to  be 
considered  in  purchasing  or  procuring  them — their  age,  shape, 
pedigree,  and  price.  After  they  have  been  purchased,  there 
are  other  four  things  to  be  attended  to— feeding,  breeding, 
rearing,  and  curing  distempers.  According  to  this  methodical 
division  of  the  subject,  Scrofa  proceeds  to  give  rules  for 
choosing  the  best  of  the  different  species  of  animals  which  he 
has  enumerated,  as  also  directions  for  tending  them  after  they 
have  been  bought,  and  turning  them  to  the  best  profit  It  is 
curious  to  hear  what  were  considered  the  good  points  of  a 
goat,  a  hog,  or  a  horse,  in  the  days  of  Pompey  and  Cseaar } 
in  what  recions  they  were  produced  in  greatest  size  and  per- 
fection; what  was  esteemed  the  most  nutritive  provender  for 
each ;  and  what  number  constituted  an  ordinary  flock  or  herd. 
The  qualities  specified  as  best  in  an  ox  may  perhaps  astonish 
a  modem  grazier ;  but  it  must  be  remembered,  that  they  are 
applicable  to  the  capacity  for  labour,  not  of  carrying  beef* 
Hogs  were  fed  by  the  Romans  on  acorns,  beans,  and  barley; 
and,  like  our  own,  indulged  freely  in  the  luxury  of  mire, 
which,  Varro  says,  is  as  refreshing  to  them  as  the  bath  to 
human  creatures.  The  Romans,  however,  did  not  rear,  as  we 
do,  a  solitary  ill-looking  pig  in  a  sty,  but  possessed  great 
herds,  sometimes  amounting  to  the  number  of  two  or  three 
hundred. 

From  what  the  author  records  while  treating  of  the  pastu- 
rage of  sheep,  we  learn  that  a  similar  practice  prevailed  in 
Italy^  with  that  which  at  this  day  exists  in  Spain,  in  the  man- 
agement of  the  Merinos  belonging  to  the  Mesta.  Flocks  of 
sheep,  which  pastured  during  the  winter  in  Apulia,  were 
driven  to  a  great  distance  from  that  region,  to  pass  the  summer 
in  Samnium;  and  mules  were  led  from  the  champaign  grounds 
of  Rosea,  at  certain  seasons,  to  the  high  Gurgurian  mountains.. 
With  much  valuable  and  curious  information  on  all  these  va- 
rious topics,  there  are  interspersed  a  great  many  strange  super- 
stitions and  fables,  or  what  may  be  called  vulgar  errors,  as  that 
swine  breathe  by  the  ears  instead  of  the  mouth  ornostrils — 'that 
when  a  wolf  gets  hold  of  a  sow,  the  first  thing  he  does  is  to 


32  VARRO. 

pluDge  it  into  cold  water,  as  his  teeth  cannot  otherwise  bear 
the  heat  of  the  flesh — that  on  the  shore  of  Lusitania,  mares 
conceive  fr<Mn  the  winds,  but  their  foals  do  not  live  above  three 
years — and  what  is  more  inexplicable,  one  of  the  speakers  in 
the  dialogue  asserts,  that  he  himself  had  seen  a  sow  in  Arca- 
dia so  fat,  that  a  field-mouse  had  made  a  comfortable  nest  in 
her  flesh,  and  brought  forth  its  young. 

This  book  concludes  with  what  forms  the  most  profitable 
part  of  pasturage — the  dairy  and  sheep-shearing. 

The  third  book,  which  is  by  far  the  most  interesting 
best  written  in  the  work,  treats  de  vUlicia  pctstienibus,  which 
means  the  provisions,  or  moderate  luxuries,  which  a  plain  faj- 
mer  may  procure,  independent  of  tillage  or  pasturage,— as 
the  poultry  of  his  barn-yard — the  trouts  in  the  stream,  by 
which  his  farm  is  bounded — and  the  game,  which  he  may  cd- 
close  in  parks,  or  chance  to  take  on  days  of  recreation.  If 
others  of  the  agricultural  writers  have  been  more  minute  witli 
regard  to  the  construction  of  the  villa  itself,  it  is  to  Varro  we 
are  chiefly  indebted  for  what  lights  we  have  received  concern- 
ii^  its  appertenancies,  as  warrens,  aviaries,  and  fish-ponds. 
The  dialogue  on  these  subjects  is  introduced  in  the  following 
manner: — ^At  the  comitia,  held  for  electing  an  Edile,  Vano 
and  the  Senator  Axius,  having  given  their  votes  for  the  candi- 
date whom  they  mutually  favoured,  and  wishing  to  be  at  his 
house  to  receive  him  on  his  return  home,  after  all  the  suffrages 
had  been  taken,  resolved  to  wait  the  issue  in  the  shade  of  a 
villa  publica.  There  they  found  Appius  Claudius,  the  aogufi 
whom  Axius  began  to  rally  on  the  magnificence  of  hisvilk  >( 
the  extremity  of  the  Campus  Martins,  which  he  contrasts  wiv 
the  profitable  plainness  of  his  own  farm  in  the  Reatine  district* 
**  Your  sumptuous  mansion,"  says  he,  ^'  is  adorned  with  paint- 
ing, sculpture,  and  carving ;  but  to  make  amends  for  the  want 
of  these,  I  have  all  that  is  necessary  to  the  cultivation  of  lao^i 
and  the  feeding  of  cattle.  In  your  splendid  abode,  there  ij 
no  sign  of  the  vicinity  of  arable  lands,  or  vineyards.  Wefin^ 
there  neither  ox  nor  horse — there  is  neither  vintage  in  the  cel- 
lars, nor  corn  in  the  granary.  In  what  respect  does  this  re- 
semble the  villa  of  your  ancestors?  A  house  cannot  be 
called  a  farm  or  a  villa,  merely  because  it  is  built  beyond  ih^ 
precincts  of  the  city."  This  polite  remonstrance  gives  rise  to 
,a  discussion  with  regard  to  the  proper  definition  of  a  vilb? 
and  whether  that  appellation  can  be  applied  to  a  residence, 
where  there  is  neither  tillage  nor  pasturage.  It  seems  to  be 
at  length  agreed,  that  a  mansion  which  is  without  these,  sihI 
is  merely  ornamental,  cannot  be  called  a  villa ;  but  that  it  i^ 
properly  ao  termedi  though  there  be  neither  tillage  nor  f9SX^' 


VARItO-  33 

rage,  if  fish-ponds,  pigeon-boused,  and  bee*hives,  be  kept  for 
the  sake  of  profit;  and  it  is  discussed  whether  such  villas,  or 
agricultural  farms,  are  most  luc!rative. 

Our  author  divides  the  FUMidBpaatUmes  into  poultry,  game, 
and  fish.     Under  the  first  class,  he  comprehends  birds,  such 
as  thrashes^  which  are  kept  in  aviaries,  to  be  eaten,  but  not 
any  birds  of  game.    Rules  and  directions  are  given  for  their 
management,  of  the  same  sort  with  those  concerning  the  ani« 
mak  mentioned  in  the  preceding  book.    The  aviaries  in  the 
Roman  villas  were  wonderfully  productive  and  profitable.    "A, 
very  particular  account  is  given  of  the  construction  of  to 
aviary.     Varro  himself  had  one  at  his  farm,  near  Casinum,  but 
it  WBE  intended  more  for  pleasure  and  recreation  than  profit. 
The  description  he  gives  of  it  is  very  minute,  but  not  very 
distinct.    The  pigeon-house  is  treated  of  separately  firom  the 
aviary.      As  to  the  game,  the  instructions  do  not  relate  to 
field-sports,  but  to  the  mode  of  keeping  wild  animals  in  enclo- 
sures or  warrens.'    In  the  more  simple  and  moderate  ages  of 
the  republic,  these  were  merely  hare  or  rabbit  warrens  of  no 
great  extent;  but  as  wealth  and  luxury  increased,  they  were 
enlarged  to  the  size  of  40  or  50  acres,  and  frequently  contained 
within  their  limits  goats,  wild  boars,  and  deer.     The  author 
even  descends  to  instructions  with  regard  to  keeping  and  fat* 
tening  snails  and  dormice.     On  the  subject  of  fish  he  is  ex- 
tremely brief,  because  that  was  rather  an  article  of  expensive 
luxury  than  homely  fare ;  and  the  candidate,  besides,  viras  now 
momentarily  expected.    Fish-ponds  had  increased  in  the  same 
proportion  as  warrens,  and  in  the  age  of  Varro  were  oftea 
formed  at  vast  expense.     Instances  are  given  of  the  great 
depth  and  extent  of  ponds  belonging  to  the  principal  citizens, 
some  of  which  had  subterraneous  communications  with  the 
sea,  and  others  were  supplied  by  rivers,  which  had  been  turned 
fi'om  their  course.    At  this  part  of  the  dialogue,  a  shout  and 
anusnal  bustle  announced  the  success  of  the  candidate  whom 
Varro  favoured:  on  bearing  this  tumult,  the  party  gave  up 
their  agricultural  disquisitions,  and  accompanied  him  in  tn« 
umph  to  the  Capitol. 

This  work  of  Varro  is  totally  different  from  that  of  Cato  on 
the  same  subject,  formerly  mentioned.  It  is  not  a  journal, 
but  a  book ;  and  instead  of  the  loose  and  unconnected  manner 
iu  wliich  the  brief  precepts  of  the  Censor  are  delivered,  it  is 
composed  on  a  plan  not  merely  regular,  but  perhaps  some* 
what  too  stiff  and  formal.  Its  exact  and  methodical  arrange* 
ment  has  particularly  attracted  the  notice  of  Scali^er.^'  Uni« 
cum  Varronem  inter  LatinosT  habemus,  libris  tribus*  de  Re 
Roftica,  qui  vere  fu:  fi^odixwg  philosophatus  sit.  Immo  nolltts 
Vol.  II.— E 


34  VARRO. 

e«t  Gracorum  qui  tarn  bene,  inter  eos  aaltem  qui  ad  nosper* 
venerunt*/'  Instead,  too,  of  that  directness  and  simplicity 
which  never  deviate  from  the  plainest  precepts  of  agriculture, 
the  work  of  Varro  is  embellished  and  illustrated  by  much  of 
the  erudition  which  might  be  expected  from  the  learning  of 
its  author,  and  of  one  acquainted  with  fifty  Greek  writers  who 
had  treated  of  the  subject  before  him.  ^^Cato,  the  famous 
Censor,"  says  Martyne,  ^'  writes  like  an  ancient  country  gen- 
tleman of  much  experience :  He  aboi^nds  in  short  pithy  seo- 
tences,  intersperses  his  book  with  moral  precepts,  and  was 
esteemed  a  sort  of  oracle.  Varro  writes  more  like  a  scholar 
than  a  man  of  much  practice :  He  is  fond  of  research  into 
antiquity,*  and  inquires  iAto  the  etymoloffy  of  the  nuaes  of 
persons  and  things.  Cato,  too,  speaks  of  a  country  life,  and 
of  farming,  merely  as  itr  may  be  conducive  to  gain.  Varro 
also  speaks  of  it  as  of  a  wise  and  happy  .state,  inclining  to 
justice,  temperance,  sincerity,  and  all  the  virtues,  which  shel' 
ters  from  evil  passions,  by  affording  that  constant  employment^ 
which  leaves  little  leisure  for  those  vices  which  prevail  io 
cities,  where  the  means  and  occasions  for  them  are  created 
and  supplied." 

There  were  other  Latin  works  on  agriculture,  besides  those 
of  Cato  and  Varro,  but  they  were  subsequent  to  the  time  which 
the  present  volumes  are  intended  to  embrace.  Strictly  speak- 
ing, indeed,  even  the  work  of  Varro  was  written  after  the  bat- 
tle of  Actium :  the  knowledge,  however,  on  which  its  precepts 
were  founded,  was  acquired  long  before.  The  style,  too,  is 
that  of  the  Roman  republic,  not  of  the  Augustan  age.  I  have 
therefore  considered  Vanro  as  belonging  to  the  period  oo 
which  we  are  at  present  engaged. 

Indeed,  the  history  of  his  life  and^  writings  is  almost  identi- 
fied with  the  literary  history  of  Rome,  during  the  long  period 
through  which  his  existence  was  protracted.  But  the  treadae 
on  agriculture  is  the  only  one  of  his  multifarious  works  whicb 
has  descended  to  us  entire.  The  other  writings  of  this  cele- 
brated polygraph,  as  Cicero  calls  himf ,  may  be  divided  into 
philological,  critical^  historical,  mythological,  philosophic, 
and  satiric ;  and,  after  all,  it  would  probably  be  necessary,  i^ 
order  to  form  a  complete  catalogue,  to  add  the  convenient 
and  comprehensive  class  of  miscellaneous. 

The  work  De  Lingua  Latina,  though  it  has  descended  to 
us  incomplete,  is  by  much  the  most  entire  of  Varro^s  writings* 
except  the  Treatise  on  Agriculture.    It  is  on  account  of  this 

*  Seatiierona  prima,  p.  144. 

t  noXtf>^ci<^»ritToe.    JSpist.  ad  Attic,  Lib.  III.  £p.  18. 


VARRO.  35 

philological  production,  that  Aulus  Gellius  ranks. Jiim  among 
the  gramniarians,  who  form  a  numerous  and  important  class  in 
tho  History  of  Latin  Literature.  They  were  called  f^amr 
matici  by  the  Romans — a  word  which  would  be  better  ren- 
dered philologers  than  grammarians.  The  grammatic  science, 
among  the  'Romans,  was  not  confined  to  the  inflectiotis  of 
words  or  rules  of  syntax.  It  formed  one  of  the  great  divisions 
of  the  art  of  criticism,  and  was  understood  to  comprehend  all 
those  different  inquiries  which  philology  includes — embracing 
not  only  grammar,  properly  so  called,  but  verbal  and  literal 
criticism,  etymplogy,  the  explication  and  just  interpretation 
of  authors,  and  emendation  of  corrupted  passages.  Indeed 
the  name  of  grammarian  (grammaticus)  is  frequently  applied 
by  ancient  authors*  to  those  whom  we  should  now  term  critics 
and  conunentators,  rather  than  granunarians. 

It  will  be  readily  conceived  that  a  people  who,  like  the 
first  Romans,  were  chiefly  occupied  witli  war,  and  whose 
relaxation  was  agriculture,  did  not  attaeh  much  importance 
to  a  science,  of  which  the  professed  object  was,  teaching  how 
to  speak  and  write  with  propriety.  Accordingly,  almost  six 
hundred  years  elapsed  before  they  formed  any  idea  of  such  a 
study^.  Crates  Mallotes,  who  was  a.  contemporary  of  Aris- 
tarchus,  and  was  sent  as  ambassador  (o  Rome,  by  Attalus, 
King  of  Perffamtft,  towards  the  end  of  the  sixth  century];,  was 
the  first  who  excited  a  taste  for  grammatical  >>  inquiries. 
Having  accidentally  broken  his  leg  in  the  course  of  his 
embassy,  he  employed  the  period  of  his  convalescence  in 
receiving  visitors,  to  whom  he  delivered  lectures,  containing 
granunatic  disquisitions:  and  he  also  read  and  commented  on 
poets  hitherto  unknown  in  Rome^.  These  discussions,  how- 
ever, probably  turned  solely  on  6reek  words,  and  the  inter- 
pretation of  Greek  authors.  It  is  not  likely  that  Crates  had 
such  a  knowledge  of  the  Latin  tongue,  as  to  give  lectures  on 
a  subject  which  requires  minute  and  extensive  acquaintance 
with  the  language.  His  instructions,  however,  had  the  effect 
of  fixing  the  attention  of  the  Romans  on  their  own  language, 
and  on  their  infant  literature.  Men  sprung  up  who  commented 

*  Cicero,  J)e  Dimnat,  Lib.  I.  c.  18.    Seaeca»  JEpiat.  98. 

t  Suetonius,  De  Illust.  Grammat  c.  1. 

X  SuetoDius  t  De  lUust.  Oram.)  says,  that  he  was  sent  by  Attains,  at  the  moment 
of  the  death  of  Ennius.  Now,  EDotus  died  in  585,  at  which  time  Eumenes  reigned 
at  Pcrgamus,  and  was  not  succeeded  by  Attalus  till  the  year  595 ;  so  that  Suetonius 
was  mistaken,  either  as  to  the  year  in  which  Crates  came  to  Rome,  or  the  Idng  by 
whom  he  ^as  sent — I  rather  think  he  was  wrong  in  the  latter  point ;  for,  if  Crates 
was  the  first  Greek  rhetorician  who  taught  at  Rome»  which  seems  universally  admit- 
ted, he  must  have  been  there  before  593,- in  which  year  the  ihetoricians  were  tx- 
pressly  banished  from  Rome,  along  with  the  philos6phert. 

6  Sueioiiiiis,  c.  2. 


36  VARRO. 

on,  afid  explained,  the  few  Latin  poems  whicfa  at  that  (m 
existed.  C.  Octavius  Lampadius  illustrated  the  Punic  War 
of  Naevius;  and  also  dirided  that  poem  into  seven  books. 
About  the  same  time,  CI.  Vargunteius  lectured  ou  the  Aontb 
of  Ennius,  on  certain  fixed  days,  to  crowded  audiences. 
Q.  Philocomus  soon  afterwards  pertbrmed  a  similar  flarvice 
for  the  Satires  of  his  friend  Lucilius.  Among  these  early 
grammarians,*  Suetonius  particularly  mentions  ^lias  Preco* 
ninus  and  Servius  Clodius.  The  fi>rmer  was  the  master  of 
Varro  and  Cicero;  he  was  ako  a  rhetorician  of  emineoce,an(i 
composed  a  number  of  orations  for  the  Patricians,  to  whose 
cause«he  was  so  ardently  attached,  that,  when  Meteilas  Numi- 
dicus  was  banished  in  654,  he  accompanied  him  inte^  exile. 
Serv.  Clodius  was  the  8on*in-law  of  Lselius,  and  fraudoleotij 
appropriated,  it  is  said,  a  grammatical  work,  written  by  hb 
distinguished  rftatiYe^  which  shows  the  honour  and  credit  by 
this  time  attached  to  auch  pursuits  at  Rome.  Clodius  wast 
Roman  knight;  and,  from  his  example,  men  of  rank  did  not 
disdain  to  write  concerning  grammar,  and  even  to  teach  its 
principles.  Still,  however,  the  greater  number  of  gramoa- 
vians,  at  least  of  the  verbal  grammarians,  were  slaves.  If  well 
versed  in  the  science,  they  brought,  as  we  learn  from  Saeto* 
oius,  exorbitant  {prices.  Luctatius  Daphnis  was  purchased  by 
Quintus  Catulus  for  200,000  pieces  of  mftney,  and  shortly 
afterwards  set  at  libertv.  This  was  a  strong  encouragemeBt 
for  masters  to  instruct  their  slaves  in  grammai:,  and  for  them 
to  acquire  its  rules.  Sasvius  Nicanor,  and  Aurelius  OpiiioSf 
who  wrote  a  commentary,  in  nine  books,  on  different  writers, 
were  freedmen,  as  was  ajso  AntoniusGnipho,  a  Gaai,  who 
had  |[)een  taught  Greek  at  Alexandria,  whither  he  was  cam^ 
in  his  youth,  and  was  subsequently  instructed  in  Latin  litera- 
ture at  Rome.  Though  a  man  of  great  learning  in  the  science 
he  professed,  he  left  only  two  small  volumes  on  the  UtiB 
language — his  time  having  been  principally  occupied  is 
teaching.  He  taught  first  in  the  house  of  the  father  of  Jalios 
Ceesar,  and  afterwards  lectured  at  home  to  those  who  chose 
to  attend  him.  The  greatest  men  of  Rome,  when  &r  advancei 
in' age  and  dignity,  did  not  disdain  to  frequent  bis  school- 
Many  of  his  precepts^  indeed,  extended  to  rhetoric  and  decla- 
mation, the  arts,  of  all  others,  in  which  the  Romans  were 
most  anxious  to  be  initiated.  These  were  now  taught  in  the 
schools  of  almost  all  grammarians,  of  whom  there  were,  at 
one  time,  upwards  of  twenty  in  Rome.  For  a  long  whiki 
only  the  Greek  poets  were  publicly  explained,  but  at  lengw 
the  Latin  poets  were  likewise  commented  on  and  illustrated. 
About  the  aame  period,  the  etymology  of  Latin  words  began 


VARRO.  37 

to  be  Investigmted ;  Alias  Gallos,  a  jurisconsolt  quoted  by 
Vatro.  wrote  a  work  on  the  origin  and  proper  signification 
of  tettns  of  jurisprndence,  which  in  mogt  languages  remain 
unvaried,  till  they  have  become  neai'ly  unintelligible;  and 
i£iius  Stilo  attempted,  though  not  with  perfect  success,  to 
explain  the  proper  meaning  of  the  words  of  the  Salian  verses^ 
by  ascertaining  their  derivations*. 

The  science  of  grammar  and  etymology  was  in  this  stage  of 
progress  and  in  this  degree  of  repute  at  the  time  when  Vairo 
wrote  his  celeteated  treatise  De  Lingua  Latina.  That  work 
originally  consisted  of  twenty-four  books — the  fost  three  being 
dedicated  to  Publius  Septimius,  who  had  been  his  quaestor  in 
tbe  war  with  the  pirates,  and  the  remainder  to  Cicero.  This 
last  dedication,  with  that  of  Cicero's  Jlcademica  to  Varro,  has 
rendered  their  friendship  immortal.  The  importance  attached 
to  such  dedications  by  tne  great  men  of  Rome,  and  the  value, 
in  particular,  plaiced  by  Cicere  on  a  compliment  of  this  nature 
from  Varro,  is  established  by  a  letter  of  the  orator  to  Atticua 
— *^  You  know,"  says  he,  "  that,  till  lately,  I  compoied  nothing 
but  orations,  or  some  such  works,  into  which  I  could  not 
introduce  Varro's  name  with  propriety.  Afterwards,  when  I 
tug^ged  in  a  work  of  more  general  erudition,  Varro  informed 
me,  that  his  intention  was,  to  address  to  me  a  work  of  con- 
siderable extent  and  importance.  Two  years,  however,  have 
passed  away  without  hia  making  any  progress.  Meanwhile, 
I  have  been  making  preparations  for  returning  him  the  com- 
plimentf ."  Again,  ^^  I  am  anxious  to  know  how  you  came  to 
be  informed  that  a  man  like  Varro,  who  has  written  so  much, 
without  addressing  anything  to  me,  should  wish  me  to  pay 
him  a  complimentt."  The.  ^cademiea  were  dedicated  to 
Varro  before  he  iulnlled  his  promise  of  addressing  a  work  to 
Cicero;  and  it  appears,  from  Cicero's  letter  to  Varro,  sent 
aioDg  with  the  Jicadeniicay  how  impatiently  he  expected  its 
perfiMrmance,  and  how  much  he  importuned  him  for  its  execu- 
tion.— ^'^To  exact  the  fulfilment  of  a  promise,"  says  he,  ^^  is  a 
sort  of  ill  manners,  of  which  the  populace  themselves  are 
seldom  guilty.  I  cannot,  however,  forbear — I  will  not  say,  to 
demand,  bat  remind  you,  of  a  favour,  which  you  long  since 
gave  me  reason  to  expect.  To  this  end,  I  have  .sent  you  four 
admonitors,  (the  four  books  of  the  Academica,)  whom, 
perhaps,  you  will  not  consider  as  extremely  modest*^."  It  is 
curious^  that  when  Varro  did  at  length  come  forth  with  his 

•  Court  de  GebeBn,  Monde  PrimiifyT.  VI.  Disc.  Prelim,  p.  12. 

t  JS^.  ad  AtUe.  lib.  XIII.  £p.  12.  t  Ibid.  Lib.  XIII.  Ep.  18. 

^  ^piit.  Famii.  Lib.  IX.  £p.  8. 


S8  YAREO. 

dedication,  although  he  had  been  highly  extolled  in  the  «4e0- 
iemica^  he .  introduced  not  a  single  word  of  compliment  to 
Cicero — whether  it  was  that  Varro  dealt  not  in  compliment, 
that  he  was  disgusted  with  his  friend^s  insatiable  appetite  for 
praise,  or  that  Cicero  was  considered  as  so  exalted  that  he 
oould  not  be  elevated  higher  by  panegyric. 

We  find  in  the  work  Se  Lingua  iMtina^  which  was  written 
during  the  winter  preceding  Csesar's  death,  the  same  methodi- 
cal arrangement  that  marks  the  treatise  De  Re  Rustica.  The 
twenty-four  books  of  which  it  consisted,  were  divided  into 
three  great  parts.  The  first  six  books  were  devoted  to  etj- 
mological  researches,  or,  as  Varro  himself  expresses  it,  fi^ni- 
adtnSdum  vocabula  eaaent  imposiia  rdnss  in  lingua  IMina, 
In  the  first,  second,  and  third  books,  of  this  division  of  his 
work,  all  of  which  have  perished,  the  author  had  brottght  for- 
ward what  an  admirer  of  etymological  science  could  advance 
in  its  favour-— what  a  depreciator  might  say  against  it;  and  what 
might  be  pronounced  concerning  it  without  enthusiasm  or  preju- 
dice.— "  Qodd  contra  eam  dicentur,  quae  pro  ea,  qu®  de  ea/' 
The  fragments  remaining  of  this  great  work  of  Varro,  commence 
at  the  fourth  book,  which,  with  the  two  succeeding  books,  isoccu- 
pied  with  the  origin  of  Latin'  terms  and  tlie  poetical  licenses  that 
have  been  taken  in  their  use :  He  first  considers  the  origin 
of  the  names  of  places,  and  of  those  things  which  are  in  them. 
His  great  division  of  places  is,  into  heaven  and^earth-^Corfwn 
he  derives  from  cot^tim,  and  that,  from  chaos;  ferro  is  so  called 
quia  teritur.  The  derivation  of  the  names  of  many  terres: 
trial  regions  is  equally  whimsical.  The  most  rational  are  those 
of  the  different  spots  in  Rome,  which  are  chiefly  named  after 
individuals,  as  the  Tarpeian  rock,  from  Taf peia,  a  vestal  virgin 
slain  by  the  Sabines — the  Coelian  Mount,  fit>m  Coelius,  an 
Etrurian  chief,  who  assisted  Romulus  in  one  of  his  contests 
with  his  neighbours.  Following  the  same  arrangement  with 
regard  to  those  thirds  which  are  in  places,  he  first  treats  of  the 
immortals,  or  gods  of  heaven  and  earth.  Descending  to  mortal 
things,  he  treats  of  animals,  whom  he  considers  as  in  three 
places — air,  water,  and  earth.  The  creatures  inl^abiting  earth 
he  divides  into  men,  cattle,  and  wild. beasts.  Of  the  appella- 
tions proper  to  mankind,  he  speaks  first  of  public  honoars,  as 
the  office  of  Prsetor,  who,  was  so  called,  "  quod  prseiret  exerci- 
tui."  We  have  then  the  derivations  both  of  the  generic  and 
special  names  of  animals.  Thus,  Armenia  (quasi  aramefd^) 
is  from  aro,  because  oxen  are  used  for  ploughing  ;  Lifva^ 
quasi  Levipes.  The  remainder  of  the  book  is  occupied  with 
those  words  which  relate  to  food,  clothing,  and  various  sorts 


VARRO.  39 

of  tftenrils.  Of  these,  the  deriVati<Hi  is  given,  and  it  is  gene- 
rally far-fetched.  But  of  all  his  etymologies,  the  most  whim- 
sical is  that  contained  in  his  book  of  Divine  Things,  where  he 
deduces /iir  from  funma^  (dusky,)  because  thieves  usually  steal 
during  the  darkness  of  night*. 

The  fifth  book  relates  to  words  expressive  of  time  and  its  divi- 
sions, and  to  those  things  which  are  done  in  the  course  of  time. 
He  beffins  with  the  months  and  days  consecrated  to  the  ser- 
vice of  the  gods,  or  performance  of  accustomed  rites.  Things 
which  happen  during  the  lapse  of  time,  are  divided  into  three 
classes,  according  to  the  three  great  human  functions  of 
thought,  speech,  and  act.  The  third  class,  or  actions,  are  per- 
formed by  means  of  the  external  senses;  the  mention  of  which 
introduces  the  explication  pf  those  terms  which  express  the 
various  operations  of  the  senses ;  and  the,book  terminates  with 
a  list  of  vocables  derived  from  the  Greea.  These  two  books 
relate  the  common  employment  of  words.  In  the  sixth,  the 
author  treats  of  poetic  words,  and  the  poetic  or  metaphoric  use 
of  ordinary  terms,  of  which  he  gives  examples.  Here  he  fol- 
lows the  same  arrangement  already  adopted— speaking  first  of 
places,  and  then  of  time,  and  showing,  as  he  proceeds,  the  man- 
ner in  which  poets  have  changed  or  corrupted  the  original 
signification  of  words. 

Such  is  the  first  division  of  the.  workof  Varro,  forming  what 
he  hicQself  calls  the  etymological  part.  He  admits  that  it  was 
a  subject  of  much  difficulty  and  pbscurity ,  since  many  original 
words  had  become  obsolete  in  <^ourse  of  time,  and  of  those 
which  survived,  the  meaning  had  been  changed  or  had  never 
been  imposed  with  exactness.  The  second  division,  Which 
extended  fit>m  the  commencement  of  the  seventh  to  the  end  of 
the  twelfth  book,  comprehended  the  accidents  of  words,  and 
the  different  changes  which  they  undergo  firom  declension, 
conjugation,  and  comparison.  The  author  admits  but  of  two 
kinds  of  words — nouns  and  verbs,  to  which  he  refers  all  the 
other  parts  of  speech.  He  distinguishes  two  sorts  of  declen- 
sions, of  which  he  calls  one  arbitrary,  and  the  other,  natural  or 
necessary ;  and  he  is  thenceforth  alternately  occupied  with 
analogy  and  anomaly.  In  the  seventh  book  he  discusses  the 
subject  of  analogy  in  general,  and  gives  the  arguments  which 
may  be  adduced  against  its  existence  in  nouns  proper :  In  the 
eighth,  he  reasons  like  those  who  find  analogies  everywhere. 
B^k  ninth  treats  of  the  analogy  and  anomaly  of  verbs,  and 
with  it  the  fragment  we  possess  of  Yarrows  treatise  terminates. 
The  three  other  books,  which  completed  the  second  part,  were 

*  Aului  GeUus,  Lib.  I.  c.  18. 


40  VARRO. 

of  coarse  oceupied  with  comparison  and  the  various  inflectioiis 
of  words. 

The  third  part  of  the  work,  which  contained  tweke  hooks, 
treated  ot  syntax,  or  the  junction  of  words,  so  as  to  fenn  i 
phrase  or  sentence-  It  also  contained  a  sort  of  glossary,  wiucli 
explained  the  true  meaning  of  Latin  vocables. 

This,  which  may  be  considered  as  one  of  the  chief  works  of 
Varro,  was  certainly  a  laborious  and  ingenious  production ;  bat 
the  author  is  evidently  too  fond  of  deriving  words  frcxn  the  an- 
cient dialects  of  Italy,  instead  of  recurring  to  the  Greek,  whick, 
after  the  capture  of  Tarentum,  became  a  great  source  of  Latin 
terms.  In  general,  the  Romana,  like  the  Greeks  t>eforethera, 
have  been  very  unfortunate  in  their  etymologies,  being  bnt 
indifferent  critics,  and  inadequalely  informed  of  everythiflg 
that  did  not  relate  to  their  own  country.  Blackwell,  in  his 
Court  ifAuguatua^  while  be  admits  that  the  sagacity  of  Varro 
is  surprising  in  the  use  which  he  has  made  of  the  knowledge 
he  possessed  of  the  Sabine  and  Tuscan  dicdects,  remarks,  that 
his  work,  De  Lingua  Laiina^  is  faulty  in  two  particulars ;  the 
first,  arising  from  the  authcHr  having  recourse  to  fiir-^tcbed 
allusions  and  metaphors  in  his  own  language,  to  illustrate  hii 
etymology  of  words,  instead  of  going  at  once  to  the  Greek. 
The  second,  proceeding  from  his  ignorance  of  the  eastern  and 
northern  languages,  particularly  the  Aramean  and  Celtic* ; 
the  foroier  of  which,  in  Blackwell's  opinion,  had  given  naises 
to  the  greater  number  of  the  gods,  and  the  latter,  to  matters 
occurring  in  war  arid  rustic  life. 

It  is  not  certain  whether  the  Libri  Db  StmOUudim  Vifbth 
rumk  and  those  De  UtilUaie  Sermonia.  cited  by  Priscian  and 
Charisius  as  philoloffical  works  of  Varro,  were  parts  of  his 

freat  production,  De  Lingua  LaHna^  or  separate  compositions, 
'here  was  a  distinct  treatise,  however,  De  Sertnom  LatinO\ 
addressed  to  Marcellus,  of  which  a  very  few  firagments  are 
preserved  by  Aulus  Crellius. 

The  crUical  works  of  this  universal  scholar,  were  eotitledi 
De  PrcffiBtaU  ScripUnvm—De  Poetie^De  PoemoHe-'l^ 
atreales,  eive  de  JIMmibus  Scenici$~De  Scemeie  Or^Mibf» 
—De  Plauimie  C&madiie^De  PUwHme  qweMamlmB-Dt 
Cmnpoeiiiane  SaiiraruniH^Rhetoricarum  Libri.  These  works 
are  praised  or  mentioned  by  Gellios,  Nonius  Mareelius,  aod 
Diomedes ;  but  almost  nothing  is  known  of  their  contents. 

Somewhat  more  may  be  gathered  concerning  Varro's  fltjf* 
thological  or  theological  works,  as  they  were  much  studied,  and 

*  Seeako  M  to  the  CeUc  duivatloiif,  Court  de  Gobeliii,  MimdeJMe0'^ 
PWIm.  T.  VI.  p.  2S.  ^^ 


VARRO.  41 

very  fifoquently  cited  by  the  early  fathers,  particularly  St  Au- 
gustine and  Lactantius.     Of  these  the  chief  is  the  treatise  Dg 
CuUu  Ihorunif  noticed  by  St  Augustine  in  his  seventh  book, 
Ik  Civitate  Deij  where  he  says  that  Varro  considers  God  to 
be  not  only  the  soul  of  the  world,  but  the  world  itself.    In  thii 
work,  he  also  treated  of  the  origin  of  hydromancy,  and  other 
superstitious  divinations.     Sixteen  books  of  the  treatise  De 
Rerum  Humanarum  ei  Divinarum  AfUiquiUotibu8i  addressed- 
to  Julius  Caesar,  as  Pontifex  Maximus,  related  to  theological, 
or  at  least  what  we  might  call  ecclesiastical  subjects.    He 
divides  theology  into  three  sorts — mythic,  physical,  and  civiL 
The  first  is  chiefly  employed  by  poets,  who  have  feigned  many 
things  contrary  to  the  nature  and  dignity  of  the  immortals,  as 
that  they  sprung  from  the  head,  or  thigh,  or  from  drops  of 
blood — that  they  committed  thefts  and  impure  actions,  and 
were  the  servants  of  men.    The  second  species  of  theolovy  ia 
that  which  we  meet  with  in  the  books  of  philosophers,  in  which 
it  is  discussed,  whether  the  gods  have  been  from'  all  eternity^ 
and  what  is  their  essence,  whether  of  fire,  or  numbers,  or  atoms. 
Civil,  or  the  third  kind  of  theology,  relates  to  the  institutions 
devised  by  men,  for  the  worship  of  the  Gods.    The  first  sort 
is  moat  appropriate  to  the  stage ;  the  second  to  the  world ;  the 
third  to  the  city.     Varro  was  a  zealous  advocate  for  the  phy- 
sical explication  of  the  mythological  fables,  to  which  he  always 
had  recourse,  when  pressed  by  the  difficulties  of  their  literal 
meaning*.     He  also  seems  to  have  been  of  opinion  that  the 
images  of  the  gods  were  originally  intended  to  direct  such 
as  were  acquainted  with  the  secret  doctrines,  to  the  contem* 
platioa  of  the  real  gods,  and  of  the  immortal  soul  witli  its 
constituent  partsf .     The  first  book  of  this  work,  as  we  learn 
from  St  Augustine,  was  introductory.    The  three  following 
treated  of  the  ministers  of  religion,  the  Pontifis,  Augurs,  and 
Sibyls;  in  mentioning  whom,  he  relates  the  well-known  story 
of  her  who  ofiered  her  volumes  for  sale  to  Tarquinius  Priscos. 
In  the  next  ternary  of  chapters,  he  discoursed  concerning 
places  appointed  for  religious  worship,  and  the  celebration  of 
sacred  rites.    The  third  ternary  related  to  holidays ;  the  fourth 
to  consecrations,  and  to  private  as  well  as  public  sacrifices ;  and 
the  fifth  contained  an  enumeration  of  all  the  deities  who  watch 
over  man,  from  the  moment  when  Janus  Opens  to  him  the  gates 
of  life,  till  the  dirges  of  Neenia  conduct  him  to  the  tomb.    The 
whole  universe,  he  says,  in  conclusion,  is  divided  into  heaven 

*  Jupiter,  Juno,  Satiimuf ,  Vulcanus,  Vesta,  et  M  phntmi  qaos  Varro  conatur  ad 
BODdi  partes  atwe  elemenU  transferre.    {8i  AugwL  OML  i>M, lib.  Vlil.  e.  S.) 
t  Metanttus, Dm.  M$t.  lib.  I.e.  S. 

Vol.  II.— F 


4d  VARRO. 

and  earth;  the  heaTens,  again,  into  aether  and  air;  earth, iM 
the  ground  and  water.  All  these  are  full  of  souls,  mortal  m 
earth  and  water,  but  immortal  in  air  and  aether.  Between  the 
highest  circle  of  heaven  and  the  orbit  of  the  moon,  are  the 
ethereal  souls  of  the  stars  and  planets,  which  are  understood, 
and  in  fact  seem,  to  be  celestial  deities ;  between  the  sphere 
of  the  moon  and  the  highest  region  of  tempests,  dwell  those 
aerial  spirits,  which  are  conceived  by  the  mind  though  not 
seen  by  the  eye — departed  heroes.  Lares,  and  Crenii. 

This  work,  which  is  said  to  have  chiefly  contributed  to  the 
splendid  reputation  of  Varro,  was  extant  as  late  as  the  be- 
ginning of  the  fourteenth  century.  Petrarch,  to  whom  the 
world  has  been  under  such  infinite  obligations  for  his  ardeot 
zeal  in  discovering  the  learned  works  of  the  Romans,  had  seen 
it  in  his  youth.  It  continued  ever  after  to  be  the  object  of  hii 
diligent  search,  and  his  bad  success  was  a  source  to  him  oi 
constant  mortification.  Of  this  we  are  informed  in  one  of  the 
letters,  which  that  enthusiastic  admirer  of  the  ancients  addres- 
sed to  them  as  if  they  been  alive,  and  his  contemporaries. 
*'  Nullae  tamen  ezstant,"  says  he  to  Varro,  '^  vel  admodoiD 
lacerae,  tuorum  operum  reliquiae ;  licet  divinarum  et  homi- 
narumrerumlibros,  ex  quibus  sonantiusnomen  Jiabes,  puenus 
me  vidisse  meminerim,  et  recordatione  torqueor,  summist  at 
aiunt,  labiis  gustatae  dulcedinis.  Hos  alicubi  forsitan  latitare 
suspicor,  eaque,  multos  jam  per  annos,  me  fatigat  cura,  qo<>' 
niam  longa  quidem  ac  sollicita  spe  nihil  est  laboriosius  in  viti. 

Plutarch,  in  his  life  of  Romulus,  speaks  of  Varro  as  a  man 
of  all  the  Romans  most  versed  in  history.  The  historical  m 
political  works  are  the  ^nndUa  Libri — Bdli  Punici  Secu^ 
lAber—De  InUiis  Urbia  RamatuBr-De  Genie  Papuli  Ronu»(^ 
— Libri  deFamiHia  Trqjania^  which  last  treated  of  the  families 
that  followed  iEneas  into  Italy.  With  this  class  we  may  rank 
the  Hebdomadum^  eive  de  Imaginibue  lAbri^  containing  the 
panegyrics  of  700  illustrious  men.  There  was  a  picture  of 
each,  with  a  legend  or  verse  under  it,  like  those  in  the  chil- 
dren's histories  of  the  Kinss  of  England.  That  annexed  to 
the  portrait  of  Demetrius  Pnalereus,  who  had  upwards  ofbW 
brazen  statues  erected  to  him  by  the  Athenians,  is  still  pre- 
served : — 

*'  Hie  Demetrius  cneis  tot  aptus  est 
Quot  luces  habet  aonus  absolutus.*' 

There  were  seven  pictures  and  panegyrics  in  each  boot- 
whence  the  whole  work  has  been  called  Hebdomades.  Varro 
had  adopted  the  superstitious  notions  of  the  ancients  concern* 


V  ARRO.  43 

mg  particular  numbers,  and  the  number  seven  seems  specially 
to -have  commanded  his  veneration.  There  were  in  the  world 
seven  wonders — there  were  seven  wise  men  among  the  Greeks 
—there  were  seven  chariots  in  the  Circensian  games — and 
seven  chiefs  were  chosen  to  make  war  on  Thebes :  All  which 
he  sums  up  with  remarking,  that  he  himself  had  then  entered 
his  twelfth  period  of  seven  years,  on  which  day  he  had  written 
seventy  times  seven  books,  many  of  which,  in  consequence  of 
his  proscription,  bad  been  lost  in  the  plunder  of  his  library.  It 
appears  from  Ausonius,  that  the  tenth  book  ^f  this  work  was 
occupied  with  picttires  and  panegyrics  of  distinguished  archi- 
tects, since,  in  his  Eidyllium,  entitled  MoseUa^  he  observes, 
that  the  buildings  on  the  banks  of  that  river  would  not  have 
been  despised  by  the  most  celebrated  architects ;  and  that 
those  who  planned  them  might  well  deserve  a  place  in  the 
tenth  book  of  the  Hebdomas  of  Varro  : — 

"  Forsan  et  msignefl  hominumque  operumque  labores 
Hie  habuit  decimo  celebrata  volumioe  Marci 
Hebdomas." 

It  is  evident,  however,  from  one  of  the  letters  of  Symmachus, 
addressed  to  his  father,  that  though  this  was  a  professed  work 
of  panegyric,  Varro  was  very  sparing  and  niggardly  of  his 
praise  even  to  the  greatest  characters :  ^'  Ille  Pythagoram  qui 
animas  in  seternitatem  primus  asseruit ;  ille  Platonem  qui  deos 
esse  persuasit ;  ille  Aristotelem  qui  naturam  bene  loquendi  in 
artem  redegit ;  ille  pauperem  Curium  sed  divitibus  imperanr 
tern ;  ille  severos  Catones,  gentem  Fabiam,  decora  Scipionum, 
totumque  ilium  triumphaiem  Senattimparca  laude  perstrinxit." 
Varro  also  wrote  an  eulogy  on  Porcia,  the  wife  of  Brutus, 
which  is  alluded  to  by  Cicero  in  one  of  his  letters  to  Atticus. 
Among  his  notices  of  celebrated  characters,  it  is  much  to  be 
regretted  that  the  Ldber  de  Fita  Sua,  cited  by  Charisius,  has 
shared  the  same  fate  as  most  of  the  other  valuable  works  of 
Varro.  The  treatise  entitled,  Sisenna,  sive  de  Hiatoria,  was 
a  tract  on  the  composition  of  history,  inscribed  to  Sisenna,  the 
Roman  historian,  who  wrote  an  account  of  the  civil  wars  of 
Marius  and  Sylla.  It  contained,  it  is  said,  many  excellent  pre-* 
cepts  with  regard  to  the  appropriate  style  of  history,  and  the 
accurate  investigation  of  facts.  But  the  greatest  service  ren* 
dered  by  Varro  to  history  was  his  attempt  to  fix  the  chronology 
of  the  world.  Censorinus  informs  us  that  he  was  the  first  who 
regulated  chronology  by  eclipses.  That  learned  grammarian 
has  also,  mentioned  the  division  of  three  great  periods  estab- 
lished by  Varro.    He  did  not  determine  whether  the  earliest 


44  VARRO. 

of  them  had  any  beginning,  but  he  fixed  the  end  of  it  at  the 
Ogygian  deluge.    To  this  period  of  absolute  historical  inAr 
ness,  he  supposed  that  a  kind  of  twilight  succeeded,  which 
continued  from  that  flood  till  the  institution  of  the  Olympic 
games,  and  this  he  cailed  the  fabulous  age.     From  that  date 
the  Greeks  pretend  tocKgest  their  history  with  some  degree  of 
order  and  clearness.     Varro,  therefore,  looked  on  it  as  the 
break  of  day,  or  conmiencement  of  the  historical  age.    The 
chronology,  however,  of  those  events  which  occurreo  at  the  be- 
ginning of  this  second  period,  is  as  uncertain  and  confused  u 
of  those  which  immediately  preceded  it.     Thus,  the  historical 
»ra  is  evidently  placed  too  high  by  Varro.    The  eariiest  wri- 
ters of  history  did  not  live  till  long  after  the  Olympian  epoch, 
and   they   again   long   preceded   the   earliest   chronologen. 
TimiBus,  about  the  time  of  Ptolemy  Philadelptnis,  was  the  first 
who  digested  the  events  recorded  by  these  ancient  historians, 
accordmg  to  a  computation  of  the  Olympiads*.    Preceding 
writers,  indeed,  menlron   these   celebrated  epochs,  but  the 
mode  of  reckoning  by  them  was  not  brought  into  established  use 
for  many  centuries  after  the  Olympic  sera.     Arnobios  farther 
informs  us,  that  Varro  calculated  that  not  quite  2000  years  had 
elapsed  from  the  Ogygian  flood  to  the  consulship  of  Hirtias 
and  Pansa.     The  building  jf  Rome  he  placed  two  years  higher 
than  Cato  had  done  in  his  OrigUws,  founding  his  computation 
on  the  eclipse  which  had  a  short  while  preceded  the  birth  of 
Romulus ;  but  unfortunately  this  eclipse  is  not  attested  by  con- 
temporary authors,  nor  by  any  historian  who  could  vouch  for 
it  with  certainty.     It  was  calculated  a  long  time  after  the 
phenomenon  was  supposed  to  have  appeared,  by  Tarrutiar 
Firmanus,  the  judicial  astrologer,  who  amused  himself  with 
drawing  horoscopes.     Varro  requested  him  to  discover  the 
date  of  Romulus's  birth,  by  divining  it  from  the  known  events 
of  his  life,  as  geometrical  problems  are  solved  by  analysis;  for 
Tarrutius  considered  it  as  be]<Miging  to  the  same  art,  (and 
doubtless  the  conclusions  are  equally  certain,)  when  a  child'i 
nativity  is  given  to  predict  its  future  life,  and  when  the  inci- 
dents of  life  are  given  to  cast  up  the  nativity.     Tarrutius,  ac- 
cordingly, having  considered  the  actions  of  Romulus,  and  the 
manner  of  his  death,  and  having  combined  all  the  incidentSi 
pronounced  that  he  was  conceived  in  the  first  year  of  the 
second  Olympiad,  on  the  23d  of  the  Egyptian  month  Choiok, 
on  which  day  there  had  been  a  total  eclipse  of  the  sun. 

Pompey,  when  about' to  enter  for  the  first  time  on  the  office 
of  Consul,  being  ignorant  of  city  manners  and  s^atoiitl 

•  BoUngbioke,  U$e  and  Study  ofm$tory,  Lett  d. 


VARRO.  4& 

fiMTtts,  requested  Varro  to  frame  for  him  a  written  commentary 
or  manual,  frnm  which  he  might  learn  the  duties  to  be  dis- 
charged by  him  when  he  convened  the  Senate.  This  book, 
whic^was  entitled  Jsagogicum  de  (fficio  Senatua  habendif 
Varro  says,  in  the  letters  which  he  wrote  to  Oppianus,  had 
been  lost.  But  in  these  letters  he  repeated  many  things  on 
the  subject,  as  what  he  had  written  before  had  perished*. 

The  philowpkical  writings  of  Varro  are  not  numerous;  but 
his  chief  work  of  that  description,  entitled  De  FhUosophia 
Liber^  appears  to  have  been  very  comprehensive.  &t  Augua* 
tine  informs  us  that  Varro  examined  in  it  all  the  various  sects 
of  philosophers,  of  which  he  enumerated  upwards- of  280. 
The  sect  of  the  old  Academy  was  that  which  he  himself 
followed,  and  its  tenets  he  maintained  in  opposition  to  all 
others.  He  classed  these  numerous  sects  in  the  following 
curious  manner:  All  men  chiefly  desire,  or  place  their  happi* 
ness  in,  four  things — pleasure — rest — these  two  united,  fwhtch 
Epicurus,  however,  termed  pleasure,)  or  soundness  ot  body 
and  mind.  Now,  philosophers  have  contended  that  virtue  is 
to  be  sought  after  for  the  sake  of  obtaining  one  or  other  of 
these  four;  or,  that  some  one  of  these  four  is  to  be  sought 
after  for  the  sake  of  virtue;  or,  that  they  and  virtue  also  are 
to  be  sought  aftet  for  their  own  sake,  and  from  these  different 
opinions  each  of  the  four  great  objects  of  human  desire  being 
souffbt  afler  iiiith  three  different  views,  there  are  formed 
twelve  s(Cts  of  philosophers.  These  twelve  sects  are  doubled, 
in  consequence  of  the  different  opinions  created  by  the  con* 
siderations  of  social  intercourse-— some  maintaining  that  the 
four  great  desires  should  be  gratified  for  our  own  sake,  and 
others,  that  they  should  be  indulged  only  for  the  sake  of  our 
neighbours.  The  above  twenty-four  sects  become  forty-eight, 
from  each  system  being  defended  as  certain  truth,  or  as 
merely  the  nearest  approximation  to  probability — ^twenty-four 
sects  maintaining  each  hypothesis  as  certain,  and  twenty-four 
as  only  probable.  These  again  were  doubled,  from  the  difTe- 
rence  of  opinion  with  regard  to  the  suitable  garb  and  external 
habit  and  demeanour  of  philosophers. 

We  have  now  got  ninety-six  sects  by  a  very  strange  sort  of 
computation,  and  all  these  are  to  be  tripled,  according  to  the 
difierent  opinions  entertained  concerning  the  best  mode  of 
spending  life — in  literary  leisure,  in  business,  or  in  bothf. 

Varro  having  followed  the  sect  of  the  old  Academy,  in 
preference  to  all  others,  proceeded  to  refute  the  principles  of 


*  Aa.  GemiM»  Lib.  XIV.  c.  7. 

t  St  AqgiiftiDe,  De  CMtat.  Dei,  Lib.  XIX.  c.  1. 


46  VARRO. 

the  sects  he  had  enumerated.  He  cleared  the  way,  by  dis^ 
missing,  as  unworthy  the  name  of  philosophical,  all  those  sects 
whose  differences  did  not  turn  on  what  is  the  supreme  final 
good ;  for  there  is  no  use  in  philosophizing,  unless  it  be  to 
make  us  happy,  and  that  which  makes  us  happy  is  the  final 
good.  But  those  who  dispute,  for  example,  whether  a  wise 
man  should  follow  virtue,  tranquillity,  &c.  partly  for  the  sake 
of  others,  or  solely  for  his  own,  do  not  dispute  concerning 
what  is  the  final  good,  but  whether  that  good  should  be 
shared.  In  like  manner,  the  Cynic  does  not  dispute  with 
regard  to  the  supreme  good,  but  in  what  dress  or  habit  he  who 
follows  the  supreme  good  should  be  clad.  So  also  as  to  the 
controversy  concerning  the  uncertainty  of  knowledge.  The 
number  of  sects  were  thus  reduced  to  the  twelve  with  which 
our  author  set  out,  and  in  which  the  whole  question  relates 
to  what  is  the  final  good.  From  these,  however,  he  abstracted 
the  sects  which  place  the  final  good  in  pleasure,  rest,  or  the 
union  of  both — not  that  he  altogether  disdained  these,  but  he 
thought  they  might  be  included  in  soundness  of  body  and 
mind,  or  what  he  called  the  prima  J^atura.  There  are  thus 
only  three  questions  which  merit  full  discussion.  Whether 
these  prima  KaiwiB  should  be  desired  for  the  sake  of  virtue, 
or  virtue  for  their  sake,  or  if  they  and  virtue  also  should  be 
desired  for, their  own  sake. 

Now,  since  in  philosophy  we  seek  the  supreme  felicity  of 
man,  we  must  inquire  what  man  is.  His  nature  is  compounded 
of  soul  and  body.  Hence  the  stmimum  banum  necessarily 
consists  in  the  prima  Natura  or  perfect  soundness  of  vslwA 
and  body.  These,  therefore,  must  be  sought  on  their  own 
account ;  and  under  them  may  be  included  virtue,  which  is 
part  of  soundness  of  mind,  being  the  great  director  and  prime 
former  of  the  felicity  of  life. 

Such  were  the  doctrines  of  the  old  Academy,  which  Varro 
was  also  introduced  as  supporting  in  Cicero's  Academicd-^ 
"  I  have  comprehended,"  says  that  illustrious  orator  and  philo- 
sopher, in  a  letter  to  Atticus,  "  the  whole  Academic  system  in 
four  books,  instead  of  two,  in  the  course  of  which  Varro  is 
made  to  defend  the  doctrines  of  Antiochus*.  I  have  put  into 
his  mouth  all  the  arguments  which  were  so  accurately  col- 
iected  by  Antiochus  against  the  opinion  of  those  who  contend 
that  there  is  no  certainty  to  be  attained  in  human  knowledge- 
These  I  have  answered  myself.  But  the  part  assigned  to 
Varro  in  the  debate  is  so  good,  that  I  do  not  think  the  cause 
which  I  support  appears  the  better." 

*  Antiochus  of  Ascalon,  a  teacher  of  Che  old  Academy. 


VARRO.  47 

I  am  not  certain  under  what  class  Varro's  JVovem  libri 
Disciplinarum  should  be  ranked,  as  it  probably  comprehended 
instructive  lessons  in  the  whole  range  of  arts  and  sciences. 
One  of  the  chapters,  according  to  Vitruvius,  was  on  the  sub- 
ject of  architecture.  Varro  was  particularly  full  and  judicious 
in  his  remarks  on  the  construction  and  situation  of  Roman 
villas,  and  seems  to  have  laid  the  foundation  for  what  Palladius 
and  Columella  subsequently  compiled  on  that  interesting  topic. 
Another  chapter  was  on  arithmetic ;  and  Fabricius  mentions, 
that  Vetranius  Maurus  has  declared,  in  his  Life  of  Varro,  that 
he  saw  this  part  of  the  work,  De  DiacipliniSf  at  Rome,  in  the 
library  of  the  Ccu'dinal  Lorenzo  Strozzi. 

Varro  derived  much  notoriety  from  his  satirical  composi- 
tions. His  Tricarenus,  or  Tricipiiinaj  was  a  satiric  history 
of  the  triumvirate  of  Caesar,  Pompey,  and  Crassus.  Much 
pleasantry  and  sarcasin  were  also  interspersed  in  his  books 
entitled  Logiatorici;  but  his  most  celebrated  production  in 
that  line  was  the  satire  which  he  himself  entitled  Menippeatu 
It  was  so  called  from  the  cynic  Menippus  of  Gadara,  a  city  in 
Syria,  who,  like  his  countryman  Meleager,  was  in  the  habit 
of  expressing  himself  jocularly  on  the  most  grave  and  impor- 
tant subjects.  He  was  the  author  of  a  SympoHum,  in  the 
manner  of  Xenophon.  His  writings  were  interspersed  with 
verses,  parodied  from  Homer  and  the  tragic  poets,  or  ludi- 
crously applied,  for  the  purpose  of  burlesque.  It  is  not  knowui 
however,  that  he  wrote  any  professed  satire.  The  appellation, 
then,  of  Menippean,  was  given  t«  his  satire  by  Varro,  not  from 
any  production  of  the  same  kind  by  Menippus,  but  because 
he  imitated  his  general  style  of  humour.  In  its  external  form 
it  appeturs  to  have  1>een  a  sort  of  literary  anomaly.  Greek 
wordb  and  phrases  were  interspersed  with  Latin;  prose  was 
mingled  with  verses  of  various  measures ;  and  pleasantry  with 
serious  remark.  As  to  its  object  and  design,  Cicero  intro- 
duces Varro  himself  explaining  this  in  the  Jicademica.  After 
giving  his  reasons  for  not  writing  professedly  on  philosophical 
subjects,  he  continues, — '^  In  those  ancient  writings  of  ours, 
we,  imitating  Menippus,  without  translating  him,  have  infused 
a  degree  of  mirth  and  gaiety  along  with  a  portion  of  our  most 
secret  philosophy  and  logic,  so  that  even  our  unlearned  readers 
might  more  easily  understand  them,  being,  as  it  were,  invited 
to  read  them  with  some  pleasure.  Besides,  in  the  discourses 
we  have  composed  in  praise  of  the  dead,  and  in  the  introduc- 
tions to  our  antiquities,  it  was  our  wish  to  write  in  a  manner 
worthy  of  philosophers,  provided  we  have  attained  the  desired 
object."  From  what  Cicero  afterwards  says  in  this  dialogue, 
while  addressing  himself  to  Varro,  it  would  appear,  that  he 


48  VARRO. 

had  indeed  touched  on  philosophical  subjects  in  his  Jlfemf^pttW 
satire,  but  that,  learned  as  he  was,  his  object  was  mute  to 
amuse  his  readers  than  instruct  them :  '*  You  have  entered  on 
topics  of  philosophy  in  a  manner  sufficient  to  allure  readers  to 
its  study,  but  inadequate  to  convey  lull  instruction,  or  to  ad- 
vance its  progress." 

Many  fragments  of  this  Mtmppean  satire  still  remain,  but 
they  are  much  broken  and  corrupted.  The  heads  of  the  dide* 
rent  subjects,  or  chapters,  contained  in  it,  amounting  to  near 
one  hundred  and  fifty,  have  been  given  by  Fabricius  in  alpha- 
betical order.  Some  of  them  are  in  Latin,  others  in  Greek. 
A  few  chapters  have  double  titles ;  and,  though  little  remains 
of  them  but  the  titles,  these  show  what  an  infinite  vsriety  of 
subjects  was  treated  by  the  author.  As  a  specimen,  I  subjoia 
those  ranged  under  the  letter  A.  Aborigines, — IIsa  Avd^ 
9u<rr&)(, — De  Admirandis,  vel  Callus  Fundanius, — Agatho,— 
Agemodo, — A.m^^M%  velirs^  Alfftrswy, — Ajax  Stramentitius,— 
AxXo^  ovTog  *H;otxXfK, — Andabatffi, — Anthropopolis, — rsp  Afx«> 
seu  Marcopolis,— *gfi  Ajx*'?**'"**  sen  Serranus,— hts^i  Af«TiK«r 
^sojf,— irsfi  A9;o(5i(riejv,  seu  vinalia, — Armorum  judiciuffiT-^ 
Af^ortirof,  sen  Triphallus, — ^Autumedus, — ^Mseonius,— BaiSi 
&c.* 

There  is  a  chapter  concerning  the  duty  of  a  husband,  (De 
officio  Mariti,^  in  which  the  author  observes,  that  the  errors  of 
a  vvife  are  eitner  to  be  cured  or  endured :  He  who  extirpates 
them  makes  his  wife  better,  but  he  who  bears  with  them  im- 

i>roves  himself.  Another  is  inscribed,  ^' You  know  not  what  a 
ate  evening,  or  supper,  may  bring  with  it,"  (Nescis  quid  ves- 
per serus  Tehat.)  In  this  chapter  he  remarks,  that  the  num- 
ber of  guests  should  not  be  less  than  that  of  the  Graces,  or 
more  than  that  of  the  Muses.  To  render  an  entertainmeat 
perfect,  four  things  must  concur — agreeable  company,  sQit^' 
ble  place,  convenient  time,  and  careful  preparation.  The 
guests  should  not  be  loquacious  or  taciturn.  Silence  is  for  the 
bed-chamber,  and  eloquence  for  the  Forum,  but  neither  for  t 
feast.  The  conversation  ought  not  to  turn  on  anxious  or  diffi- 
cult subjects,  but  should  be  cheerful  and  inviting,  so  that 
utility  may  be  combined  with  a  certain  degree  of  pleasure  and 
allurement.  This  will  be  best  managed,  by  discoursing  of 
those  things  which  relate  to  the  ordinary  occurrences  or  amu^^ 
of  life,  concerning  which  one  has  not  leisure  to  talk  in  the 
Forum,  or  while  transacting  business.  The  jnaster  of  the  fea^ 
should  rather  be  neat  and  clean  than  splendidly  attired;  flo^' 
if  he  introduce  reading  into  the  entertainment,  it  should  ^^ 

*  FaMdui,  Smoth.  Latin.  Lib.  I.  c.  7. 


VARRO.  4» 

selected  as  to  amuse,  and  to  be  neither  troublesome  nor  te- 
dious*. A  third  chapter  is  entitled,  vfi|»  ^^ccr^rcjv ;  and  treats 
of  the  rarer  delicacies  of  an  entertainment,  especially  foreign 
luxuries.  Au.  Gellius  has  given  us  the  import  of  some  verses, 
in  which  Varro  mentioned  the  different  countries  which  sup- 
plied the  most  exquisite  articles  of  food.  Peacocks  came  from 
Samos^  cranes  from  Melos;  kids  from  Ambr«cia;and  the  best 
oysters  from  Tarentumf .  Part  of  the  chapter  tvcj^i  (futurw  was 
directed  against  the  Latin  tragic  poets. 

What  remains  of  the  verses  interspersed  in  the  Menippeoim 
satire,  is  too  trifling  to  enable  us  to  form  any  accurate  judg- 
ment of  the  poetical  talents  of  Varro. 

The  «tyle  of  satire  introduced  by  Varro  was  imitated  by 
Lucius  Annaeus  Seneca,  in  his  satire  on  the  deification  of 
Claudius  CsBsar,  who  was  called  on  earth  Divus  Claudius. 
The  Satyticon  of  Petronius  Arbiter,  in  which  that  writer 
lashed  the  luxury,  and  avarice,  and  other  vices  of  his  age,  is  a 
satire  of  the  Varronian  species,  prose  being  mingled  with  verse, 
and  jest  with  serious  remark.  Such,  too,  are  the  Emperor 
Julian's  Symposium  of  the  CiEsarSj  in  which  he  characterizes 
his  predecessors;  and  his  Mf<r<Mr6>i^(jv,  directed  against  the  lux- 
urious manners  of  the  citizens  of  Antioch. 

Besides  the  works  of  Varro  above-mentioned,  there  is  a  mis- 
cellaneous collection  of  sentences  or  maxims  which  have  been 
attributed  to  him,  though  it  is  not  known  in  what  part  of  his 
nuaierous  writings  they  were  originally  introduced.  Barthius, 
found  seventeen  of  these  ^ehtences  in  a  MS.  of  the  middle 
age,  and  printed  them  in  his  Adversaria,  Schneider  after* 
wards  discovered,  in  the  Speculum  Hi8tori<Ue  of  Vincent  de 
Beauvais,  a  monk  of  the  thirteenth  century,  a  much  more  am- 
ple collection  of  them,  which  he  has  inserted  in  his  edition  of 
the  Scriptores  ret  RuatioBX.  They  consist  of  moral  maxims,  in 
the  style  of  those  preserved  from  the  Mimes  of  Publius  Syrus, 
and  had  doubtless  been  culled  as  flowers  Yrom  the  woiks  of 
Varro,  at  a  time  when  the  immense  garden  of  taste  and  learn- 
ing, which  he  planted,  had  not  yet  been  laid  waste  by  the 
hand  of  time,  or  the  spoiler^. 

*  Au.  Geffias,  JVbct.  AUie.  Lib.  XIII.  c.  II.  t  i^*  Lib.  VII.  c.  16.  * 

t  Tom.  I.  p.  241. 

§  It  was  long  believed,  that  Pope  Gregoiy  the  Fint  had  destroyed  the  works  of 
Varro,  in  order  to  conceal  the  pU^risms  of  St  Augiwthie,  who  had  borrowed  largely 
from  the  theological  and  phttoaophic  writings  of  the  Roman  scholar.  This,  how- 
ever, is  not  like^.  That  iQustrious  Father  of  the  Christian  Church  is  constantly 
referriiur  to  the  learned  heathen,  without  any  apparent  purpose  of  concealment ;  and 
he  estob  him  In  terms  calculated  to  attract  notice  to  the  subject  of  his  eulogy. 
Nor  did  St  Augustine  possess  such  meagre  powers  of  genius,  as  to  require  him  to 
build  iqitiied^ofthetrueGodiromthe^nuabliDgfiignieiitaofPsga^tenplef. 

Vol.  II.—G 


50  VARRO. 

Though  the  above  list  of  the  works  of  Varro  is  fiir  from 
complete,  a  sufficient  number  has  been  mentioned  to  justify 
the  exclamation  of  Quintilian, — ^'Quam  multa,  immo  peae 
omnia  tradidit  Varro!'  and  the  moie  full  panegyric  of  Cicero, 
^"  His  works  brought  us  home,  as  it  were^  while  we  were 
foreigners  in  our  own  pity,  and  wandering  like  strangers,  so  that 
We  might  know  who  and  where  we  were  ;  for  in  them  are  laid 
open  the  chronology  of  his  country, — a  description  of  the  sea- 
sons,— the  laws  of  religion, — the  ordinances  of  the  priests,— 
domestic  and  military  occurrences, — the  situations  of  countries 
and  places, — the  names  of  all  things  divine  and  human,— 
the  breed  of  animals, — moral  duties, — and  the  origin  of 
things*."    ' 

Nor  did  Varro  merely  delight  and  instruct  his  fellow -citizens 
by  his  writings.  By  his  careful  attention,  in  procuring  tbe 
most  valuable  books,  and  establishing  libraries,  he  provided, 
perhaps,  still  more  effectually  than  by  his  own  learned  com- 

fositions,  for  the  progressive  improvement  and  civilization  of 
is  countrymen.  The  formation  of  either  private  or  pub- 
lic libraries  was  late  of  taking  place  at  Rome,  for  the  Romans 
were  late  in  attending  to  literary  studies.  Tiraboschi  quotes 
a  number  of  writers  who  have  discovered  a  library  in  the  pub- 
lic records  preserved  at  Romef ,  and  in  the  books  of  the  Si- 
byls|.  But  these,  he  observes,  may  be  classed  with  the 
library  which  Madero  found  to  have  existed  before  the  llo<:>d, 
and  that  belonging  to  Adam,  of  which  Hilscherus  has  made 
out  an  exact  catalogue^.  From  Syracuse  and  Corinth  tbe 
Romans  brought  away  the  statues  and  pictures,  and  other 
monuments  of  the  fine  arts ;  but  we  do  not  learn  that  they  car- 
ried to  the  capital  any  works  of  literature  or  science.  Some 
agricultural  books  found  their  way  to  Rome  from  Africa,  oq 
the  destruction  of  Carthage ;  but  the  other  treasures  of  its 
libraries,  though  tl\ey  fell  under  the  power  of  a  conqueror  not 
without  pretensions  to  taste  and  eruditicm,  were  bestowed  on 
the  African  princes  in  alliance  with  the  Romans||. 

Paulus  Emilius  is  said  by  Plutarch  to  have  allowed  his  sons 
to  choose  some  volumes  from  the  library  of  Perseus,  King  of 
Macedonll,  whom  he  led  captive  to  Rome  in  585.  But  the 
lionour  of  first  possessing  a  library  in  Rome  is  justly  due  to 
Sylla;  who,  on  the  occupation  of  Athens,  in  667,  acqoireil  the 
library  of  Apelltcon,  which  be  discovered  in  the  temple  of 

*  Aeadem,  Poster,  Lib.  I.  c.  8.  * 

t  Morbof,  Polyhistor.  Tom.  I.  Lib.  L    FaUtenis,  ^st.  BH  Liter,  op.  Romwt. 

Middendorp,  De  Aeadem.  Lib.  III. 

Ticaboschi,  Stor.  deU  Lett.  Ital,  Part  IIL  Lib.  111.  c.  8. 

Ptta.  frill.  Jm.  Lib.  XVUl.  c.  9,  H  Plutarch,  m  Faml,  JBmO, 


VARRO-  61 

Apollo*    This  collection,  which   contained,  among  various 
other  books,  the  works  of  Aristotle  a»!d  Theophrastus,  was 
reserved  to  himself  by  Sylla  from  the  plunder;  and,  having 
bten  brought  to  Rome,  was  arranged  by  the  grammarian  Ty- 
rannio,  who  also  supplied  and  corrected  the  mutilated  text  of 
Aristotle*.     Engaged,  as  he  constantly  was,  in  domestic  strife 
or  foreign  warfare,  Sylla  could  have  made  little  use  of  this 
library,  and  he  did  not  communicate  the  benefit  of  it  to  scho- 
lars, by  opening  it  to  the  public;  but  the  example  of  the  Dic- 
tator prompted  other  commanders  not  to  overlook  the  libraries, 
in  the  plunder  of  captured  cities,  and  books" thus  became  a 
fashionable  acquisition.     Sometimes,  indeed,  these  collections 
were  rather  proofs  of  the  power  and  opulence  of  the  Roman 
generals,  than  of  their  literary  taste  or  talents.     A  certain  va- 
lue was  now  affixed  to  manuscripts ;  and  these  were,  in  conse- 
quence, amassed  by  them,  from  a  spirit  of  rapacity,  and  the 
principle  of  leaving  nothing  behind  which  could  be  carried 
off  by  force  or  stratagem.     In  one  remarkable  instance,  how- 
ever, the  learning  of  the  proprietor  fully  corresponded  to  the 
literary   treasures  which  he  had  collected.     Lucullus,  a  man 
of  severe  study,  and  .wonderfully  skilled  in  all  the  fine  arts, 
after  having  employed  many  years  in  the  cultivation  of  litera- 
ture, and  the  civil  administration  of  the  republic,  was  unex- 
pectedly   called,  in  consequence  of  a  political  intrigue,    to 
lead  on  the  Roman  army  in  the  perilous  contest  with  Mithri- 
dates;    and,  though   previously    unacquainted  with    military 
affairs,  he  became  the  first    captain  of  the  age,  with  little 
iarther  experience,  than  his  study  of  the  art  of  war,  during, 
the  voyage  from  Rome  to  Asia.     His  attempts  to  introduce  a 
reform  in  the  corrupt  administration  of  the  Asiatic  provinces, 
procured  him  enemies,  through  whose  means  he  was  super- 
seded in  the  command  of  the  army,  by  one  who  was  not  superior 
to  him  in  talents,  and  was  far  inferior  in  virtue.     After  his 
recall  from  Pontus,  and  retreat  to  a  private  station,  he  offered 
a  new  spectacle  to  his  countrymen.     He  did  not  retire,  like 
Fabricius  and  Cincinnatus,  to  plough  his  farm,  and  eat  turnips 
in  a  cottage — he  did  not,  like  Africanus,  quit  his  country  in 
disgust,  because  it  had  unworthily  treated  him ;  nor  did  he 
spend    his  wealth    and  leisure,  like  Sylla,    in  midnight  de- 
bauchery   with  buffoons  ahd   parasites.      He  employed   the 
riches  he  had  acquired  during  his  campaigns  in  the  construc- 
tion of  delightful  villas,  situated  on  the  shore  of  the  sea,  of 
hanging  on  the  declivities  of  hills.     Gardens  and  spacious 
porticos,  which  he  adorned  with  all  the  elegance  of  painting 

•  td.iri%iftr. 


62  VARRO- 

and  sculpture,  made  the  Romans  ashamed  of  their  ancient 
rustic  simplicity.  These  would  doubtless  be  the  objects  of 
admiration  to  his  contemporaries ;  but  it  was  his  library,  in 
which  so  many  copies  of  valuable  works  were  multiplied  or 
preserved,  and  his  distinguished  patronage  of  learning,  that 
claim  the  gratitude  of  posterity.  "  His  library,"  says  Plutarch, 
*^had  walks,  galleries,  and  cabinets  belonging  to  it,  which 
were  open  to  all  visitors;  and  the  ingenious  Greeks  resorted 
to  this  abode  of  the  muses  to  hold  literary  converse,  in  which 
Lucullus  delighted  to  join  them*."  Other  Roman  patiicians 
had  patronized  literature,  by  extending  their  protection  to  a 
favoured  few,  as  the  elder  Scipio  Africanus  to  Ennius,  and 
the  younger  to  Terence ;  but  Lucullus  was  the  first  who  en- 
couraged all  the  arts  and  sciences,  and  promoted  learning 
with  princely  munificence. 

But  the  slave  Tyrannio  vied  with  the  most  splendid  of  the 
Romans  in  the  literary  treasures  he  had  amassed.  A  Dati?e 
of  Pontus,  he  was  taken  prisoner  by  Lucullus,  in  the  course 
of  the  war  with  Mithridates ;  and,  having  been  brought  to 
Rome,  he  was  given  to  Mureena,  firom  whom  he  received  firee- 
domf .  He  spent  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  teaching  rhe- 
toric and  grammar.  He  also  arranged  the  library  of  Cicero 
at  Antium|,  and  taught  his  nephew,  Quintus,  in  the  house  of 
the  orator^.  These  various  employments  proved  so  profitable, 
that  they  enabled  him  to  acquire  a  library  of  30,000  volumes]]. 
Libraries  of  considerable  extent  were  also  formed  by  Atticus 
and  Cicero ;  and  Varro  was  not  inferior  to  any  of  his  learned 
contemporaries,  in  the  industry  of  collecting  and  transcrib- 
ing manuscripts,  both  in  the  Greek  and  Latin  language. 

The  library  of  Varro,  however,  and  all  the  others  which  we 
have  mentioned,  were  private — open,  indeed,  to  literary  men, 
firom  the  general  courtesy  of  the  possessors,  but  the  access  to 
them  still  dependent  on  their  good  will  and  indulgence. 
Julius  Caesar  was  the  first  who  formed  the  design  of  establish- 
ing a  great  public  library ;  and  to  Varro  he  assigned  the  task 
of  arranging  the  books  which  he  had  procured.  This  plan, 
which  was  rendered  abortive  by  the  untimely  fate  of  Cse^r, 
was  carried  into  effect  by  Asinius  PoUio,  who  devoted  part  of 
the  wealth  he  had  acquired  from  the  spoils  of  war,  to  the 
construction  of  a  magnificent  gallery,  adjacent  to  the  Temple 

*  Plutarch,  in  LfuruUo.  f  Vnd, 

I  Epiat.  ad  Jittie.  Lib.  TV.  Ep.  4  and  8. 

$  Epist.  ad  Quint  Frai.  Lib.  11.  Ep.  4.  Aecording  to  some  writeis,  it  ws  a 
youDi2;er  T}  lannio,  the  disciple  of  the  elder,  who  arranged  Cicero's  fibtwy,  and 
taught  hiM  i)i\')l>ew.— Mater,  Ecole  d^JlUmt^dtUt  Tom.  I.  p.  17S. 

II  Suidas,  Ijtxic, 


VARRO.  53 

of  Liberty,  which  he  filled  with  books,  and  the  busts  of  the 
learned.     Varro  was  the  only  living  author  who,  in  this  public 
library,  had  the  honour  of  an  ima^e*,  which  was  erected  to 
him  as  a  testimony  of  respect  for  his  unfyersal  erudition.     He 
also  aided  Augustas  with  his  advice,  in  the  formation  of  the 
two  libraries  which  that  emperor  established,  and  which  was 
part  of  his  general  system  for  the  encouragement  of  science 
and  learning.    When  tyrants  understand  their  trade,  and  when 
their  judgment  is  equal  to  their  courage  or  craft,  they  become 
the  most  zealous  and  liberal  promoters  of  the  interests  of 
learning;  for  they  know  that  it  is  for  their  advantage  to  with- 
draw the  minds  of  their  subjects  from  political  discussion,  and 
to  give  them,  in  exchange,  the  consoling  pleasures  of  imagi- 
nation, and  the  inexhaustible  occupations  of  scientific  curiosity. 
Were  I  writing  the  history  of  Roman  arts,  it  would  be 
necessary  to  mention  that  Varro  excelled  in  his  knowledge  of 
all  those  that  are  useful,  and  in  his  taste  for  all  those  that  are 
elegant.    He  was  the  contriver  of  what  may  be  considered  as 
the  first  hour  clock  that  was  made  in  Rome,  and  which  mea- 
sured time  by  a  hand  entirely  moved  b^  mechanism.    That 
he  also  possessed  a  Museum,  adorned  with  exquisite  works  of 
sculpture,  we  learn  from  Pliny,  who  mentions,  that  it  contain- 
ed an  admirable  group,  by  the  statuary  Archelaus,  formed  out 
of  one  block  of  marble,  and  representing  a  lioness,  with  Cupids 
sporting  around   her — some  giving   her  drink  from  a  horn; 
some  in  the  attitude  of  putting  socks  on  her  paws,  and  others 
in  the  act  of  binding  her.    The  same  writer  acquaints  us,  that,, 
in  the  year  692,  Varro,  who  was  then  Curule  ^dile,  caused  a 

Eiece  of  painting,  in  fresco,  to  be  brought  fi'om  Sparta  to 
lome,  in  order  to  adorn  the  Comitium — the  whole  having 
been  cut  out  entire,  and  enclosed  in  cases  of  wood.  The 
painting  was  excellent,  and  much  admired ;  but  what  chiefly 
excited  astonishment,  was  that  it  should  have  been  taken  from 
the  wall  without  injury,  uAd  transported  safe  to  Italyf . 

■  I  fear  I  have  too  long  detained  the  reader  with  this  account 
of  the  life  and  writings  of  Varro ;  yet  it  is  not  unpleasing  to 
dwell  on  such  a  character.  He  was  the  contemporary  of 
Marius  and  Sylla,  of  Csesar  and  Pompey,  of  Antony  and  Oc- 
tavius,  these  men  of  contention  and  massacre ;  and  amid  the 
convulsions  into  which  they  threw  their  country,  it  is  not 
ungrateful  to  trace  the  Secretum  Rer^  which  he  silently  pur- 
sued through  a  period  unparalleled  in  anarchy  and  crimes. 
Uninterrupted,  save  for  a  moment,  by  strife  and  ambition,  he 

«  PKn.fitfl.Ab/'.Lib.Yn.c.SO. 
r  ran.  JSRif.  A'afr  Ub.  XXXV .  c.  14. 


54  NIGIDIUS  FIGULUS. 

prosecuted  his  literary  labours  till  the  extreme  term  of  Mb 

Srolonged  existence.  "  In  eodem  enim  lectulo,"  say$«  Valerius 
[aximus,  with  a  spirit  and  eloquence  beyond  his  usual  straio  of 
composition — *^In  eodem  enim  lectulo,  et  spiritus  ejus,  et 
egregiorum  operuin  cursus  extinctus  est." 


NIGIDIUS  FIGULUS 

was  a  man  much  resembling  Varro,  and  next  to  him  was  ac- 
counted the  most  learned  of  the  Romans*.  He  was  the  <;oq- 
temporary  of  Cicero,  and  one  of  his  chief  advisers  and  asso- 
ciates in  suppressing  the  conspiracy  of  Catilinef .  Shortlj 
afterwards  he  arrived  at  the  dignity  of  Praetor,  but  having 
espoused  the  part  of  Pompey  in  the  civil  wars,  he  was  driven 
into  banishment  on  the  accession  of  Caesar  to  the  supreme 
power,  and  died  in  709,  before  Cicero  could  obtain  his  recall 
from  exile|.  He  was  much  addicted  to  judicial  astrology; 
and  ancient  writers  relate  a  vast  number  of  his  predictions, 

Earticularly  that  of  the  empire  of  the  world  to  Augustus,  which 
e  presaged  immediately  after  the  birth  of  that  prince^. 
Nigidius  vied  with  Varro  in  multifarious  erudition,  and  the 
number  of  his  works — ^grammar,  criticism,  natural  history,  and 
the  origin  of  man,  having  successively  employed  his  pen.  His 
writings  are  praised  by  Cicero,  Pliny,  Aulus  Gellius,  and  Ma- 
crobius;  but  they  were  rendered  almost  entirely  unfit  for  po- 
pular use  by  their  subtlety,  mysteriousness,  and  obscurity||— 
defects  to  which  his  cultivation  of  judicial  astrology,  and 
adoption  of  the  Pythagorean  philosophy,  may  have  materially 
contributed.  Aulus  Gellius  gives  many  examples  of  the  ob- 
scurity, or  rather  unintelligibility,of  his  grammatical  writingslF. 
His  chief  work  was  his  Grammatical  Commentaries,  in  thirty 
books,  in  which  he  attempted  to  show,  that  names  and  words 
were  fixed  not  by  accidental  application,  but  by  a  certain 
power  and  order  of  nature.  One  of  his  examples,  of  terms 
Doing  rather  natural  than  arbitrary,  was  taken  from  the  word 
Vo8^  in  pronouncing  which,  he  observed,  that  we  use  a  certain 
motion  of  the  mouth,  agreeing  with  what  the  word  itself  ex- 
presses :  We  protrude,  by  degrees,  the  tips  of  our  lips,  and 
thrust  forward  our  breath  and  mind  towards  those  with  whom 
we  are  engaged  in  conversation.  On  the  other  hand,  when 
we  say  nos,  we  do  not  pronounce  it  with  a  broad  and  expan- 

*  Au.  Genius,  Lib.  IV.  c.  9.  f  PluUrch»  tfi  CScero, 

}  Chiron.  Eu$eb.  §  Suetomiu^  in  AiunuL  c.  H 

Au.  Geltiits,  J^oct,  JiUk.  Lib.  XIX.  c.  14.^   f  Ibii. 


NIGIDIUS  FIGULUS.  65 

ded  blast  of  the  voice,  nor  with  projecting  lips,  but  we  restrain 
our  breath  and  hps,  as  it  were,  within  ourselves.  The  like 
natural  signs  accompany  the  utterance  of  the  words  tu  and  ego 
— tibi  and  mihi*.  Nigidius  also  wrote  works,  entitled  De 
^nimalibus,  De  Veniis,  De  Extia,  and  a  great  many  treatises 
on  the  nature  of  the  gods.  All  these  have  long  since  perished, 
except  a  very  few  fragments,  which  have  been  collected  and 
explained  by  Janus  Rutgersius,  in  the  third  book  of  his  l^'arue 
Lectianes,  published  at  Leyden  in  IG Lb;  4to.  In  this  collec- 
tion he  has  also  inserted  a  Greek;  translation  of  another  lost 
work  of  Nigidius,  on  the  presages  to  be  drawn  from  thunder. 
The  original  Latin  is  said  to  have  been  taken  from  books 
which  bore  the  name  of  the  Etruscan  Tages,  the  supposed 
founder  of  the  science  of  divmation.  The  Greek  version  was 
executed  by  Laurentius,  a  philosopher  of  the  age  of  Justinian, 
and  his  translation,  was  discovered  by  Meursius,  about  the 
beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century,  in  the  Palatine  library. 
It  is  a  sort  of  Almanack,  containing  presages  of  thunder  for 
each  particular  day  of  the  year,  and  beginning  with  Jude. 
If  it  thunder  on  the  13th  of  June,  the  life  or  fortunes  of  some 
great  person  are  menaced — if  on  the  19th  of  July,  war  is  an- 
nounced— if  on  the  5th  of  August,  it  is  indicated  ^hat  those 
women,  with  whom  we  have  any  concern,  will  become  some- 
what more  reasonable  than  they  have  hitherto  provedf . 

With  Varro  and  Nigidius  Figulus,  may  be  classed  Tiro,  the 
celebrated  freedman  of  Cicero,  and  constant  assistant  in  all 
his  literary  pursuits  He  wrote  many  books  on  the  use  and 
formation  of  the  Latin  language,  an/l  others  on  miscellaneous 
subjects,  which  he  denommated  Fandecte^sly  as  comprehend- 
ing every  sort  of  literary  topic. 

Quintus  Cornificius,  the  elder,  was  also  a  very  general 
scholar.  He  composed  a  curious  treatise  on  the  etymology 
of  the  names  of  things  in  heaven  and  earth,  in  which  he 
discovered  great  knowledge,  both  of  Roman  antiquities,  and 
the  most  recondite  Grecian  literature.  It  was  here  he  intro- 
duced an  explication  of  Homer's  dark  fable,  where  Jupiter  and 
all  the  gods  proceed  to  feast  for  twelve  days  in  Ethiopia. 
The  work  was  written  in  709,  during  the  time  of  Caesar's  last 
expedition  to  Spain,  and  was  probably  intended  as  a  supple- 
ment to  Varro's  treatise  on  a  similar  topic. 

^  An.  GeOiuSy  Lib.  X.  c.  4. 

t  See  farther,  with  regard  to  Nigidius  Figulus,  Bayle,  Diet.  Hi»tor.  Art.  Nip- 
dins,  and  Mem.  de  VAcad.  de»  IrucryitHons,  Tom.  XXIX.  p.  190. 
t  Au.  GelUus,  Jfoct.  AUk.  Lib.  XIU.  c.  9. 


fi6  ROMAN  HISTORY. 


HISTORY. 

From  our  supposing  that  those  things  which  affected  oor 
ancestors  may  affi^ct  us,  and  that  those  which  affect  us  must 
affect  posterity,  we  become  food  of  collecting  memorials  of 
prior  events,  and  also  of  preserving  the  remembrance  of  inci- 
dents which  have  occurred  in  our  own  age.  The  historic 
passion,  if  it  may  be  so  termed,  thus  naturally  divides  itself 
into  two  desires — that  of  indulging  our  own  curiosity,  and  of 
relating  what  has  occurred  to  ourselves  or  our  contempora- 
ries. 

Monuments  accordingly  have  been  raised,  and  rude  hymns 
composed,  for  this  purpose,  by  people  who  had  scarcely  ac- 
quired the  use  of  letters.  Among  civilized  nations,  the  pas- 
sion grows  in  proportion  to  the  means  of  gratifying  it,  and  the 
force  of  example  comes  to  be  so  strongly  felt,  that  its  power 
and  influence  are  soon  historically  employed. 

The  Romans  were,  in  all  ages,  particularly  fond  of  giving 
instruction,  by  every  sort  of  example.  They  placed  the  images 
of  their  ancestors  m  the  Forum  and  the  vestibules  of  their 
houses,  so  that  these  venerable  forms  everywhere  met  their 
eyes;  and  by  recalling  the  glorious  actions  of  the  dead,  excited 
the  living  to  emulate  their  forefathers.  The  virtue  of  one 
generation  was  thus  transfused,  by, the  magic  of  example,  into 
those  by  which  it  was  succeeded,  and  the  spirit  of  heroisoi 
was  maintained  through  many  ages  of  the  republic — 

'<  Has  olim  virtiu  crevit  Romana  per  artes  : 
Namque  foro  in  medio  stabant  spirantia  agna 
•  MagDaDimAm  heroum ;  hie  Decios,  magnoaqoe  CantUlos 
Cemere  erat :  vivax  heroum  in  imagine  Tirtus, 
Invidiamque  ipds  factuia  nepotibus,  acri 
Urgebat  stimnlo  Romaaum  in  pralia  robur*." 

History,  therefore,  among  the  Romans,  was  not  composed 
merely  to  gratify  curiosity,  or  satiate  the  historic  passion,  but 
also  to  inflame,  by  the  force  of  example,  and  ui|[e  on  to  emu- 
lation, in  warlike  prowess.  An  insatiable  thirst  of  military  fame 
— an  unlimited  ambition  of  extending  their  empire— -an  on- 
bounded  confidence  in  their  own  force  and  courage — an  im- 
petuous overbearing  spirit,  with  which  all  their  enterprises 
were  pursued,  composed,  in  the  early  days  of  the  Republic, 
the  characteristics  of  Romans.    To  foment,  and  give  fresh 

.  *  Gnflet,  Ik  Arte  RsgnandL 


1 

i 


ROMAN  HISTORY.  67 

vigour  to  these,  was  a  chief  object  of  history .-^<^  I  have  re- 
corded these  things/'  says  an  old  Latin  annalist,  after  giving 
an  account  of  Regulus,  ^'  that  they  who  read  my  comnaeutaries 
may  be  rendered,  by  his  example,  greater  and  better." 

Accordingly,  the  Romans  had  journalists  or  annalists,  from 
the  earliest  periods  of  the  state.  The  Annals  of  the  Pontiffs 
were  of  the  same  date,  if  we  may  believe  Cicero,  as  the  foun- 
dation of  the  city* ;  but  others  have  placed  their  commence- 
ment in  the  reign  of  Numaf ,  and  Nlebuhr  not  till  atler  the 
battle  of  Regillus,  which  terminated  the  hopes  of  Tarquin];. 
Id  order  to  preserve  the  memory  of  public  transactions,  the 
Pontifex  Maximus,  who  was  the  official  historian  of  the  Re- 
public, annually  coounitted  to  writing,  on  wooden  tablets,  the 
leading  events  of  each  year,  and  then  set  them  up  at  his  own 
house  f«  r  the  instruction  of  the  people^.  These  Annals  were 
continued  down  to  the  Pontificate  of  Mucius,  in  the  year  629, 
and  were  called  Annalea  Maximi,  as  being  periodically  com- 
piled and  kept  by  the  Pontifex  Maximus,  or  Publid^  as 
recording  public  transactions.  Having  been  inscribed  on 
wooden  tablets,  they  would  necessarily  be  shorty  and  destitute 
of  all  circumstantial  detaif;  and  being  annually  formed  by 
successive  Pontiffs,  could  have  no  appearance  of  a  continued 
history.  They  would  contain,  as  Lord  Bolingbroke  remarks, 
little  more  than  short  minutes  or  memoranda,  hung  up  in  the 
PontiflTs  house,  like  the  rules  of  the  game  in  a  billiard  room : 
their  contents  woiild  resemble  the  epitome  prefixed  to  the 
books  of  Livy,  or  the  Register  of  Remarkable  Occurrences  in 
modern  Almanacks. 

But  though  short,  jejune,  and  unadorned,  still,  as  records  of 
(acts,  these  annals,  if  spared,  would  have  formed  an  inestimable 
treasure  of  early  history.  The  Roman  territory,  in  the  first 
ages  of  the  state,  was  so  confined,  that  every  event  may  be 
considered  as  having  passed  under  the  immediate  observation 
of  the  sacred  annalist. .  Besides,  the  method  which,  as  Cicero 
informs  us,  was  observed  in  preparing  these  Annals,  and  the 
care  that  was  taken  to  insert  no  fact,  of  which  the  truth  had 
not  been  attested  by  as  many  witnesses  as  there  were  citizens 
at  Rome,  who  were  all  entitled  to  judge  and  make  their  re- 
marks on  what  ought  either  to  be  added  or  retrenched,  must 
have  formed  the  most  authentic  body  of  history  that  could  be 
desired.  The  memory  of  transactions  which  were  yet  recent, 
and  whose  concomitant  circumstances  every  one  could  remem- 
ber, was  therein  transmitted  to  posterity.    By  these  means, 

*  JDe  Oratore,  Lib.  II.  c.  18.  t  VopiBCUs,  VU.  TadH.  imp. 

1  BiSnMche  GeschieJUe^  Tom.  1.  p.  367.     §  Cicero,  JDe  Oratarc,  lab.  II.  c.  13. 

Vol.  IL— H 


/ 
/ 


68  ROMAN  HISTORY: 

the  Annals  were  proof  against  falsification,  and  their  veracity 
was  incontestibly  fixed. 

These  valuable  records,  Jiowever,  were,  for  the  most  part, 
consumed  in  the  conflagration  of  the  city,  consequent  on  its 
capture  by  the  Gauls — an  event  which  was  to  the  early  history 
of  Rome  what  the  English  invasion  by  Edward  I.  proved  to  the 
history  of  Scotland.  The  practice  of  the  Pontifex  Maximus 
preserving  such  records  was  discontinued  after  that  eventful 
period.  A  feeble  attempt  was  made  to  revive  it  towards  ihc 
end  of  the  second  Punic  war;  and^  from  that  time,  the  ciistnm 
was  not  entirely  dropped  till  the  Pontificate  of  Mucius,  intbc 
year  629.  It  is  to  this  second  seiies  of  Annals,  or  to  some 
other  late  and  inefieetual  attempt  to  revive  the  ancient  Roman 
history,  that  Cicero  must  allude,  when  he  talks  of  th^  Great 
Annals,  in  his  work  De  Legibua\  since  it  is  undoubted  that 
the  pontifical  recordsof  events  previous  to  the  capture  of  Rome 
by  the  Gauls,  almost  entirely  perished  in  the  conflagration  of 
the  cityf .  Accordingly,  Livy  never  cites  these  records,  and 
there  is  no  appearance  that  he  had  any  opportunity  of  consult- 
ing them ;  nor  are  they  mentioned  by  Dionysius  of  Halicaruas- 
8US,  in  the  long  catalogue  of  recoAls  and  memorials  which  he 
had  em})loyed  in  the  composition  of  his  Historical  ^Antiquities. 
The  books  of  the  Pontiffs,  some  of  which  were  recovered  in 
the  search  made  to  find  what  the  flames  had  spared,  are,  in- 
deed, occasionally  mentioned.  But  these  were  works  explain- 
ing the  mysteries  of  religion,  with  instructions  as  to  the  cere- 
monies to  be  observed  in  its  practical  exercise,  and  could  hare 
been  of  no  more  service  to  Roman,  than  a  collection  o( 
breviaries  or  missals  to  modern  history. 

Statues,  inscriptions,  and  other  public  monuments,  which 
aid  in  perpetuating  the  memory  of  illustrious  persons,  and 
transmitting  to  posterity  the  services  they  have  rendered  their 
country,  were  accounted,  among  the  Romans,  as  the  vaosi 
honourable  rewards  that  could  be  bestowed  on  great  actions; 
and  virtue,  in  those  ancient  times,  thought  no  recompense 
more  worthy  of  her  than  the  immortality  which  such  mi^nu- 
ments  seemed  to  promise.  Rome  having  produced  so  many 
examples  of  a  disinterested  patriotism  and  valour  must  have 
been  filled  with  monuments  of  this  description  when  taken  bj 
the  Gauls.  But  these  honorary  memorials  were  thrown  doffn 
along  with  the  buildings,  and  buried  in  the  ruins.  If  anf 
escaped,  it  was  but  a  small  number ;  and  the  greatest  part  oi 

•  Lib.  I.  c.  2. 

t  QusB  in  Commentariis  Pontificain  aliisque  publicis  privatbque  eiant  moauBMS- 
1i^  inceitoft  urbe,  plereque  inteilere.    Livy,  Ub.  YI.  c.  1. 


ROMAN  HISTORY.  59 

thosfi  that  were  to  be  seen  at  Rome  in  the  eighth  century  of 
the  city,  were  founded  on  fabulous  traditions,  which  proved  that 
the  loss  of  the  true  monuments  had  occasioned  the  substitution 
of  false  ones.  Had  the  genuine  monuments  been  preserved  at 
Rome,  even  till  the  period  when  the  first  regular  annals  began 
to  be  composed,  though  they  would  not  have  sufficed  to  re- 
store the  history  entirely,  they  would  have  served  at  least,  to 
have  perpetuated  incontestably  the  memory  of  various  impor- 
tant facts,  to  have  fixed  their  dates,  and  transmitted  the  glory 
of  great  men  to  posterity. 

On  what  then,  it  will  be  asked,  was  the  Roman  history  found- 
ed, and  what  authentic  records  were  preserved  a.«  materials 
for  its  composition?  There  were  first  the  Ijegea  -efi^. 
These  were  diligently  searched  for,  and  were  discovered 
along  with  the  Twelve  Tables,  after  the  sack  of  the  city :  And 
all  those  royal  laws  which  did  not  concern  sacred  matters^ 
were  publicly  exposed  to  be  seen  and  identified  by  the  peo- 
ple"*, that  no  suspicion  of  forgery  or  falsification  might  de- 
scend to  posterity.  These  precautions  leave  us  little  room  to 
doubt  that  the  Leges  Regue^  and  Laws  of  the  Tables,  were 
preserved,  and  that  they  remained  as  they  had,  been  originally 
promulgated  by  the  kings  and  decemvirs.  Such  laws,  how- 
ever, would  be  of  no  greater  service  to  Roman  history,  than 
what  the  Regiam  Majeatatem  has  been  to  that  of  Scotland. 
They  might  be  useful  m  tracing  the  early  constitution  of  the 
state,  the  origin  of  several  customs,  ceremonies,  public  oflices, 
and  other  points  of  antiquarian  research,  but  they  could  be  of 
little  avail  in  fixing  dates,  ascertaining  facts,  and  setting  events 
in  their  true  light,  which  form  the  peculiar  objects  of  ..civil 
history. 

Treaties  of  peace,  which  were  the  pledges  of  the  public 
tranquillity  from  without,  being  next  to  the  laws  of  the  great- 
est importance  to  the  stat<9,  much  care  was  bestowed,  after 
the  expulsion  of  the  Gauls,  rn  recovering  as  many  of  them  as 
the  flames  had  spared.  Some  of  them  were  the  more  easily 
restored,  from  having  been  kept  in  the  temple  of  Jupiter  Ca- 
pitolinus,  which  the  fury  of  the  enemy  could  not  reachf. 
Those  which  had  been  saved,  continued  to  be  very  carefully 
preserved,  and  there  is  no  reason  to  suspect  them  of  having 
been  falsified.  Among  th6  treaties  which  were  rescued  from 
destruction,  Horace  mentions  those  of  the  Kings,  with  the 
Gabii  and  the  Sabines  {Fcedera  RegumX')  The  former  was 
that  concluded  by  Tarquinius  Superbus,  and  which,  Dtonysius 

•  Uvy,  Lib.  VI.  c.  1.  f  PolyMus,  Lib.  IIL  c.  22.  25, 26, 

X  Epi9i.Uh,  Ih  Ep A, 


60  ROMAN  HISTORY. 

of  HaltcaraassuB  informs  ub,  was  still  preserved  at  Romeinlu 
time,  in  the  temple  of  Jupiter  Fidius,  on  a  buckler  made  of 
wood,  and  covered  with  an  ox's  bide,  on  which  the  articles  of 
the  treaty  were  written  in  ancient  characters*.  Dionysius 
mentions  two  treaties  with  the  Sabines — the  first  was  betwees 
Romulus  and  their  king  Tatiusf  ;  and  the  other,  the  terms  of 
which  were  inscribed  on  a  column  erected  in  a  temple,  wai 
concluded  with  them  by  TuUus  Hostiiius,  at  the  close  of  a 
Sabine  war|.  Livy  likewise  cites  a  treaty  made  with  the  Ar- 
deates"^ ;  and  Poly  bins  has  preserved  entire  another  entered 
into  with  the  Carthaginians,  in  the  year  of  the  expulsion  of  the 
kings||.  Pliny  has  also  alluded  to  one  of  the  conditions  of  a 
treaty  which  Porsenna,  the  ally  of  Tarquin,  granted  to  the 
Roman  peopIelT.  Now  these  leagues  with  the  Gabii,  Sabioes, 
Ardeates,  and  one  or  two  with  the  Latins,  are  almost  the  odIj 
treaties  we  find  anywhere  referred  to  by  the  ancient  Latin  his- 
torians ;  who  thus  seem  to  have  employed  but  little  diligence 
in  consulting  those  original  documents,  or  drawing  from  them, 
in  compiling  their  histories,  such  assistance  as  they  could  have 
afforded.  The  treaties  quoted  by  Polybius  and  Plinyj  com- 
pletely contradict  the  relations  of  the  Latin  annalists;  those 
cited  by  Polybius  proving,  in  opposition  to  their  assertions, 
that  the  Carthaginians  had  been  in  possession  of  a  great  part 
of  Sicily  about  a  century  previous  to  the  date  which  Li^7  has 
fixed  to  their  first  expedition  to  that  islfmd ;  and  those  quoted 
by  Pliny,  that  Porsenna,  instead  of  treating  with  the  Ronaans 
on  equal  terms,  as  represented  by  their  historians,  had  actuallj 
prohibited  them  firom  employing  arms, — permitting  them  the 
use  of  iron  only  in  tilling  the  ground^f. 

The  Libri  Liniei  (so  called  because  written  on  linen)  are 
cited  by  Livy  after  the  old  annalist  Licinius  Maoer,  by  whom 
they  appear  to  have  been  carefully  studied.  These  books  were 
kept  in  the  temple  of  Juno  Monefli,  but  were  probably  of  less 
importance  than  the  other  public  records,  which  were  inscribed 
on  rolls  of  lead.  They  were  obviously  a  work  of  no  great 
extent,  since  Livy,  who  appeals  to  them  on  four  diflerent 
occasions  in  the  space  of  ten  years,  just  after  the  degradation 
of  the  decemvirs,  had  not  quoted  them  before,  and  never  refeff 
to  them  again.  There  also  appear  to  have  been  different 
Copies  of  them  which  did  not  exadtly  agree,  and  Livy  seems 

•  Lib.  rv.  p.  267.  ed.  Syllmrg,  1686.  f  Lib.  II.  p.  111. 

t  Lib.  HI.  p.  174.  k  Ub.  IV.  c.  7. 

II  Lib.  III.  c.  22.  f  JK,f .  JV-at,  Lib.  XXXfV.  f  » 

*t  mtt.  JVat.  Lib.  XXXIV.  c.  14. 


.  ROMAN  HISTORY.  61 

ht  from  considering  their  authority  as  decisive  even  on  the 
points  on  which  reference-  is  made  to  them^. 

The  Memoir$  of  the  Censors  were  journals  preserved  by 
those  persons  who  held  the  office  of  Censor.  They  were 
transmitted  by  them  to  their  de^cend^ts  as  so  many  sacred 
pledges,  and  were  preserved  in  the  families  whitiih  had  been 
rendered  illustrious  by  that  dignity.  They  formed  a  series  of 
eulogies  on  those  who  had  thus  exalted  the  glory  of  their 
house,  and  contained  a  relation  of  the  memorable  actions  per- 
formed by  them  in  discharge  of  the  high  censorial  office  with 
which  they  had  been  investedf .  H^nce  they  must  be  con- 
sidered as  part  of  the  Family  Memoirs,  which  were  unfortu- 
nately the  great  and  corrupt  sources  of  early  Roman  history. 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  ancient  families  of  Rome  to  pre- 
serve with  religious  care  everything  that  cbuld  contribute  to 
perpetuate  the  glory  of  th^r  ancestry,  and  confer  honour  on 
their  lineagt.  Thus,  besides  the  titles  which  were  placed 
under  the  smoky  images  of  their  forefathers,  there  were  like- 
wise tables  in  their  apartments  on  which  lay  books  and  memoirs 
recording,  in  a  style  of  general  panegyric,  the  s^vices  they 
had  performed  for  the  state  during  their  exercise  of  the  em- 
ploymentis  with  which  they  had  been  dignified|. 

Had  thes^  Family  Memoirs  been  faithfully  composed,  they 
would  have  been  of  infinite  service  to  history ;  and  although  all 
other  monuments  had  perished,  they  alone  would  have  sup- 
plied the  defect.  They  were  a  record,  by  those  who  had  the 
best  access  to  knowledge,  of  the  high  offices  which  their  an- 
cestors had  filled,  and  of  whatever  memorable  was  transacted 
during  the  time  they  had  held  the  exalted  situations  of  Prce* 
tor  or  Consul :  Even  the  dates  of  events,  as  may  be  seen  by  a 
fragment  which  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus  cites  from  them, 
were  recorded  with  all  the  appearance  of  accuracy.  Each  set 
of  family  memoirs  thus  formed  a  series  of  biographies,  which, 
by  preserving  the  memory  of  the  great  actions  of  individuals, 
and  omitting  nothing  that  could  tend  to  their  illustration, 
comprehended  also  the  principal  affairs  of  state,  in  which  they 
had  borne  a  share.  From  the  fragments  of  the  genealogical 
book  of  the  Porcian  family,  quoted  by  Aulus  Gellius,  and  the 
abstract  of  the  Memoirs  of  the  Claudian  and  Livian  families, 
preserved  by  Suetonius,  in  the  first  chapters  of  his  Life  of 
Tiberias,  we  may  perceive  how  important  such  memoirs  would 
have  been,  and  what  light  they  would  have  thrown  on  his- 
tory, had  they  possessed  the  stamp  of  fidelity.     But  unfor- 

*  Livy,  Lib.  IV.  c.  28.  f  DioDys.  Halic.  Lib.  L  p.  eo. 

t  Pfiny,  Bi9t,  J^at,  Lib.  XXXV .  c.  2. 


63  ROMAN  HISTORY.     . 

tunately,  in  their  composition  more  regard  was  paid  to  fmlj 
reputation  than  to  historical  truth.  Whatever  tended  to 
exalt  its  name  was  embellished  and  exaggerated.  What- 
ever could  dim  its  lustre,  was  studiously  withdrawn.  Cir- 
cumstances, meanwhile,  became  peculiarly  favourable  for 
these  high  fiim^ly  pretensions.  The  destruction  of  the  pub> 
lie  monuments  and  annals  of  the  Pontiffs,  gave  ample  scope 
for  the  vanity  or  fertile  imagination  of  those  who  chose  to 
fabricate  titles  and  invent  claims  to  distinction,  the  falsitj 
of  which  could' no  longer  be  demonstrate^l.,  "All  the  monu- 
ments," says  Plutarch,  "  being  destroyed  at  the  taking  of  Rntne, 
others  were  substituted,  which  were  forged  out  of  complais- 
ance to  private  persons,  who  pretended  to  be  of  illustrious 
families,  though  in  fact  they  had  no  relation  to  them^."  So 
unmercifully  had  the  great  families  availed  themselves  of  this 
favourable  opportunity,  that  Livy  tfcomplains  that  these  private 
memoirs  were  the  chief  cause  of  the  uncertainty «in  whicl  be 
was  forced  to  fluctuate  during  the  early  periods  of  his  historj. 
"What  has  chiefly  confounded  the  history,"  says  he, "is each 
family  ascribing  to  itself  the  glory  of  great  actions  and  ho- 
nourable employmegts.  Hence,  doubtless,  the  exploits  of 
individuals  and  public  monuments  have  been  falsified;  nor 
have  we  so  much  as  one  writer  of  these  times  whose  authoritj 
can  be  depended  on+."  Those  funeral  orations  on  the  dead, 
which  it  was  the  custom  to  deliver  at  Rome,  and  which  were 
preserved  in  families  as  carefully  as  the  memoirs,  also  contri- 
buted to  augment  this  evil.  Cicero  declares,  that  history  had 
been  completely  falsified  by  these  funeral  panegyrics,  manj 
things  being  inserted  in  them  which  never  wereperfoimed,or 
existed — False  triumphs,  supernumerary  consulships,  and  for- 
ged pedigrees^. 

Connected  with  these  prose  legends,  there  were  also  the  old 
heroic  ballads  formerly  mentioned,  on  which  the  ennals  of 
Ennius  were  in  a  great  measure  built,  and  to  which  rnaj  he 
traced  some  of  those  wonderful  incidents  of  Roman  historj, 
chiefly  contrived  for  the  purpose  of  exalting  the  inilitaT 
achievements  of  the  country.  Many  things  which  of  right  be- 
long to  such  ancient  poems,  still  exist  under  the  disguise  of  an 
historical  clothing  in  the  narratives  of  the  Roman  annalis^ 
Niebuhr,  the  German  historian  of  Rome,  has  recently  analy^ 
these  legends,,  and  taken  much  from  the  Roman  history,  by 
detecting  what  incidents  rest  on    no  other  foundatioo  tbafl 

^»  ft  ^M 

their  chimerical  or  embellished  pictures,  and  by  shewing  ao^ 

•  M  Mma,  t  Lib.  VIII.  c.  40. 

I  His  laudationibus  bittoria  rentm  nofltnurum  est  facta  mendosior.  ^^^  fj^! 
scnpta  sunt  In  iis*  qiw  iacta.iion  aunt-^falii  triumphi,  plures  cowalatiis,  f^ 
etiam  &ba.    Bruiut,  c.  IS. 


EOMAN  HISTORY.  63 

iocidenta,  in  themselves  unconnected,  have  by  their  aid  been 
artificially  combined.  Such,  according  to  him,  were  the  sto-  ^ 
ries  of  the  birth  of  Romulus,  of  the  treason  of  Tatia,  the  death  V 
of  the  Fabii,  and  the  incidents  of  an  almost  complete  Epopee, 
from  the  succession  of  Tarquinius  Priscus  to  the  battle  ofRe- 
gilius.  These  old  ballads,  being  more  attractive  and  of  easier 
access  than  authentic  records  and  monuments,  were  preferred 
to  them  as  authorities ;  and  even  when  converted  into  prose, 
retained  much  of  their  original  and  poetic  spirit.  For  example, 
it  was  feigned  in  them  that  Tullus  Hostilius  was  the  son  of 
Hostus  Hostilius,  who  perished  in  the  war  with  the  Sabines, 
which,  according  to  chronology,  would  make  Tullus  at  least 
eighty  years  old  when  he  mounted  the  throne;  but  it  was 
thr>ught  a  fine  thing  to  represent  him  as  the  son  of  a  genuine 
Roman  hero,  who  had  fallen  in  the  service  of  his  country. 
Miebuhr,  probably,  as  I  have  already  shown,  has  attributed 
too  much  to  these  old  heroic  ballads,  and  has  assigned  to 
them  an  extent  and  importance  of  which  there  are  no  adequate 
proofs.  But  I  strongly  suspect  that  the  heroic  or  historical 
poems  of  Ennius  had  formed  a  principal  document  to  the  Ro- 
man annalists  for  the  transactions  during  the  Monarchy  and 
earlier  times  of  the  Republic,  and  had  been  appealed  to,  like 
Ferdousi's  Shad-Nameh,  for  occurrences  which  were  probably 
rather  fictions  of  fancy  than  events  of  history. 

The  Greek  writers,  from  whom  several  fables  and  traditions 
were  derived  concerning  the  infancy  of  Rome,  lived  not  much 
higher  than  the  age  of  Fabius  Pictor,  and  only  mention  its 
affairs  cursorily,  while  treating  of  Alexander  or  his  successors. 
Polybius,  indeed,  conmders  their  narratives  as  mere  vulgar 
tradiiions*,  and  Dionysius  says  they  have  written  some  few 
things  concerning  the  Romans,  which  they  have  compiled  from 
common  reports,  without  accuracy  or  diligence.  To»them 
have  been  plausibly  attributed  those  fables,  concerning  the 
exploits  of  Romans,  which  bear  so  remarkable  an  analogy  to 
incidents  in  Grecian  historyf.  Like  to  these  in  all  respects 
are  the  histories  which  some  Romans  published  in  Greek  con- 
cerning the  ancient  transactions  of  their  own  nation. 

We  thus  see  that  the  authentic  materials  for  the  early  his- 
tory of  Rome  were  meagre  and  imperfect — that  the  annals  of 
the  FontifTs  and  public  monuments  had  perished — that  the 
Leges  RegUB^  Twelve  Tables,  and  remains  of  the  religious  or 
ritual  books  of  the  Pontiffs,  could  throw  no  great  light  on  his- 
tory, and  that  the  want  of  better  materials  was  supplied  by  false, 

•  Lib.  III.  c.  20.  ♦  . 

t  Is^EvtsquCy  Hut,  CriJliq^e  de  laRepubUque  Bomaine,  T.  I. 


64  ROMAN  HISTORY. 

and  sometimes  incredible  relations,  drawn  from  the  {mily 
traditions — ''  ad  osieniationem  sceruE  gaudentia  fniraadisof' 
tiora  qudm  adfidem*"  The  mutilat^  inscriptions,  too,  the 
scanty  treaties,  and  the  family  memoirs,  became,  fifom  the 
variations  in  the  language,  in. a  great  measure  unintelligible  to 
the  generation  which  succeeded  that  in  which  they  were  com- 

Eosed.  Polybius  informs  us,  that  the  most  leacped  Romans  of 
is  day  could  not  read  a  treaty  with  the  Carthaginians,  con- 
cluded after  the  expulsion  of  the  kings.  Hence,  the  docu- 
ments for  history,  such  as  they  were,  became  useless  to  the 
historian,  or,  at  least,  were  of  such  difficulty,  that  he  wooU 
sometimes  mistake  their  import,  and  be,  at  others,  deterred 
from  investigation. 

When  all  this  is  considered,  and  also  that  Rome,  in  its  com- 
mencement, was  the  dwelling  of  a  rude  and  ignorant  people, 
subsisting  hy  rapine — that  the  art  of  writing,  the  only  sure 
guardian  of  the  remerabiance  of  events,  was  little  practised 
—-that  critical  examination  was  utterly  unknown  ;  and  that  the 
writers  of  no  other  nation  would  think  of  accurately  transmit- 
ting to  posterity  events,  which  have  only  become  interesting 
from  the  subsequent  conquests  and  extension  of  the  Romau 
empire,  it  must  be  evident,  that  the  materials  provided  for  the 
work  of  the  historian  would  necessarily  be  obscure  and  uncer- 
tain. 

The  great  general  results  recorded  in  Roman  history,  dur- 
ing the  first  five  centuries,  cannot,  indeed,  be  denied.  1^ 
cannot  be  doubted  that  Rome  ultimately  triumphed  over  the 
neighbouring  nations,  and  obtained  possession  of  their  terri- 
tories ;  for  Rome  would  not  have  been  what  we  know  it  wa5 
in  the  sixth  century,  without  these  successes.  But  there  exists^ 
in  the  particular  events  recorded  in  the  Roman  history,  suffi' 
cient  internal  evidence  of  its  nncertainty,  or  rather  falsehood; 
and  here  I  do  not  refer  to  the  lying  fables,  and  absurd  prodi- 
gies, which  the  annalists  may  haye  inserted  in  deference  to  the 
prejudices  of  the  people,  nor  to  the  almost  incredible  dariug 
and  endurance  of  Scsevola,  Codes,  or  Curtius,  which  may 
be  accounted  for  from  the  wild  spirit  of  a  half-K^tvilized  na- 
tion, and  are  not  unlike  the  acts  we  hear  of  among  Indian 
tribes;  but  I  allude  to  the  total  improbability  of  the  historic 
details  concerning  transactions  with  surrounding  tribes,  aoo 
the  origin  of  domestic  institutions.  How,  for  example,  ^f^^ 
so  long  a  series  of  defeats,  with  few  intervals  of  prosperity 
interposed,  could  the  Italian  states  have  possessed  resources 
sufficient  incessantly  to  renew  hostilities,  in  which  they  were 

•  Livy,Lib.y.c.21. 


1 

I 


ROMAN  HISTORY.  65 

always  the  aggressors?  And  how,  on  the  other  hand,  should 
the  Romans,  with  their  constant  preponderance  of  force  and 
fortune,  (if  the  repetition  and  magnitude  of  their  victories  can 
be  depended  on,)  have  been  so  long  employed  in  completely 
subjugating  them  ?  The  numbers  slain,  according  to  Livy's 
account,  are  so  prodigious,  that  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  how 
the  population  of  such  moderate  territories,  as  belonged  to  the 
independent  Italian  communities,  could  have  supplied  sucl\ 
losses.  We,  therefore,  cannot  avoid  concluding,  that  the  fre-i 
queocy  and  importance  of  these  campaigns  were  magnified  by 
the  consular  families  indulging  in  the  vanity  of  exaggerating 
the  achievements  of  their  ancestors*.  Sometimes  these  cam- 
paigns are  represented  as  carried  on  against  the  whole  nation 
of  Volsci,  Samuites,  or  Etruscans*,  when,  in  fact,  only  a  part 
was  engaged;  and,  at  other  times,  battles,  which  never  werie 
fought,  have  been  extracted  from  the  family  memoirs,  where 
they  were  drawn  up  to  illustrate  each  consulate ;  for  what  would 
a  consul  have  been  without  a  triumph  or  a  victory?  It  would 
exceed  my  limits  were  I  to  point  out  the  various  improbabilities 
and  evident  inconsistencies  of  this  sort  recorded  in  the  early 
periods  of  Roman  history.  With  regard,  again,  to  the  domes- 
tic institutions  of  Rome,  everything  (doubtless  for  the  sake 
of  eflfect  and  dignity)  is  represented  as  having  at  once  origi- 
nated in  the  refined  policy  and  foresight  of  the  early  kings. 
The  division  of  the  people  into  tribes  and  curiae— the  relations 
of  patron  and  client — ^the  election  of  senators — ^in  short,  the 
whole  fabric  of  the  constitution,  is  exhibited  as  a  preconcerted 
plan  of  political  wisdom,  and  not  (as  a  constitution  has  been 
in  every  other  state,  and  must  have  been  in  Rome)  the  gradual 
result  of  contingencies  and^progressive  improvements,  of  asser- 
tions of  rights,  and  struggles  for  power. 

The  opinion  entertained  by  Polybiusof  the  uncertainty  of  the 
Roman  history,  is.  sufficiently  manifest  from  a  passage  in  the 
fourth  book  of  his  admirable  work,  which  is  written  with  all 
the  philosophy  and  profound  inquiry  of  Tacitus,  without  any 
of  his  apparent  affectation. — '^The  things  which  I  have  under- 
taken to  describe,'^  says  he,  ''  are  those  which  I  myself  have 
seen,  or  such  as  I  have  received  from  men  who  wiere  eye-wit- 
nesses of  them.  For,  had  I  gone  back  to  a  more  early  period, 
and  borrowed  my  accounts  from  the  report  of  persons  who 
themselves  had  only  heard  them  before  from  others,  as  it 
would  scarcely  have  been  possible  that  I  should  myself  be  able 
to  discern  the  true  state  of  the  matters  that  were  then  trans- 
acted, so  neither  could  I  have  written  anything  concerning 

*  Bankes,  CSml  BUtary  of  Rome,  Vol.  I. 

Vol.  II.— I 


66  ROMAN  HISTORY. 

them  with  confidence."    What,  indeed,  can  we  expect  te 
know  with*  regard  to  the  Kings  of  Rome,  wjien  we  find  so 
i    much  uncertainty  with  regard  to  the  most  memorahle  eveots 
of  the  republic,  us  the  period  of  the  first  creation  of  a  dictatoi 
and  tribunes  of  the  people  ?  The  same  doubt  exists  in  the 
biography  of  illustrious  characters.     Cicero  says,  that  Corio- 
,Ianu8,  having  gone  over  to  the  Volsci,  repressed  the  struggles 
of  his  resentment  by  a  voluntary  death ;  '^  for,  though  )00, 
my  Atlicus,"  he  continues,  "  have  represented  his  death  >Da 
ditlerent  manner,  you  must  pardon  me  if  1  do  not  subscribe  to 
the  justness  of  your  representations*."     Atticus,  1  presume, 
^ave  the  account  as  we  now  have  it,  that  he  was  killed  io  a 
/tumult  of  the  Volsci,  and  Fabius  Pictor  liad  written  that  be 
'    lived  till  old  agef .     Of  the  Veliance  to  be  placed  on  the  events 
f       between  the  death  of  Corioianus  and  the  termination  of  the 
eecond  Punic  war,  we  may  judge  from  the  uncertainty  which 
prevailed  with  regard  to  Scipio  Africanus,  a  hero,  of  all  others, 
the  most  distinguished,  and  who  flourinhed,  comparative!;,  at 
a  recent  period.     Yet  some  of  the  most  impottant  events  of 
his  life  are  involved  in  contradiction  and  almost  hopeless  ob- 
scurity.— "Cicero,"  says  Berwick,  in  his  Memoirs  of  Scipi(\ 
'*  sf>eaks  with  great  confidence  of  the  year  in  which  he  died, 
yet  Livy  found  sogreat  a  difference  of  opinion  among  historians 
in  the  subject,  that  he  declares  himself  unable  to  ascettain  it 
From  a  fragment  in  Polybius,  we  learn,  that,  in  his  time,  the 
authors  who  had  written  of  Scipio  were  ignorant  of  some  cir- 
cumstances of  his  life,  and   mistaken  in   others;  andi  from 
Livy,  it  appears,  that  the  accounts  respecting  his  Lk,  trial, 
death,  funeral,  and  sepulchre,  were  so  contradictory,  that  he 
was  not  able  to  determine  what  tradition,  or  whose  writings, 
he  ought  to  credit." 

But,  although  the  early  events  of  Roman  history  were  of 
guch  a  description,  that  Cic  ero  and  Atticus  Here  not  agreed 
concerning  them — that  Polybius  could  write  nothing  aboat 
them  with  confidence  ;  and  that  Livy  would  neither  undertake 
to  afiirm  nor  refute  them,  every  vestige  of  Roman  antiquitj 
had  not  perished.  Though  the  annals  of  the  Pontifl's  v^ere 
destroyed,-^those  who  wrote,  who  kept,  and  had  read  them, 
could  not  have  lost  all  recollection  of  the  facts  they  recorded. 
Even  from  the  family  memoirs,  full  of  falsehoods  as  they  w^r^ 
much  truth  might  have  been  extracted  by  a  judicious  and 
acute  historian.  The  journals  of  difiierent  rival  families  must 
often  have  served  as  historical  checks  on  each  other,  eod 
much  real  information  might  have  been  gathered,  by  compar- 

*  Bruhu,  c.  11.  t  Livy,  Ub.  U.  c.  40. 


FABIUS  PICTOR.  67 

ingand  contrasting  the  vain-glorious  lies  of  those  family-Ie* 
gendu*. 

Such  was  the  state  of  the  materials  for  Roman  history,  in 
the  middle  of  the  sixth  century,  from  the  building  of  the  city, 
at  which  time  regular  annals  first  began  to  be  composed  ;  and 
notwithstanding  all  unfavourable  circumstances,  much  might 
have  been  done,  even  at  that  period,  towards  fixing  and  ascer- 
tain ing4he  dates  and  cireumstauces  of  previous  events,  had  the 
earliest  annalist  of  Rome  been  in  any  degree  fitted  for  this 
difficult  and  important  task ;  but,  unfortunately,  * 


QUINTUS  FABIUS  PICTOR, 

.• 
who  first  undertook  to  relate  the  affairs  of  Rome  from  its  foun- 
dation, in  a  formal  and  regular  order,  and  is  thence  called  by 
Livy    Scriptcrum    arUiquis9%m%i9,   appears    to    have    been 
wretchedly  qualified  for  the  labour  he  had  undertaken,  either 

*  The  quettioD  coyeming  the  autheotieity  or  uncertainty  of  the  Roman  history, 
was  loQg,  and  dtill  continue!!  to  be,  a  subject  of  much  discussion  in  France. — **  \t 
Paiis,'*  said  Lord  Bolingbroke,  "  they  have  a  set  of  stated  paradoxical  orations. 
The  buBiness  of  one  of  these  wan  to  show  that  the  history  of  Rome,  for  the  foui  first 
centuries  was  a  mere  fiction.  I'he  person  engaged  in  it  proved  that  point  so  <itronp;ly, 
and  so  w*-]!,  that  several  of  the  audience,  as  they  were  coming  out,  said,  the  person 
who  had  set  (hat  question  had  played  booty,  and  that  it  was  so  far  from  being  a  pata- 
dos,  that  it  was  a  plain  and  evident  truth.** — SpEivcE's  Mnecdotes,  p.  197.  it  wa« 
chiefly  in  the  Memowes  de  VAcademie  des  huer^tioru,  Slc.  that  this  literary  con- 
trovcray  was  plied.  M.  de  PouiUy,  in  the  Memoire  for  the  year  1722,  produced  hit 
proofs  and  arguments  against  the  authenticity.  He  was  weakly  opposed,  in  ihe 
fbilowing  year,  by  M.  saltier,  and  defended  by  M.  Beaufort,  in  the  Memoirs  of  the 
Academy,  and  at  greater  length  in  his  DU$ert.  sur  VbuertUude  de$  einq  prenner$ 
tieele*  de  VlR$t.  Bonudne,  (1788,)  which  contains  a  clear  and  conclusive  exposi- 
tion of  the  state  of  the  question.  T|^e  dispute  has  been  lately  renewed  in  the 
Memoin  of  the  institute,  in  the  proceedings  of  which,  for  1815,  there  is  a  long  pa* 
per,  by  M.  Levesque^  maintaining  the  total  uncertainty  of  the  Roman  history  pre* 
vious  to  tlie  invasion  of  the  Gauls ;  while. the  opposite  side  of  the  question  has  beea 
strenuously  espoused  by  M.  Larcher.  This  controyersy,  thourii  it  commenced  in 
France*  has  not  been  confined  to  that  country.  Hooke  and  Gibbon  have  argued 
for  the  certainty,  ^MisceU.  Works ^  Vol.  iV.  p<  40,)  and  Cluverius  for  the  uncer* 
tainty,  of  the  Koman  history,  [had,  Antiq.  Lib.  111.  c.  2.)  Niebuhr,  the  late  Ger* 
man  historian  of  Rome,  considers  all  before  Tullus  HostUius  as  utteriy  fabulous. 
The  time  that  elapsed  from  his  accession  to  ihe  war  with  Pyrrhus,  he  regai^ds  as  a 
period  to  be  found  in  almost  every  histoiy,  between  mere  fable  and  authentic 
record.  Beck,  in  the  introduction  to  his  German  translation  of  Ferguson's  Roman 
Republic,  Ueberdie  Q^ellen  der  aUe$Un  R  miBchen  GescMdUeimdVurtfi  Wefih, 
has  attempted  to  vindicate  the  authenticity  of  the  Roman  history  to  a  certain  extent ; 
but  his  reasonings  and  citations  go  little  farther  than  to  prove,  what  never  can  be 
disputed,  that  there  is  much  troth  in  the  general  outline  of  events — that  the  kings 
were  expelled — that  die  Etruscans  were  fiiuJly  subdued ;  and  that  consuls  were  cre^ 
ted.  He  admits,  that  much  rested  on  tradition  ;  but  tradition,  he  maintains,  is  so 
much  interwoven  with  every  history,  that  it  cannot  be  safely  thrown  away.  The 
remaioder  of  the  treatise  is  occupied  with  a  feeble  attempt  to  show,  that  more  menu* 
meute  existed  at  Rome  afW  its  capture  by  the  Gauls,  than  is  generally  luppeted, 
and  that  Fabius  Pictor  made  a  good  use  of  them. 


68  PABIUS  PICTOR. 

in  point  of  fidelity  or  research  :  and  to  his  carelessness  and  in- 
accuracy,  more  even  than  to  the  loss  of  monumenU,  may  be 
attributed  the  painfiil  uncertainty,  which  to  this  day  hangs 
over  the  early  ages  of  Roman  history. 

Fabius  Pictor  lived  in  the  time  of  the  second  Punic  war. 
The  family  received  its  cognomen  from  Caius  Fabiusf  who, 
having  resided  in  Etruria,  and  thei'e  acquired  some  koow- 
ledgeof  the  fine  arts,  painted  with  figures  the  temple  of  Salitf, 
in  the  year  450*.  Pliny  mentions  having  seen  this  piece  of 
workmanship,  which  remained  entire  till  the  building  itself 
was  consumed,  in  the  reign  of  the  Emperor  Claudius.  The 
son  of  the  painter  rose  to  the  highest  honours  of  the  state, 
having  been  Consul  along  with  Ogulnius  Gallus,  in  the  year 
485.  From  him  sprung  the.  historian,  who  was  consequeotly 
grandson  of  the  first  Fabius  Pictor.  He  was  a  provincial 
qusestor  in  early  youth,  and  in  528  served  under  the  Consal 
Lucius  iEmilius,  when  sent  to  repel  a  formidable  incursion  of 
the  Gauls,  who,  in  that  year,  had  passed  the  Alps  in  vast  hordes. 
He  also  served  in  the  second  Punic  war,  which  commenced 
in  534,  and  was  present  at  the  battle  of  Thrasymene.  After 
the  defeat  at  Cannae,  he  was  despatched  by  the  senate  to  in- 
quire from  the  oracle  of  Delphos,  what  would  be  the  issae  of 
the  war,  and  to  learn  by  what  supplications  the  wrath  of  the 
gods  might  be  apppasedf . 

The  Annals  of  Fabius  Pictor  commenced  with  the  founda- 
tion of  the  city,  and  brought  down  the  series  of  Roman  affairs 
to  the  author's  own  time — that  is,  to  the  end  of  the  second 
Punic  war.  We  are  informed  by  Dionysius  of  Halicamassos, 
that  for  the  ^reat  proportion  of  events  which  preceded  his 
own  age,  Fabius  Pictor  had  no  better  authority  than  vulgar 
tradition !•  He  probably  found,  'that  if  he  had  confined  him- 
self to  what  was  certain  in  these  early  times,  his  history  would 
have  been  dry,  insipid,  and  incomplete.  This  may  have  in- 
duced him  to  adopt  the  fkbles,  which  the  Greek  historians  had 
vented  concerning  the  origin  of  Rome,  and  to  insert  whatever 
he  found  in  the  family  traditions,  however  contradictory  or 
uncertain.  Dionysius  has  also  given  us  many  examples  of  bis 
improbable  narrations — his  inconsistencies— his  negligence  in 
investigating  the  truth  of  what  he  relates'  as  facts — and  his 
inaccuracy  in  chronology.  "  I  cannot  refrain,"  says  he,  when 
speaking  of  the  age  of  Tarquinius  Priscus,  "  from  blaming 
Fabius  Pictor  for  his  little  exactness  in  chronology^;"  and't 
appears  from  various  other  passages,  that  all  the  ancient  bis- 

•  Pliny,  Hist  JWrt.  Lib.  XXXV.  c.  4. 

t  Hankius,  De  Bmnanar,  Berum  Scriptor.  Pars  I.  c.  1. 

t  Lib.  VIl.  §  Ub.  IV.  p.  284. 


PABIUS  PICTOR.  69 

tory  of  Fabius  which  was  not  founded  on  hearsay,  was  taken 
from  Greek  authors,  who  had  little  opportunity  of  being  in- 
formed of  Roman  aflfairs,  and  had  supplied  their  deficiency  in 
real  knowledge,  by  the  invention  of  fables,  In  particular,  as 
'  we  are  told  by  Plutarch*,  he  followed  an  obscure  Greek  au- 
thor, Diocles  the  Peparethian,  in  his  account  of  the  fpundation 
of  Rome,  and  from  this  tainted  source  have  flowed  all  the 
stories  concerning  Mar»,  the  Vestal,  the  Wolf,  Romulus,  and 
Remus. 

It  is  thus  evident,  that  no  great  reliance  can  be  placed  on 
the  history  given  by  Fabius  Pictor^  of  the  events  which  pre- 
ceded his  own  age,  and  which  happened  during  a  period  of 
500  years  from  the  building  of  the  city ;  but  what  must  be 
considered  as  more  extraordinary  and  lamentable,  is,  that 
although  a  senator,  and  of  a  distinguished  family,  he  gave  a 
prejudiced  and  inaccurate  account  of  affairs  occurring  during 
the  time  he  lived,  and  in  the  management  of  which  he  had 
some  concern.  Polybius,  who  flourished  shortly  afler  that 
time,  and  was  at  pains  to  inform  himself  accurately  concern- 
ing all  the  events  of  the  second  Punic  war,  apologizes  for 
quoting  Fabius  on  one  occasion  as  an  authority.  ^'  It  will 
perhaps  be  asked,"  days  he,  '^  how  I  came  to  make  mention 
of  Fabius:  It  is  not  that  I  think  his  relation  probable  enough 
to  deserve  credit :  What  he  writes  is  so  absurd,  and  has  so 
little  appearance  of  truth,  that  the  reader  will  easily  remark, 
without  my  taking  notice  oT  it,  the  little  reliance  that  is  to  be 
placed  on  that  author,  whose  inconsistency  is  palpable  of  itself. 
It  is,  therefore,  only  to  warn  such  as  shall  read  his  history,  not 
to  judge  by  the  title  of  the  book,  but  by  the  things  it  contains 
—for  there  are  many  people,  who,  considering  the  author  more 
than  what  he  writes,  think  themselves  obliged  to  believe 
everything  he  says,  because  a  senator  and  contemporaryf ." 
Polybius  also  accuses  him  of  gross  partiality  to  his  own  na- 
tion, in  the  account  of  the  Punic  war — allowing  to  the  enemy 
no  praise,  even  where  they  deserved  it,  and  uncandidly  aggra- 
vating their  faultst.  In  particular,  he  charges  him  with  false- 
hood in  what  he  nas  delivered,  with  regard  to  the  causes  of 
the  second  contest  with  the  Carthaginians.  Fabius  had  alleged, 
that  the  covetousness  of  Hannibal,  which  he  inherited  from 
Asdrubal,  and  his  desire  of  ultimately  ruling  over  his  own 
country,  to  which  he  conceived  a  Roman  war  to  be  a  necessary 
step,  were  the  chief  causes  of  renewing  hostilities,  to  which 
the  Carthaginian  government  was  totally  averse.     Now,  Po- 

*  ih  Romuh.  t  I'i^'  ^I.  c.  9. 

t  Lib.  I. 


70  FABIUS  PICTOR. 

lybius  asks  him,  if  this  were  true,  why  the  Carthaginian  Senate 
did  not  deliver  up  their  general,  as  was  required,  after  ibe 
capture  of  Saguntum ;  and  why  they  supported  him,  durnig 
fourteen  years'  continuance  in  Italy,  with  frequent  supplies  of 
money,  and  immense  reinforcements*. 

The  sentiments  expressed  by  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus, 
concerning  Fabius  Pictor's  relation  of  events,  in  the  early 
ages  of  Rome,  and  those  of  Polybiusf,  on  the  occurrences  of 
which  he  was  himself  an  eye-witness,  enable  us  to  form  a 
pretty  accurate  estimate  of  the  credit  due  to  his  whole  history. 
Dionysius  having  himself  written  on  the  antiquitieil  of  Rome, 
was  competent  to  deliver  an  opinion  as  to  the  works  of  thu^se 
who  had  preceded  him  in  the  same  undertaking  ;  and  it  would 
rather  have  been  favourable  to  the  general  view  which  he  has 
adopted,  to  have  established  the  credibility  of  Fabius.  We 
may  also  safely  rely  on  the  judgment  which  Polybius  has  pas- 
sed, concerning  this  old  annalist's  relation  of  the  events  of  ttie 
age  in  which  he  lived,  since  Polybius  had  spared  no  pains  to 
be  thoifoughly  informed  of  whatever  could  render  his  own  ac- 
count of  them  complete  and  unejiceptionable. 

The  opinion  which  must  now  be  naturally  formed  from  tbe 
sentiments  entertained  by  these  two  efmhient  historians,  is 
rather  confirmed  by  the  few  and  unconnected  fragments  that 
remain  of  the  Annals  of  Fabius  Pic  tor,  as  they  exhibit  a  spirit 
of  trifling  and  credulity  quite  unworthy  the  historian  of  a  great 
republic.  One  passage  is  about  a* person  who  saw  a  magpie; 
another  about  a  man  who  had  a  message  brought  to  him  by  a 
swallow;  and  a  third  concerning  a  party  of  Ump  garous,  who, 
after  being  transformed  into  wolves,  recovered  their  own 
figures,  and,  what  is  more,  got  back  their  cast-otf  clothes, 
provided  they  had  abstained  for  nine  years  from  preying  on 
human  flesh ! 

•  Lib.  III.  c.  8. 

f  Eraesti  has  attempted,  but  I  think  unsuccessfully,  to  support  the  authenticity  o( 
the  Annals  of  Fabius  against  the  censures  of  Polybius,  in  hi:;  dissertation,  entitled. 
Pro  Fabii  Fide  adversus  Polylnum,  inserted  in  his  Optucula  PhUoUtgica,  Leipsac, 
1746 — Lugd.  Bat.  1764.  He  attempts  to  show,  from  other j)assages,  that  Polybius 
was  a  great  detractor  of  preceding  historians,  and  that  he  judged  of  events  moie 
from  wliat  was  probable  and  likely  to  have  occurred,  than  from  what  actually  hap- 
pened, and  that  no  lustorian  could  have  betOr  information  ttian  Fabius.  To  the  in- 
terrogatories which  Polybius  puts  to  Fabius,  with  regard  to  the  causes  assigned  by 
him  as  the  origin  of  the  second  Punic  war,  Emesti  replies  for  him,  that  the  Senate 
of  Carthage  could  no  more  have  taken  the  command  from  Hannibal  in  Spain,  or  de* 
Uvered  hun  up,  than  the  Roman  Senate  coyld  have  deprived  Cssar  olf  his  army, 
when  on  the  banks  of  the  Rubicon  ;  and  as  to  the  support  which  Hannibal  received 
while  in  Italy,  it  is  answered,  that  it  was  quite  consistent  with  political  wiadom,  and 
the  practice  of  other  nations,  for  a  government  involuntarily  forced  iuto  a  stn4;gla, 
by  the  disobedience  or  evil  counseb  of  its  subjects,  to  use  every  exertion  to  obtain 
ultimate  success,  or  extricate  itself  with  honour,  from  the  dlfficuitles  io  which  it  bad 
been  reluctantly  involved. 


CALPURNIUS  PISO-  71 

Such  were  the  merits  of  the  earliest  annalist  of  Rorae,  whom 
all  succeeding  historians  of  the  state  copied  as  far  as  he  had 
pr<^»ceededy  or  at  least  implicitly  followed  as  their  authority 
and  guide  in  facts  and  chronology.  Unfortunately,  his  cha- 
racter as  a  senator,  and  an  eye-witness  of  many  of  the  events 
he  recorded,  gave  the  stamp  of  authenticity  to  his  work,  which 
it  did  not  intrinsically  desierve  to  have  impressed  on  it.  His 
successors  accordingly,  instead  of  givi  g  themselves  the  pains 
to  clear  up  jthe.  dithculties  with  which  the  history  of  former 
ages  was  embarras:^d,  and  which  would  have  led  into  long 
and  laborious  di^^cussions,  preferred  reposing  on  the  authority 
of  Fabius.  .  They  copied  him  on  the  ancient  times,  without 
even  consulting  the  few  monuments  that  remained,  and  then 
contented  themselves  with  adding  the  transactions  subsequent 
to  the  period  which  his  history  comprehends.  Thus,  Diony- 
sius  of  Hal icarnassus*  informs  us  that  Cincius,  Cato  the 
Censf>r,  Calpurnius  Piso,  and  most  of  the  other  historians  who 
succeeded  him,  implicitly  adopted  Fabius'  story  of  the  birth 
and  education  of  Romulus;  and  he  adds  many  glaring  instances 
of  the  little  discernment '  they  showed  in  following  him  on 
points  where,  by  a  little  investigation,  they  might  have  dis- 
covered how  egregiously  he  had  erred.  Even  Livy  himself 
admits,  that  his  own  account  of  the  second  Punic  war  was 
chiefly  founded  nn  the  relations  of  Fabius  Pictorf . 

This  ancient  and  dubious  annalist  was  succeeded  by  Scri- 
bonius.Libo,  and  by  Calpurnius  Piso.  Libo  served  under 
Ser.  Galba  in  Spain,  and  on  his  return  to  Rome  impeached 
his  cofumander  for  some  act  of  treachery  towards  the  natives 
of  that  province.  Piso  was  Consul  along  with  Mucins  Scae- 
vola  in  020,  the  year  in  which  Tib.  Gracchus  was  slain.  Like 
Fabius,  he  wrote  Annals  of  Rome,  from  the  beginning  of  the 
state,  which  Cicero  pronounces  to  be  exUUer  scriptil :  But 
although  his  style  was  jejune,  he  is  called  a  profound  writer, 
gravis  aucicr^  by  Pliny^;  and  Au.  Gellius  says,  that  there  is 
an  agreeable  simplicity  in  some  parts  of  his  work — the  brevity 
which. displeased  Cicero  appearing  to  him  aimplicissima  swf- 
vitw  et  reiet  arationiaW.  He  relates  an  anecdote  of  Romulus, 
who,  being  abroad  at  supper,  drank  little  wine,  because  he 
was  to  be  occupied  with  important  affairs  on  the  following 
day.  One  of  the  other  guests  remarked,  ^^  that  if  all  men  did 
as  tie,  wine  would  be  cheap." — ''No,"  replied  Romulus,  ''I 

•  Lib.  I.  p.  64. 

t  Fabium  aequalem  temporibus  nujusce  belli  potissimum  auctorem  babui.    Lib. 
XXll.  c.  7. 
X  Brutus,  c.  27.  §  Bi$t  JVat.  Lib.  XI.  53. 

II  jroct.jmie.  Lib.  XI.  c.  14. 


72  FANNIUS.— CCELIUS  ANTIPATER. 

have  drunk  as  much  as  I  liked,  and  wine  would  be  dearer  thaii 
it  is  now  if  every  one  did  the  same."  This  annalist  first  sug- 
gested Varro's  famous  derivation  of  the  word  Italy,  which  he 
deduced  from  Fiiulu9.  He  is  also  frequently  quoted  by 
Plutarch  and  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus*.  Niebuhr  thinks. 
that  of  all  th^  Roman  annalists  he  is  chiefly  responsible  for 
having  introduced  into  history  the  fables  of  the  ancient  heroic 
balladsf. 

About  the  same  time  with  Piso,  lived  two  historians,  who 
yere  both  called'  Cjiiis  Fannius,  and  were  nearly  related  to 
each  olHer.  One  of  them  ^'as  son-in-law  of  Lcelius,  and 
served  under  the  younger  Scipio  at  the  final  redaction  of 
Carthage.  Of  him  Cicero  speaks  favourably,  though  bis  style 
was  somewhat  harsh| ;  but  his  chief  praise  is,  that  Sallost,  in 
mentioning  the  Latin  historians,  while  he  gives  to  Cato  the 
palm  for  conciseness,  awards  it  to  Fannius  for  accuracy  io 
facts^.  Heeren  also  mentions,  that  he  was  the  authoiity 
chiefly  followed  by  Plutarch  in  his  lives  of  the  Gracchi||. 

Ccelius  Antipater  was  contemporary  with  the  Gracchi, 
was  the  master  of  Lucius  Crassus,  the  celebrated  ofator, 
other  emim'ut  men  of  the  day.  We  learn  from  Valerias  Ma- 
imus,  that  he  was  the  authority  for  the  story  of  the  shade  of 
Tiberius  Gracchus  having  appeared  to  his  brother  Caius  in  a 
dream,  to  warn  him  that  he  would  sufler  the  same  fiite  which 
he  had  himself  experiencedlT ;  and  the  historian  testifies  that 
he  had  heard  of  this  vision  from  many  persons  during  the  life- 
time of  Caiu's  Gracchus.  The  chief  subject  of  Antipaters 
history,  which  was  dedicated  to  Laelius,  consisted  in  the  events 
that  occurred  during  the  second  Punic  war.  Cicero  says< 
that  he  was  for  his  age  Scriptar  luctjUefUus*'f ;  that  he  raised 
himself  considerably  above  his  predecessors,  and  gave  a  more 
lofty  tone  to  history;  but  he  seems  to  think  that  the  otmost 

*  He  also  probably  8ue]B;e8ted  to  Sallust  a  phrnse  which  has  given  much  scia^ 
Iq  80  grave  a  historian.  Cicero  says,  in  one  of  bin  letter^,  [Epitt.  FamiL  Ub.  11; 
£p.  22,)  "  At  verii  Pino,  in  annalibus  suis,  queritur,  adoleacentes  peni  deditotesie. 

t  Romiache  Geachichte,  Tom.  I.  p.  245. 

As  his  account  of  Roman  afiliirs  was  written  in  Greek,  I  omit  in  the  list  of  Uob 
annalists  Lucius  Cincius  AUmentus,  who  was  contemporary  with  Fafaios,  ^^ 
been  taken  prisoner  by  Hannibal  during  the  second  P^nic  war.  But  diou|h 'd^ 
history  was  in  Greek,  he  wrote  in  Latin  a  biographical  sketch  of  the  SiciJian  Ro^ 
torician  Gonrias  Leontinus,  and  also  a  book,  De  Re  JliUUari,  which  has  been  cm 
by  Au.  Gellius  and  acknowledged  by  Vegetius  as  the  foundation  of  Ins  more  ^^ 
rate  Commentaries  on  the  same  subject. 

1  Brutus,  c.  26. 

§  The  passage  is  a  fragment  from  the  first  book  of  SaOust's  lost  history.  ^' 
Victorinus  in  prim.  Cieeronis  de  InvenUone. 

]]  De  FontibuB  et  jluctoritate  Vitarum  Parallel  PluUwehi,  p.  134.  Go^^ 
1820. 

f  Lib.  L  c.  7.  't  Bruiu$,  c.  26. 


>    SEMPRONIUS  ASELLIO,  <bc.  73 

• 

|>rai9e  to  which  he  was  entitled,  is,  that  he  excelled  those  who 
preceded  him,  for  still  he  possessed  but  little  eloquence  or 
learaing,  and  bis  style  was  yet  unpolished.  Valerius  Maximus, 
however,  calls  him  an  authentic  writer,  {carti^  auctor*;)  luid 
the  Emperor  Hadrian  thought  him  superior  to  Sallust,  con- 
sistently with  that  sort  of  black-letter  taste  which  led  him  to 
prefer  Cato  the  Censor  to  Cicero,  and  Ennius  to  Virgilf. 

Sempronius  Asellio  served  as  military  tribune  under  the 
younger  Scipio  Africanus,  in 'the  war  of  ]\umantia|,  which 
began  in  614,  and  ended  in  6^,  with  the  destruction  of  that 
city.  He  wrote  the  history  of  the  campaigns  in  which  he 
fought  under  Scipio,  in  Spain,  in  at  least  40  books,  since  the 
40th  is  cited  by  Charisius.  His  work,  however,  was  not  wriUea 
for  a  considerable  time  zft6t  the  events  he  recorded  had  hap- 
pened :  That  he  wrote  subsequently  to  Antipater,  we  have  the 
aathority  of  Cicero,  who  says  '^  that  Ccelius  Antipater  waa 
succeeded  by  Asellio,  who  did  not  imitate  his  improvements, 
but  relapsed  into  the  dulness  and  unskilfulness  of  the  earliest 
historians^..''  This  does  not  at  all  appear  to  have  been  Aseliio'a 
own  opinion,  as,  from  a  passage  extracted  by  Aulus  Gfelliua 
from  the  first  book  of  his  Annals,  he  seems  to  have  considered 
himself  as  the  undisputed  father  of  philosophic  history  ||. 

Quintus  Lutatius  Catulus,  better  known  as  an  accomplished 
orator  than  a  historian,  was  Consul  along  with  Marius  in  the 
year  651,  and  shared  with  him  in  his  distinguished  triumph 
over  the  Cimbrians.  Though  once  united  in  the  strictest 
friendship,  these  old  colleagues  quarrelled  at  last,  during  the 
civil  war  with  Sylla;  and  Catulus,  it  is  said,  in  order  to  avoid 
the  emissaries  despatched  by  the  unrelenting  Marius,  to  put 
him  to  death,  shut  himself  up  in  a  room  newly  plastered,  and 
having  kindled  a  fire,  was  sufibcated  by  the  noxious  vapours. 
He  wrote  the  history  of  his  own  consulship,  and  the  vaiious 
ubiic  transactions  in  which  he  had  been  engaged,  particu- 
arly  the  war  with  the  Cimbrians.  CicerolT,  who  has  spoken 
so  disadvantageously  of  the  style  of  the  older  annalists,  admits 
that  Catulus  wrote  very  pure  Latin,  and  that  his  language  had 
some  resemblance  to  the  sweetness  of  Xenophon. 

d.  Claudius  Cluadrigarius  composed  Annals  of  Rome  in 
twemy*four  books,  which,  though  now  almost  entirely  lost, 
were  in  existence  as  late  as  the  end  of  the  12th  century, 
being  referred  to  by  John  of  Salisbury  in  his  book  De  JVugiB 
Curialibus.     Some  passages,  however,  are  still  preserved, 

*  Ub.  I.  e.  7.  t  ^1-  SpartiaDU8,tn  Hadriano.      * 

X  Au.  GeQius,  Mfet,  Attic,  Lib.  U.  c.  13. 

$  De  Legibut,  Lib.  I.  c.  2.  fl  Lib.  V.  c.  18. 

Vol.  II.— K 


f 
Is 


74  VALERIUS  ANTIAS. 

• 

particularly  the  account  of  the  defiance  bj  the  gigantic  Gmlt 
adorned  with  a  chain,  to  the  whole  Roman  army,  aikl  his 
combat  with  Titus  Manlius,  afterwards  simamed  Torquatos, 
from  this  chain  which  he  took  from  his  antagonist.  "Who 
the  enemy  was,"  says  Au.  Gellius,  *'  of  how  great  and  formi- 
dable stature,  how  audacious  the  challenge,  and  in  what  kind 
of  battle  they  fought,  Q.  Claudius  has  told  with  much  puritjr 
and  elegance,  and  in  the  simple  unadorned  sweetness  of 
ancient  fanffuage*." 

There  is  likewise  extant  from  these  Annals  the  story  of  the 
Consul  Q.  Fabius  Maximus  making  his  father,  who  was  then 
Proconsul,  alight  from  his  horse  when  he  came  out  to  meet 
him.  We  have  also  the  letter  of  the  Roman  Consuls,  Fabricius 
and  Q.  Emilius,  to  Pyrrhus,  informing  him  of  the  treachery 
of  his  confident,  Nicias,  who  had  offered  to  the  Romans  to 
make  away  with  his  master  for  a  reward.  It  merits  quotation, 
as  a  fine  example  of  ancient  dignity  and  simplicity. ^^Nos, 
pro  tuis  injuriis,  continuo  animo,  ktrenue  commoti,  inimiciter 
tecum  bellare  studemua.  *  Sed  communis  exempli  et  fidei  ergo 
visum  est,  uti  te  salvum  velimus;  ut  esset  quern  armis  vincere 
possimus.  Ad  nos  venit  Nicias  familiaris  tuus,  qui  sibi  pre- 
tium  a  nobis  peteret,  si  te  clam  iuterfecisset :  Id  nos  negaTimiis 
velle;  neve  ob  eam  rem  quidquam  commodi  expectaret:  Et 
simul  visum  est,  ut  te  certiorem  faceremus,  nequid  ejusmodi, 
81  accidisset,  nostro  consilio  putares  factum:  et,  quid  nobis ood 
placet,  pretio,  aut  premio,  aut  dolis  pugnare." — ^The  Aimals 
of  Quadrigarius  must  at  least  have  brought  down  the  historf 
to  the  civil  wars  of  Marius  and  Sylla,  since,  in  the  nineteeotb 
book,  the  author  details  the  circumstances  of  the  defence  of 
the  PirsQUS  against*  Sylla,  by  Archelaus,  the  prefect,  of  Mithri- 
dates.  As  to  the  style  of  these  annals,  Aulus  Gellius  report^ 
that  they  were  written  in  a  conversational  mannerf . 

Quintus  Valerius  Antias  also  left  Annals,  which  must  have 
formed  an  immense  work,  since  Priscian  cites  the  seventy- 
fourth  book.  They  commenced  with  the  foundation  of  the 
city ;  but  their  accuracy  cannot  be  relied  on,  as  the  author 
was  much  addicted  to  exaggeration.  Livy,  raentioning,  <)D 
the  authority  of  Antias,  a  victory  gained  by  the  Proconsul  Q« 
Minucius,  adds,  while  speaking  of  the  number  of  slain  od  the 
part  of  the  enemy,  ''  Little  faith  can  be  given  to  this  author, 
as  no  one  was  ever  more  intemperate  in  such  exaggerations;" 
and  Aulus  Gellius  mentions  a  circumstance  which  be  had 
affirmed,  contrary  to  the  records  of  the  Tribunes,  and  the 

•  J^^oet,  Mik,  Lib.  IX.  c.  18.  f  JVacf .  MHc.  Ub  XIU.  c.  2« 


LICINIUS  MACER,  &e.  76 

authors  of  the  ancient  Annals*.  This  history  also  seems  to 
have  been  stuffed  with  the  most  absurd  and  superstitious 
&bles.  A  nonsensical  tale  is  told  with  regard  to  the  manner 
in  which  Numa  procured  thunder  from  Jupiter;  and  stories 
are  hkewise  related  about  the  conflagration  of  the  lake  Thra- 
simene,  before  the  defeat  of  the  Roman  Consul,  and  the  flame 
which  played  round  the  head  of  Servius  Tullius  in  his  child* 
hood.  It  also  appears  from  him,  that  the  Romans  had  judicial 
trials,  as  horrible  as  those  of  the  witches  which  disgraced 
cor  criminal  record.  Q.  Neevius,  before  setting  out  for  Sar- 
dinia, held  Questions  of  incantation  through  the  towns  of 
Italy,  and  condemned  to  death,  apparently  without  much 
investigation,  not  less  than  two  thousand  persons.  This  annalist 
denies,  in  another  passage,  the  well*  known  story  of  the  conti- 
nence of  Scipio,  and  alleges  that  the  lady  whom  he  is  gene- 
rally said  to  have  restored  to  her  lover,  was  ^^in  ddiciis 
amoribusque  usurpaiaf"  His  opinion  of  the  moral  character 
of  Scipio  seems  founded  oh  some  satirical  verses  of  Naevius, 
with  regard  to  a  low  intrigue  in  which  he  was  detected  in  his 
youth.  But  whatever  his  private  amours  may  have  been,  it 
does  not  follow  that  he  was  incapable  of  a  signal  exertion  of 
generosity  and  continence  in  the  presence  of  his  army,  and 
with  the  eyes  of  two  great  rival  nations  fixed  upon  his  conduct. 

Licinius  Macer,  father  of  Licin.  Calvus,  the  distinguished 
poet  and  orator  formerly  mentioned|,  was  author  of  Annals, 
entitled  Libri  Rerum  Romanarum.  In  the  course  of  these 
he  frequently  quotes  the  Libri  lAntei.  He  was  hot  considered 
as  a  very  impartial  historian,  and,  in  particular^  he  is  accused 
by  Livv  of  inventing  stories  to  throw  lustre  over  his  own 
family. 

L.  Cornelius  Sisenna  was  the  friend  of  Macer,  and  coeval 
with  Antias  and  Quadrigarius ;  but  he  far  excelled  his  con- 
temporaries, as  well  as  predecessors,  in  the  art  of  historical 
narrative.  He  was  of  the  same  family  as  Sylla,  the  dictator, 
and  was  descended  from  that  Sisenna  who  was  Praetor  in  570. 
In  his  youth  he  practised  as  an  orator,  and  is  characterized 
by  Cicero  as  a  man  of  learning  and  wit,  but  of  no  great  inr 
dustry  or  knowledge  in  business^.  In  more  advanced  life  he 
was  Pr»tor  of  Achaia,  and  a  friend  of  Atticus.  Vossius  says 
his  history  commenced  *after  the  taking  of  Rome  by  the  Gauls, 
and  ended  with  the  wars  of  Marius  and  Sylla.  Now,  it  is 
possible  that  he  may  have  given  some  sketch  of  Roman  afiairs 
from  the  burning  of  the  city  by  the  Gauls,  but  it  is  evident  he 

• 

*  Ibid.  Lib.  VII.  c.  19.  \  JSToet  Attic.  Ub.  VI.  c.  8. 

t  Se«  above.  Vol.  I.  p.  922.  4  Srutu$,  c.  63. 


76  SI8ENNA. 

had  touched  slightly  on  these  early  portioos  of  the  hislofy,(of 
though  bis  work  consisted  of  twenty,  or,  according  to  otheni 
of  twenty-two  books,  it  appears  from  a  fragment  of  the  second, 
which  is  still  preserved,  that  he  had  there  advanced  in  hit 
narrative  as  far  as  the  Social  War,  which  broke  out  io  the 
year  663.  The  greater  part,  therefore,  I  suspect,  was  devoted 
to  the  history  of  the  civil  wars  of  Marius;  and  indeed  Vel- 
leius  Paterculus  calls  his  work  Opus  HeUi  CipUis  SuUm*» 
The  great  defect  of  his  history  consisted,  it  is  said,  in  oot 
being  written  with  sufficient  political  freedom,  at  least  coo* 
corning  the  character  and  conduct  of  Syila,  which  is  regretted 
by  Sallust  in  a  passage  bearing  ample  testimony  to  the  merits 
of  Sisenna  in  other  particulars.—^*  L.  Sisenna,"  says  he,  **o|h 
tume  et  diligentissime  omnium,  qui  eas  res  dixere  persecotui, 
paruni  mihi  libero  ore  locutus  videturf ."  Cicero,  while  he 
admits  his  superiority  over  his  predecessors,  adds,  that  he  wai 
far  from  perfection|,  and  complains  that  there  was  somethiog 
puerile  in  his  Annals,  as  if  he  had  studied  none  of  the  Greek 
historians  but  Clitarchus§.  I  have  quoted  these  opinioitf) 
since  we  must  now  entirely  trust  to  the  sentiments  of  otheni 
in  ihe  judgment  which  we  form  of  the  merits  of  Sisenna;  ibr 
although  the  fragments  which  remain  of  his  history  are  more 
numerous  than  those  of  any  other  old  Latin  annalist,  being 
about  150,  they  are  also  shorter  and  more  unconnected,  lo' 
deed,  there  are  scarcely  two  sentences  anywhere  jouied 
together. 

The  great  defect,  then,  imputed  to  the  class  of  annalists 
above  enumerated,  is  the  meagerness  of  their  relations,  which 
are  stript  of  all  ornament  of  style— of  all  philosophic  obser- 
vation on  the  springs  or  consequences  of  action — bud  all 
characteristic  painting  of  the  actors  themselves.  That  the; 
often  perverted  the  truth  of  history,  to  dignify  the  name  of 
their  country  at  the  expense  of  its  foes,  is  a  fietuit  conmion  to 
them  with  many  national  historians — that  they  sometimes  tl^ 
ailed  one  political  faction  or  chief  to  depreciate  another,  was 
almost  unavoidable  amid  the  anarchy  and  civiJ  discord  of 
Rome — that  they  were  credulous  in  the  extreme,  in  their  re- 
lations of  portents  and  prodigies,  is  a  blemish  from  vrhich 
their  greater  successors  were  not  exempted :  1  he  easy  (vi^ 
of  Livy  is  well  known.  Even  the  philosophic  Tacitus  seems 
to  give  credit  to  those  presages,  which  darkly  announced  ite 
fate  of  men  and  empires;  and  Julius  Obsequens,  a  grave  «'ri- 
ter  in  the  most  enlightened  age  of  Rome,  collected  in  oo^ 

•  Lib.  II.  c.  9.  f  Jugturtha,  c.  96. 

{  JkuiuB,  c.  S8.  §  i>e  Legibf^a^  Lib.  I.  c  2. 


iEMILIUS  SCAURUS,  &c.  7t 

work  ft|]  the  portents  observed  from  its  foundation  to  the  age 
of  Augustus. 

The  period  in  which  the  ancient  annalists  flourished,  also 
produced  several  biographical  works ;  and  these  being  lives  of 
men  distinguished  in  ttie  state,  may  be  ranked  in  the  number 
of  histories. 

Lucius  Emilias  Soaurus,  who  was  bom  in  591,  and  died  in 
666,  wrote  memoirs  of,  his  own  life,  which  Tacitus  says  were 
accounted  faitlTf&l  and  impartial.  They  are  unfortunately 
lost,  but  their  matter  may  be  conjectured  from  the  well-known 
incidents  of  the  life  of  Scaurus.  They  embraced  a  very 
eventful  period,  and  were  written  without  any  flagrant  breach 
of  truth.  We  learn  from  Cicero,  that  these  memoirs,  however 
useful  and  instructive,  were  little  read,  even  in  his  days,  though 
his  contemporaries  carefully  studied  the  Cyropsdia;  a  work, 
as  he  continues,  no  doubt  sufficiently  elegant,  but  not  so 
connected  with  our  affairs,  nor  in  any  respect  to  be  preferred 
to  the  merits  of  Scaurus*. 

Rutilios  Rufiis^  who  was  Consul  in  the  year  649,  also  wrote 
memoirs  of  hiso^n  life.  He  was  a  man  of  very  different  cha* 
racter  from  Scaurus,  being  of  distinguished  probity  in  every 
part  of  his  conduct,  and  possessing,  as  we  are  informed  by 
Cicero,  something  almost  of  sanctity  in  his  demeanour.  All 
this  did  not  save  him  from  an  unjust  exile,  to  which  he  was 
condemned,  and  which  he  passed  in  tranquillity  at  Smyrna. 
These  biographical  memoirs  being  lost,  we  know  their  me^ 
rits  only  from  the  commendations  of  Livyf ,  Plutarch];,  Vel- 
leius  Paterculus§,  and  Valerius  Maximu8||.  As  the  author 
served  under  Scipio  in  Spain — under  Scsavola  in  Asia,  and 
under  Metellus  in  his  campaign  against  Jugurtha,  the  loss  of 
this  work  is  severely  to  be  regretted. 

But  the  want  of  Sylla's  Memoirs  of  his  own  Life,  and  of  the 
affairs  in  which  he  had  himself  been  engaged,  is  still  more 
deeply  to  be  lamented  than  the  loss  of  those  of  Scaurus  or 
Rutilius  Rufiis.  These  memoirs  were  meant  to  have  been  de- 
dicated to  Lucullus,  on  condition  that  he  should  arrange  and 
correct  themlT.  Sylla  was  employed  on  them  the  evening  be* 
fore  his  death,  and  concluded  them  by  relating,  that  on  the 

*  BruliM,  c.  29.  Some  penons  have  supposed  that  Cicero  did  not  here  mean 
Xenophon'g  Cyrop€Bdia,  but  a  life  of  Cynu,  written  by  Scaurus.  Tbia,  indeed, 
seem;;  at  iSrst  a  more  probable  meaning  than  that  he  should  have  bestowed  a  com- 
pKmeot  apptttently  so  extravagant  on  the  Memoirs  of  Scaurus ;  but  his  words  do  not 
admit  of  this  interpretation. — '*  Prseclaram  illam  quidem,  sed  neque  tam  rebus  nos- 
tris  aptam,  nee  tamen  Scauri  laudibus  anteponendam." 

t  Lib.  VII.  t  In  Mono, 

§  Lib.  il.  c.  13.  n  Lib.  U.  c.  5.  Lib.  VLc.  4, 

f  Vintuehfin Lucutto, 


78  SYLLA. 

|>receding  night,  he  had  seen  in  a  dream  one  of  his  childftflf 
who  had  died  a  short  while  before,  and  who,  stretching  out 
his  hand,  showed  to  him  his  mother  Metella,  and  eiborted 
him  forthwith  to  leave  the  cares  of  life,  and  hasten  to  enjoy 
repose  along  with  them  in  the  bosom  of  eternal  rest.  ''Thus," 
adds  the  author,  who  accousited  nothing  so  certain  as  whit 
was  signified  to  him  in  dreams,  "  I  finish  my  days,  as  wu 
predicted  to  me  by  the  Chaldeans,  who  announced  that  I 
should  surmount  envy  itself  by  my  glory,  and  should  ha?e  the 
good  fortune  to  fall  in  the  full  blossom  of  my  prosperitj^** 
These  memom  were  sent  by  Epicadus,  the  freedman  of  Sylla, 
to  LucuUus,  in  order  that  he  might  put  to  them  the  finishing 
hand.  If  preserved,  they  would  have  thrown  much  light  on 
the  most  important  affairs  of  Roman  history,  as  they  proceeded 
from  the  person  who  must,  of  all  others,  have  been  the  best 
informed  concerning  them.  They  are  quoted  by  Plutarch  as 
authority  for  many  curious  facts,  as — that  in- the  great  battk 
by  which  theCimbrian  invasion  was  repelled,  the  chief  execu- 
tion was  done  in  that  quarter  where  Sylla  was  stationed;  the 
main  body,  under  Marius,  having  been  misled  by  a  cloud  ofduit, 
and  having  in  consequence  wandered  about  for  a  long  time  with* 
out  finding  the  enemyf .  Plutarch  also  mentions  that,  in  these 
Commentaries,  the  author  contradicted  the  current  story  of  his 
seeking  refuge  during  a  tumult  at  the  commencement  of  die  civil 
wars  with  Marius,  in  the  houde  of  his  rival,  who,  it  had  beeo 
reported,  sheltered  and  dismissed  him  in  safety.  Besides  theu 
importance  for  the  history  of  events,  the  Memoirs  of  Sylh 
must  have  been  highly  interesting,  as  developing,  in  sooie 
degree,  the  most  curious  character  in  Roman  history.  "|j 
the  loss  of  his  Memoirs,"  says  Blackwell,  in  his  usual  inflated 
style,  "the  strongest  draught  of  human  passions,  in  the  highest 
wheels  of  fortune  and  sallies  of  power,  is  for  ever  vaai8bed|< 
The  character  of  Cs&sar,  though  greater,  was  less  incompi^ 
bensible  than  that  of  Sylla  y  and  the  mind  of  Augustus,  though 
unfathomable  to  hts  contemporaries,  has  been  sounded  by  the 
long  line  of  posterity;  but  it  is  difficult  to  analyse  the  disposi- 
tion which  inspired  the  inconsistent  conduct  of  Sylla.  G«' 
ged  with  power,  and  blood,  and  vengeance,  he  seems  to  have 
retired  from  what  he  chiefly  coveted,  as  if  surfeited;  but  neither 
this  retreat,  nor  old  age,  could  mollify  his  heart;  nor  could 
disease,  or  the  approach  of  death,  or  the  remembrance  of  ks 
past  life,  disturb  his  tranquillity.  No  part  of  his  existence  vas 
more  strange  than  its  termination ;  and  nothing  can  be  mo^ 

*  Plutarch,  In  SV^^a.—Appian.  j  M  Mm^- 

%  Memoir$  qftfie  Court  o/jiugUBhu,  Vol.  I. 


SYLLA.  79 

singular  than  that  he,  who,  on  the  day  of  his  decease,  caused 
in  mere  wantonness  a  provincial  magistrate  to  be  strangled  in 
his  presence,  should,  the  night  before,  have  enjoyed  a  dream 
so  elevated  and  tender.  It  is  probable  that  the  Memoirs  were 
well  written,  in  point  of^style,  as  Sylla  loved  the  arts  and 
sciences,  and  was  even  a  man  of  some  learning,  though  Caesar 
is  reported  to  have  said,  on  hearing  his  literary  acquirements 
extoHed,  that  he  must  have  been  but  an  indifferent  scholar 
who  had  resigned  a  dictatorship. 

The  characteristic  of  most  of  the  annals  and  memoirs 
which  I  have  hitherto  mentioned,  was  extreme  conciseness. 
Satisfied  with  collecting  a  mass  of  facts,  their  authors  adopted 
a  style  which,  in  the  later  ages  of  Home,  became  proverbially 
meagre  and  jejune^  Cicero  includes  Claudius  Quadrigarius 
and  Asellio  in  the  same  censure  which  he  passes  on  their  pre- 
decessors, Fabius  Pictor,  Piso,  and  Fannius.  But  though, 
perhaps,  equally  barren  in  style,  much  greater  trust  and  reli- 
ance may  be  placed  on  the  annalists  of  the  time  of  Marius  and 
Sylla  them  of  the  second  Punic  war. 

Some  of  these  more  modern  annalists  wrote  the  History  of 
Rome  from  the  commencement  of  the  state ;  others  took  up 
the  relation  firom  the  burning  of  Rome  by  the  Gauls,  or  con- 
fined themselves  to  events  which  had  occurred  in  their  own 
time*  Their  narratives  of  all  that  passed  before  the  incursion 
of  the  Gauls,  were  indeed  as  little  authentic  as  the  relations 
of  Fabius  Pictor,  since  they  implicitly  followed  that  writer,  and 
made  no  new  researches  into  the  mouldering  monuments  of 
their  country.  But  their  accounts  of  what  happened  subse- 
quently to  the  rebuilding  of  Rome,  are  not  liable  to  the  same 
suspicion  and  uncertainty ;  the  public  monuments  and  records 
haviog,  from  that  period,  been  duly  preserved,  and  having 
been  in  greater  abundance  than  those  of  almost  any  other 
nation  in  the  history  of  the  world.  The  Roman  authors  pos- 
sessed all  the  auxiliaries  which  aid  historical  compilation — 
decrees  of  the  senate,  chiefly  pronounced  in  affairs  of  state- 
leagues  with  friendly  nations — ^terms  of  the  surrender  of  cities 
— tables  of  triumphs,  and  treaties,  which  were  carefully  pre- 
served in  the  treasury  or  in  temples.  There  were  even  rolls 
kept  of  the  senators  and  knights,  as  also  of  the  number  of  the 
legions  and  ships  employed  in  each  war ;  but  the  public  de- 
spatches addressed  to  the  Senate  by  commanders  of  armies,  of 
which  we  have  specimens  in  Cicero's  Epistles,  were  the  docu- 
ments which  must  have  chiefly  aided  historical  composition. 
These  were  probably  accurate,  as  the  Senate,  and  people  in 
general,  were  too  well  versed  in  military  affairs  to  have  been 
easily  deluded,  and  legates  were  often  commissioned  by  them 


80  SYLLA. 

to  ascertain  the  truth  of  the  relations.    The  immeitte  ndli- 
tode  of  such  documents  is  evinced  by  the  fact,  that  Vespasnn, 
when  restoring  the  Capitol,  found  in  its  ruins  not  fewer  tbu 
3000  brazen  tablets,  containing  decrees  of  the  Senate  and 
people,  concerning  leagues,  associAions,  and  inunuoities  to 
whomsoever  granted,  from  an  early  period  of  the  state,  and 
which  Suetonius  justly  styles,  insirumentum  imperii  pMff- 
rirnum  ac  vetusiiasimum*.  Accordingly,  when  the  later  aona- 
lists  came  to  write  of  the  aflfairs  of  their  own  time,  they  found 
historical  documents  more  full  and  satisiactory  than  those  of 
almost  any  other  country.     But,  in  addition  to  these  copious 
sources  of  information,  it  will  be  remarked,  that  the  annalists 
themselves  had  often  personal  knowledge  of  the  facts  they 
related.     It  is  true,  indeed,  that  historians  contemporary  witk 
the  events  which  they  record,  are  not  always  best  qaalifed 
to  place  them  in  an  instructive  light,  since,  though  th^  id>T 
understand  how  they  spring  out  of  prior  incidents,  they  can- 
not foresee  their  influence  on  future  occurrences.    Of  sooie 
things,  the  importance  is  overrated«and  of  others  undervalued, 
till  time,  which  has  the  same  effect  on  events  as  distance  on 
external  objects,  obscures  all  that  is  minute,  while  it  renders 
the  outlines  of  what  is  vast  more  distinct  and  perceptible. 
But  though  the  reach  of  a  contemporary  historian *s  mind  may 
not  extend  to  the  issue  of  the  drama  which  passes  before  hiffij 
he  is  no  doubt  best  aware  of  the  detached  incidents  of  eaci) 
sepkrate  scene  and  act,  and  most  fitted  to  detail  those  y^ 
culars  which  posterity  may  combifie  into  a  mass,  exhibiting  at 
one  view  the  grandeur  and  interest  of  the  whole.    Now,  it 
will  have  been  remarked  from  the  preceding  pages,  that  all  the 
Roman  annalists,  from  the  time   of  Fabius  Pictor  to  Syllaj 
were  Consuls  and  Prsetors,  commanders  of  armies,  or  heads  of 
political  parties,  and  consequently  the  principal  sharers  in  tk^ 
events  which  they  recorded.     In  Greece,  there  was  an  earlier 
separation  than  at  Rome,  between  an  active  and  a  specolauve 
life.     Many  of  the  Greek  historians  had  little  part  in  th^ 
transactions,  the  remembrance  of  which  they  have  transmitted. 
They  wrote  at  a  distance,  as  it  were,  from  the  scene  of  affft'f^' 
so  that  they  contemplated  the  wars  and  dissensions  of  their 
countrymen  with  the  unprejudiced  eye  of  a  foreigner,  or  ot 
posterity.     This  naturally  diffuses  a  calm  philosophic  spirit 
over  the  page  of  the  historian,  and  gives  abundant  sc^P^Jf^ 
conjecture  concerning  the  motives  and  springs  of  action.    T** 
Roman  annalists,  on  the  other  hand,  wrote  from  perfect  know- 
ledge and  remembrance ;  they  were  the  persons  who  had  pl^' 

*  Jn  Veipoiiano,  c  S. 


\ 


SALLUST.  '  81 

ned  and  executed  every  project ;  they  had  fought  the  battles 
they  described,  or  excited  the  war,  the  vicis&itudes  of  which 
they  recorded.  Hence  the  facts  which  their  pages  disclosed, 
might  have  borne  the  genuine  stamp  of  truth,  and  the  analysis 
of  the  motives  and  causes  of  actions  might  have  been  absolute 
revelations.  Yet,  under  these,  the  most  favourable  circum- 
stances for  historic  composition,  prejudices  from  which  the 
Greek  historians  were  exempt,  would  unconsciously  creep  in : 
Writers  like  Sylla  or  iEmilius  Scaurus,  had  much  to  extenu- 
ate, and  strong  temptations  to  set  down  much  in  malice"^. 

Not  is  it  always  sufficient  to  have  witnessed  a  great  event 
in  order  to  record  it  well,  and  with  that  fulness  which  converts 
it  into  a  lesson  in  legislation,  ethics,  or  politics.  Now,  the 
Roman  annals  had  hitherto  been  chiefly  a  dry  register  of  facts, 
what  Lord  Bolingbroke  calls  the  J^Tuntia  Vetuatatis^  or  Ga- 
zette of  Antiquity.  A  history  properly  so  termed,  and  when 
considered  as  opposed  to  such  productions,  forms  a  complete 
series  of  transactions,  accompanied  by  a  deduction  of  their  im- 
mediate and  remote  causes,  and  of  the  consequences  by  which 
they  were  attended, — all  related,  in  their  full  extent,  with  such 
detail  of  circumstances  as  transports  us  back  to  the  very  time, 
makes  us  parties  to  the  counsels,  and  actors;  as  it  were,  in 
the  whole  scene  of  affairs.  It  is  then  alone  that  history  be- 
comes the  magiatra  vita;  and  in  this  sense 


SALLUST 

has  been  generally  considered  as  the  first  among  the  Romam 
who  merited  the  title  of  historian.  This  celebrated  writer  was 
bora  at  Amitemum,  in  the  territory  of  the  Sabines,  in  the  year 
668.  He  received  his  education  at  Rome,  and,  in  his  early 
youth,  appears  to  have  been  desirous  to  devote  himself  to  lite- 
rary pursuits.  But  it  was  not  easy  for  one  residing  in  the 
capital  to  escape  the  contagious  desire  of  military  or  political 
distinction.  At  the  age  of  twenty-seven,  he  obtained  the 
situation  of  Quaestor,  which  entitled  him  to  a  seat  in  the 
Senate,  and  about  six  years  afterwards  he  was  elected  Tribune 
of  the  people.  While  in  tliis  office,  he  attached  himself  to  the 
fortunes  of  Cssar,  and  along  with  one  of  his  colleagues  in  the 
tribunate,  conducted  the  prosecution  against  Milo  for  the 
murder  of  Clodius.  In  the  year  704,  be  was  excluded  from 
the  Senate,  on  pretext  of  immoral  conduct,  but  more  probably 

*  Malheareiiz  sort  de  Thiitoire !  Lea  spectateura  oont  trop  peu  instniitB,  et  les  ac- 
tems  trop  interess^s  pour  que  dous  puiflsions  compter  mr  les  recits  des  uus  ou  des 
aatics. — Oibboh's  Mi»eeu,  Works,  VoL  lY. 

Vol.  IL— L 


^ 


SALLUST. 


from  the  violence  of  the  patrician  party ,  to  which  he  was  op- 
posed.    Aulus  Gellius,  on  the  authority  of  Varro's  treatise, 
¥%U9  a\A  de  Pace^  informs  us  that  he  incurred  this  disgrace  in 
consequence  of  being  surprised  in  an  intrigue  with  Fausta,  the 
wife  of  Milo,  by  the   husband,  who  made  htm  be  seoorged 
by  his  slaves*.     It  has  been  doubted,  however,  by  modem 
critics,  whether  it  was  the  historian  Sallust  who  was  thus  de- 
tected and  punished,  or  his  nephew,  Crispus  Sallustios,  towhom 
Horace  has  addressed  the  second  ode  of  the  second  book.  It 
seems,  indeed,  unlikely,  that  in  such  a  corrupt  age,  an  amooi 
with  a  woman  of  Fausta's  abandoned  character,  should  have 
been  the  real  cause  of  his  ejtpulsion  from  the  Senate.    After 
undergoing  this  ignominy,  which,  for  the  present,  baffled  all 
his  hopes  of  preferment,  he  quitted  Rome,  and  joined  his  pa- 
tron, Cssar,  in  Gaul.     He  continued  to. follow  the  fortunes  of 
that  commander,  and,  in  particular,  bore  a  share  in  the  expe- 
dition to  Africa,  where  the  scattered  remains  of  Pompey's 
party  had  united.     That  region  being  finally  subdued,  Sallust 
was  left  by  Csesar  as  Praetor  of  Numidia ;  and  about  the  sane 
time  he  married  Terentia,  the  divorced  wife  of  Cicero.  He 
remained  only  a  year  in  his  government,  but  during  that  period 
he  enriched  himself  by  despoiling  the  province.    On  his  re- 
turn to  Rome,  he  was  accused  by  the  Numidians,  whom  be 
had  plundered,  but  escaped  with  impunity,  by  means  of  the 
protection  of  Caesar,  and  was  quietly  permitted  to  betake  biin- 
self  to  a  luxurious  retirement  with  his  ill-gotten  wealth.  He 
chose  for  his  favourite  retreat  a  villa  at  Tibur,  which  bad  be- 
longed to  Csesar  ;  and  he  also  built  a  magnificent  palace  in 
the   suburbs   of  Rome,  surrounded   by  delightful  pleasor^ 
grounds,  which  were  afterwards  well  known  and  celebratetl 
by  the  name  of  the  Gardens  of  Sallust.     One  front  of  this 
splendid  mansion  faced  the  street,  where  he  constructed  a 
spacious  market-place,  in  which  every  article  of  luxury  ^ 
sold  in  abundance.     The  other  front  looked  to  the  gardens 
which  were  contiguous  to  those  of  Lucullus,  and  occupied  the 
▼alley  between  the  extremities  of  the  Quirinal  and  PiocnB 
Hillsf.    They  lay,  in  the  time  of  Sallust,  immediately  beTo»° 
th^  walls  of  Rome,  but  were  included  within  the  new  wall  oi 
Aurelian.     In  them  every  beauty  of  nature,  and  every  embel- 
lishment of  art,  that  could  delight  or  gratify  the  senses,  seein 
to  have  been  assembled.     Umbrageous  walks,  open  parterres, 
and  cool  porticos,  displayed  their  various  attractions.    Ami^^ 
shrubs  and  flowers  of  every  hue  and  odour,  interspersed  wiu' 
statues  of  the  most  exquisite  workmanship,  pure  streams  ol 

«  JVbef.  J8U.  lib.  XVII.  c.  18.         t  Nardini,  B»ma  JSnUea,  Lib.  IV.  c.  7. 


\ 


9ALLUST.  83 

watet  preserved  the  verdure  of  the  earth  and  the  temperature 
of  the  air ;  and  while,  on  the  one  hand,  the  distant  prospect 
caught  the  eye,  on  the  other,  the  close  retreat  invited  to  repose 
or  meditation*.  These  gardens  included  within  their  precincts 
the  most  magnificent  baths,  a  temple  to  Venus,  and  a  circus, 
which  Sallust  repaired  and  ornamented.  Possessed  of  such 
attractions,  the  Sallustian  palace  and  gardens  became,  after 
the  death  of  their  original  proprietor,  the  residence  of  succes- 
sive emperors.  Augustus  chose  them  as  the  scene  of  his  most 
samptuous  entertainments.  The  taste  of  Vespasian  preferred 
them  to  the  palace  of  the  CsBsars.  Even  the  virtuous  Nerva, 
and  stern  Aurelian,  were  so  attracted  by  their  beauty,  that, 
while  at  Rome,  they  were  their  constant  abode.  *^  The  pa- 
lace," says  Eustace,  ^^was  consumed- by  fire  on  the  fatal  night 
when  Alaric  entered  the  city.  The  temple,  of  singular  beauty, 
sacred  to  Venus,  was  discovered  about  the  middle  of  the  six- 
teeenth  century,  in  opening  the  grounds  of  a  garden,  and  was 
destroyed  for  the  sale  of  the  materials :  Of  the  circus  little 
remains,  but  masses  of  walls  that  merely  indicate  its  site; 
while  statues  and  marbles,  found  occasionally,  continue  to 
iiirnish  proofs  of  its  former  magnificencef ."  Many  statues  of 
exquisite  workmanship  have  been  found  on  the  same  spot ;  but 
these  may  have  been  placed  there  by  the  magnificence  of  the 
imperial  occupiers,  and  not  of  the  original  proprietor. 

In  his  urban  gardens,  or  villa  at  Tibur,  Sallust  passed  the 
close  of  his  life,  dividing  his  time  between  literary  avocations 
and  the  society  of  his  friends — among  whom  he  numbered 
Lucullas,  Messala,  and  Cornelius  Nepos. 

Such  having  been  his  firiends  and  studies,  it  seems  highly 
improbable  that  he  indulged  in  that  excessive  libertinism 
which  Jias  been  attributed  to  him,  on  the  erroneous  supposi- 
tion that  he  was  the  Sallust  mentioned  by  Horace,  in  the  first 
book  of  his  Satires:^.  The  subject  of  Sallust's  character  is 
one  which  has  excited  some  investigation  and  interest,  and  on 
which  very  different  opinions  have  been  formed.  That  he 
was  a  man  of  loose  morals  is  evident ;  and  it  cannot  be  denied 
that  he  rapaciously  plundered  his  province,  like  other  Roman 
governors  of  the  day.  But  it  seems  doubtful  if  he  was  that 
monster  of  iniquity  he  has  been  sometimes  represented.  He 
was  extremely  unfortunate  in  the  first  permanent  notice  taken 
of  his  character  by  his  contemporaries.  The  decided  enemy 
of  Pompey  and  his  faction,  he  had  said  of  that  celebrated  chief, 
in  his  general  history,  that  he  was  a  man  '*  oris  probi,  animo 

•  Steuarfs  SaUurt^  Esray  I.  t  Cl^siedl  TWr,  Vol.  II.  c.  tf. 

)  Sai.lJb.hSat,2. 


84  SALLUST. 

inveirecundo."  Lenseus,  the  freedman  of  Poiiq>ey,  avenged 
his  master,  by  the  most  virulent  abuse  of  his  enemy*,  in  a 
work,  which  should  rather  be  regarded  as  a  frantic  satire  thae 
an  historical  document.  Of  the  injustice  which  he  had  done 
to  the  life  of  the  historian  we  may,  in  some  degree,  judges 
from  what  he  said  of  him  as  an  author.  He  called  him,  as 
we  learn  from  Suetonius,  ^'  Nebulonem,  vita  scriptisque  moo- 
strosum :  prflBterea,  prisconun  Catonisque  inemditissimiim  in- 
rem.''  The  life  of  Sallust,  by  Asconius  Pedianus,  which  was 
written  in  the  age  of  Augustus,  and  might  have  acted,  in  the 
present  day,  as  a  corrective,  or  palliative,  of  the  unfitvoonble 
impression  produced  by  this  injurious  libel,  has  unfortunately 
perished;  and  the  next  work  on  the  subject  now  extant,  is  a 

f professed  rhetorical  declamation  against  the  character  of  Sal- 
ust,  which  was  given  to  the  world  in  the  name  of  Cicero,  bot 
was  not  written  till  long  after  the  death  of  that  orator,  and  d 
now  generally  assigned  by  critics,  to  a  rhetorician,  in  the  reign 
of  Claudius,  called  Porcius  Latro.  The  calumnies  inveoted 
or  exaggerated  by  Lenseus,  and  propagated  in  the  scholiastic 
theme  of  Porcius  Latro,  have  been  adopted  by  Le  Clerc,  pro- 
fessor of  Hebrew  at  Amsterdam,  and  by  Professor  Mei8Der,oi 
Praguef ,  in  their  respective  accounts  of  the  Life  of  Sallust- 
His  character  has  received  more  justice  from  the  piefctor; 
Memoir  and  Notes  of  De  Brosses,  his  French  translator,  and 
from  the  researches  of  Wieland  in  Germany* 

From  what  has  been  above  said  of  Fabius  Pictor,  and  his 
immediate  successors,  it  must  be  apparent,  that  the  artof  iiis- 
toric  composition  at  Rome  was  in  the  lowest  state,  aad  that 
Sallust  had  no  model  to  imitate  among  the  writers  of  hia  own 
country.  He  therefore  naturally  recurred  to  the  productions 
of  the  Greek  historians.  The  native  exuberance,  aad  loqua- 
cious familiarity  of  Herodotus,  were  not  adapted  to  his  taste; 
and  simplicity,  such  as  that  of  Xenophon,  is,  of  all  thiDg8,tbe 
most  difficult  to  attain :  He  therefore  chiefly  emulated  Tbucj- 
dides,  and  attempted  to  transplant  into  his  own  language  die 
vigour  and  conciseness  of  the  Greek  historian ;  but  the  ^tnci 
imitation,  with  which  he  has  followed  him,  has  gone  ftr  to 
lessen  the  effect  of  his  own  original  genius. 

The  first  book  of  Sallust  was  the  Ccnapiracy  €f  Ca^li^ 
There  exists,  however,  some  doubt  as  to  the  precise  period  of 
its  composition.  The  general  opinion  is,  that  it  was  wiitttf 
immediately  after  the  author  went  out  of  office  as  Tribuoe^ 
the  People,  that  is,  in  the  year  703:  And  the  compositioQ^ 
the  Jugurthine  fVoTj  as  well  as  of  his  general  history,  are  fix^ 

*  Suetonius,  De  Grammaticis,  f  Lebende9  AdM 


\ 


9ALLUST.  85 

by  Le  Ckrc  between  that  period  and  hifl  appointment  to  the 
Pnetorehip  of  Numidia.  But  others  have  supposed  that  they 
were  all  written  during  the  space  which  intervened  between 
his  return  from  Numidia,  in  708,  and  his  death,  which  hap* 
pened  in  718,  four  years  previous  to  the  battle  of  Actium. 
It  is  maintained  by  the  supporters  of  this  last  idea,  that  he  wa9 
too  much  engaged  in  political  tumults  previous  to  his  adminis- 
tration of  Numidia,  to  have  leisure  for  such  important  compo- 
shion»-^that,  in  the  introduction  to  Catiline's  Conspiracy,  he 
talks  of  himself  as  withdrawn  from  public  affairs,  and  refutes 
accusations  of  his  voluptuous  life,  which  were  only  applicable 
to  this  period ;  and  that,  while  instituting  the  comparison  be- 
tween CsBsar  and  Cato,  he  speaks  of  the  existence  and  com- 
petition of  these  celebrated  opponents  as  things  that  had 
passed  over-^^*  Sed  mea  memoria,  ingenti  virtute,  diversis  mo- 
ribus,  fiiere  viri  duo,  Marcus  Cato  et  Caius  Caesar."  On  this 
passage,  too.  Gibbon  in  particular  argues,  that  such  a  flatterer 
and  party  tool  as  Sallust  would  not,  during  the  life  of  Ceesar, 
hiSLYe  put  Cato  so  much  on  a  level  with  him  in  the  comparison 
instituted  between  them.  De  Brosses  agrees  with  Le  Clerc  in 
thinking  that  the  Conspiracy  of  Catiline  at  least  must  have 
been  written  immediately  after  703,  as  Sallust  would  not,  sub- 
Bequently  to  his  marriage  with  Terentia,  have  commemorated 
the  disgrace  of  her  sister,  for  she,  it  seems,  was  the  vestal  vir- 
gin whose  intrigue  with  Catiline  is  recorded  by  our  historian. 
But  whatever  may  be  the  fact  as  to  Catiline's  Conspiracy,  it 
is  quite  clear  that  the  Jugurthine  War  was  written  subsequent 
to  the  author's  residence  in  Numidia,  which  evidently  sug- 
gested to  him  this  theme,  and  afforded  him  the  means  of  col- 
lecting the  information  necessary  for  completing  his  work. 

The  subjects  chosen  by  Sallust  form  two  of  the  most  im- 
portant and  prominent  topics  in  the  history  of  Rome.  The 
periods,  indeed,  which  he  describes,  were  painful,  but  the^ 
were  interesting.  Full  of  conspiracies,  usurpations,  and  civil 
wars,  thev  chiefly  exhibit  the  mutual  rage  and  iniquity  of  em- 
bittered nictions,  furious  struggles  between  the  patricians  and 
plebeians^  open  corruption  in  the  senate,  venality  in  the  courts 
of  justice,  and  rapine  in  the  provinces.  This  state  of  things, 
ao  forcibly  painted  by  Sallust,  produced  the  Conspiracy,  and 
even  in  some  degree  formed  the  character  of  Catiline :  But  it 
was  the  oppressive  debts  of  individuals,  the  temper  of  Sylla's 
soldiers,  and  the  absence  of  Pompey  with  his  army,  which 
gave  a  possibility,  and  even  prospect  of  success  to  a  plot 
which  affected  the  vital  existence  of  the  commonwealth,  and 
which,  although  arrested  in  its  commencement,  was  one  of 
those  violent  shocks  which  hasten  the  fall  of  a  state.    The 


86  SALLUST. 

History  of  the  Jugurthine  War,  if  not  so  important  or  menac- 
ing to  the  vital  interests  and  immediate  safety  of  Rome,  exhi- 
bits a  more  extensive  field  of  action,  and  a  greater  theatre  of 
war.  No  prince,  except  Mithridates,  gave  so  much  employ- 
ment to  the  arms  of  the  Romans.  In  the  course  of  no  war  in 
which  they  had  ever  been  engaged,  not  even  the  second  Car- 
thaginian, were  the  people  more  desponding,  and  in  none  were 
they  more  elated  with  ultimate  success.  Nothing  can  be  more 
interesting  than  the  account  of  the  vicissitudes  of  this  contest 
The  endless  resources,  and  hair-breadth  escapes  of  Jugortha 
— his  levity,  his  fickle  faithless  disposition,  contrasted  with  the 
perseverance  and  prudence  of  the  Roman  commander,  Metel- 
lus,  are  all  described  in  a  manner  the  most  vivid  and  pictu- 
resque. 

Sallust  had  attained  the  age  of  twenty-two  when  the  con- 
spiracy of  Catiline  broke  out,  and  was  an  eyewitness  of  the 
whole  proceedings.  He  had  therefore,  suflicient  opportuni^ 
of  recording  with  accuracy  and  truth  the  progress  and  termi- 
nation of  the  conspiracy.  Sallust  has  certainly  acquired  the 
praise  of  a  veracious  historian,  and  I  do  not  know  that  he  has 
been  detected  in  falsifying  any  fact  within  the  sphere  of  his 
knowledge.  Indeed  there  are  few  historical  compositions  of 
which  the  truth  can  be  proved  on  such  evidence  as  the  Coo- 
spiracy  of  Catiline.  The  facts  detailed  in  the  orations  of  Ci- 
cero, though  differing  in  some  minute  particulars,  coincide  io 
everything  of  importance,  and  highly  contribute  to  illustrate 
and  verify  the  work  of  the  historian.  But  Sallust  lived  too 
near  the  period  of  which  he  treated,  and  was  too  much  engaged 
in  the  political  tumults  of  the  day,  to  give  a  faithful  account, 
unvarnished  by  animosity  or  predilection ;  he  could  not  have 
raised  himself  above  all  hopes,  fears,  and  prejudices,  and 
therefore  could  not  in  all  their  elctent  have  fulfilled  the  duties 
of  an  impartial  writer.  A  contemporary  historian  of  such  tur- 
bulent times  would  be  apt  to  exaggerate  through  adulation,  or 
conceal  through  fear,  to  instil  the  precepts  ilot  of  the  philoso- 
pher but  partizan,  and  colour  facts  into  harmony  with  his  own 
system  of  patriotism  or  friendship.  An  obsequious  follower  of 
Caesar,  he  has  been  accused  of  a  want  of  candour  in  vvnish- 
ing  over  the  views  of  his  patron ;  yet  I  have  never  been  able 
to  persuade  myself  that  Caesar  was  deeply  engaged  io  the 
conspiracy  of  Catiline,  or  that  a  person  of  his  prudence  should 
have  leagued  with  such  rash  associates,  or  followed  so  despe- 
rate an  adventurer.  But  the  chief  objection  urged  against  Sal- 
lust's  impartiality,  is  the  feeble  and  apparently  reluctant 
commendation  which  he  bestows  on  Cicero,  who  is  now  ac- 
knowledged to  have  been  the  principal  actor  in  detecting  and 


\ 


SALLUST.  87 

finutrating  the  conspiracy.  Though  fond  of  displaying  his 
talent  for  drawing  characters,  he  exercises  none  of  it  on  Ci- 
cero, whom  he  merely  terms  ^^homo  egregius  et  optumus 
Consul,"  which  was  but  cold  applause  for  one  who  had  saved 
the  commonwealth.  It  is  true,  that,  in  the  early  part  of  the 
history,  praise,  though  sparingly  bestowed,  is  not  absolutely 
withheld.'  The  election  of  Cicero  to  the  Consulship  is  fairly 
attributed  to  the  high  opinion  entertained,  of  his  capacity, 
which  overcame  the  disadvantage  of  his  obscure  birth.  The 
mode  adopted  for  gaining  over  one  of  Catiline's  accomplices, 
and  fixing  his  own  wavering  and  disaffected  colleague, — the 
dexterity  manifested  in  seizing  the  Allobrogian  deputies  with 
the  letters,  and  the  irresistible  effect  produced,  by  confronting 
them  with  the  conspirators,  are  attributed  exclusively  to  Cice- 
ro. It  is  in  the  conclusion  of  these  great  transactions  that 
the  historian  withholds  from  him  his  due  share  of  applause, 
and  ciHitrives  to  eclipse  him  by  always  interposing  the  charac- 
ter of  Cato,  though  it  could  not  be  unknown  to  any  witness 
of  the  proceedings  that  Cato  himself,  and  other  senators,  pub- 
licly hailed  the  Consul  as  the  Father  of  his  country,  and  that 
a  public  thanksgiving  to  the  sods  was  decreed  in  his  name, 
for  having  preserved  the  city  from  conflagration,  and  the  citi- 
zens firom  massacre*.  This  omission,  which  may  have  origi- 
nated partly  in  enmity,  and  partly  in  disgust  at  the  ill-disguised 
vanity  of  the  Consul,  has  in  all  times  been  regarded  as  the 
chief  defect,  and  even  stain,  in  the  history  of  the  Catilinarian 
conspiracy. 

Although  not  an  eye-witness  of  the  war  with  Jugurtha.  Sul- 
lust's  situation  as  Praetor  of  Numidia,  which  suggested  the 
composition,  was  favourable  to  the  authority  of  the  work,  by 
affording  opportunity  of  collecting  materials  and  procuring 
information.  He  examined  into  the  different  accounts,  writ- 
ten as  well  as  traditionary,  concerning  the  history  of  Africaf , 
particularly  the  documents  preserved  in  the  archives  of  King 
Hiempsal,  which  he  caused  to  be  translated  for  his  own  use, 
and  which  proved  peculiarly  serviceable  for  his  detailed  de- 
scription of  the  continent  and  inhabitants  of  Africa.  He  has 
been  accused  of  showing,  in  this  history,  an  undue  partiality 
towards  the  character  of  Marius,  and  giving,  for  the  sake  of 
his  fiivourite  leader,  an  unfair  account  of  the  massacre  at 

*  Bankes,  CfivU  Hist.  ofRorMy  Vol.  II. 

t  The  authois  of  the  Univeraal  History  suppose  that  these  books  were  Phosnician 
and  Punic  volumes,  carried  off  from  Carthage  by  Scipio,  after  its  tlcstruction,  and 
presented  by  him  to  Micipsa ;  and  they  trive  a  curious  account  of  these  books,  of 
^Mch  some  memory  still  subsists,  aod  which  they  conjecture  to  have  formed  part 
ef  the  royal  coUection  of  Numidia. 


88  SALLUST. 

Vacca.  But  he  appears  to  me  to  do  even  more  than  ample 
justice  to  Metellus,  as  he  represents  the  war  as  almost  finished 
by  him  previous  to  the  arrival  of  Marios,  though  it  was,  in 
jEact,  far  from  being  concluded. 

Veracity  and  fidelity  are  the  chief,  and,  indeed,  the  indispes- 
sable  duties  of  an  historian.  Of  all  the  tifmmn&i^  of  historic 
composition,  it  derives  its  chief  embellishment  from  a  gracefal 
and  perspicuous  style.  That  of  the  early  annalists,  as  we 
have  already  seen,  was  inelegant  and  jejune ;  but  styb  came 
to  be  considered,  in  the  progress  of  nistory,  as  a  matter  of 
primary  importance.  It  is  unfortunate,  perhaps,  that  so 
much  value  was  at  leqgth  attached  to  it,  since  the  ancient 
historians  seldom  gave  their  authorities,  and  considered  the 
excellence  of  history  as  consisting  in  fine  writing,  more  thao 
in  an  accurate  detail  of  facts,  ^llust  evidently  regarded  an 
elegant  style  as  one  of  the  chief  merits  of  an  historic^  work. 
His  own  style,  on  which  he  took  so  much  pains,  was  carefully 
formed  on  that  of  Thucydides,  whose  mumer  of  writing  was  in 
a  great  measure  original,  and,  till  the  time  of  Sallust,  peculini 
to  himself.  The  Roman  has  wonderfully  succeeded  in  imitat- 
ing the  vigour  and  conciseness  of  the  Greek  historian,  and 
infiising  into  his  composition  something  of  that  dignified  aus- 
.terity,  which  distinguishes  the  works  of  his  great  model;  but 
when  I  say  that  Sallust  has  imitated  the  conciseness  ofThn- 
cydides,  I  mean  the  rapid  and  compressed  manner  in  which 
his  narrative  is  conducted, — in  short,  brevity  of  idea,  rather 
than  language.  For  Thucydides,  although  he  brings  forward 
only  the  principal  idea,  and  discards  what  is  collateral,  yet 
frequently  employs  long  and  involved  periods.  Salhist,  on 
the  other  band,  is  abrupt  and  sententious,,  and  is  generally 
considered  as  having  carried  this  sort  of  brevity  to  a  vicioos 
excess.  The  use  of  copulatives,  either  for  the  purpose  of 
connecting  his  sentences  with  each  oUier,  or  uniting  the 
clauses  of  the  same  sentence,  is  in  a  great  measure  rejected. 
This  omission  produces  a  monotonous  effect,  and  a  total  want 
of  that  flow  and  that  variety,  which  are  the  principal  chaiw 
of  the  historic  period.  Seneca  accordingly  talks  of  the 
**  AmputatsB  sententise,  et  verba  ante  expectatum  cadentia*, 
which  the  practice  of  Sallust  had  rendered  fashionable.  Loi^ 
Monboddo  calls  his  style  incoherent,  and  declares  that  there 
is  not  one  of  his  short  and  uniform  sentences  which  deserves 
the  name  of  a  period ;  so  that  supposing  each  sentence  were 
in  itself  beautiful,  there  is  not  vsdriety  enough  to  constitute 
fine  writing. 

*  Senec.  £jh«(.  114. 


SALLUST.  89 

It  wu,  perkapi,  partly  in  imitation  of  Thucydides,  that 
Sallust  introduced  into  his  history  a  number  of  words  almost 
considered  as  obsolete,  and  which  were  selected  from  the 
works  of  the  older  authors^of  Rome,  particularly  Cato  the 
Censor.  It  is  on  this  poin^  he  has  been  cfiiefly  attacked  by 
Pollio,  in  his  letters  to  Plancus.  He  has  also  been  taxed  with 
the  opposite  vice,  of  coining  new  WQrds,  and  introducing 
Greek  idioms ;  but  the  severity  of  judgment  which  led  him  to 
imitate  the- ancient  and  austere  dignity  of  style,  made  him  re- 
ject those  sparkling  ornaments  of  composition,  which  were 
beginning  to  infect  the  Roman  taste,  in  consequence  of  the 
increasing  popularity  of  the  rhetoric  schools  of  declamatioi^, 
and  the  more  frequent  inte^ourse  with  Asia.  On  the  whole, 
in  the  style  of  Sallust,  there  is  too  much  appearance  of  study, 
and  a  want  of  that  graceful  ease,  which  is  generally  the  effect 
of  art,  but  ii4-  which  art  is  nowhere  discovered.  The  opinion 
of  Sir  J.  Checke,  as  reported  by  Ascham  in  his  Schoolmaster^ 
contains  a  pretty  accurate  estimate  of  the  merits  of  the  style 
of  Sallust.  '<  Sir  J.  Checke  said,  that  he  could  not  recommend 
Sallust  as  a  good  pattern  of  style  for  young  men,  because  in 
his  writings  there  was  more  art  than  nature,  and  more  labour 
than  art ;  and  in  his  labour,  aiso,  too  much  toil,  as  it  were, 
with  an  uncontented  care  to  write  better  than  he  could — a  fault 
common  to  very  many  men.  And,  therefore,  he  doth  not  ex-* 
press  the  matter  lively  aad  naturally  with  common  speech,  -aa 
ye  see  Xenophon  doth  in  Greek,  but  it  is  carried  and  driven 
forth  artificially,  after  too  learned,  a  sort^  as  Thucydides  doth 
in  his  orations.  *  And  how  cometh  it  to  pass,'  said  I,  <  that 
Caesar's  and  Cicero's  talk  is  so  natural  and  plain,  and  SaHust's 
writing  so  artificial  and  dark,  when  all*the  three  lived  in  one 
time?' — «I  will  freely  tell  you  my  fancy  herein,'  said  he; 
*  Caesar  and  Cicero,  beside  a  singular  prerogative  of  natural  elo- 
quence given  unto  them  by  God,  were  both,  by  use  of  life, 
daily  orators  among  the  common  people,  and  greatest  council* 
lors  in  the  Senate^house ;  and  therefore  gave  themselves  to 
use  such  speech  as  the  meanest  should  well  understand,  and 
the  wisest  best  allow,  following  carefully  that  good  council  of 
Aristotle,  Loqtundum  ut  muUi ;  sapiendum  mt  paud.  But 
Sallust  was  no  such  man.' " 

Of  all  departments  of  history,  the  delineation  of  character  is 
that  which  is  most  trying  to  the  temper  and  impartiality  of  the 
Writer,  more  especially  when  he  has  been  contemporary  with 
the  individuals  he  portrays,  and  in  some  degree  engaged  in 
^e  transactions  he  records.  Five  or  six  of  the  characters 
drawn  by  Sallust  have  in  all  ages  been  regarded  as  master- 
pieces :  He  has  seized  the  delicate  shades,  as  well  as  the  pro- 
Vol.  II.— M 


90  SALLUST. 

minent  features,  and  thrown  over  them  the  most  Hvely  andip- 
propriate  colouring.  Those  of  the  two  principal  actors  in  his 
tragic  histories  are  forcibly  given,  and  prepare  us  for  the  in- 
cidents which  follow.  .  The  portrait  drawn  of  CatUine  conveys 
a  vivid  idea  of  his  mind  and  person^ — his  profligate  QDtameable 
spirit,  infinite  resources,  unwearied  application,  and  prevailing 
address^  We  behold,  as  it  were,  before  us  the  deadly  pale- 
ness of  his  countenance,  his  ghastly  eye,  his  unequal  troubled 
step,  and  the  distraction  of  his  whole  appearance^  strong!)  iQ* 
dicating  the  restless  horror  of  a  guilty  conscience.  I  tbioti 
however,  it  might  have  been  instructive  and  interesting  had 
we  seen  something  more  of  the  atrocities  perpetrated  in  early 
life  by  this^hief  conspirator.  The  historian  might  have  shows 
him  commencing  his  career  as  the  chosen  favourite  of  Sylli, 
and  the  mstrument  of  his  monstrous  cruelties.  The  notice  of 
ihe  other  conspirators  is  too  brief,  and  there  is  lioo  little  dis- 
crimination of  the^r  characters.  Perhaps  the  outline  wa^^  ilie 
same  in  all,  but  each  might  have  been  individuated  by  distioc- 
tive  features.  The  parallel  drawn  between  Cato  and  Caesar  i$ 
one  of  the  most  celebrated  passages  in  the  history  of  tbe 
conspiracy.  Of  both  these  famed  opponents  we  are  presented 
with  favourable  likenesses.  Their  defects  are  thrown  ioto 
shade  ;  and  the  bright  qualities  of  each  different  species  which 
distinguished  them,  are  cc;ntrasted  for  the  purpose  of  show- 
ing the  various  merits  by  which  mer^arrive  at  eminence. 

The  introductory  sketch  of  the  genius  and  manners  of^i^' 
gurtha  is  no  less  abl^  and  spirited  than  the  character  of  Cati- 
line. We  behold  him,  while  serving  under  Scipio,  as  bravt, 
accomplished,  andenterprizing;  but  imbued  with  an  ambition^ 
which)  being  under  no  oontrol  of  principle,  hurried  bimmto 
its  worst  excesses,  and  rendered  him  ultimately  perfidious  and 
cruel.  The  most  singular  part  of  his  charapter  was  the  mti* 
ture  of  boldness  and  irresolution  which  it  combined  ;  but  ibe 
lesson  we  receive  from  it.  lies  in  the  miseries  of  that  suspicioa 
and  that  remorse  which  he  had  created  in  his  own  mind  by  hi^ 
atrocities,  and  which  rendered  him  as  wretched  on  the  throoef 
or  at  the  head  of  his  army,  as  in  the  dungeon  where  helenoi* 
nated  his  existence.  The  portraits  of  the  other  princip 
characters,  who  figured  in  the  Jugurthine  War,  are  also  «t?n 
brought  out.  That  of  Marius,  in  particular^  is  happily  t'wcbed 
His  insatiable  ambition  is  artfully  disguised  under  the  niask^ 
patriotism, — his  cupidity  and  avarice  are  concealed  under  that 
of  martial  simplicity  and  hardihood ;  but,  though  we  knowfr^i^ 
his  subsequent  career  the  hypocrisy  of  his  pretensions,  tw 
character  of  Marius  is  presented  to  us  in  a  more  favourable 
light  than  that  in  which  it  can  be  viewed  on  a  survey  of  h^s 


SALLUST.  91 

whole  life.  We  see  the  blunt  and  gallant  soldier,  and  not  that 
savage  whose  innate  cruelty  of  soul  was  just  about  to  burst 
forth  for  the  destruction  of  his  countrymen.  Fn  drawing  the 
portrait  of  Sylla,  the  memorable  rival  of  Marius,  the  historian 
represents  him  also'  such  as  he  appeared  at  that  period,  not 
such  as  he  afterwards  proved  himself  to  be.  We  behold  him 
with  pleasure  as  an  accomplished  and  subtle  commander,  elo- 
quent in  speech,  and  >ersatile  in  resources;  but  there  is  no 
trace  of  the  cold-blooded  assassin,  the  tyrant,  buffoon,  and 
usurper. 

In  general,  Sallust's  painting  of  character  -is  so  strong,  that 
we  almost  foresee  how  each  individual  will  conduct  himself  in 
the  situation  in  which  he  is  placed.  Tacitus  attributes  all  the 
actions  of  men  to  policy, — to  refined,  and  sometimes  imaginary 
views;  but  Sallust,  more  correctly,  discovers  their  chief  springs 
in  the  passions  and  dispositions  of  individuals.  ^'Salluste,'' 
says  St  Evtemond,  "donne  autant  au  naturel,  que  Tacite  .  la 
politique.  Le  plus  grand  soin  du  premier  est  de  bien  connoi- 
tre  le  g^nie  des  hommes;  les  affaires;  viennent  apres  naturelle- 
ment,  par  des  actions  peu  recherchees  de  ces  memes  per- 
sonnes  qo'il  a  depeintes." 

History,  in  its  original  state,  was  confined  to  narrative ;  the 
reader  being  left  to  form  his  own  reflections  on  the  deeds  or 
events  recorded. '  The  historic  art,  however,*conveys  not  com- 
plete satisfaction,  unless  these  actions  be  connected  with  their 
causes, — ^the  political  springs,*or  private  passions,  in  which 
they  originated.  It  is  the  business,  therefore,  of  the  historian, 
to  apply  the  conclusions  of  the  politician  in  explaining  the 
causes  and  effects  of  the  transactions  he  relates.  These 
transactions  the  ai^thor  must  receive  -from  authentic  monu- 
ments or  records,  but  the  remarks  deduced  from  them  must  be 
the  offspring  of  his  own  ingenuity.  The  reflections  with  which 
Sallust  introduces  his  narrative,  and  those  he  draws  from  it, 
are  so  just  and  numerous  that  he  has  by  some  been  considered 
as  the  father  of  philosophic  history.  It  must  always,  however, ' 
be  remembered,  that  the  proper  object  of  history  is  the  detail 
of  national  transactions, — that  whatever  forms  not  a  part  of 
the  narrative  is  episodical,  and  therefore  improper,  if  it  be  too 
long,  and  do  not  grow  naturally  out  of  the  subject.  Now, 
some  of  the  political  and  moral  digressions  of  Sallust  are  nei- 
ther very  immediately  connected  with  his  subject,  nor  very 
obviously  suggested  by  the  narration.  The  discursive  nature 
and  inordinate  .4enj^th  of  the  introductions  to  his  histories  have 
been  strongljycensured.  The  first  four  sections  of  Catiline's. 
Conspiracy  hlive  indeed  little  relation  to  that  topic.  They 
might  as  welh  have  been  prefixed  to  any  other  history,  and 


92  SALLUST. 

much  better  to  a  moral  or  philosophic  treatise.  In  ftct,  a 
considerable  part  of  them,  descaDting  on  the  fleeting  oature 
of  wealth  and  beauty,  and  all  such  adventitious  or  traositorj 
possessions,  is  borrowed  from  the  second  oration  of  Isocratei 
Perhaps  the  eight  following  sections  are  also  disproporUooed 
to  the  length  of  the  whole  work ;  but  the  preliminary  easaj 
they  ccHitain,  on  the  degradation  of  Roman  manners  and  de- 
cline of  virtue,  is  not  an  unsuitable  introduction  to  the  con- 
spiracy, as  it  was  this  corruption  of  morals  which  gave  birth 
to  it,  and  bestowed  on  it  a  chance  of  success.  The  preface 
to  the  Jugurtliine  War  has  much  less  relation  to  the  subject 
which  it  is  intended  to  introduce.  The  author  discourses  at 
large  on  his  favourite  topics  the  superiority  of  mental  endow- 
ments over  corporeal  advantages,  and  the  beauty  of  firtne 
and  genius.  He  contrasts  a  life  of  listless  indolence  with  ooe 
of  honourable  activity ;  and,  finally,  descants  on  the  task  of 
the  historian  as  a  suitable  exercise  for  the  highest  faculties  of 
the  mind. 

Besides  the  conspiracy  of  Catiline  and  the  JugurthineWar, 
which  have  been  preserved  entire,  and  from  which  our  esti- 
mate of  the  merits  of  Sallust  must  be  chiefly  formed,  he  wss 
author  of  a  civil  and  military  history  of  the  republic,  iofive 
books,  entitled,  Hiatoria  rerum  in  Republica  Ramana  Geda- 
rum.  This  work/inscribed  to  Lucullus,  the  son  of  the  cele- 
brated commander  of  that  name,  was  the  mature  fruit  of  the 
genius  of  Sallust,  having  been  the  last  history  he  composed. 
It  included,  properly  speaking,  only  a  period  of  thirteen  years, 
-—extending  from  the  resignation  of  the  dictatorship  by  Sylla» 
till  the  promulgation  of  the  Manilian  law,  by  which  Pompej 
was  invested  with  authority  equal  to  that  which  Sylln  had  re- 
linquished, and  obtained,  with  unlimited  power  in  the  east, 
the  command  of  the  army  destined  to  act  againt^t  Mithridates. 
This  period,  though  short,  comprehends  some  of  the  ^losti^t^ 
resting  and  luminous  points  which  appear  in  the  Roman  Anoah' 
During  this  interval,  and  almost  at  the  same  moment,  the  re- 
public was  attacked  in  the  east  by  the  most  powerful  and 
enterprising  of  the  monarchs  with  whom  it  had  yet  waged  war; 
in  the  west,  by  one  of  the  most  skilful  of  its  own  generals; 
and  in  the  bosom  of  Italy,  by  its  gladiators  and  slaves.  This 
work  also  was  introduced  by  two  discourses — ^e  one  present* 
ing  a  picture  of  the  government  and  manners  of  the  RomaBS* 
from  the  origin  of  their  city  to  the  commencement  of  the  cir^ 
wars,  the  other  containing  a  general  view  of  the  dissensions 
of  Marine  and  Sylla ;  so  that  the  whole  book*  may  be  consider- 
ed as  connecting  the  termination  of  the  Jugurthine  war,  aad 
the  breaking  out  of  Catiline's  conspiracy.    Ttte  loss  of  ^^ 


SALLUST.  93 

valuable  production  is  the  more  to  be  regrietted,  as  all  the  ac- 
counts of  Roman  history  which  have  been  written,  are  defec- 
tive daring  the  interesting  period  it  comprehended.  Nearly 
700Tragment8  belonging  to  it  have  been  amassed,  from  scho- 
liasts and  grammarians,  by  De  Brosses,  the  French  translator  of 
Sallust;  but  they  are  so  short  and  unconnected,  that  they 
merely  serve  as  land-marks,  from  which  we  may  cpnjecture 
what  subjects  were  treated  of,  and  what  events  were  recorded* 
The  only  parts  of  the  history  which  have  been  preserved  in  any 
degree  entire,  are  four  orations  and  two  letters.  Pomponius 
Lsetus  discovered  the  orations  in  a  MS.  of  the  Vatican,  con- 
taining a  collection  of  speeches  from  Roman  history.  The 
first  is  an  curation  pronounced  against  Sylla  by  the  turbulent 
Marcus  ^milius  Lepidus ;  who,  (as  is  well  known,)  being  de- 
sirous, at  the  expiration  of  his  year,  to  be  appointed  a  second 
time  Coodul,  excited,  Ifor  that  purpose,  a  civil  war,  and  render- 
ed himself  master  of  a  great  part  of  Italy.  His  speech  which 
was  preparatory  to  these  designs,  was  delivered  after  Sylla 
had  abdicated  the  dictatorship,  but  'was  still  supposed  to  re- 
tain great  influence  at  Rome.  He  is  accordingly  treated  as 
being  still  the  tyrant  of  the  state ;  and  the  people  are  exhorted 
to^ throw  off  the  yoke  completely,  and  to  follow  the  speaker  to 
the  bold  assertion  of  their  liberties.  The  second  oration, 
which  is  that  of  Lucius  Phiiippus,  is  an  invective  against  the 
treasonable  attempt  of  Lepidus,  and  was  calculated  to  rouse 
the  people  from  the  aipathy  with  which  they  beheld  proceed- 
ings that  were  likely  to  terminate  in  the  total  subversion  of 
the  government.  The  third  harangue  was  delivered  by  the 
Tribune  l«icinius  :  It  was  an  effort  of  that  demagogue  to  tie- 
press  the  patrician,  and  raise  the  tribunitial  power,  for  which 
purpose  he  alternately  flatters  the  people,  and  reviles  the  Se- 
nate. The  oration  of  Marcus  Cotta  is  unquestionably  a  fine 
one.  He  addressed  it  to  the  people,  during  the  period  of 
his  Consulship,  in  order  to  calm  their  minds,  and  allay  their 
resentment  at  the  bad  success  of  public  affairs,  which,  with- 
out any  blame  on  his  part,  had  lately,  in  many  respects,  been 
conducted  to  an  unprosperous  issue.  Of  the  two  letters 
which  are  extant,  the  one  is  from  Pompey  to  the  Senate,  com- 
plaining, in  very  strong  terms,  of  the  deficiency  in  the  sup- 
plies for  the  army  which  he  commanded  in  Spain  against  Ser- 
torius;' the  other  is  feigned  to  be  addressed  from  Mithridates 
to  Arsaces,  King  of  Parthia,  and  to  be  written  when  the  affairs 
of  the  former  monarch  were  proceeding  unsuccessfully.  It 
exhorts  bitn,  nevertheless,  with  great  eloquence  and  power  of 
argument,  to  join  him  in  an  alliance  against  the  Romans  :  for 
this  purpose,  it  places  in  a  strong  point  of  view  their  unprin- 


94  C£SAR. 

cipled  policy,  and  ambitious  desire  of  uniTersal  empiie— all 
which  could  not,  without  this  device  of  an  imaginary  letter  by 
a  foe,  have  been  so  well  urged  by  a  national  historian.  It  con- 
cludes with  showing  the  extreme  danger  which  the  Parthians 
would  incur  from  the  hostility  of  the  Romans,  should  they  suc- 
ceed in  finally  subjugating  Pontus  and  Armenia.  The  onlj 
other  fragment,  of  any  length,  is  the  description  of  a  splendid 
entertainment  given  to  Metellus,  on  his  return,  after  a  year's 
absence,  to  his  government  of  Farther  Spain.  It  appears, 
firom  several  other  fragments,  that  Sallust  had  introduced,  on 
occasion  of  the  <Mithridatic  war,  a  geographical  account  of 
the  shores  and  countries  bordering  on  the  Euxine,  in  the  same 
manner  as  he  enters  into  a  topographical  description  of  Africa, 
in  his  history  of  the  Jugurthine  war.  This  part  of  his  woA 
has  been  much  applauded  by  ancient  writers  for  exactness  and 
liveliness;  and  is  frequently  referred  to,  asKhe  highest  authority) 
by  Strabo,  Pomponius  Mela,  and  other  geographers. 

Besides  his  historical  works,  there  exist  two  political  di^ 
courses,  concerning  the  administration  of  the  government,  Id 
the  form  of  letters  to  Julius  Cesar,  which  have  generally) 
though  not  on  sufficient  grounds,  been  attributed  to  the  pea 
of  Sallust*. 

As  Sallust  has  obviously  imitated,  and,  in  fact,  resembles 
Thucydides,  so  has 


JULIUS  CJISAR, 

in  his  historical  works,  been  compared  to  Xenophon,  the  first 
piemoir  writer  among  the  Greeks.  Simplicity  is  the  charac- 
teristic  of  both,  but  Xenophon  has  more  rhetorical  flow  and 
sweetness  of  style,  and  he  is  sometimes,  I  think,  a  little 
mawkish ;  while  the  simplicity  of  Caesar,  on  the  other  baiid, 
borders,  {perhaps,  on  severity.  Caesar,  too,  though  often  cir- 
cumstantial, is  never  diffuse,  while  Xenophon  is  frequently 
prolix,  without  being  minute  or  accurate.  *'In  the  Latia 
work,"  says  Young,  in  his  History  of  Athens^  "  we  have  the 
commentaries  of  a  general  vested  with  supreme  command,  and 
who  felt  no  anxiety  about  the  conduct  or  obedience  of  his 
army — in  the  Greek,  we  possess  the  journal  of  an  officer  in 
subordinate   rank,  though  of  high  estimation.     Hence  the 

*  It  is  curious  into  what  Ktow  Uundera  the  moat  learned  aod  accurate  vrilMSf^' 
casionally  fall.  Fabriciua,  speaking  of  these  letters,  says,  "  Du9  oiationes  ^^s 
epistolae  potius)  de  Rep.  ordinanda  ad  Cesarem  mi8S«,  cum  in  Hispanias  pfoficuc^ 
retur  contia  Petreium  et  Afranium,  victo  Cta.  Pomp€io,**~^Sibliothec^  Latm- 1^^ 
I.  c.  9. 


CiESAR.  96 

speeches  of  the  one  are  replete  with  imperatorial  dignity, 
those  of  the  other  are  delivered  with  the  conciliatory  arts  of 
argument  and  condescension.  Hence,  too,  the  mind  of  Xeno- 
phon  was  absorbed  in  the  care  and  discipline  of  those  under 
his  command ;  but  thence  we  are  better  acquainted  with  the 
Greek  army  than  with  that  of  Ceesar.  Ceesar's  attention  was 
ever  directed  to  those  he  was  to  attack,  to  counteract,  or  to  op- 
pose— Xenophon's  to  those  he  was  to  conduct.  For  the  same 
reason,  Xenophon  is  superficial  with  respect  to  any  peculiar- 
ities of  the  nations  he  passed  through ;  while  in  Caesar  we 
have  a  curious,  and  well-authenticated  detail,  relative  to  the 
Gauls,  the  Britons,  and  every  other  enemy.  The  comparison, 
however^  holds  in  this,  that  Csesar,  like  Xenophon,  was  pro- 
perly a  writer  of  Memoirs.  Like  him,  he  aimed  at  nothing 
farther  than  communicating  facts  in  a  plain  familiar  manner ; 
and  the  account  of  his  campaigq  was  only  drawn  up  as  mate- 
rials for  future  history,  not  having  leisure  to  bestow  that 
ornament  and  dress  which  history  requires."  In  the  opinion 
of  his  contemporaries,  however,  and  all  subsequent  critics,  he 
has  rendered  desperate  any  attempt  to  write  the  history  of  the 
wars  of  which  he  treats.  "Dum  voluit,"  says  Cicero,  '^  alios 
habere  parata,  unde  sumerept,  qui  vellent  scribere  historiam, 
sanos  quidem  homines  a  scribendo  deterruit."  A  similar 
opinion  is  given  by  his  continuator  Hirtius, — "  Adeo  proban- 
tur  omnium  judicio  ut  prserepta,  non  preebita,  facultas  scripto- 
ribus  videatur." 

Caesar's  Commentaries  consist  of  seven  books  of  the  Gallic, 
and  three  of  the  civil  wars.  Some  critics,  however,  particularly 
Floridus  Sabinus*,  deny  that  he  was  the  author  of  the  books 
on  the  latter  war,  while  Carrio  and  Ludovicus  Caduceus  doubt 
of  his  being  the  author  even  of  the  Gallic  war, — the  last  of 
these  critics  attributmg  the  work  to  Suetonius.  Hardouin, 
who  believed  that  most  of  the  works  now  termed  classical. 
Were  forgeries  of  the  monks  in  the  thirteenth  century,  also 
tried  to  persuade  the  world,  that  the  whole  account  of  the 
Gallic  campaigns  was  a  fiction,  and  that  Caesar  had  never 
drawn  a  sword  in  Gaul  in  his  life.  The  testimony,  however, 
of  Cicero  and  Hirtius,  who  were  contemporary  with  Ccesar,— 
of  nmny  authentic  writers,  who  lived  after  him,  as  Suetonius, 
Strabo,  and  Plutarch, — and  of  all  the  old  grammarians,  must 
be  considered  as  settling  the  question;  for  if  such  evidence  is 
not  implicitly  trusted,  there  seems  to  be  an  end  of  all  reliance 
on  ancient  authority. 

Though  these  Commentaries  comprehend  but  a  small  extent 

*  LeeHoncM  Subteciva,  Lib.  I.  c^  8.  Lib.  IL  c.  3. 


i 


96  CiESAIL 

of  timey  and  are  not  the  general  history  of  a  nation,  they  cm* 
brace  events  of  the  highest  importance,  and  they  detail,  per- 
haps, the  greatest  military  operations  to  be  found  in  ancieDt 
story.  We  see  in  them  all  that  is  great  and  consummate  in 
the  art  of  war.     The  ablest  commander  of  the  most  martial 

Psople  on  the  globe  records  the  history  of  his  own  campaigns, 
laced  at  the  head  of  the  finest  army  ever  formed  in  the  world, 
and  one  devoted  to  his  fortunes,  but  opposed  by  military  skill 
and  prowess  only  second  to  its  own,  he,  and  the  soldiers  be 
commanded,  may  be  almost  extolled  in  the  words  in  which 
Nestor  praised  the  heroes  who  had  gone  before  him: — 

for  th^  Gauls  and  Germans  were  among  the  bravest  and  most 
warlike  nations  then  on  earthy  and  Pompey  was  accounted  the 
roost  consummate  general  of  his  age.  No  commander,  it  is 
universally  admitted,  ever  had  such  knowledge  of  the  mecha- 
nical part  of  war :  He  possessed  the  complete  empire  of  the 
sea,  and  was  aided  by  all  the  influence  derived  from  the  con- 
stituted authority  of  the  state. 

Perhaps  the  most  interesting  part  of  the  whole  Commenta- 
ries, is  the  account  of  the  campaign  in  Spain  against  Afta- 
nios  and  Petreius,  in  which  Caesar,  being  reduced  to  extremi- 
ties for  want  of  provisions  and  forage^  (in  consequence  of  the 
bridges  over  the  rivers,  between  which  he  had  encamped,  be- 
ing broken  down,)  extricated  himself  from  this  situation,  after 
a  variety  of  skilful  manoeuvres,  and  having  pursued  Pompej's 
generals  into  Celtiberia,  and  back  again  to  Lerida,  forced 
their  legions  to  surrender,  by  placing  them  in  tho^  verj 
difiiculties  from  which  he  had  so  ably  relieved  his  own  army* 

It  is  obvious  that  the  greater  part  of  such  Commentaries 
must  be  necessarily  occupied  with  the  detail  of  warlike  ope- 
rations. The  military  genius  of  Rome  breathes  through  the 
whole  work,  and  it  comprehends  all  the  varieties  which  war- 
fare offers  to  our  interest,  and  perhaps,  undue  admiration- 
pitched  battles,  afltiirs  of  posts,  encampments,  retreats,  marches 
in  face  of  the  foe  through  woods  and  over  plains  or  mountaioSf 
passages  of  rivers,  sieges,  defence  efforts,  and  those  still  more 
interesting  accounts  of  the  spirit  and  discipline  of  the  ene- 
mies' troops,  and  the  talents  of  their  generals.  In  his  clear 
and  scientific  details  of  military  o|>erations,  Caesar  is  reckoned 
superior  to  every  writer,  except,  perhaps,  Polybius.  Soine 
persons  have  thought  he  was  too  minute,  and  that,  by  describ- 
ing every  evolution  performed  in  a  battle,  be  has  rendered  his 


CAESAR.  97 

relations  somewhat  crowded.    But  this  wag.  his  principle,  and 
it  served  the  design  of  the  author. 

As  he  records  almost  nothing  at  which  he  was  not  person- 
ally present,  or  heard  of  from  those  acting  under  his  immediate 
directions,  he  possessed  the  best  information  with  regard  to 
everything  of  which  he  wrote^.  In  general,  when  he  speaks 
of  himself,  it  is  without  affectation  or  arrogance.  He  talks  of 
Csesar  as  of  an  indifferent  person,  and  always  maintains  the 
character  which  he  has  thus  assumed ;  indeed,  it  can  hardly 
be  conceived  that  he  had  so  small  a  share  in  the  great  actions 
he  describes,  as  appears  from  his  own  representations.  With 
exception  of  the  false  colours  with  which  he  disguises  his  am- 
bitious projects  against  the  liberties  of  his  country,  everything 
seems  to  be  told  with  fidelity  and  candour.  Nor  is  there  any 
very  unfair  concealment  of  the  losses  he  may  have  sustained  : 
be  ingenuously  acknowledges  his  own  disaster  in  the  affair  at 
Dyracchium ;  he  admits  the  loss  of  960  men,  and  the  complete 
frustration  of  his  whole  plan  for  the  campaign.  When  he 
relates  bis  successes,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  with  moderation- 
There  is  the  utmost  caution,  reserve,  and  modesty,  in  his  ac- 
count of  the  battle  of  Pharsalia;  and  one  would  hardly  con- 
ceive that  the  historian  had  any  share  in  the  aqtion  or  victory. 
He  in  general  acknowledges,  that  the  events  of  war  are  be- 
yond human  control,  and  ascribes  the  largest  share  of  success 
to  the  power  of  fortune.  The  rest  he  seems  willing  to  attri- 
bute to  the  valour  of  his  soldiers,  and  the  good  conduct  of  his 
inilitary  associates.  Thus  he  gives  the  chief  credit  and  glory 
of  the  great  victory  over  Ariovistus  to  the  presence  of  mind 
displayed  by  Crassus,  who  promptly  made  the  signal  to  a  body 
of  men  to  advance  and  support  one  of  the  wings  which  was 
overpowered  by  the  multitude  of  the  enemy,  and  was  begin- 
ning to  give  way.  He  does  not  even  omit  to  do  justice  to  the 
distinguished  and  generous  valour  of  the  two  centurions,  Pul- 
fio  and  Varenus,  or  of  the  centurion  Sextius  Baculus,  during 
the  alarming  attack  by  the  Sicambri.  On  the  other  handi 
when  be  has  occasion  to  mention  the  failure  of  his  friends,  as 
in  relating  Carious  defeat  and  death  in  Africa,  he  does  it  with 
tenderness  and  indulgence.  Of  his  enemies,  he  speaks  with- 
out insult  or  contempt ;  and  even  in  giving  his  judgment  upon 
&  great  military  question,  though  he  disapproves  Pompey's 
niode  of  waiting  for  the  attack  at  Pharsalia,  his  own  reasons 

*Ashiiu8  PoUlo,  however,  as  we  learn  from  Suetonius,  tfaougfat  that  the  Com- 
mentaries were  drawn  up  with  little  care  or  aceuracy,  that  the  author  was  very  cre- 
dulous as  to  the  actions  of  others,  and  that  he  had  very  hastily  written  down  what 
'cgauded  himself,  with  the  intention,  which  he  never  aecompHsbed,  of  afteiwards 
revising  and  correcting. — Sueton.  m  Ctssor.  c.  fiS. 

Vol.  II.— N 


98  CiESAIL 

for  a  contrary  opinion  are  urged  with  deference  and  candoor. 
The  confident  hopes  which  were  entertained  in  Pompey's 
canop — the  pretensions  and  disputes  of  the  leading  senators, 
about  the  division  of  patronage  and  officers,  and  the  confisca- 
tions which  were  supposed  to  be  just  falling  within  their 
grasp)  furnished  him  with  some  amusing  anecdotes,  which  it 
must  have  been  difficult  to  resist  inserting;  nor  can  we  won- 
der, that  while  all  the  preparations  for  celebrating  the  antici- 
pated victory  with  luxury  and  festivity,  were  matters  of  ocular 
observation,  he  should  have  devoted  some  few  passages  in  his 
Commentaries,  to  recording  the  vanity  and  presumption  of 
such  fond  expectations.  Labienus,  who  had  deserted  him, 
and  Scipio,  who  gave  him  so  much  trouble,  by  rekindling  the 
war,  are  those  of  whom  he  speaks  with  the  greatest  rancour, 
in  relating  the  cruelty  of  the  former,  and  the  tyrannical  inge- 
nious rapacity  of  the  latter*. 

Whatever  concerns  the  events  of  the  civil  war  coald  not 
easily  have  been  falsified  or  misrepresented.  So  many  enemies, 
who  had  been  eye-witnesses  of  everything,  survived  that 
period,  that  the  author  could  scarcely  have  swerved  from  the 
truth  without  detection.  But  in  his  contests  with  the  Gaais, 
and  Germans,  and  Britons,  there  was  no  one  to  contradict  him. 
Those  who  accompanied  him  were  devoted  to  his  fame  and 
fortunes,  and  interested  like  himself  in  exalting  the  glory  of 
these  foreign  exploits.  That'  he  has  varnished  over  the  real 
motives,  and  also  the  issue^  of  his  expedition  to  Britain  has  been 
frequently  suspected.  The  reason  he  himself  assigns  for  the  un- 
dertaking is,  that  he  understood  supplies  had  been  thence  fur- 
nished to  the  enemy,  in  almost  all  the  Gallic  wars;  but  Sue- 
tonius assertfi,  that  the  information  he  had  received  of  the 
quantity  and  size  of  the  pearls  on  the  British  coast,  was  his 
real  inducement.  Fourteen  short  chapters  in  the  fourth  book 
of  the  Gallic  war,  relate  his  first  visit,  and  his  hasty  return ; 
and  sixteen  in  the  fifth,  detail  his  progress  in  the  following 
summer.  These  chapters  have  derived  importance  from  coa- 
taining  the  earliest  authentic  memorials  of  the  inhabitants  and 
state  of  this  island ;  and  there  has,  of  course,  been  much  dis- 
cussion on  the  genuine  though  imperfect  notices  they  afford. 
Various  tracts,  chiefly  published  in  the  ^rclutologiaj  have 
topographically  followed  the  various  steps  of  Ccesar's  progress, 
particularly  his  passage  across  the  Thames,  and  have  debated 
the  situation  of  the  Portus  Iccius,  from  which  he  embarked  for 
Britain. 

Caesar's  occasional  digressions  concerning  the  manners  of 

*  Bankes,  Ciml  MsL  of  Rome,  Vol.  II. 


CiESAR,-  99 

the  Gauls  and  (xennan8,are  also  highly  interesting  and  instruc- 
tive, and  are  the  only  accounts  to  be  at  all  depended  on  with 
regard  to  the  institutions  and  customs  of  these  two  great  na- 
tions, at  that  remote  period.  In  Gaul  he  had  remained  so 
long,  and  had  so  thoroughly  studied  the  habits  and  customs 
of  its  people  for  his  own  political  purposes,  that  whatever  is 
delivered  concerning  that  country,  may  be  confidently  relied 
on.  His  intercourse  with  the  German  tribes  was  occasional, 
and  chiefly  of  a  military  description.  Some  of  his  observations 
on  their  manners — as  their  hospitality,  the  continence  of  their 
youth,  and  the  successive  occupation  of  different  lltnds  by  the 
same  families — are  confirmed  by  Tacitus ;  but  in  other  par- 
ticulars, especially  in  what  relates  to  their  religion,  he  is  con- 
tradicted by  that  great  historian.  Caesar  declares  that  they 
have  no  sacrifices,  and  know  no  gods,  but  those,  like  the  Sun 
or  Moon,  which  are  visible,  and  whose  benefits  they  enjoy*. 
Tacitus  informs  us,  that  their  chief  god  is  Mercury,  whom  they 
appease  by  human  victims  ;  that  they  also  sacrifice  animals  to 
Hercules  and  Mars  ;  and  adore  that  Secret  Intelligence,  which 
is  only  seen  in  the  eye  of  mental  venerationf .  The  researches 
of  modern  writers  have  also  thrown  some  doubts  on  the  accu- 
racy of  Caesar's  German  topography ;  and  Cluverius,  in  particu- 
lar, has  attempted  to  show,  that  he  has  committed  many  errors 
in  speaking  both  of  the  Germans  and  BataviansJ. 

As  the  Commentaries  of  Ce&sar  do  not  pretend  to  the  elabo- 
rate dignity  of  history,  the  author  can  scarcely  be  blamed  if 
he  has  detailed  his  facts  without  mingling  many  reflections  or 
observations.  He  seldom  inserts  a  political  or  characteristic 
remark,  though  he  had  frequent  opportunities  for  both,  in  de- 
scribing such  singular  people  as  the  Gauls,  Germans,  and 
Britons.  But  his  object  was  not,  like  Sallust  or  Tacitus,  to 
deduce  practical  reflections  for  the  benefit  of  his  reader,  or  to 
explain  the  political  springs  of  the  transactions  he  relates. 
His  simple  narrative  was  merely  intended  for  the  gratification 
of  those  Roman  citizens,  whom  he  had  already  persuaded  to 
favour  his  ambitious  projects ;  yet  even  .they,  I  think,  might 
have  wished  to  have  heard  something  more  of  what  may  be 
called  the  military  motives  of  his  actions.     He  tells  us  of  his 

*  Neque  Dniides  habent,  qui  rebus  divinis  prssiat ;  oeque  sacrificiiB  student. 
Deorom  numero  eos  solos  ducunt,  quos  cerouDt,  et  quorum  opibus  aperte  juvantUf 
—Solem,  et  YulcaQum,  et  Lunam :  reliquos  ne  famii  quidein  acceperunt.  Lib.  YI. 
C.21. 

t  Deonim  maxima  Mercurium  cdlunt,  cui,  certis  diebus»  humanis  quoque  hostiis, 
litaie  las  babent.  Herculem  ac  Martem  conc&<isis  animalibus  placant .  .  Lucoa  ac 
nemora  consecrant,  deoramque  nomlnibus  appelUuoit  Secretum  iUud«  quod  soU  reve? 
rentti  vident.    DeMor.  Gtrm.  c.  9. 

X  Qtrm,  Jbitiqua,  Lib.  I.  c.  9. 


1 


100  CJE8AR. 

marches,  retreatti  and  encampotentt,  but  seldom  sdBcieDilj 
explains  the  grounds  on  which  these  warlike  measures  were 
undertaken — ^how  they  advanced  his  own  plans,  or  frustrated 
the  designs  of  the  enemy.  More  insight  into  the  military  vievs 
by  whicri  he  was  prompted,  would  have  given  additional  Id- 
terest  and  animation  to  his  narrative,  and  afforded  ampler  les- 
sons of  instruction. 

No  person,  I  presume,  wishes  to  be  toM,  for  the  twentieth 
time,  that  the  style  of  Caesar  is  remarkable  for  clearness  and 
ease,  and  a  simplicity  more  truly  noble  than  the  pomp  of 
words.  Perhaps  the  most  distinguishing  characteristic  of  his 
style,  is  its  perfect  equality  of  expression.  There  was,  in  the 
mind  of  Caviar,  a  serene  and  even  dignity.  In  temper,  oothiog 
appeared  to  agitate  or  move  him — ^in  conduct,  nothing  diverted 
him  from  the  attainment  of  his  end.  In  like  manner,  in  his 
style,  there  is  nothing  swelling  or  depressed,  and  not  ooe  word 
.occurs  which  is  chosen  for  the  mere  purpose  of  embellishaieot 
The  opinion  of  Cicero,  who  compared  the  style  of  Caesar  to 
the  unadorned  simplicity  of  an  ancient  Greek  statue,  may  be 
considered  as  the  highest  praise,  since  he  certainly  entertained 
no  favourable  feelings  towards  the  author ;  and  the  style  was 
very  different  from  that  which  he  himself  employed  in  bis  ha- 
rangues, or  philosophical  works,  or  even  in  his  correspondence. 
**  Nudi  sunt,''  says  he,  **  recti,  et  venusti,  omni  ornata  ora- 
tionis  tanquam  veste  detracto."  This  exquisite  purity  vas 
not  insensibly  obtained,  as  the  Leelian  and  Mucian  Families 
are  said  to  have  acquired  it,  by  domestic  habit  and  lamito 
conversation,  but  by  assiduous  study  and  thorough  knowledge 
of  the  Latin  language"^,  and  the  practice  of  literary  composition, 
to  which  Csesar  had  been  accustomed  from  his  earliest  yoatbf. 

But,  however  admirable  for  its  purity  and  elegance,  the 
style  of  Caesar  seems  to  be  somewhat  deficient,  both  in  vivacity 
and  vigour.  Walchius,  too,  has  pointed  out  a  few  words, 
which  he  considers  not  of  pure  Latinity,  as  ambadut,  a  tern 
employed  by  the  Gauls  and  Germans  to  signify  a  servant-' 
also  mlncorarii  fun^s,  a  word  nowhere  else  used  as  an  adjec- 
tive— ^iniemittere  for  premittere^  and  summo  magiafy'atu  pr^ 
iverat  for  magistratuil.  The  use  of  such  words  as  coOabefiff^\ 
cantabulatio,  detrimmiosum,  explicUius^  matmiarij  ^^^ 
lead  us  to  suspect  that  Csesar  had  not  always  attended  to  the 
rule  which  he  so  strongly  laid  down  in  his  book,  De  AnaloS^^ 

•  BnttuSt  c.  71.  , 

I  t  See  Plutarch  M  Cefnare,  wbere  it  is  related  tint  Cestr  wrote  vetttf  ^ 
epeeches,  and  read  them  to  the  pirates  by  whom  he  was  taken  prisoner,  oa  "^ 
letum  to  Rome  from  Bithynia,  where  he  bad  sought  refuge  book  tile  powv  of  9^"' 

t  mu.  Critic.  Ling.  Lai.  p.  6S7. 


CJBSAR.  101 

to  avoid,  as  a  rock,  every  uausual  word  or  expresiioa«  Berge- 
rus,  in  an  immense  quarto,  entitled  DejSTcUuroUi  i*ulchritudine 
OrationiSy  has  at  great  k^gth  attempted  to  show  that  Csesar 
had  anticipated  all  the  precepts  subsequently  delivered  by 
Longinusy  for  reaching  the  utmost  excellence  and  dignity  of 
composition.  He  points  out  his  conformity  to  these  rules,  in 
what  he  conceives  to  be  the  abridgments,  amplifications, 
transitions,  gradations, — in  short,  all  the  various  figures  and 
ornaments  of  speech,  which  could  be  employed  by  the  most 
pedantic  rhetorician ;  and  he  also  critically  examines  those  few 
words  ai\d  phrases  of  questionable  purity,  which  are  so  thinly 
scattered  through  the  Commentaries. 

Mankind  usually  judge  of  a  literary  composition  by  its  in- 
trinsic merit,  vvitfaout  taking  into  consideration  the  age  of  the 
author,  the  celerity  with  which  it  was  composed,  or  the  various 
circomstances  under  which  it  was  written ;  and  in  this,  per- 
haps, they  act  not  unjustly,  since  their  business  is  with  the 
work,  and  not  with  the  qualities  of  the  author.  But  were  such 
things  to  be  taken  into  view,  it  should  be  remembered,  that 
these  Memoirs  were  hastily  drawn  up  during  the  tumult  and 
anxiety  of  campaigns,  and  were  jotted  down  from  day  to  day, 
without  care  or  premeditation.  '^  Ceteri,''  says  Hirtius,  the 
companion  of  Cssar's  expeditions,  and  the  continuator  of  his 
Commentaries, — '^  Ceteri  quam  bene  atque  emendate ;  nos 
etiam  quam  iacile  atque  celeriter  eos  perscripserit  scimus." 

The  Commentaries,  De  BeUo  Gcdlico,  and  De  Bello  CivUij 
are  the  only  productions  of  Csesar  which  remain  to  us.  Seve- 
ral ancient  writers  Sjpeak  of  his  Ephemeris,  or  Diary;  but  it 
has  been  doubted  whether  the  work,  so  termed  by  Plutarch, 
Servius,  Symmachus,  and  several  others, 'be  the  same  book  as 
the  Commentaries,  or  a  totally  different  production.  The 
former  opinion  is  adopted  by  Fabricius,  who  thinks  that  Ephe- 
mem,  or  Ephemerides^  is  only  another  name  for  the  Commen- 
taries, which  in  fact  may  be  considered  as  having  been  written 
in  the  manner  and  -form  of  a  diary.  He  acknowledges,  that 
several  passages,  cited  by  Servius,  as  taken  from  these  Ephe- 
merides^  are  not  now  to  be  found  in  the  Commentaries;  but 
then  he  maintains  that  there  are  evidently  defects  {Iocutub) 
in  the  latter  work ;  and  he  conjectures  that  the  words  quoted 
by  Servius  are  part  of  the  lost  passages  of  the  Conunentaries. 
This  opinion  is  fi>llowed  by  Vossius,  who  cites  a  sort  of  Colo- 
phon at  the  end  of  one  of  the  oldest  MSS.  of  the  Commen- 
taries, which  he  thinks  decisive  of  the  question,  as  it  shows 
that  the  term  Ephemeris  was  currently  applied  to  them. — ^^  C. 
J«  Csesaris,  P.  M.  Ephemeris  rerum  Gestarum  Belli  Gallici^  Lib. 
VIIL  explicit  feliciter." 


102  CiESAR. 

Bayle,  in  his  Dictionary,  has  supported  the  opposite  theory. 
He  believes  the  Ephemeris  to  have  been  a  journal  of  the  au- 
thor's life.  He  admits,  that  a  passage  which  Plutarch  quotes 
as  from  the  Ephemeris^  occurs  also  in  the  fourth  book  of  the 
Commentaries ;  but  then  he  maintains,  that  it  was  impossible 
for  CaBsar  not  to  have  frequently  mentioned  the  same  thing  in 
his  Commentaries  and  Journal,  and  he  thinks,  that  had  Plu- 
tarch meant  to  allude  to  the  former,  he  would  have  called 
them,  not  Ephemeris^  but  i^^rofAvrjfMxra,  as  Strabo  has  termed 
'  them.  Besides,  Polysenus  mentions  divers  warlike  stratagems, 
as  recorded  by  Caesar,  which  are  not  contained  in  the  Com- 
mentaries, and  which,  therefore,  could  have  been  explained 
only  in  the  separate  work  Ephemeris. 

There  are  still  some  fragments  remaining*  of  the  letters 
which  CsBsar  addressed  to  the  Senate  and  his  friends,  and  also 
of  his  orations,  which  were  considered  as  inferior  only  to  those 
of  Cicero.  Of  his  rhetorical  talents,  something  may  be  here- 
after said.  It  appears  that  his  qualities  as  an  orator  and 
historian,  were  very  different,  since  vehemence  and  the  power 
of  exciting  emotion,  (concitatio,)  are  mentioned  as  the  cha- 
racteristics of  his  harangues.  Some  of  them  were  delivered 
in  behalf  of  clients,  and  on  real  business,  in  the  Forum ;  but 
the  two  orations  entitled  Anticatones  were  merely  written  in 
the  form  and  manner  of  accusations  before  a  judicial  tribunal. 
These  rhetorical  declamations,  which  were  composed  about 
the  time  of  the  battle  of  Munda,  were  intended  as  an  answer 
to  the  laudatory  work  of  Cicero,  called  Laua  Catonia.  The 
author  particularly  considered  in  them  the  last  act  of  Cato  at 
Utica,  and  has  raked  up  all  the  vices  and  defects  of  his  cha- 
racter, whether  real  or  imputed,  public  or  private, — his  ambi- 
tion, affectation  of  singularity,  churlishness,  and  avarice ;  but 
as  the  ^inticatonea  were  seasoned  with  lavish  commendations 
of  Cicero,  whose  panegyric  on  Cato  they  were  intended  to 
confute,  the  orator  felt  much  flattered  with  the  dictatorial  in- 
cense, and  greatly  admired  the  performances  in  which  it  was 
offered, — ^'  CoUegit  vitia  Catonis,  sed  cum  maximis  laudibi^ 
meis*." 

These  two  rival  works  were  much  celebrated  at  Borne ;  and 
both  of  them  had  their  several  admirers,  as  different  parties 
and  interests  disposed  men  to  favour  the  subject,  or  the  author 
of  each.  It  seems  also  certain,  that  they  were  the  principal 
cause  of  establishing  and  promoting,  that  veneration  which 

Posterity  has  since  paid  to  the  memory  of  Cato ;  for  his  name 
eing  thrown  into  controversy  in  that  critical  period  of  the 

^  Epist,  ad  MHc,  Lib.  XII.  ep.  40. 


CiESAR.  103 

fate  of  Rome,  by  the  patron  of  liberty  on  one  side,  and  its  op- 
pressor on  the  other,  it  became  a  kind  of  political  test  to  all 
succeeding  ages,  and  a  perpetual  argument  of  dispute  between 
the  friends  of  freedom,  and  the  flatterers  of  power*.  The 
controversy  was  taken  up  by  Brutus,  the  nephew,  and  Fabius 
Gallus,  an  admirer  of  Cato:  it  was  renewed  by  Augustus,  who 
naturally  espoused  the  royal  side  of  the  question,  and  by 
Thraseas  Paetus,  who  ventured  on  this  dangerous  topic  during 
the  darkest  days  of  imperial  despotism. 

Csesar's  situation  as  Pontifex  Maxim  us  probably  led  him  to 
write  the  Jluguralia  and  Libri  AuspuAoTum^  which,  as  their 
names  import,  were  books  explaining  the  ditierent  auguries  and 
presages  derived  from  the  flight  of  birds.  To  the  same  circum- 
stance we  may  attribute  his  work  on  the  motions  of  the  stars,  De 
Motu  Siderum^  which  explains  what  he  had  learned  in  Egypt 
on  that  subject  from  Sosigenes,  a  peripatetic  philosopher  of 
Alexandria,  and  in  which,  if  we  may  credit  the  elder  Pliny, 
he  prognosticated  his  own  death  on  the  ides  of  Marchf . 

The  composition  of  the  works  hitherto  mentioned  naturally 
enough  suggested  itself  to  a  high-priest,  warrior,  and  poli- 
tician, who  was  also  fond  of  literature,  and  had  the  same  com- 
mand of  his  pen  as  of  his  sword.  But  it  appears  singular,  that 
one  so  much  occupied  with  war,  and  with  political  schemes 
for  the  ruin  of  his  country,  should  have  seriously  employed 
himself  in  writing  formal  and  elaborate  treatises  on  grammar. 
There  is  no  doubt,  however,  that  he  composed  a  work,  in  two 
books,  on  the  analogies  of  the  Latin  tongue,  which  was  ad- 
dressed tO'Cicero,  and  was  entitled,  like  the  preceding  work 
of  Varro  on  the  same  subject,  De  Analogia.  It  was  written, 
as  we  are  informed  by  Suetonius,  wjiile  crossing  the  Alps,  on 
his  return  to  the  army  from  Hither  Gaul,  where  he  had  gone 
to  attend  the  assemblies  of  that  province];.  In  this  book,  the 
great  principle  established  by  him  was,  that  the  proper  choice 
of  words  formed  the  foundation  of  eloquence'^ ;  and  he  cau- 
tioned authors  and  public  speakers  to  avoid  as  a  rock  every 
unusual  word  or  unwonted  expression ||.  His  declensions,  how- 
ever, of  some  nouns,  appear,  at  least  to  us,  not  a  little  strange 
— as  turbOf  turbonis,  instead  of  turbinis^ ;  and  likewise  his 
inflections  of  verbs, — as,  mardeo,  memordi;  pungo,  p^pugi; 
spondeo^  apepondi^f.  He  also  treated  of  derivatives;  as  we  are 
informed,  that  he  derived  ens  from  the  verb  sum^  eSy  est;  and 
of  rules  of  grammar, —  as  that  the  dative  and  ablative  singular 

♦  Middlcton's  Life  ef  Cicero,  Vol.  II.  p.  847,  2d  ed. 

t  Bisi.  JVat.  Lib.  XVIII.  c  26.  t  Suelon.  In  Casar.  c.  56. 

§  Cicero,  Brutus,  c.  72.  ||  Au.  Gelling,  JVoct.  Mtic.  Lib.  L  c.  10. 

^  Charidiw,  Lib.  I.  *t  Au.  GelUus,  Lib.  Vll.  c.  9. 


104  CiESAR. 

of  neuters  in  e  are  the  same,  as  .also  of  neuters  in  ar^  except 
far  9ikAjiibar.  It  appears  that  he  even  descended  to  the  most 
minute  consideration  of  orthography  and  the  formation  of  let- 
ters ;  Thus,  he  was  of  opinion,  that  the  letter  V  should  be 
formed  like  an  inverted  F,  —thus  j, — because  it  has  the  force 
of  the  iEolic  digamma.  Cassiodorus  farther  mentions,  that,  in 
the  question  with  regard  to  the  use  of  the  u  or  t  in  such  words 
as  maxwmus  or  numtmitf,  Caesar  gave  the  preference  to  t;  and, 
from  such  high  authority,  this  spelling  was  adopted  in  general 
practice. 

It  has  been  said,  that  Cssar  also  made  a  collection  of 
apophthegms  and  anecdotes,  in  the  style  of  our  modern  Ana; 
but  Augustus  prevented  these  from  being  made  public.  That 
emperor  likewise,  in  a  letter  to  Pompeius  Macrus,  to  whom  he 
had  given  the  charge  of  arranging  his  library,  prohibited  the 
publication  of  several  poetical  effusions  of  Caesar's  youth. 
These  are  said  to  have  consisted  of  a  tragedy  on  the  subject 
of  (Edipus,  and  a  poem  in  praise  of  Hercules*.  Another 
poem,  entitled  Iter  was  written  by  him  in  maturer  age.  It  is 
said,  by  Suetonius,  to  h&ve  been  composed  when  he  reached 
Farther  Spain,  on  the  twenty-fourth  day  after  his  departure 
from  Romef ;  and  it  may  therefore  be  conjectured  to  have 
been  a  poetical  relation  of  the  incidents  which  occurred  dur- 
ing that  journey,  embellished,  perhaps,  with  descriptions  of 
the  most  striking  scenery  through  which  he  passed.  Two 
epigrams,  which  are  still  extant,  have  also  been  frequently  at* 
tributed  to  him ;  one  on  the  dramatic  character  of  Terence, 
already  quoted|,  and  another  on  a  Thracian  boy,  who,  while 
playing  on  the  ice,  fell  into  the  river  Hebrus^r— 


C( 


Thrax  puer,  astricto  grlacie  dam  ludetet  HebrO,"  Uc. 


But  this  last  is,  with  more  probability,  supposed  by-many  to 
have  been  the  production  of  Caesar  Germanicus. 

There  were  also  several  useful  and  important  works  accora* 
plished  under  the  eye  and  direction  of  Csesar,  such  as  the  gra* 
phic  survey  of  the  whole  Roman  empire.  Extensive  as  their 
conquests  had  been,  the  Romans  hitherto  had  done  almost 
nothing  for  geography,  considered  as  a  science.  Their  know- 
ledge was  confined  to  the  countries  they  had  subdued,  and 
them  they  regarded  only  with  a  view  to  the  levies  they  could 
furnish,  and  the  taxations  they  could  endure.  Caesar  was  the 
first  who  formed  more  exalted  plans.  iEthiqus,  a  writer  of  the 
fourth  century,  informs  us,  in  the  preface  to  his  Coemograpkiiay 

*  Sueton.  In  Casar.  c.iM».  t  tt>id. 

X  See  above.  Vol.  I.  p.  204. 


HIRTIUS.  105 

that  this  great  man  obtained  a  senatuaamfvUum^  by  which  a 
geometrical  survey  and  measurement  of  the  whole  Roman  em- 
pire was  enjoined  to  three  geometers.  Xenodoxus  was  charged 
with  the  eastern,  Polycletus  with  the  southern,  and  Theodotus 
with  the  northern  provinces.  Their  scientific  labour  was  im* 
mediately  commenced,  but  was  not  completed  till  more  than 
thirty  years  after  the  death  of  him  with  whom  the  undertaking 
had  originated.  The  information  which  Caesar  had  received 
from  the  astronomer  Sosigenes  in  Egypt,  enabled  him  to  alter 
and  amend  the  Roman  calendar.  It  would  be  foreign  from 
my  purpose  to  enter  into  an  examination  of  this  system  of  the 
Julian  year,  but'  the  computation  he  adopted  has  been  ex- 
plained, as  is  well  known,  by  Scaliger  and  Gassendi*  ;  and  it 
has  been  since  maintained,  with  little  farther  alteration  than 
that  introduced  by  Pope  Gregory  XIIL  When  we  consider 
the  imperfection  of  all  mathematical  instruments  in  the  time  of 
Caesar,  and  the  total  want  of  telescopes,  we  cannot  but  view 
with  admiration,  not  unmixed  with  astonishment,  that  compre- 
hensive genius,  which,  in  the  infancy  of  science,  could  sur- 
mount such  difficulties,  and  compute  a  system,  that  experi- 
enced but  a  trifling  derangement  in  the  course  of  sixteen 
centuries. 

Although  CsBsar  wrote  with  his  own  hand  only  seven  books 
of  the  Gallic  campaigns,  and  the  history  of  the  civil  wars  till 
the  death  of  his  great  rival,  it  seems  highly  probable,  that  he 
revised  the  last  or  eighth  book  of  the  Gallic  war,  and  commu- 
nicated information  for  the  history  of  the.  Alexandrian  and 
African  expeditions,  which  are  now  usually  published  along 
with  his  own  Commentaries,  and  may  be  considered  as  their 
supplenaent,  or  continuation.  The  author  of  these  works, 
which  nearly  complete  the  interesting  story  of  the  campaigns 
of  Csesar,  was  Aulus  Hirtius,  one  of  his  most  zealous  foUowerSi 
and  most  confidential  friends.  He  had  been  nominated  Con- 
sul for  the  year  following  the  death  of  his  master;  and,  after 
that  event,  having  espoused  the  cause  of  freedom,  he  was  slain 
in  the  attack  made  by  the  forces  of  the  republic  on  Antony's 
camp,  near  Modena. 

The  eighth  book  of  the  Gallic  war  contains  the  account  of 
the  renewal  of  the  contest  by  the  states  of  Gaul,  after  the  sur- 
render of  Alesia,  and  of  the  difierent  battles  which  ensued,  at 
most  of  which  Hirtius  was  personally  present,  till  the  final 
pacification^  when  Csesar,  learning  the  designs  which  were 
forming  against  him  at  Rome,  set  out  for  Italy. 

*  See  also  Blondellus,  Hist  du  CaUndrier  Bomam.  Paris,  1682,  4to;  Bian- 
chtnus,  Diuert.  de  Calendario  et  Cfyclo  CtBtans^  Rom.  1708,  folio ;  and  Court  do 
Oebelin,  Monde  Primit.  T.  IV. 

Vol.  II.— O 


s 

106  HIRTIUS. 

Cflssar,  in  the  conclusion  of  the  third  hock  of  the  Civil  War, 
mentions  the  commencement  of  the  Alexandrian  war.  Hir- 
tins  was  not  personally  present  at  the  succeeding  events  of 
this  Egyptian  contest,  in  which  Caesar  was  involved  with  the 
generals  of  Ptolemy,  nor  during  his  rapid  campaigns  in  Pontus 
against  Pharnaces,  and  against  the  remains  of  the  Poropeian 
party  in  Africa,  where  they  had  assembled  under  Scipio,  and 
Doing  supported  by  Juba,  still  presented  a  formidable  appear- 
ance. He  collected,  however,  the  leading  events  from  the 
conversation  of  Caesar*,  and  the  officers  who  were  engaged  in 
these  campaigns.  He  has  obviouslv  imitated  the  style  of  his 
master;  and  the  resemblance  whicn  he  has  Happily  attained, 
has  given  an  appearance  of  unity  and  consistence  to  the  whole 
series  of  these  well-written  and  authentic  memoirs.  It  appears 
that  Hirtius  carried  down  the  history  even  to  tlie  death  of 
Csesar,  for  in  his  preface  addressed  to  Balbus,  he  says,  that  he 
had  brought  down  what  was  left  imperfect  from  the  transac- 
tions at  Alexandria,  to  the  end,  not  of  the  civil  dissensions,  to 
a  termination  of  which  there  was  no  prospect^  but  of  the  life 
of  CsBsarf . 

This  latter  part,  however,  of  the  Commentaries  of  Hirtius, 
has  been  lost,  as  it  seems  now  to  be  generally  acknowledged 
that  he  was  not  the  author  of  the  book  De  BtUo  Hispamco^ 
which  relates  CsBsar's  second  campaign  in  Spain,  undertaken 
against  young  Cneius  Pompey,  who,  having  assembled,  in  the 
ulterior  province  of  that  country,  those  of  his  father's  party 
who  had  survived  the  disasters  in  Thessaly  and  Africa,  and 
being  joined  by  some  of  the  native  states,  presented  a  formi- 
dable resistance  to  the  power  of  Csesar,  till  his  hopes  were 
terminated  by  the  decisive  battle  of  Munda.  Dodwell,  indeed, 
in  a  Dissertation  on  this  subject,  maintains,  that  it  was  origi- 
nally written  by  Hirtius,  but  was  interpolated  by  Julius  Celsus, 
a  Constantinopolitan  writer  of  the  6th  or  7th  century.  Vos- 
sius,  however,  whose  opinion  is  that  more  commonly  received, 
attributes  it  to  Caius  Oppius|,  who  wrote  the  Lives  of  Illus- 
trious Captains,  and  also  a  book  to  prove  that  the  iEgyptiaa 
Caesario  was  not  the  son  of  Caesar.  Oppius  was  Caesar's  con- 
fidential friend,  and  companion  in  many  of  his  enterprises ;  and 
it  was  to  him,  as  we  are  informed  by  Suetonius,  that  Cassar 
gave  up  the  only  apartment  at  an  inn,  while  they  were  travel- 

*  Mihi  oon  ilhid  quidem  accidlt,  ut  Alezandrino  atque  Afncaoo  beUo  intereflsen; 
que  bella  tamen  ex  parte  nobis  Cesaria  sermone  aunt  oota.    De  Bell,  GaiL  lib. 
VIII. 
^  t  Imperfecta  ab  rebus  gestis  Alexandria  confeci,  usque  ad  exitum,  ooo  quidem 
cvrtSiB  dissensionis,  cuius  finem  nullum  videmus,  sed  vHk  Ccaaria.    De  BelL  GaO 
t  De  m»t.  Dot.  Lib.  I.  c.  18. 


ATHCUS. 


1 07 


ling  in  Graul,  and  lay  himself  on  the  gronnd,  and  in  the  open 
air*. 

A  fragment  has  been  added  at  the  end  of  this  book,  on  the 
Spanish  war,  by  Jungerman,  from  a  MS.  of  Petavius.  Vossius 
thinks  that  this  fragment  was  taken  from  the  Commentaries, 
called  those  of  Julius  Celsus,  on  the  Life  of  Cssar,  published 
in  1473.  These  Commentaries,  however,  were  the  work  of  a 
Christian  writer ;  but  Julius  Celsus,  a  Constantinopolitan  of  the 
6th  century,  already  mentioned,  having  revised  the  Commen- 
taries of  CcBsar,  the  work  on  his  life  came,  (from  the  confusion 
of  names,  or  perhaps  from  a  fiction  devised,  to  give  the  stamp 
of  authority,)  to  be  attributed  to  Julius  Celsus,  who  was  con- 
temporary with  Caesar,  and  was  reported  to  have  written  a  his- 
tory of  his  campaigns ;  just  in  the  same  way  as  a  fabulous  life 
of  Alexander,  produced  in  the  middle  ages,  passes  to  this  day 
under  the  name  of  Callisthenes,  the  historiographer  of  the 
Macedonian  manarch. 

There  is  no  other  historian  of  the  period  on  which  we  are  now 
engaged,  of  whose  works  even  any  fragments  have  descended 
to  us.  Atticus,  however,  wrote  Memoirs  of  Rome  from  the  ear- 
liest periods,  and  also  memoirs  brits  pnncTpaT  families,  as  the 
Junian,  Cornelian,  and  Fabian,— tracing  their  origin,  enumerat- 
ing their  honours,  and  recording  their  exploits.  At  the  same 
time  Lucceius  composed  Histories  of  the  Social  War,  and  of 
the  Civil  Wars  of  Sylla,  which  were  so  highly  esteemed  by 
Cicero,  that  he  urges  him  in  one  of  his  letters  to  undertake  a 
history  of  his  consulship,  in  which  he  discovered  and  suppres- 
sed the  conspiracy  of  Catilinef.  From  a  subsequent  letter  to 
Atticus  we  learn  that  Lucceius  had  promised  to  accomplish 
the  task  suggested  to  him{.  It  is  probable,  however,  that  it 
never  was  completed, — his  labour  having  been  interrupted  by 
the  civil  wars,  in  which  he  followed  the  fortunes  of  Pompey, 
and  was  indeed  one  of  his  chief  advisers  in  adopting  the  fatal 
resolution  of  quitting  Italy. 

The  Annals  of  Procilius,  which  appeared  at  this  period,  may 
be  conjectured  to  have  comprehended  the  whole  series  of  Ro« 
man  history,  frotn  the  building  of  the  city  to  his  own  time ; 
since  Varro  quotes  him  for  the  account  of  Curtius  throwing 
himself  into  the  *  gulf^,  and  Pliny  refers  to  him  for  some  re- 
marks with  regard  to  the  elephants  which  appeared  at  Pom- 
pey's  African  triumph  ||. 

Brutus  is  also  said  to  have  written  epitomes  of  tl)e  meagre 
and  barren  histories  of  Fannius  and  Antipater.    That  he  should 


*  Saeten.  M  Cmtar.  c.  72. 

X  Ub.  IV.  Ep.  6. 

II  m^.  J^at,  I4b.  Vm.c.  2. 


t  Bpi$U  FamU.  Lib.  V.  Ep.  12, 
§  De  Lmg,  Lot.  Lib.  IV. 


} 


106  ROMAN  ORATORY. 

have  thought  of  abridging  narratives  so  proTorbially  dry  and 
jejune,  seems  altogether  inexplicable. 

The  works  of  an  historian  called  Cfficina  have  ako  perished, 
and  if  we  may  trust  to  his  own  account  of  them,  their  loss  is 
not  greatly  to  be  deplored.  In  one  of  his  letters  to  Cicero  he 
says,  "  From  much  have  I  been  compelled  to  refraio,  many 
things  f  have  been  forced  to  pass  over  lightly,  many  to  curtail, 
and  very  many  absolutely  to  omit.  Thus  circumscribed,  re- 
stricted, and  broken  as  it  is,  what  pleasure  or  what  useful  in- 
formation can  be  expected  from  the  recital*^" 

We  have  thus  traced  the  progress  of  historical  compositioa 
among  the  Romans,  from  its  commencement  to  the  tinae  of 
Augustus.  There  is  no  history  so  distinguished  and  adorned 
as  the  Roman,  by  illustrious  characters ;  and  the  circumstances 
which  it  records  produced  the  greatest  as  well  as  most  perma- 
nent empire  that  ever  existed  on  earth.  The  interest  of  the 
early  events,  and  the  value  of  the  conclusions  to  be  drawn 
from  them,  are  much  diminished  by  their  uncertainty.  Sub- 
sequently, however,  to  the  second  Punic  war,  the  Roman  his- 
torians were,  for  the  most  part,  themselves  engaged  in  the 
affairs  of  which  they  treat,  and  had  therefore,  at  least,  the 
roost  perfect  means  of  communicating  accurate  information. 
But  this  advantage,  which,  in  one  point  of  view,  is  so  prodi- 
gious, was  attended  with  .concomitant  evils.  Lucian,  in  his 
treatise.  How  History  ought  to  be  Written,  says,  that  the  au- 
thor of  this  species  of  composition  should  be  abstracted  from 
all  connection  with  the  persons  and  things  which  are  its  sub- 
jects ;  that  he  should  be  of  no  country  and  no  party ;  that  be 
should  be  free  from  all  passion,  and  unconcerned  who  is  plea- 
sed or  offended  with  what  he  writes.  Now,  the  Roman  histo- 
rians of  the  era  on  which  we  are  engaged  were  the  slaves  of 
party  or  the  heads  of  factions  ;  and  even  when  superior  to  all 
petty  interests  or  prejudices,  they  still  show  plainly  that  they 
are  Romans.  None  of  them  stood  impartially  aloof  from  their 
subject,  or  supplied  the  wtint  of  historians  of  Carthage  and  of 
Gaul,  by  whom  their  narratives  might  be  corrected,  and  their 
colouring  softened. 

Of  all  Uie  arts  next  to  war,  Eloquence  was  of  most  import- 
ance in  Rome ;  since,  if  the  former  led  to  the  conquest  of  for- 
eign states,  the  latter  opened  to  each  individual  a  path  to 
empire  and  dcnninion  over  the  minds  of  his  fellow  citisensf . 

*  EpUt.  F^mU.  Lib.  VI.  Ep.  7. 

t  "  Due  sunt  artes,"  says  Cicero, "  que  possont  loeiire  homines  in ) 
gimdu  dignitatis :  una  imperatoris,  altera  oratons  boni :  Ab  hoc  enim  pads 
retinentiir ;  ab  iUo  belli  peiicuk  repeDontur."    Oral,  pr0  MurmnOf  c  14. 


ROMAN  ORATORY.  109 

Withoot  this  art,  wisdom  itself,  in  the  estimation  of  Cicero, 
could  be  of  little  avail  for  the  advantage  or  glory  of  the  com* 
monwealth*. 

During  the  existence  of  the  monarchy,  and  in  the  early  age 
of  the  republic,  law  proceediogs  were  not  numerous.  Many 
civil  suits  were  prevented  by  the  absolute  dominion  which  a 
Roman  father  exercised  over  his  family ;  and  the  rigour  of  the 
decemviral  laws,  in  which  all  the  proceedings  were  extreme, 
frequently  concussed  parties  into  an  accommodation;  while,  at 
the  same  time,  the  purity  of  ancient  manners  had  not  yet  given 
rise  to  those  criminal  questions  of  bribery  and  peculation  at 
home,  or  of  oppression  and  extortion  in  the  provinces,  which 
disgraced  the  closing  periods  of  the  commonwealth,  and  fur* 
nished  themes  for  the  glowing  invective  of  Cicero  and  Horten- 
sius.  Hence  there  was  little  room  for  the  exercise  of  legal 
oratory ;  and  whatever  eloquence  may  have  shone  forth  in  the 
early  ages  of  Rome,  was  probably  of  a  political  description, 
and  exerted  on  affairs  of  state. 

From  the  earliest  times  of  the  republic,  history  records  the 
wonderful  effects  which  Junius  Brutus,  Publicola,  and  Appius 
Claudius,  produced  by  their  harangues,  in  allaying  seditions, 
and  thwarting  pernicious  counsels.  Dionysius  of  Ualicamas* 
sus  gives  us  a  formal  speech,  which  Romulus,  by  direction  of 
his  grandfather,  made  to  the  people  after  the  building  of  the 
city,  on  the  subject  of  the  government  to  be  establishedf . 
There  are  also  long  orations  of  Servius  Tullius ;  and  great  part 
of  the  Antiquities  of  Dionysius  is  occupied  with  senatorial 
debates  during  the  early  ages  of  the  republic.  But  though 
the  orations  of  these  fathers  of  Roman  eloquence  were  doubt- 
less delivered  with  order,  gravity;  and  judgment,  and  may  have 
possessed  a  masculine  vigour,  well  calculated  to  animate  the 
courage  of  the  soldier,  and  protect  the  interests  of  the  state, 
we  must  not  form  our  opinion  of  them  from  the  long  speeches 
in  Dionysius  and  Livy,  or  suppose  that  they  were  adorned 
with  any  of  that  rhetoric  art  with  which  they  have  been 
invested  by  these  historians.  A  nation  of  outlaws,  destined 
from  their  cradle  to  the  profession  of  arms, —  taught  only  to 
hurl  the  spear  or  javelin,  and  inure  their  bodies  to  other  mar* 
tial  exercises, — with  souls  breathing  only  conquest, — and  re- 
garded as  the  enemies  of  every  state  till  they  had  become  its 
masters,  could  have  possessed  but  few  topics  of  illustration  or 
embellishment,  and  were  not  likely  to  cultivate  any  species  of 
rhetorical  refinement.    To  convince  by  solid  arguments  when 

*  Ratio  ipn  in  hanc  tententiam  dudt,  ut  ezistunem  sapientiam  sine  eloquentia 
yunm  prodease  dvitadbus.    Ehetorieorum,  Lib.  I.  c.  1. 
t  Lib.U. 


no  SER.  GALBA. 

their  cause  was  good,  and  to  fill  their  fellow-citizens  with 
passions  corresponding  to  those  with  which  they  were  them- 
selves animated,  would  be  the  great  objects  of  an  eloquence 
supplied  by  nature  and  unimproved  by  study.  Ctuintilian  ac- 
cordingly informs  us,  that  though  there  appeared  in  the  ancient 
orations  some  traces  of  original  genius,  and  much  force  of  ar- 
gument, they  bore,  in  their  rugged  and  unpolished  periods,  the 
signs  of  the  times  in  which  they  were  delivered. 

With  exception  of  the  speech  of  Appius  Claudius  to  oppose 
a  peace  with  Pyrrhus,  there  are  no  harangues  mentioned  by 
the  Latin  critics  or  historians  as  possessing  any  charms  of 
oratory,  previously  to  the  time  of  Cornelius  Cethegus,  who 
flourished  during  the  second  Punic  war,  and  was  Consul  about 
the  year  550.  Cethegus  was  particularly  distinguished  for 
his  admirable  sweetness  of  elocution  and  powers  of  persuasioo, 
whence  he  is  thus  characterized  by  Ennius,  a  contemporary 
poet,  in  the  9th  book  of  his  Annals : 

<*  Additur  orator  Comtlius  suaviloquenti 
Ore  Cethegus  Marcus,  Tuditano  colleea ; 
Flos  delibatus  pepuli,  suadeque  meduUa.'* 

The  orations  of  Cato  the  Censor  have  been  already  men- 
tioned as  remarkable  for  their  rude  but  masculine  eloquence. 
When  Cato  was  in  the  decline  of  life,  a  more  rich  and  copious 
mode  of  speaking  at  length  began  to  prevail.  Ser.  Galba,  bj 
the  warmth  and  animation  of  his  delivery,  eclipsed  Cato  and 
all  his  contemporaries.  He  was  the  first  among  the  Romans 
who  displayed  the  distinguishing  talents  of  an  orator,  by  em- 
bellishing his  subject, — by  digressing,  amplifying,  entreating, 
and  employing  what  are  called  topics,  or  common-places  of 
discourse.  On  one  occasion,  while  defending  himself  against 
a  grave  accusation,  he  melted  his  judges  to  compassion,  by 
producing  an  orphan  relative,  whose  father  had  been  a  favour- 
ite of  the  people.  When  his  orations,  however,  were  afterwards 
reduced  to  writing,  their  fire  appeared  extinguished,  and  they 
preserved  none  of  that  lustre  with  which  his  discourses  are 
said  to  have  shone  when  given  forth  by  the  living  orator. 
Cicero  accounts  for  this  from  his  want  of  sufficient  study  and 
art  in  composition.  While  his  mind  was  occupied  and  wanned 
by  the  subject,  his  language  was  bold  and  rapid ;  but  when  he 
took  up  the  pen,  his  emotion  ceased,  and  the  periods  fell  lan- 
guid from  its  point;  ''which,"  continues  he,  '^ never  happened 
to  those  who,  having  cultivated  a  more  studied  and  polished 
style  of  oratory,  wrote  as  they  spoke.  Hence  the  mind  of  Ls- 
lius  yet  breathes  in  his  writings,  though  the  force  of  Galba  has 
failed."    It  appears,  however,  from  an  anecdote  recorded  by 


LiEUUS.  Ill 

Cicero,  that  Gkilba  was  esteemed  the  first  orator  of  his  age  by 
the  judges,  the  people,  and  Laelius  himself. — Lselius,  being 
intrusited  with  the  defence  of  certain  persons  suspected  of 
having  committed  a  murder  in  the  Silian  forest,  spoke  for  two 
days,  correctly,  elegantly,  and  with  the  approbation  of  all, 
after  which  the  Consuls  deferred  judgment.  He  then  recom- 
mended the  accused  to  carry  their  cause  to  Galba,  as  it  would 
be  defended  by  him  with  more  heat  and  vehemence.  Galba, 
in  consequence,  delivered  a  most  forcible  and  pathetic  haran- 
gue, and  after  it  was  finished,  his  clients  were  absolved  as  if 
by  acclamation*.  Hence  Cicero  surmises,  that  though  Lselius 
might  be  the  more  learned  and  acute  disputant,  Galba  pos- 
sessed more  power  over  the  passions ;  he  also  conjectures,  that 
the  former  had  more  elegance,  but  the  latter  more  force ;  and 
he  concludes,  that  the  orator  who  can  move  or  agitate  his 
judges,  farther  advances  his  cause  than  he  who  can  instruct 
them. 

Lselius  is  also  compared  by  Cicero  with  his  friend,  the 
younger  Scipio  Africanus,  in  whose  presence,'  this  question 
concerning  the  Silian  murder  was  debated.  They  were  al- 
most equally  distinguished  for  their  eloquence ;  and  they  re- 
sembled each  other  in  this  respect,  that  they  both  invariably 
delivered  themselves  in  a  smooth  manner,  and  never,  like 
Galba,  exerted  themselves  with  loudness  of  speech  or  violence 
of  gesturef ;  but  their  style  of  oratory  was  different, — Laelius 
affecting  a  much  more  ancient  phraseology  than  that  adopted 
by  his  friend.  Cicero  himself  seems  inclined  most  to  admire 
the  rhetoric  of  Scipio ;  but  he  says,  that,  being  so  renowned 
a  captain,  and  mankind  being  unwilling  to  allow  supremacy 
to  one  individual,  in  what  are  considered  as  the  two  greatest 
of  arts,  his  contemporaries  for  the  most  part  awarded  to  Lsb- 
lius  the  palm  of  eloquence. 

The  intercourse  which  was  by  this  time  opening  up  with 
Greece,  and  the  encouragement  now  afforded  to  Greek  teach- 
ers, who  always  possessed  the  undisputed  privilege  of  dicta- 
ting the  precepts  of  the  arts,  produced  the  same  improvement 
in  oratory  that  it  had  effected  in  every  branch  of  literature. 
Marcus  Emilius  Lepidus  was  a  little  younger  than  Galba  or 
Scipio,  and  was  Consul  in  617.  From  his  orations,  which 
were  extant  in  the  time  of  Cicero,  it  appeared  that  he  was  the 
first  who,  in  imitation  of  the  Greeks,  gave  harmony  and  sweet- 
ness to  his  periods,  or  the  graces  of  a  style  regularly  polished 
and  improved  by  art. 

Cicero  mentions  a  number  of  other  orators  of  the  same  age 

*  Mruiu$y  c.  22.  j  De  Orat.  Lib.  !.  c:  60. 


112  THE  GRACCHI. 

with  Lepidus,  and  minutely  paints  their  peculijr  styles  of 
rhetoric.  We  find  among  them  the  names  of  almost  all  the 
eminent  men  of  the  period,  as  Emilius  Paulus,  Scipio  Nasics, 
and  Mucins  ScaeYola.  The  importance  of  eloquence  for  the 
purposes  of  political  aggrandizement,  is  sufficiently  evinced, 
from  this  work  of  Cicero,  De  Claris  Orataribufiy  since  there 
is  scarcely  an  orator  mentioned,  even  of  inferior  note,  who 
did  not  at  this  time  rise  to  the  highest  offices  in  the  state. 

The  political  situation  of  Rome,  and  the  internal  inquietude 
which  now  succeeded  its  foreign  wars,  were  the  great  promo- 
ters of  eloquence.  We  hear  of  no  orators  in  Sparta  or  Crete, 
where  the  severest  discipline  was  exercised,  and  where  the 
people  were  governed  by  the  strictest  laws.  But  Rhodes  and 
Athens,  places  of  popular  rule,  where  all  things  were  opca 
to  all  men,  swarmed  with  orators.  In  like  manner,  Rome, 
when  most  torn  with  civil  dissensions,  produced  the  bright- 
est examples  of  eloquence.  Cicero  declares,  that  wisdom 
without  eloquence  was  of  little  service  to  the  state*  ;  and  from 
the  political  circumstances  of  the  times,  that  sort  of  oratory  was 
most  esteemed  which  had  most  sway  over  a  restless  and  un- 
governable multitude.  The  situation  of  public  affairs  occa- 
sioned those  continual  debates  concerning  the  Agrarian  Laws, 
and  the  consequent  popularitv  acquired  by  the  most  factious 
demagogues.  Hence,  too,  those  frequent  impeachments  of 
the  great — those  ambitious  designs  of  the  patricians — those 
hereditary  enmities  in  particular  families^in  fine,  those  io* 
cessant  struggles  between  the  Senate  and  plebeians,  which, 
though  all  prejudicial  to  the  commonwealth,  contributed  to 
swell  and  ramify  that  rich  vein  of  eloquence,  which  now  flowed 
so  profusely  through  the  agitated  frame  of  the  state.  During 
the  whole  period  previous  to  the  actual  breaking  out  of  the 
civil  wars,  when  the  Romans  turned  the  sword  against  each 
other,  and  the  mastery  of  the  world  depended  on  its  edge,  ora- 
tory continued  to  open  the  most  direct  path  to  dignities. 
The  farther  a  Roman  citizen  advanced  in  this  career,  so  much 
nearer  was  he  to  preferment,  so  much  the  greater  his  reputa- 
tion with  the  people ;  and  when  elevated  to  the  dignified 
offices  of  the  state,  so  much  the  higher  his  ascendancy  over 
bis  colleagues. 

The  Gracchi  were  the  genuine  offspring,  and  their  elo- 
quence the  natural  fruits  of  these  turbulent  times.  Till  tlieir 
age,  oratory  had  been  a  sort  of  Arcanum  imperii^ — an  instru* 
ment  of  government  in  the  power  of  the  Senate,  who  used 
every  precaution  to  retain  its  exclusive  exercise.    It  was  the 

*  JRhetoric,  $eu  Jh  LwentionCi  Lib.  I.  c«  1. 


THE  GRACCHI.  113 

great  bolwrark  that  withstood  the  tide  of  popular  passion,  and 
weakened  it  so  as  not  to  beat  too  high  or  strongly  on  their 
own  order  and  authority.  The  Gracchi  not  only  broke  down 
the  embankment,  but  turned  the  flood  against  the  walls  of  the 
Senate  itself.  The  interests  of  the  people  had  never  yet  been 
espoused  by  men  endued  with  eloquence  equal  to  theirs.  Ci- 
cero, while  blaming  their  political  conduct,  admits  that  both 
were  consummate  orators ;  and  this  he  testifies  from  the  re- 
collection of  persons  still  surviving  in  his  day,  and  who  remem- 
bered their  mode  of  speaking.  Indeed,  the  wonderful  power 
which  both  brothers  exercised  over  the  people  is  a  sufficient 
proof  of  their  eloquence.  Tiberius  Gracchus  was  the  first 
who  made  rhetoric  a  serious  study  and  art.  In  his  boyhood, 
he  was  carefully  instructed  in  elocution  by  his  mother  Corne- 
lia :  he  also  constantly  attended  the  ablest  and  most  eloquent 
masters  from  Greece,  and,  as  he  grew  up,  he  bestowed  much 
time  on  the  exercise  of  private  declamation.  It  is  not  likely, 
that,  gifled  as  he  was  by  nature,  and  thus  instructed,  the 
powers  of  eloquence  should  long  have  remained  dormant  in  his 
bosom.  At  the  time  when  he  first  appeared  on  the  turbulent 
stage  of  Roman  life,  the  accumulation  of  landed  property 
among  a  few  individuals,  and  the  consequent  abuse  of  exorbi- 
tant wealth,  had  filled  Italy  with  slaves  instead  of  citizens — 
had  destroyed  the  habits  of  rural  industry  among  the  people  at 
large,  and  leaving  only  rich  masters  at  the  head  of  numerous 
and  profligate  servants,  gradually  rooted  out  those  middle 
classes  of  society  which  constitute  the  strength,  the  worth,  and 
the  best  hopes  of  every  well-regulated  commonwealth.  It  is 
said,  that  while  passing  through  Etruria  on  his  way  to  Numan-; 
tia,  Tiberius  Gracchus  found  the  country  almost  depopulated 
of  freemen,  and  thence  first  formed  the  project  of  his  Agrarian 
law,  which  was  originally  intended  to  correct  the  evils  arising 
from  the  immense  landed  possessions  of  the  rich,  by  limiting 
them  to  the  .number  of  acres  specified  in  the  ancient  enact- 
ments*, and  dividing  the  conquered  territories  among  the 
poorer  citizens*  Preparatory  to  its  promulgation,  he  was 
wont  to  assemble  the  people  round  the  rostrum,  where  he 
pleaded  for  the  poor,  in  language  of  which  we  have  a  speci- 
men in  Plutarch :  ^^  The  wild  beasts  of  Italy  have  their  dens  to 
retire  to — their  places  of  refuge  and  repose ;  while  the  brave 
men  who  shed  their  blood  in  the  cause  of  their  country,  have 
nothing  left  but  fresh  air  and  sunshine.  Without  houses, 
without  settled  habitations,  they  wander  from  place  to  place 
with  their  wives  and  children  ;  and  their  commanders  do  but 

*  Plutarch^  M  TOer.  Graeeho. 

Vol.  H.— P 


114  THE  GRACCHI. 

mock  them,  when,  at  tlie  head  of  their  armies,  they  exhort 
their  soldiers  to  fight  for  their  sepulchres  and  altars.  For, 
among  such  numbers,  there  is  not  one  Roman  who  has  an 
altar  which  belonged  to  his  ancestors,  or  a  tomb  in  which  their 
ashes  repose.  The  private  soldiers  fight  and  die  to  increase 
the  wealth  and  luxury  of  the  great ;  and  they  are  styled  sove- 
reigns of  the  world,  while  they  have  not  a  foot  of  ground  they 
can  call  their  own*."  By  such  speeches  ^s  these,  the  people 
were  exasperated  to  fury,  and  the  Senate  was  obliged  to  hafe 
recourse  to  Octavius,  who,  as  one  of  the  tribunes,  was  the  col- 
league of  Gracchus,  to  counteract  the  eflfects  of  his  aniniated 
eloquence.  Irritated  by  this  opposition,  Gracchus  abandoned 
the  first  plan  of  his  law,  which  was  to  give  indemnification 
firom  the  public  treasury  to  those  who  should  be  deprived  of 
their  estates,  and  proposed  a  new  bill,  by  which  they  were  en- 
joined forthwith  to  quit  those  lands  which  they  held  conti^ry 
to  previous  enactments.  On  this  subject  there  were  daily 
disputes  between  him  and  Octavius  on  the  rostrum.  Finding 
that  his  plans  could  not  otherwise  be  accomplished  he  resolved 
on  the  expedient  of  deposing  his  colleague ;  and  thenceforth, 
to  the  period  of  his  death,  his  speeches  (one  of  which  is  pre- 
served by  Plutarch)  were  chiefly  delivered  in  persuasion  or 
justification  of  that  violent  measure. 

Caius  Gracchus  was  endued  with  higher  talents  than  Tibe- 
rius, but  the  resentment  he  felt  on  account  of  his  brother's 
death,  and  eager  desire  for  vengeance,  led  him  into  measures 
which  have  darkened  his  character  with  the  shades  of  the 
demagogue.  At  the  time  of  his  brother's  death  he  had  only 
reached  the  age  of  twenty.  In  early  youth,  he  distinguished 
himself  by  the  defence  of  one  of  his  friends  named  Vettius,  and 
eharmed  the  people  by  the  eloquence  which  he  exerted.  He 
appears  soon  afterwards  to  have  been  impelled,  as  it  were,  by 
a  sort  of  destiny,  to  the  same  political  course  which  had  pro- 
ved fatal  to  his  brother,  and  which  terminated  in  his  own  de- 
struction His  speeches  were  all  addressed  to  the  people,  and 
were  delivered  in  pro]>osing  laws,  calculated  to  increase  their 
authority,  and  lessen  that  of  the  Senate, — as  those  for  colonix- 
ing  the  public  lands,  and  dividing  them  among  the  poor;  for 
regulating  the  markets,  so  as  to  diminish  the  price  of  bread, 
and  for  vesting  the  judicial  power  in  the  knights.  A  fragment 
of  his  speech,  De  Legibue  Promulgatis,  is  said  to  have  been 
recently  discovered,  with  other  classical  remains,  in  the  Am- 
brosian  Library.  AulusGellius  also  quotes  from  this  harangue, 
a  passage^  in  which  the  orator  complained  that  some  respect- 

^  Buttrcb,  in  Tiber.  Graeeho. 


THE  GRACCHI.  115 

able  citizens  of  a  municipal  town  in  Italy  had  been  scourged 
with  rods  by  a  Roman  magistrate.  Geliius  praises  the  c(»n- 
ciseness,  neatness,  and  gra«^eful  ease  of  the  narrative,  resemb- 
ling dramatic  dialogue,  in  which  this  incident  was  related. 
Similar,  but  only  similar  qualities,  appear  in  his  accusation  of 
the  Roman  legate,  who,  while  travelling  to  Asia  in  a  litter, 
caused  a  peasant  to  be  scourged  to  death,  for  having  asked 
his  slaves  if  it  was  a  corpse  they  were  carrying.  ''The  rela- 
tion of  these  events,"  says  Geliius,  "  does  not  rise  above  the 
level  of  ordinary  conversation.  It  is  not  a  person  complain- 
ing or  imploring,  but  merely  relating  what  had  occurred ;" 
and  he  contrasts  this  tameness  with  the  energy  and  ardour 
with  which  Cicero  has  painted  the  commission  of  a  like  enor- 
mity by  Verres*. 

Though  similar  in'^many  points  of  character  and  also  in  their 
political  conduct,  there  was  a  marked  difference  in  the  style  of 
eloquence,  and  forensic  demeanour,  of  the  two  brothers.  Ti- 
berius, in  his  looks  and  gestures,  was  mild  and  composed—- 
Caius,  earnest  and  vehement;  so  that  when  they  spoke  in  pub- 
lic, Tiberius  had  the  utmost  moderation  in  his  action,  and 
moved  not  from  his  place :  whereas  Caius  was  the  first  of  the 
Romans,  who,  in  addressing  the  people,  walked  to  and  fro  in 
the  rostrum,  threw  his  gown  off  his  shoulder,  smote  his  thigh, 
and  exposed  his  arm  baref .  The  language  of  Tiberius  was 
laboured  and  accurate,  that  of  Caius  bold  and  figurative.  The 
oratory  of  the  former  was  of  a  gentle  kind,  and  pity  was  the 
emotion  it  chiefly  raised — that  of  the  latter  was  strongly  im- 
passioned, and  calculated  to  excite  terror.  In  speaking,  in- 
deed, Caius  was  often  so  hurried  away  by  the  violence  of  his 
passion,  that  he  exalted  his  voice  above  the  regular  pitch, 
indulged  in  abusive  expressions,  and  disordered  the  whole 
tenor  of  his  oration.  In  order  to  guard  against  such  excesses, 
he  stationed  a  slave  behind  him  with  an  ivory  flute,  which  was 
modulated  so  as  to  lead  him  to  lower  or  heighten  the  tone  of 
bis  voice,  according  as  the  subject  required  a  higher  or  a 
softer  key.  ''The  flute,"  says  Cicero,  "you  may  as  well  leave 
at  home,  but  the  meaning  of  the  practice  you  must  remember 
at  the  bar^." 

In  the  time  of  the  Gracchi,  oratory  became  an  object  of 
assiduoua  and  systematic  study,  and  of  careful  education.  A 
youth,  intended  for  the  profession  of  eloquence,  was  usually 
introduced  to  one  of  the  most  distinguished  orators  of  the  city, 

*  JVoct.  AUU.  Lib.  X.  c.  8.  f  Plutarch,  in  Tib.  Qrauho, 

%  De  Orator.  Lib.  Ill  c.  60.    Plutarch  and  Cicero's  accounts  of  the  eloquence 

of  C.  Gracchus,  seem  not  quite  conaisteDt  with  what  b  deliveied  oa  die  mtjeet  by 
G«llius. 


116  THE  GRACCHI. 

whom  he  attended  when  he  had  occasion  to  speak  in  any  pub- 
lic or  private  cause,  or  iu  the  assemblies  of  the  people,  by 
which  means  he  heard  not  only  him,  but  every  other  fiimom 
speaker.  He  thus*  became  practically  acquainted  with  busi- 
ness and  the  courts  of  justice,  and  learned  the  arts  of  oratoric 
conflict,  as  it  were,  in  the  field  of  battle*  ''  It  animated,"  sajs 
the  author  of  the  dialogue  De  Causis  Corrupts  Eloqueniie, 
— ^*  it  animated  the  courage,  and  quickened  the  judgment  of 
youth,  thus  to  receive  their  instructions  in  the  eye  of  the  world, 
and  in  the  midst  of  afiairs,  where  no  one  could  advance  no 
absurd  or  weak  argument,  without  being  exposed  by  his  ad- 
versary, and  despised  by  the  audience.  Hence,  they  had  aho 
an  opportunity  of  acquainting  themselves  with  the  various  sen- 
timents of  the  people,  and  observing  what  pleased  or  disgusted 
them  in  the  several  orators  of  the  Forum.  By  these  means 
they  were  furnished  with  an  instructor  of  the  best  and  most 
improving  kind,  exhibiting  not  the  feigned  resemblance  of 
eloquence,  but  her  real  and  lively  manifestation — ^not  a  pre- 
tended but  genuine  adversary,  armed  in  earnest  for  the  cooh 
bat— ^n  audience  ever  full  and  ever  new,  composed  of  foes 
as  well  as  of  friends,  and  amongst  whom  not  a  single  expres- 
sion could  fall  but  was  either  censured  or  applauded." 

The  minute  attention  paid  by  the  younger  orators  to  all  tke 
proceedings  of  the  courts  of  justice,  is  evinced  by  the  fi«g- 
ment  of  a  Diary,  which  was  kept  by  one  of  them  in  the  time 
of  Cicero,  and  in  which  we  have  a  record,  during  two  days,  of 
the  various  harangues  that  were  delivered,  and  the  judgments 
that  were  pronounced*. 

Nor  were  the  advantages  to  be  derived  from  fictitious  on- 
torical  contests  long  denied  to  the  Roman  youth.  The  prac- 
tice of  declaiming  on  feigned  subjects,  wasintroduced  atRooie 
about  the  middle  of  its  seventh  century.  The  Greek  rhetori- 
cians, indeed,  had  been  expelled,  as  well  as  the  ]^ilosopbers, 
towards  the  close  of  the  preceding  century;  but,  in  the  year 
661,  Plotius  Callus,  a  Latin  rhetorician,  opened  a  declaiming 
school  at  Rome.  At  this  period,  however,  the  declamations 
l^enerally  turned  on  questions  of  real  business,  and  it  was  not 
till  the  time  of  Augustus,  that  the  rhetoricians  so  far  prevailed, 
as  to  introduce  common-place  arguments  on  fictitious  sub- 
jects. 

The  eloquence  which  had  originally  been- cultivated  for 
seditious  purposes,  and  for  political  advancement,  began  now 
to  be  considered  by  the  Roman  youth  as  an  elegant  accom- 
plishment.    It  was  probably  viewed  in  the  same  light  that  we 

*  Funcciu8,27e  VwiU JEtate Lot.  ZAng.c.  1.§S4. 


ANTONY.  lit 

regard  horsemanship  or  dancing,  and  continued  to  be  so  in 
the  age  of  Horace— 

"  Namque,  et  nobilis,  et  deeens, 

Et  pro  sollicitis  non  tacitus  reis, 
Et  centum  puer  artium, 

Lat^  gigna  feret  militis  tiue*.^' 

Under  all  these  circumstances  it  is  evident,  that  in  the  mid* 
die  of  the  seventh  century  oratory  would  be  neglected  by 
none;  and  in  an  art  so  sedulously  studied,  and  universally 
practised,  many^must  have  been  proficients.  It  would  be 
endless  to  enumerate  all  the  public  speakers  mentioned  by 
Cicero,  whose  catalogue  is  rather  extensive  and  dry.  We 
may  therefore  proceed  to  those  two  orators,  whom  he  comme- 
morates as  having  first  raised  the  glory  of  Roman  eloquence 
to  an  equality  with  that  of  Greece — Marcus  Antonius,  and 
Lucius  Crasstts. 

The  former,  simamed  Oratory  and  grandfather  of  the  cele- 
brated triumvir,  was  the  most  employed  patron  of  his  time; 
and,  of  all  his  contemporaries,  was  chiefly  courted  by  clients, 
as  he  was  ever  willing  to  undertake  any  cause  which  was  pro* 
posed  to  him.  He  possessed  a  ready  memory,  and  remarkable 
talent  of  introducing  everything  where  it  could  be  placed 
with  most  effect.  He  had  a  frankness  of  manner  which  pre- 
cluded any  suspicion  of  artifice,  and  gave  to  all  his  orations 
an  appearance  of  being  the  unpremeditated  efiusions  of  an 
honest  heart.  But  though  there  was  no  apparent  preparation 
in  his  speeches,  he  always  spoke  so  well,  that  the  judges  were 
never  sufliciently  prepared  against  the  effects  of  his  eloquence. 
His  language  was  not  perfectly  pure,  or  of  a  constantly  sus- 
tained elegance,  but  it  was  of  a  solid  and  judicious  character, 
well  adapted  to  his  purpose — his  gesture,  too,  was  appropiate, 
and  suited  to  the  sentiments  and  language — his  voice  was  strong 
and  durable,  though  naturally  hoarse — but  even  this  defect  he 
turned  to  advantage,  by  fi'equently  and  easily  adopting  a 
mournful  and  querulous  tone,  which,  in  criminal  questions, 
excited  compassion,  and  more  readily  gaiixed  the  belief  of  the 
judges.  He  left,  however,  as  we  are  informed  by  Cicero, 
hardly  any  orations  behind  himf ,  having  resolved  never  to 
publish  any  of  his  pleadings,  lest  he  should  be  convicted  of 
maintaining  in  one  cause  something  which  was  inconsistent 
with  what  he  had  alleged  in  another |. 

The  first  oration  by  which  Antony  distinguished  himself, 

*  Lib.  lY.  Od.  1.  t  Cicero,  De  Oratore,  Lib.  IL  c.  2. 

t  Valer.  Maxim.  Lib.  YII.  e.  8. 


118  ANTONY. 

was  in  his  own  defence.  He  had  obtained  the  qiuestordiip  of  ' 
a  province  of  Asia,  and  had  arrived  at  Brundusium  to  embark 
there,  when  his  friends  informed  him  that  he  had  been  sum- 
moned before  the  Praetor  Cassius,  the  most  rigid  judge  io 
Rome,  whose  tribunal  was  termed  the  rock  of  the  accused. 
Though  he  might  have  pleaded  a  privilege,  which  forbade  the 
admission  of  charges  against  those  who  were  absent  on  the 
service  of  the  republic,  he  chose  to  justify  himself  in  due  form. 
Accordingly,  he  returned  to  Rome,  stood  his  trial,  and  was  ac- 
quitted with  honour*. 

One  of  the  most  celebrated  orations  which  Antony  pro- 
nounced, was  that  in  defence  of  Norbanus,  who  was  accused 
of  sedition,  and  a  violent  assault  on  the  magistrate,  .£inilim 
Cspio.  He  began  by  attempting  to  show  from  history,  that 
seditions  may  sometimes  be  justifiable  from  necessity;  that 
without  them  the  kings  would  not  have  been  expelled,  or  the 
tribunes  of  the  people  created.  The  orator  then  proceeded 
to  insinuate,  that  his  client  had  not  been  seditious,  but  that  all 
had  happened  through  the  just  indignation  of  the  people ;  and 
he  concluded  with  artfully  attempting  to  renew  the  popular 
odium  against  Csepio,  who  had  been  an  unsuccessful  com- 
manderf. 

What  Cicero  relates  concerning  Antony's  defence  of  Aqai- 
iius,  is  an  example  of  his  power  in  moving  the  passions,  and 
is,  at  the  same  time,  extremely  characteristic  of  the  manner  of 
Roman  pleading.  Antony,  who  is  one  of  the  speakers  in  the 
dialogue  De  Oratore,  is  introduced  relating  it  himself.  See- 
ing his  client,  who  had  once  been  Consul  and  a  leader  of  ar- 
mies, reduced  to  a  state  of  the  utmost  dejection  and  peril,  he 
had  no  sooner  begun  to  speak,  with  a  view  towards  melting 
the  compassion  of  others,  than  he  was  melted  himself.  Per- 
ceiving the  emotion  of  the  judges  wllen  he  raised  his  client 
from  the  earth,  on  which  he  had  thrown  himself,  he  instantly 
took  advantage  of  this  favourable  feeling.  He  tore  open  the 
garments  of  Aquilius,  and  showed  the  scars  of  those  wounds 
which  he  had  received  in  the  service  of  his  country.  Even 
the  stern  Marius  wept.  Him  the  orator  then  apostrophized; 
imploring  his  protection,  and  invoking  with  many  tears  the 
gods,  the  citizens,  and  the  allies  of  Rome.  "  But  whatever  I 
could  have  said,"  remarks  he  in  the  dialogue,  ^^  had  I  delivered 
it  without  being  myself  moved,  it  would  have  excited  the  de- 
rision, instead  of  the  sympathy,  of  those  who  heard  me}." 

*  Valer.  Maxim.  Lib.  III.  c.  7 ;  and  Lib.  YI.  c.  8* 
t  JDe  Oratore,  Lib.  II.  c.  28,  29, 48,  49. 
t  Id,  Lib.  II.  c.  47. 


CRASSUS.  119 

Antony,  in  the  course  of  bis  life,  had  passed  through  all  the 
highest  offices  of  the  state.  The  circumstances  of  his  death, 
which  happened  in  t>66,  during  the  civil  wars  of  Marius  and 
Sylla,  were  characteristic  of  his  predominant  talent.  During 
the  last  proscription  by  Marius,  be  sought  refuge  in  the  house 
of  a  poor  person,  whom  he  had  laid  under  obligations  to  him 
in  the  days  of  his  better  fortune.  But  his  retreat  being  disco* 
vered,  from  the  circumstance  of  his  host  procuring  for  him 
some  wine  nicer  thfui  ordinary,  the  intelligence  was  carried  to 
Marius,  who  received  it  with  a  savage  shout  of  exultation,  and, 
clapping  his  hands  for  joy,  he  would  have  risen  from  table^ 
and  instantly  repaired  to  the  place  where  his  enemy  was  con- 
cealed; but,  being  detained  by  his  friends,  he  immediately 
dei^patched  a  party  of  soldiers,  under  a  tribune,  to  slay  him. 
The  soldiers  having  entered  his  chamber  for  this  purpose,  and 
Antony  suspecting  their  errand,  addressed  them  in  terms  of 
such  moving  and  insinuating  eloquence,  that  his  assassins  burst 
into  tears,  and  had  not  sufficient  resolution  to  execute  their 
mission.  The  officer  who  commanded  them  then  went  in,  and 
cut  off  his  head^,  which  he 'carried  to  Marius,  who  affixed  it 
to  that  rostrum,  whence,  as  Cicero  remarks,  he  had  ably  de- 
fended the  lives  of  so  many  of  his  fellow-citizensf ;  little  aware 
that  he  would  soon  himself  experience,  from  another  Antony, 
a  fate  similar  to  that  which  he  deplores  as  having  befallen  the 
grandsire  of  the  triumvir. 

Crassus,  the  forensic  rival  of  Antony,  had  prepared  himself 
in  his  youth,  for  public  speaking,  by  digesting  in  his  memory 
a  chosen  number  of  polished  and  dignified  verses,  or  a  certain 
portion  of  some  oration  which  he  had  read  over,  and  then  de- 
livering the  same  matter  in  the  best  words  he  could  select^. 
Afterwards,  when  he  grew  a  little  older,  he  translated  into 
Latin  some  of  the  finest  Greek  orations,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
used  every  mental  and  bcnlily  exertion  to  improve  his  voice, 
his  action,  and  memory.  He  commenced  his  oratorical  ca- 
reer at  the  early  age  of  nineteen,  when  he  acquired  much 
reputation  by  his  accusation  of  C.  Car  bo ;  and  be,  not  long 
afterwards,  greatly  heightened  his  fame,  by  his  defence  of  the 
virgin  Licinia.  Another  of  the  best  speeches  of  Crassus,  was 
that  addressed  to  the  people  in  favour  of  the  law  of  Servilius 
Caepio,  restoring  in  part  the  judicial  power  to  the  Senate, 
of  which  they  had  been  recently  deprived,  in  order  to  vest  it 
solely  in  the  body  of  knights.  But  the  most  splendid  of  all 
the  appearances  of  Crassus,  was  one  that  proved  the  imme- 
diate cause  of  his  death,  which  happened  in  662,  a  short  while 

*  Plutarch,  In  Mcario.  Valerius  Mazimus,  Lib.  YIII.c.  9. 

t  CiceiOi  De  OratorCf  Lib.  IIL  c.  3.  t  ^^*  Li^- 1-  <^*  33. 


•r 


130  CRA9SUS. 

before  the  commencement  of  the  civil  wan  of  Mariiui  and 
Sylla ;  and  a  few  day9  after  the  time  in  which  he  is  supposed 
to  have  borne  his  part  in  the  dialogue  De  Oratore.  The  Con- 
sul Philippus  had  declared,  in  one  of  the  assemblies  of  the 
people*  that  some  other  advice  must  be  resorted  to,  since, 
with  such  a  Senate  as  then  existed,  he  could  no  longer  direct 
the  affairs  of  the  government.  A  full  Senate  being  immedi- 
ately summoned,  Crassus  arraigned,  in  terms  of  the  most  glow- 
ing eloquence,  the  conduct  of  this  Consul,  who,  instead  of 
acting  as  the  political  parent  and  guardian  of  the  Senate, 
sought  to  deprive  its  members  of  their  ancient  inheritance  of 
respect  and  dignity.  Being  farther  irritated  by  an  attempt  on 
the  part  of  Philippus,  to  force  him  into  compliance  with  his 
designs,  he  exerted,  on  this  occasion,  the  utmost  efforts  of 
his  genius  and  strength ;  but  he  returned  home  with  a  pleuritic 
fever,  of  which  he  died  in  the  course  of  seven  days.  This  ora- 
tion of  Crassus,  followed  as  it  was  by  his  almost  immediate 
death,  made  a  deep  impression  on  his  countrymen ;  who»  long 
afterwards,  were  wont  to  repair  to  the  senate-house,   for  the 

I>urpose  of  viewing  the  spot  where  he  had  last  stood,  and  fiil- 
en,  as  it  may  be  said,  in  defence  of  the  privileges  of  his  order. 
Crassus  left  hardly  any  orations  behind  him,  and  be  died 
while  Cicero  was  still  in  his  boyhood  ;  yet  that  author,  having 
collected  the  opinions  of  those  who  had  heard  him,  speaks  with 
a  minute  and  apparently  perfect  intelligence  of  his  mode  of 
oratory.  He  was  what  may  be  called  the  most  ornamental 
speaker  that  had  hitherto  appeared  in  the  Forum.  Though  not 
without  force,  gravity,  and  dignity,  these  were  happily  blended 
with  the  most  insinuating  politeness,  urbanity,  ease,  and  j^etj. 
He  was  master  of  the  most  pure  and  accurate  language,  and 
of  perfect  elegance  of  expression,  without  any  affectation,  or 
unpleasant  appearance  of  previous  study.  Great  clearness  of 
exposition  distinguished  all  his  harangues,  and,  while  descant- 
ing on  topics  of  law  or  equity,  he  possessed  an  inexhaustible 
fund  of  argument  and  illustration.  In  speaking,  he  showed 
an  uncommon  modesty,  which  went  even  the  length  of 
bashfulness.  When  a  young  man,  he  was  so  intioudated 
at  the  opening  of  a  speech,  that  Q.  Maximus,  perceiving 
him  overwhelmed  and  disabled  by  confusion,  adjourned  the 
court,  which  the  orator  always  remembered  with  the  high- 
est sense  of  gratitude.  This  diffidence  never  entirely  for- 
sook him ;  and,  after  the  practice  of  a  long  life  at  the 
bar,  he  was  frequently  so  much  agitated  in  the  exordium 
of  his  discourse,  that  he  was  observed  to  grow  pale,  and  to 
tremble  in  every  part  of  his  frame*..    Some  persons  ccmsidered 

*  Cicoro,  De  Orat  lib.  I.  c.  26, 27. 


^\ 


SULPICIUS.  121 

CressQs  as  only  equal  to  Antony ;  others  preferred  him  as  the 
more  perfect  and  accomplished  orator ':  Antony  chiefly  trusted 
to  his  intimate  acquaintance  with  affairs  and  ordinary  life : 
He  was  not,  however,  so  destitute  of  knowledge  as  he  seemed ; 
but  he  thought  the  best  way  to  recommend  nis  eloquence  td 
the  people,  was  to  appear  as  if  he  had  never  learned  anything*. 
Crassus,  on  the  other  hand^  was  well  instructed  in  literature, 
and  showed  off  his  information  to  the  best  advantage.  An- 
tony possessed  the  greater  power  of  promoting  conjecture, 
and  of  allaying  or  exciting  suspicion,  by  opposite  and  well- 
timed  insinuations ;  but  no  one  could  have  more  copiousness 
or  facility  than  Crassus,  in  defining,  interpreting,  and  discus- 
sing, the  principles  of  equity.  The  language  of  Crassus  was 
indisputably  preferable  to  that  of  Antony  ;  but  the  action  and 
gesture  of  Antony  were  as  incontestably  superior  to  those  of 
Crassus. 

Sulpieius  and  Cotta,  who  were  both  born  about  630,  were 
yoonger  orators  than  Antony  or  Crassus,  but  were  for  some 
time  their  contemporaries,  and  had  risen  to  considerable  repu- 
tation before  the  death  of  the  latter  and  assassination  of  the 
former.  Sulpicius  lived  for  some  years  respected  and  admi- 
v^d ;  but,  about  the  year  665,  at  the  first  breaking  out  of  |the 
dissensions  between  Sylla  and  Marius,  being  then  a  tribune  of 
the  people,  he  espoused  the  part,  of  Marius.  .  Plutarch  gives  a 
memorable  account  of  his  character  and  behaviour  at  this 
conjuncture,  declaring  that  he  was  second  to  none  in  the  most 
atrocious  villainies.  Alike  unrestrained  in  avarice  and  cruelty, 
he  committed  the  most  criminal  and  enormous  actions*  without 
hesitation  or  reluctance.  He  sold  by  public  auction  the  free- 
dom of  Rome  to  foreigners-— telling  out  the  purchase-money 
on  counters  erected  for<  that  purpose  in  the  Forum !  He  kepi 
^^HK)  swordsmen  in  constant  (iay,  and  had  "always  about  him 
^  company  of  young  men  of  the  equestrian  order,  ready  on 
eyery  occasion  to  execute  his  commands ;  and  these  he  styled 
his  anti-senatorian  bandf .  Cicero  touches  on  his  crimes  with 
Q^ore  tenderness ;  but  says,  that  when  he  came  to  be  tribune, 
he  strip!  of  all  their  dignities  those  with  whom,  as  a  private  in- 
dividual, he  had  lived  in  the  strictest  friendship}.  Whilst 
Marius  kept  his  ground  against  his  rival,  Sulpicius  transacted 
^I  public  affairs,  in  his  capacity  of  tribune,  by  violence  and 
force  of  arms.  He  decreed  to  Marius  the  command  in  the 
Mithridatic  war:  He  attacked  the  Consuls  with  his  band 
while  they  were  holding  an  assembly  of  the  people  in  the  Tern- 

*  Cicero,  Dt  Orat.  Lib.  II.  c.  1 .  t  Plutardi,  M  %lfo. 

\  De  Oratore,  Ub.  III.  c.  3. 

Vol.  n.. 


1 


13S  SULPICIUS. 


Ele  of  Castor  and  Pollux,  and  deposed  one  of  them*.  Mariu, 
owever,  having  been  at  length  expelled  by  the  ascendancy  dt 
Sylla,  Sulpicias  was  betrayed  by  one  of  his  slaves,  and  imme- 
diately seized  and  executed.  ''Thus,"  says  Cicero, ''  the  chas- 
tisement of  his  rashness  went  hand  in  hand  With  the  misfortunes 
of  his  country ;  and  the  sword  cut  off  the  thread  of  that  hfe, 
which  w^as  then  blooming  to  all  the  honours  that  eloquence  can 
bestowf.*' 

Cicero  had  reached  the  age  of  nineteen,  at  the  period  of 
the  death  of  Sulpicius.  He  had  heard  him  daily  speak  in  the 
Forum,  and  highly  estimates  his  oratorio  powers|.  He  wu 
the  most  lofty,  and  what  Cicero  calls  the  most  tragic,  orator 
of  Rome.  His  attitudes,  deportment,  and  figure,  were  of  su- 
preme dignity — his  voice  was  powerful  and  sonorous — his  elo- 
cution rapid;  his  action  variable  and  animated. 

The  constitutional  weakness  of  Cotta  prevented  all  such 
oratorical  vehemence,  in  his  manner  he  was  soft  and  relaxed ; 
but  every  thing  he  said  was  sober  and  in  good  taste,  and  he 
often  led  the  judges  to  the  same  conclusion  to  which  Salpi- 
cius  impelled  them.  ''  No  two  things,"  says  Cicero,  ^^  were 
ever  more  unlike  than  they  are  to  each  other.  The  one,  in  a 
polite,  delicate  manner,  sets  forth  his  subject  in  well-chosen 
expressions.  He  still  keeps  to  his  point;  and,  as  he  sees  with 
the  greatest  penetration  what  he  has  to  prove  to  the  court,  he 
directs  to  that  the  whole  strength  of  his  reasoning  and  elo- 
quence, without  regarding  other  arguments.  But  Sulpicius, 
endued  with  irresistible  energy,  with  a  full  strong  voice,  with 
the  greatest  vehemence,  and  dignity  of  action,  accompanied 
with  so  much  weight  and  variety  of  expression,  seemed,  of  all 
mankind,  the  best  fitted  by  nature  for  eloquence." 

It  was  supposed  that  Cotta  wished  to  resemble  Antony,  as 
Sulpicius  obviously  imitated  Crassus;  but  the  latter  wanted 
the  agreeable  pleasantry  of  Crassus,  and  the  former  the  force 
of  Antony.  None  of  the  orations  of  Sulpicius  remained  in  the 
time  of  Ciqero— those  circulated  under  his  name  having  been 
written  by  Canutius  after  his  death.  The  oration  of  Gotta  for 
himself,  when  accused  on  the  Varian  law,  was  composed,  it  is 
said,  at  his  request  by  Lucius  £lius;  and,  if  this  be  true,  no- 
thing can  appear  to  us  more  extraordinary,  than  that  so  accom- 
plished a  speaker  as  Cotta  should  have  wished  any  of  the 
trivial  harangues  of  iElius  to  pass  for  his  own. 

The  renown,  however,  of  all  preceding  orators,  was  now 
about  to  be  eclipsed  at  Rome ;  and  Hortensius  burst  forth  in 

*  Plutarch,  in  Sylla,  t  ^  Oraiwe,  Lib,  III.  cS. 

i  JBrutU9,  e,  89, 


HORTENSIUS.  12a 

eloquenee  at  once  calculated  to  delight  and  astonish  his  fel- 
low-citizens. This  celebrated  orator  was  born  in  the  year 
640,  being  thus  ten  years  younger  than  Cotta  and  Sulpicius. 
His  fits!  appearance  in  the  Forum  was  at  the  early  age  of 
nineteen — that  is,  in  659;  and  his  excellence,  says  Cicero,  was 
immediately  acknowledged,  like  that  of  a  statue  by  Phidias, 
which  only  requires  to  be  seen  in  order  to  be  admired*.  The 
case  in  which  he  first  appeared  was  of  considerable  respon- 
sibility for  one  so  young  and  inexperienced,  being  an  accusa- 
tion, at  the  instance  of  the  Roman  province  of  Africa,  against 
its  governors  for  rapacity.  It  was  heard  before  Scsevola  and 
Crassus,  as  judges — the  one  the  ablest  lawyer,  the  other  the 
most  accomplished  speaker,  of  his  age ;  and  the  young  orator 
had  the  eood  fortune  to  obtain  their  approbation,  as  well  as 
thatof  all  who  were  present  at  the  trial}.  His  next  pleading 
of  importance  was  in  behalf  of  Nicomedes,  King  of  Bithynia; 
in  which  he  even  surpassed  his  former  speech  for  the  Africans^. 
After  this  we  hear  little  of  him  for  several  years.  The  immi- 
nent perils  of  the  Social  War,  which  broke  out  in  663,  inter- 
rupted, in  a  great  measure,  the  business  of  the  Forum.  Hor- 
tensiuB  served  in  this  alarming  contest  for  one  year  as  a 
volunteer,  and  in  the  following  season  as  a  military  tribune^. 
When,  on  the  re-establishment  of  peace  in  Italy  ip  666,  he 
returned  to  Rome,  and  resumed  the  more  peaceful  avocations 
to  which  he  had  been  destined  from  his  youth,  he  found  himself 
without  arival||.  Crassus,  as  we  have  seen,  died  in  662,  be- 
fore the  troubles  of  Marius  and  Sylla.  Antony,  with  other 
orators  of  inferior  note,  perished  in  666,  during  the  temporary 
and  last  ascendancy  of  Marius,  in  the  absence  of  Sylla. 
Sulpicius  was  put  to  death  in  the  same  year,  and  C6tta  drivea 
into  banishment^  from  which  he  was  not  recalled  until  the 
return  of  SyHa  to  Rome,  and  his  election  to  the  dictatorship 
in  670.  Hortensius  was  thus  left  for  some  years  without  a 
competitor;  and,  after  670,  with  none  of  eminence  but  Cotta, 
whom  also  he  soon  outshone.  His  splendid,  warm,  and  ani- 
mated manner,  was  preferred  to  the  calm  and  easy  elegance 
of  his  rival.  Accordingly,  when  engaged  in  a  cause  on  the 
same  side,  Cotta,  though  vefi  years  senior,  was  employed  to 
open  the  case,  while  the  more  important  parts  were  left  to  the 
management  of  HprtensiuslT.  He  continued  the  undisputed 
sovereign  of  the  Forum,  till  Cicero  returned  from  his  qusestor- 
ship  in  Sicily,  in  679,  when  the  talents  of  that  orator  first 

*  SnUtu,  e.  SS.  t  Ibid. 

X  De  OraUfrtf  lib.  III.  e.  61.  *  0  Cicero,  BnUud,  c.  S9. 

H  lud.  n  n>td. 


v 


J24  H0RTENSIU8. 

displayed  themselves  in  full  perfection  and  maturity.  Hw- 
tensius  was  thus,  from  666  till  679,  fi  space  of  thirteen  yean, 
at  the  head  of  the  Roman  bar ;  and  beinff,  in  consequence, 
engaged  during  that  long  period,  on  one  side  or  other,  in  everj 
cause  of  importance,  he  soon  amassed  a  prodigious  for- 
tune. He  lived,  too,  with  a*  magnificence  corresponding  to  hii 
wealth.  An  example  of  splendour  aud  luxury  had  been  aet  to 
bim  by  the  orator  Crassus,  who  inhabited  a  sumpluoua  palace 
in  Rome,  the  hall  of  which  was'  adorned  with  four  pillars  of 
Hymettian  marble,  twelve  feet  high,  which  he  brought  to 
Rome  in  his  eedileship,  at  a  time  when  there  were  no  pillan 
of  foreign  marble  even  in  public  buildings*.  The  court  of 
this  mansion  was  ornamented  by  six  lotus  treses,  which  Pliny 
saw  in  full  luxuriance  in  his  youth,  but  which  were  afterwardhi 
burned  in  the  conflagration  in  the  time  of  Nero.  He  had  also 
a  number  of  vases,  and  two  drinkine-cups,  engraved  by  the 
artist  Mentor,  but  which  were  of  such  immense  value  that  he 
was  ashamed  to  use  themf .  Hortensius  had  the  same  tastes 
as  Crassus,  but  surpassed  him  and  all  his  contemporaries  in 
magnificence.  .  His  mansion  stood  on  the  Palatine  Hill,  which 
appears  to  have  been  th6  most  fashionable  situation  in  Rome, 
being  at  that  time  covered  with  the  houses  of  Lutatius  Cata* 
lus,  ^milius  Scaurus,  Clodius,  Catiline,  Cicero,  and  Caesar}. 
The  residence  of  Hortensius  was  adjacent  to  that  of  Catiline ; 
and  though  of  no  great  extent,  it  was  splendidly  fiinuabed. 
After  the  death  of  the  orator,  it  was  inhabited  by  Octavius 
Ciesar^,  and  formed  the  centre  of  the  chief  imperial  palace, 
which  increased  firom  the  time  of  Augustus  to  that  of  Nero, 
till  it  covered  a  ffreat  part  of  the  Palatine  Motmt,  and  branch* 
ed  over  other  hills.  Besides  his  mansion  in  the  capital,  he 
possessed  sumptuous  villas  at  Tusculum,  Bauli,  and  Lauren- 
tum,  where  he  was  accustomed  to  give  th^  most  elegant  and 
expensive  entertainments.  He  had  frequently  peacocks  at  his 
banquets,  which  he  first  served  up  at  a  grand  augural  feast« 
and  which,  says  Varro,  were  more  commended  by  the  luxuri- 
ous, than  by  men  of  probity  and  austerity  ||.  His  olive  plan- 
tations he  is  said  to  have  regularly  moistened  and  bedewed 
with  wine ;  and,  on  one  occasion^  during  the  hearing  of  an 
important  case,  in  which  he  was  engaged  along  vrith  Cicero, 
begged  that  he  would  change  with  him  Ae  previously  arranged 
order  of  pleading,  as  he  was  obliged  to  go  to  the  country  to 
pour  wine  on  a  favourite  platanuSj  which  grew  near  his  Tus* 

*  Pttn.  IKtt  Jm.  Lib.  XVII.  c.  1.  f  Il»d-  Lib.  XXXIIL  c  11. 

X  Nardini,  Roma  Jintiea,  Lib.  YI.  c.  16.        §  Sutton,  in  JiugutU^,  c.  72. 
II  Varro,  Jk  Be  RutHea,  Lib.  Ill,  c.  6. 


HORTENSIUS.  13§ 

culan  Tilla*.  Notwithstanding  this  profusion,  his  heir  found 
not  less  than  10,000  casks  of  wine  in  his  cellar  after  his  deathf . 
Bendes  bis  taste  for  wine,  and  fondness  for  plantations,  he 
indulged  a  passion  for  pictures  and  fish-ponds.  At  his  Tus- 
culan  villa,  he  built  a  hall  for  the  reception  of  a  painting  of 
the  expedition  of  the  Argonauts,  by  the  painter  Cydias,  which 
cost  the  enormous  sum  of  a  hundred  and  forty-four  thousand 
sesterces];*  At  his  country-seat,  near  Bauli,  on  the  sea  shore, 
he  vied  with  LucuUus  and  Philippus  in  the  extent  of  his  fish- 
ponds, which  weVe  constructed  at  immense  cost,  and  so  formed 
that  the  tide  flowed  into  them§.  Under  the  promontory  of 
Bauli,  travellers  are  yet  shown  the  Piscina  MirabiliSy  a  sub- 
terraneous edifice,  vaulted  and  divided  by  four  rows  of  arcades  ^ 
and  which  is  supposed  by  some  antiquarians  to  have  been  a 
fish-pond  of  Hortensius.  Yet  such  was  his  luxury,  and  his  re- 
luctance to  diminish  his  supply,  that  when  he  gave  entertain^- 
ments  at  Bauli,  he  generally  sent  to  the  neighbouring  town  of 
Puteoli  to  buy  fish  for  supper ||.  He  had  a  vast  number  of 
fishermen  in  his  service,  and  paid  so  much  attention  to  the 
feeding  of  hi»  fish,  that  he  had  always  ready  a  large  stock  of 
anall  fish  to  be  devoured  by  the  great  ones.  It  was  with  the 
utmost  diflliculty  he  could  be  prevailed  on  to  part  with  any  of 
them ;  and  Varro  declares,  that  a  firiend  could  more  easily  get 
his  chariot  mules  out  of  his  stable,  than  a  mullet  from  his  ponds. 
He  was  more  anxious  about  the  welfare  of  his  fish  than  the 
health  of  his  slaves,  and  less  solicitous  that  a  sick  servant  might 
not  take  what  was  unfit  for  him,  than  that  his  fish  might  not 
drink  water  which  was  unwholesomelT.  It  is  even  said,  that 
he  was  so  passionately  fond  of  a  particular  lamprey,  that  he 
ahed  tears  for  her  untimely  death*f  • 

The  gallery  at  the  villa,  which  Was  situated  on  the  little 
promontory  of  Bauli,  and  looking  towards  Puteoli,  com- 
manded one  of  the  most  delightful  views  in  Italy.  The  inland 
prospect  towards  Cumae  was  extensive  and  magnificent.  Pu- 
teoli was  seen  along  the  shore  at  the  distance  of  30  atculiaf  in 
the  direction  of  Pompeii ;  and  Pompeii  itself  was  invisible  only 
firom  its  distance.  The  sea  view  was  unbounded;  but  it  waa 
enlivened  by  the  numerous  vessels  sfuling  across  the  bay,  and 
the  ever  changefiil  hue  of  its  waters,  now  safiron,  azure,  or 
purple,  according  as  the  breeze  blew,  or  as  the  suuxascended 
or  declinedf  f .    . 

*  Bfaciobiiu,  Sbftimalui,  Lib.  III.  c.  13. 

t  PHn.  Hist.  J>rai,  Lib.  XIV.  c.  14.  t  Ibid.  Lib.  XXV.  c.  11. 

tVairo,  Z>e  Re  Mustiea,  Ub.  III.  c.  3.        ]|  Ibid.  Lib.  III.  c.  17. 
n>id.  «|  Plin.  But.  Mit  Lib.  IX.  c.  66. 

ft  Cicer.  AeademUaj  Lib.  II.  c.  26»  81, 88. 


126  HORTENSIUa 

HortensiiM  possessed  another  villa  in  Italy,  which  rivalled 
in  its  sylvan  pomp  the  marine  luxuries  of  Bauli.  This  man- 
sion lay  between  Ostia  and  Lavinium,  (now  Pratica,)  near  to 
the  town  of  Laurentum,  so  well  remembered  from  ancient 
fable  and  poetry,  as  having  been  the  residence  of  King  La* 
tinus,  at  the  time  .of  the  arrival  of  ^neas  in  Italy,  and  at  pre- 
sent known  by  the  name  of  Torre  di  Paterno.  The  town  of 
Laurentum  was  on  the  shore,  but  the  villa  of  Horten^ius  stood 
to  the  north-east  at  some  distance  from  the  coast, — ^the  grounds 
subsequently  occupied  by  the  villa  of  the  younger  Pliny  inter- 
vening between  it  and  Laurentum,  and  also  between  it  and  the 
Tuscan  sea.  Around  were  the  walks  and  gardens  of  patrician 
villas ;  on  one  side  was  seen  the  town  of  Laurentum,  with  its  pub- 
lic baths ;  on  the  other,  but  at  a  greater  distance,  the  harbour 
of  Ostia.  Near  the  house  were  groves,  and  fields  covered  with 
herds — ^beyond  were  hills  clothed  with  woods.  The  horizon 
to  the  north-east  wa^  bounded  by  m&gnificent  mountains,  and 
beyond  the  low  maritime  grounds,  which  lay  between  the  poit 
of  Ostia  and  Laurentum,  there  was  a  distant  prospect  of  the 
Tuscan  sea*. 

Hortensius  had  here  a  wooded  park  of  fifty  acres,  encom^ 
pasi^ed  with  a  wall.  This  enclosure  he  called  a  nursery  of. 
wild  beasts,  all  which  came  for  their  provender  at  ascertain 
hour,  on  the  blowing  of  a  horn — an  exhibition  with  which  he 
was  accustomed  to  amuse  the  guests  who  visited  him  at  his 
Laurentian  villa.  Varro  mentions  an  entert^nment^  where 
those  invited  supped  on  an  eminence,  called  a  Tridifdum^  in 
this  sylvan  park.  During  the  repast,  Hortensius  summoned 
his  Orpheus,  who,  having  come  with  his  musical  instruments, 
and  being  ordered  to  display  his  talents,  blew  a  trumpet,  when 
such  a  multitude  of  deer,  boars,  and  other  quadrupeds,  rushed 
to  the  spot  from  all  quarters,  that  the  sight  appeared  to  the 
delighted  spectators  as  beautiful  as  the  courses  with  wild  ani- 
mals in  the  great  Circus  of  the  iEdilesf ! 

The  eloquence  of  Hortensius  procured  him  not  only  all  this 
wealth  and  luxury,  but  the  highest  official  honours  of  the  state. 
He  was  iEdile  in  679,  Praetor  in  682,  and  Consul  two  years 
afterwards.  The  wealth  and  dignities  he  had  obtained,  and 
the  want  of  competition,  made  him  gradually  relax  from  that 
assiduity  by  which  they  had  been  acquired,  till  the  increasing 
fame  of  Cicero,  and  particularly  the  glory  of.  his  consulship, 
stimulated  him  to  renew  his  exertions.  But  his  habit  of  labour 
had  been  in  some  degree  lost,  and  he  never  again  recovered 

*  Bonstetten,  Voyage  dam  le  Latium,  p.  152—1^.    Nibby,  Via^i»  .Mt- 
qu&rio  tie  contomi  ai  Romat  T.  1 1, 
t  V9no,DeIUItuBtiea,Ub.lWe.lB. 


HORTENSIUS.  J27 

kis  former  reputation.  Cicero  partly  accounts  for,  this  decline, 
from  the  pecuhar  nature  and  genius  of  his  eloquence*.  It  was 
of  that  showy  species  called  Asiatic,  which  flourished  in  the 
Greek  colonies  of  Asia  Minor,  and  was  infinitely  more  florid 
and  ornamental  than  the  oratory  of  Athens,  or  even  Rhodes, 
being  full  of  brilliant  thoughts  and  of  sparkling  expressions. 
This  glowing  style  of  rhetoric,  though  deficient  in  solidity  and 
weight,  was  not  unsuitable  in  a  young  man ;  and  being  farther 
recommended  by  a  beautiful  cadence  of  periods,  met  with  the 
utmost  applause.  But  Hortensius,  as  he  advanced  in  life,  did 
not  prune  his  exuberance,  or  adopt  a  chaster  eloquence;  and 
this  luxury,  and  glitter  of  phraseology,  which,  even  in  his  ear- 
liest years,  had  occasionally  excited  ridicule  or  disgust  among 
the  graver  fathers  of  the  senatorial  order,  being  totally  incon- 
sistent with  his  advanced  age  and  consular  dignity,  which  re- 
quired something  more  serious  lind  composed,  his  reputation 
diminished  with  increase  of  years;  and  though  the  bloom  of 
his  eloquence  might  be  in  fact  the  same,  it  appeared  to  be 
somewhat  witheredf .  Besides,  from  his  declining  health  and 
strength,  which  greatly  failed  in  his  latter  years,  he  may  not 
have  been  able  to  give  full  effect  to  that  showy  species  of  rhe- 
toric in  which  he  indulged.  A  constant  toothache,  and  swel- 
ling in  the  jaws,  greatly  impaired  his  power  of  elocution  and 
utterance,  and  became  at  length  so,  severe  as  to  accelerate  his 
end — 


*<  Mffroscnnt  tenera  iauces,  quuin  frigotls  atri 
Vis  subiit,  vel  quuni  veotis  agitabilis  aer 
Vfirtitur,  atque  ips^s  flatuf*  gnivi.«  inficit  auras, 
Vel  rabidus  clamor  fracto  quum  forte  sonore 
Planum  radit  iter.     iSic  est  Horteosius  olim 
Absumptus :  caussis  eteilim  confectus  agendis 
Obtieuit,  quum  vox,  domino  vivente,  periret, 
£t  nondum  ezstincti  moreretur  lingua  disertit'" 

A  few  months,  however,  before  his  death,  which  happened 
in  70S,  he  pleaded  for  his  nephew,  Messala,  who  was  accused 
of  illegal  canvassing,  and  who  was  acquitted,  more  in  conse- 
quence of  the  astonishing  exertions  of  his  advocate,  than  the 
justice  of  his  cause.  So  unfavourable,  indeed,  was  his  case 
esteemed,  that  however  much  the  speech  of  Hortensius  had 
been  admired,  he  was  received  on  entering  the  theatre  of  Cu- 
rio on  the  following  day,  with  loud  clamour  and  hisses,  which 
were  the  more  remarked,  as  he  had  never  met* with  similar 

*  Cicero,  Brutus,  c.  S6. 

t  Vano,  De  Re  Rustica,    Cicero,  Epist.  ad  Attic.  Lib.  V.  Ep.  2. 

t  Seren.  SamonieuB,  De  Medicina,  c.  15. 


1^  UORTENSIU8. 

treatment  in  the  whole  course  of  hi«  forensic  cueer*.  The 
speech,  however,  revived  all  the  anpient  admiration  of  the 
public  for  his  oratorical  talents,  and  convinced  them,  that  had 
ne  always  possessed  the  same  perseverance  as  Cicero,  he  would 
not  have  ranked  second  to  that  orator.  Another  of  hie  most 
celebrated  harangues  was  that  against  the  Maniliaa  law,  which 
vested  Pompey  with  such  extraordinary  powers,  and  was  lo 
warmly  supported  by  Cicero.  That  against  the  sumptuaij 
law  proposed  by  Crassus  and  Pompey,  in  the  year  683,  which 
tended  to  restain  the  indulgence  of  his  own  taste,  was  weQ 
adapted  to  Hortensius'  style  of  eloquence ;  and  his  speech  wv 
highly  characteristic  of  his  disposition  and  habits  of  life.  He 
declaimed,  at  great  length,  on  the  glory  of  Rome,  which  le- 
quired  splendour  in  the  mode  of  living  followed  by  its  citizensf . 
He  frequently  glanced  at  the  luxury  of  the  Consuls  themselves, 
and  forced  them  at  length,  by  his  eloquence  and  sarcastic  de- 
clamation, to  relinquish  theirscheme  of  domestic  retrenchment 
The  speeches  of  Hortekisius,  it  has  been  already  mentioned, 
lost  part  of  their  effect  by  the  orator's  advance  in  years,  but 
they  suffered  still  more  by  being  transferred  to  paper.  As  hii 
ehief  excellence  consisted  in  action  and  delivery,  his  writings 
were  much  inferior  to  what  was  expected  from  the  high  fame 
.he  had  enjoyed;  and,  accordinsly,  after  death,  he  retained 
little  of  that  esteem,  which  he  had  so  abundantly  possessed 
during  his  life|.  Although,  therefore,  his  orations  had  been 
preserved,  they  would  have  given  us  but  an  imperfect  idea  of 
the  eloquence  of  Hortensius ;  but  even  this  aid  has  been  denied 
us,  and  we  must,  therefore,  now  chiefly  trust  for  his  oratorical 
character  to  the  opinion. of  his  great  but  unprejudiced  rival 
The  friendship  and  honourable  competition  of  Hortensius  and 
Cicero,  present  an  agreeable  contrast  to  the  animosities  of 
^chines  and  Demosthenes,  the  two  great  orators  of  Greece. 
It  was  by  means  of  Hortensius  that  Cicero  was  chosen  one  of 
the  college  of  Augurs — a  service  of  which  his  gratified  vanity 
ever  appears  to  have  retained  an  agreeable  recollection.  Is 
a  few  of  his  letters,  indeed,  written  during  the  despondency  of 
his  exile,  he  hints  a  suspicion  that  Hortensius  had  been  instra* 
mental  in  his  banishment,  with  a  view  of  engrossing  to  himself 
the  whole  glory  of  the  bar§ ;  but  this  mistrust  ended  with  his 
recall,  which  Hortensius,  though  originally  he  had  advised  him 
to  yield  to  the  storm,  urged  on  with  all  the  influence  of  which 
he  was  possessed.  Hortensius  also  appears  to  have  been  free 
from  every  feeling  of  jealousy  or  envy,  which  in  him  was  still 

*  Cicero,  Epiat.  FatnUimreB,  Lib.  YIII.  Ep.  2. 

t  Dio.  Ca$9iu8,  Lib.  XXXIX.  X  Qu>at.  Awf .  Or«(.  Lib.  XI.  c.  S. 

i  £jn»l.  ad  JltHeum,Ub,  lU.  Ep.  9,  8cc. 


HORTENSIUS.  129 

oiore  creditable,  as  his  rival  iiras  younger  than  himself,  and 
yet  altimately  forced  him  from  the  supremacy.  Such  having 
been  their  sentiments  of  mutual  esteem,  Cicero  has  done  his 
oratoric  talents  ample  justice — representing  him  as  endued 
with  alnost  all  the  qualities  necessary  to  form  a  distinguished 
speaker.  His  imagmation  was  fertile — his  voice  was  sweet 
and  harmonious — his  demeanour  dignified— his  language  rich 
and  elegant — his  acquaintance  with  literature  extensive.  So 
prodigious  was  bis  memory,  that;  without  the  aid  of  writing,  he 
recollected  ^very  word  he  had  meditated,  and  every  sentence 
of  his  adversary's  oration,  even  to  the  titles  and  documents 
brought  forward  to  support  the  case  against  him — a  faculty 
which  greatly  aided  his  peculiarly  happy  art  of  recapitulating 
the  sul^tance  of  what  had  been  said  by  his  antagonists  or  by 
himself*.  He  also  originally  possessed  an  indefatigable  ap- 
plication; and  scarcely  a  day  passed  in  which  he  did  not  speak 
in  the  Forum,  or  exercise  himself  in  forensic  studies  or  prepa- 
ration. But,  of  all  the  various  arts  of  oratory,  he  most  remark- 
ably excelled  in  a  happy  and  perspicuous  arrangement  of  his 
subject.  Cicero  only  reproaches  him,  and  that  but  slightly, 
with  showing  more  study  and  art  in  his  gestures  than  was 
suitable  for  an  orator.  It  appears,  however,  from  Macrobius, 
that  he  was  much  ridiculed  by  his  contemporaries,  on  account 
of  his  affected  gestures.  In  pleading,  his  hands  were  con- 
stantly in  motion,  whence  he  was  often  attacked  by  his  adver- 
saries in  the  Forum  for  resembling  an  actor;  and,  on  one 
occasion,  he. received  from  his  opponent  the  appellation  of 
Diongsia,  which  ^as  the  name  of  a  celebrated  dancing  girif . 
JE<ap  and  Roscius  frequently  attended  his  pleadings,  to  catch 
his  gestures,  and  imitate  them  on  the  stagej.  Such,  indeed, 
was  his  exertion  in  action,  that  it  was  commonly  said  that  it 
could  not  be  determined  whether  people  went  to  hear  or  to  see 
him^.  Like  Demosthenes,  he  chosse  and  put  on  his  dress  with 
the  most  studied  care  and  neatness.  He  is  said,  not  only  to 
have  prepared  his  attitudes,  but  also  to  have  adjusted  the  plaits 
of  his  gown  before  a  mirror,  when  about  to  issue  forth  to  the 
Forum ;  and  to  have  taken  no  less  care  in  arranging  them,  than! 
in  moulding  the  periods  of  his  discourse.  He  so  tucked  up 
his  gown,  that  the  folds  did  not  fall  by  chance,  but  were  form- 

*  As  a  proof  of  his  astoniahine  memory,  it  is  recorded  by  Seneca,  Uiat,  for  a  trial 
of  his  powers  of  recoUecCion,  he  remained  a  whole  day  at  a  public  auction,  and 
when  it  was  concluded,  he  repeated  in  order  what  had  been  sold,  to  whom,  and  at 
what  price.  His  recital  was  compared  with  the  clerk's  account,  and  his  memory 
was  found  to  have  served  him  fritmully  in  everf  particuhtf*    Senec.  Pr^f.  Lib.  I. 

t  Aulus  GeDius,  Abet.  JttHc.  Lib.  I.  c.  6. 

X  Valerius  Maximus,  Lib.  VIU.  c.  10.  $  Ibid. 

Vol-  II.— R 


130  HORTENSIUS. 

ed  with  great  care,  by  means  of  a  knot  aftfiilly  tied,  and  cod> 
cealed  in  the  plies  of  his  robe,  which  apparently  flowed  care- 
lessly around  him*.  Macrobias  also  records  a  story  of  his 
instituting  an  action  of  damages  against  a  person  who  had 
jostled  him,  while  walking  in  this  elaborate  dress,  and  bad 
raffled  his  toga,  when  he  was  about  to  appear  in  public  with 
his  drapery  adjusted  according  to  the  happiest  arrangement^ 
— an  anecdote,  which,  whether  true  or  false,  shows,  by  its 
currency,  the  opinion  entertained  of  his  finical  attention  to 
everything  that  concerned  the  elegance  of  his  attire,  or  the 
gracefulness  of  his  figure  and  attitudes.  He  also  bathed  him* 
self  in  odoriferous  waters,  and  daily  perfumed  himself  with  the 
most  precious  essences^.    This  too  minute  attention  to  his 

Eerson,  and  to  gesticulation,  appears  to  have  been  the  sole 
lemish  in  his  oratorical  character ;  and  the  only  stain  on  bis 
moral  conduct,  was  his  practice  of  corrupting  the  judges  of 
the  causes  in  which  he  was  employed — ^a  practice  which  must 
be,  in  a  great  measure,  imputed  to  the  defects  of  the  judicial 
system  at  Rome  ;  for,  whatever  might  be  the  excellence  of  the 
Roman  laws,  nothing  could  be  worse  than  the  procedure  under 
which  Ihey  were  administered^. 


*  Macrobius,  SatumaUa,  Lib.  III.  c.  13.  f  ^^^ 

1  Meiners,  J)ecadenee  dea  Mcmra  eket  Ua  Ramains. 

§  Hortensius  ww  fint  married  to  a  daughter  of  Q.  Caiuhu,  flie  orator, 
of  the  flpeakerBm  tiie  Dialogue />«  Oratare.  (Cicero,  ./7e  OnUare,  I^b.  III.  c. 
61.)  He  afterwards  asked,  and  obtained  from  Cato,  bis  wife  Marcia ;  who,  haviof 
■ucceeded  to  a  great  part  of  the  wealth  of  Hortensius  on  his  deat|i,  was  tbtn  takcft 
back  by  her  former  husband.  (PluUrch,  fn  Catone. )  By  his  fint  wife,  Hortensii* 
had  a. son  and  daughter.  In  his  son  Quintus,  be  was  not'  more  fortunate  than  hit 
rival,  Cicero,  in  his  son  Marcus.  Cicero,  while  Proconsul  of  Cilicia,  mentions,  ia 
one  of  his  letters,  the  ruffian  and  scandalous  appearance  made  by  the  yoongv  Hor- 
tensius at  Laodicea,  during  the  shows  of  gladiators. — **  I  invited  him  once  to  sap- 
per,'* says  he,  "  on  his  father's  account ;  and,  on  the  same  account,  only  once." 
^JSpUt.  Ad  AtHc,  Lib.  VI.  Ep.  3.)  Such,  indeed,  was  hi^  unworthy  conduct,  thit 
nis  father  at  this  time  entertained  tfioughts  of  disinheriting  him,  and  "**H"g  ba 
nephew,  Messala,  his  heir ;  but  in  this  intention  he  did  not  persevere.  vy<der. 
Maxim.  Lib.  V .  c.  9. )  After  his  father's  death,  he  joined  the  party  of  Cesar,  ( Cicero, 
Eviat,  Ad  Att,  Lib.  X.  Ep.  16, 17, 18,  by  whom  he  was  appointed  Piocnnsulof 
mcedonia ;  in  which  situation  he  espoused  the  side  of  the  conspintors,  siiliee- 
^uently  to  the  assassination  of  C»sar.  '  Cicero,  Phiiip.  X.  c.  5  and  6.)  By  ordtf 
of  Brutus,  he  slew  Caius  Antonius,  brother  to  Ae  Triumvir,  who  had  6Jlen  into  fab 
hands ;  and,  beins  afterwards  taken  prisoner  at  the  little  of  Philippi,  he  was  slaia 
by  Marc  Antony, ^y  way  of  reprisal,  on  the  tomb  of  his  brotlier.  (Pliitareh^  BuM. 
Bruto,) 

Hortensia,  the  daughter,  inherited  something  of  the  spirit  and  eloquence  of  her 
&ther.  A  severe  tribute  having  been  imposed  on  the  Roman  matrons  by  die  IH- 
iimvirs,  Antony,  Octavius,  and  Lepidus,  she  boldly  pleaded  their  cause  befiNe  these 
noted  extortioners,  and  obtained  some  alleviation  of  the  impost.  (Valer.  MaxiflL 
Ub.VIII.c.8.) 

QuintuB,  the  son  of  the  orator,  left  two  children,  Q.  Hortensius  Coibio,  and  M. 
Hortensius  Hortalus.  The  former  of  these  was  a  monster  of  debaucheiy;  and  Is 
mentioned  by  his  contemporary,  Valerius  Maximus,  among  tiie  most  striking  ex- 
ample! of  those  deseendants  who  have  dq^nerated  firom  the  honour  of  ifaeir 


CALVUS.  131 

Hortensius  has  received  more  justice  frdm  Cicero  than  ano- 
ther orator,  LiciniusCalvuSywho,  for  a  few  years,  was  also  con- 
sidered as  his  rival  in  eloquence.    Calvus  has  already  been 
mentioned  as  an  elegant  poet ;  but  Senecacalls  his  competition 
^itlk  Cicero  in,  oratory,  iniquissimam  litem.     His   style  of 
speajung  was  directly  the  reverse  of  that  of  Hortensius  :. he 
afiecUd  the  Attic  taste  in  eloquence,  such  as  it  appeared  in 
what  he  conceived  to  be  its  purest  form-^the  orations  of 
L«ysias.    Hence  that  correct  and  slender  delica^cy  at  which  he 
so  studiously  aimed,  and  which  he  conducted  with  great  skill 
and  elegance  3  but,  from  being  too  much  afraid  of  the  faults 
of  redundance  and  unsuitable  o.mament,  he  refined  and  atte- 
nuated his  discourse  till  it  lost  its  raciness  and  spirit.     He 
compensated,  however,  for  his  sterility  of  language,  and  dimi- 
nutive figure,  by  his  force  of  elocution,  and  vivacity  of  action. 
''  I  have  met  with  persons,"  says  Quintilian,  ''who  preferred. 
Calvus  to  all  our  orators ;  and  others  who  were  of  opinion, 
that  the  too  great  rigour  which  he  exercised  on  himself,  in 
pomt   of  precision,   had   debilitated   his    oratorical    talents. 
Nevertheless,  his  speeches,  though  chaste,  grave,  and  correct, 
are  frequently  also  vehement.    His  taste  of  writing  was  Attic; 
and  his  untimely  death  was  an  injury  to  his  reputation,  if  he 
designed  to  add  to  his  compositions,  jand   not  to  retrench 
them."    His  most  celebralad  oration,  which  was  against  the 
unpopular  Vatinius,  was  delivered  at  the  age  of  twenty.    The 
person  whom  he  accused,  overpowered  and  alarmed,  interrupt- 
ed him,  by  exclaiming  to  the  judges,  ''  Must  I  be  condemned 
because  he  is  eloquent  9"     Tjie  applause  he  obtained  in  this 
case  may  be  judged  of  from  what  is  mentioned  by  Catullus, 
of  some  one  in  the  crowd  clapping  his  hands  in  the  middle  of 
his  speech,  and  exclaiming,  ''  O  what  an  eloquent  little  dar- 
ling* !"     Calvus  survived  only  ten  years  after   this  period, 

ton.  rLib.  III.  c.  6.)  This  wretch,  not  being  likely  to  become  a  father,  and  the 
wealth  of  the  family  having  been  partly  settled  on  the  wife  of  Cato,  partly  dissipated 
by  extxavagance,  and  partly  cAifiscated  in  the  civil  wars,  Augustus^  CsRsar,  who  was 
a  great  promoter  of  matrimony,  gave  Hortenaius  Hortalus  a  pecuniary  allowance  to 
enable  him  to  many,  in  order  that  so  illustrious  a  family  might  not  become  extinct. 
He  and  his  children,  however,  fell  into  want  during  the  reign  of  his  benefactor's 
successor.  Tacitus  has  painted,  with  his  usual  power  of  striking  delineation,  that 
humilialS]|g  scene,  in  which  he  appeared,  with  his  four  children,  to  beg  relief  from 
the  Senate ;  and  the  historian  has  abo  recorded  the  hard  answer  which  he  received 
from  the  unrelenting  Tiberius.  Perceiving,  however,  that  his  severity  was  disliked 
by  the  Senate,  the  Emperor  said,  that,  if  they  desired  it,  he  would  give  a  certain 
sum  to  each  of  Hortalos's  malerhildren.  They  returned  thanks ;  but  Hortalus,  ei- 
tiler  from  terror  or  dignity  of  mind,  said  not  a  word ;  and,  from  this  time,  Tiberius 
showing  him  no  favour,  his  family  sunk  into  the  most  abject  poverty :  (Tacit.  ^hM, 
Ub.  II..  c.  S7  and  88.)  And  such  were  the  descendanls  of  the  orator  with  the 
park,  the  plantations,  the  ponds,  and  the  pictures ! 
*  CatuO.  Carm,  6S. 


132  CALIDIU8. 

having  died  at  the  early  age  of  thirty.    He  left  behind  hm 
twenty-oae  books  of  orations,  which  are  said  to  have  been 
much  studied  by  the  younger  Pliny,  and  were  the  models  be 
first  imitated*. 
Calvus,  though  a  much  younger  man  than  Cicero,  died  many 

J^ears  before  him^  and  previous  to  the  composition  of  tl^  dia- 
ogue  BrtUua.  Most  of  the  other  contemporaries,  wbooi 
Cicero  records  in  that  treatise  on  celebrated  orators,  were 
dead  also.  Among  an  infinite  variety  of  others,  be  particu- 
larly mentions  Marcus  Crassus,  the  wealthy  triumv«r»  who 
petished  in  the  ill-fated  expedition  against  the  Parttiian8;ajKl 
who,  though  possessed  but  of  moderate  learning  and  capacity, 
was  accounted,  in  consequence  of  his  industry  and  popular 
arts,  among  the  chief  forensic  patrons.  His  language  was 
pure,  and  his  subject  well  arranged ;  but  in  his  harangues  there 
were  none  of  the  lights  and  flowers  of  eloquence,**^!  lhin|s 
were  expressed  in  the  same  manner,  and  the  same  tone. 

Towards  the  conclusion  of  the  dialogue,  Cicero  mentioDS  so 
many  of  his  predeceased  contemporaries,  that  Atticus  remarks, 
that  he  is  drawing  up  the  dregs  of  oratory.  Calidius,  indeed, 
seems  the  only  other  speaker  who  merits  distinguished  notice. 
He  is  characterized  as  diflerent  from  all  other  orators,^-8ttch 
was  the  soft  and  polished  language  in  which  he  arrayed  his 
exquisitely  delicate  sentiments.  Nothing  could  be  more  easy, 
pliable,  and  ductile,  than  the  turn  of  his  periods;  his  words 
flowed  like  a  pure  and  limpid  stream,  without  anything  hard 
or  muddy  to  impede -or  pollute  their  course;  his  action  was 
genteel,  his  mode  of  address  solder  and  calm,  his  arrangement 
the  perfection  of  art.  ^'The  three  great  objects  of  an  orator,^* 
says  Cicero,  while  discussing  the  merits  of  Calidius,  ^are  to 
instruct,  delight,  and  move.  Two  of  these  he  admirably  ac* 
complished.  He  rendered  the  most  abf^truse  subject  clear  by 
illustration,  and  enchained  the  minds  of  his  hearers  with  de- 
light. But  the  third  praise  of  moving  and  exciting  the  soul 
must  be  denied  him;  he  had  no. force,  pathos,  or  animationf.'* 
Such,  indeed,  was  his  want  of  emotion,  where  it  was  most  ap- 
propriate, and  most  to  be  expected,  that,  while  pleading  his 
own  cause  against  Q.  Gallius  for  an  attempt  to  poison  him, 
though  he  stated  his  case  with  elegance  and  perspici|iiy,  yet 
it  was  so  smoothly  and  listlessly  detailed,  that  Cicero,  who 
spoke  for  the  person  accused,  argued,  that  the  charge  must  be 
false  and  an  invention  of  his  own,  as  no  one  could  talk  so 
calmly,  and  with  such  indifference,  of  a  recent  attempt  which 
threatened  his  own  existence|. 

*  Plioy,  Epi$i.  Lib.  I.  ep.  2.  f  ^ruhiB,  c  80.  |  IbM. 


CICERO.     "  1S3 

These  were  the  most  renowned  orators  who  pveeeded  the 
age  of  Cicero,  or  were  contemporaries  with  him ;  and  before 
proceeding  to  consider  the  oratorical  merits  of  him  by  whom 
tl«ey  have  been  all  eclipsed,  at  least  in  the  eye  of  posterity,  it 
may  be  proper,  for  a  single  moment,  to  remind  the  reader  of 
the  state  of  the  Roman  law, — of  the  judicial  procedure,  and  of 
the  ordinary  practice  of  the  Forum,  at  the  time  when  he  com- 
menced and  pursued  his  brilliant  career  of  eloquence. 

The  laws  of  the  first  six  kings  of  Rome,  cdled  the  Leges 
RegUB^  chiefly  related  to  sacred  subjects, — regulations  of 
pi>lice,-^ivisions  of  the  different  orders  in  the  statie,— and 
privileges  of  the  people.  Tarquinius  Superbus  having  laid  a 
plan  for  the  establishment  of  despotism  at  Rome,  attempted  to 
abolish  every  law  of  his  predecessors  which  imposed  control 
on  the  royal  prerogative.  About  the  time  of  4iis  expulsion*, 
the  Senate  and  people,  believing  that  the  disregard  of  the  laws 
was  occasioned  by  their  never  having  been  reduced  in  wri- 
ting, determmed  to  have  them  assembled  and  recorded  in  one 
Tolume ;  and  this  task  was  intrusted  by  them  to  Sextus  Papy- 
rius,  a  patrician.  Papyrius  accordingly  collected,  with  great 
assiduity,  all  the  laws  of  the  monarchs  who  had  governed 
Rome  previously  to  the  time  of  Tarquin.  This  .collection, 
which  is  sometimes  called  the  Leges  Hegue,  and  sometimes 
the  Papyrian  Code,  did  not  obtain  that  confirmation  and  p^- 
manence.  which  might  have  been  expected.  Many  of  tl^  Le- 
ges RegUB  were  the  result  of  momentary  emergencies,  and 
inapplicable  to  future  circumstances.  Befing  the  ordinances, 
too,  of  a  detested  race,  and  being  in  some-  respects  but  ill 
adapted  to  the  genius  and  temperof  a  republican  government, 
a  great  number  of  tiiem  soon  fell  into  desuetudef .  The  new 
laws  promulgatedkimmediately  after  the  expulsion  of  the  kings, 
related  more  to  those  constitutional  modifications  which  were 
rendered  necessary  by  so  important  a  revolution,  than  to  the 
civil  rights  of  the  citizen.  In  consequence  of  the  dissensions 
of  the  patricians  and  plebeians,  every  SenatuscansuUum  pro- 
ceeding from  the  deliberations  of  the  Senate  was  negatived  by 
the  veto  of  the  Tribunes,  while  the  Senate,  in  return,  disowned 
the  authority  of  the  PUbiscita.  and  denied  the  right  of  the 
Tribunes  to  propose  laws.  There  was  thiis  a  sort  of  legal  in- 
terregnum at  Rome;  at  least,  there  were  no  fixed  rules  to 
which  all  classes  were  equally  subjected :  and  the  great  body 

*  According  to  some  authorities  it  wms  a  Abort  wbSe  before,  and  according  to 
others  a  short  while  after,  the  expulsion  of  Tarquin. 

t  **  Exactis  deinde  regibus  leges  hae  exoleverunt ;  iterumciue  ccepit  populus  Ro- 
manus  incerto  magis  jure  et  consuetudine  ali,  quam  per  latam  legem.'^— PoMPoir. 


134  CICERO. 

of  the  people  were  too  often  the  victims  of  the  pride  of  the 
patricians  and  tyranny  of  the  consular  government.  In  thii 
situation,  C.  Terentius  Arsa  brought  forward  the  law  known 
by  the  name  of  TerentiUay  of  which  the  object  was  the  elec- 
tion by  the  people  of  ten  persons,  who  should  compose  aod 
arrange  a  body  of  laws  for  the  administration  of  public  affairs, 
as  well  as  decision  of  the  civil  rights  of  individuals  according 
to  established  rules.  The  Senate,  who  maintained  that  the 
dispensation  of  justice  was  solely  vested  in  the  supreme  ma- 
gistrates, contrived,  for  five  years,  to  postpone  execution  of  this 
salutary  measure ;  but  it  was  at  length  agreed,  that,  as  a  prept- 
ratory  step,  and  before  the  creation  of  the  Decemvirs,  who  were 
to  form  this  code,  three  deputies  should  be  sent  to  Greece, 
and  the  Greek  towns  t>f  Italy,  to  select  such  enactments  as  they 
might  consider  1[>est  adapted  to  the  manners  and  customs  of  the 
Roman  people. 

The  delegates,  who  departed  on  this  embassy  towards  the 
close  of  the  year  300,  were  occupied  two  years  in  their  impor- 
tant mission.  From  what  cities  of  Greece,  or  Magna  Grscia, 
they  chiefly  borrowed  their  laws,  has  been  a  topic  of  much 
discussion,  and  seemsto  be  still  involved  in  much  uncertainty*; 
though  Athens  is  most  usually  considered  as  having  been  the 
great  fountain  of  their  legislation. 

On  the  return  of  the  deputies  to  Rome,  the  office  of  Consol 
was  suppressed,  and  ten  magistrates,  called  Decemvirs,  among 
whom  these  deputies  were  included,  were  immediately  crea- 
ted. To  them  was'  confided  tlye  care  of  digesting  the  prodi- 
gious mass  of  laws  which  had  been  brought  firom  Greece. 
This  task  they  accomplished  with  the  aid  of  Hermodoms,  an 
exile  of  Ephesus,  who  then  happened  to  be  at  Rome,  and  act- 
ed as  their  interpreter.  But  although  the  amportation  from 
Greece  formed  the  chief  part  of  the  twelve  tables,  it  cannot 
be  supposed  that  the  ancient  laws  of  Rome  were  entirely  sa- 
perseded.  Some  of  the  Leges  RegUBj  which  had  no  refer- 
ence to  monarchical  government,  as  the  laws  of  Romulus, 
concerning  the  Pairia  potestas,  those  concerning  parricid^ 
the  removal  of  landmarks,  and  insolvent  debtors,  had,  by  tacit 
consent,  passed  into  consuetudinary  law ;  and  all  those  which 
were  still  in  observance  were  incorporated  in  the  Decemviral 
Code ;  in  the  same  manner  as  the  institutions  of  the  heroic 
ages  of  Greece  formed  a  part  of  the  laws  of  So1<mi  and  Lf- 
curgus. 

Before  a  year  had  elapsed  from  the  date  of  their  creatio&r 
the  Decemvirs  had  prepared  ten  books  of  laws;  which,  beuig 

*  Gibbon,  DetUnt  and  FaU  of  the  B^nnan  EmpitCi  c.  44. 


CICERO-  135 

engraved  on  wooden  or  ivory  tables,  were  presented  to  the 
people,  and  received  the  sanction  of  the  Senate,  and  ratifica- 
tion of  the  Comitia  Centuriata.  Two  supplementary  tables 
lYere  soon  afterwards  added,  in  consequence  of  some  omissions 
which  were  observed  and  pointed  out  to  the  Decemvirs.  In 
all  these  tables  the  laws  were  briefly  expressed.  The-  first 
eight  related  to  matters  of  private  right,  the  ninth  to  those  of 
public,  and  the  tenth  to  those  of  religious  concern.  These 
ten  tables  established  very  equitable  rules  for  all  different 
ranks,  wjthout  distinction ;  but  in  the  two  supplemental  tables 
some  invidious  distinctions  were  introduced,  and  many  ex- 
'  elusive  privileges  conferred  on  the  patricians^. 

On  the  whole,  the  Decemvirs  appear  to  have  been  very 
weH  versed  in  the  science  of  legislation.  Those  who,  like 
Cicero^  and  Tacitus,  possessed  the  Twelve  Tables  completCi 
and  who  were  the  most  competent  judges  of  how  far  they^ 
were  adapted  to  the  circumstances  and  manners  of  the  peo-' 
pie,  have  highly  commended  the  wisdom  of  these  laws.  Mod- 
ern detractors  have  chiefly  objected  to  the  sanguinary  punish- 
ments- they  inflicted,  the  principles  of  the  law  of  retaliation 
which  they  recognized,  and  the  barbarous  privileges  permit- 
ted to  creditors  on  the  persons  of  their  debtors.  The  severer 
enactments,  however, 'of  the  Twelve  Tables,  were  evidently 
never  put  iu  force',  or  so  soon  became  obsolete,  that  the  Ro- 
man laws  were  at  leng^th  esteemed  remarkable  for  the  mildness 
of  their  punishments — the  penalties  of  scourging,  or  death, 
being  scarcely  in  any  case  inflicted  on  a  Roman  citizen. 

The  tables  on  which  the  Decemviral  Code  had  been  in- 
scribed, were  destroyed  by  the  Gauls  at  the  sack  of  the  city; 
but  such  pains  were  taken  in  recovering  copies,  or  making 
them  out  from  recollection,  that  the  laws  themselves  were  al- 
most completely  re-established. 

It  might  reasonably  have  been  expected  that  a.  system  of 
jurisprudence,  carefully  extracted  from  the  whole  legislative 
wisdom  of  Italy  and  Greece,  should  have  restored  in  the  com^ 
monwealth  that  good  order  and  security  which  had  been  over- 
thrown by  the  uncertainty  of  the  laws,  and  the  disputes  of  the 
patricians  and  plebeians.  But  the  event  did  not  justify  the 
well-founded  expectation.  The  ambition  and  lawless  pas- 
sions of  the  chief  Decemvir  had  rendered  it  necessary  for  him 
and  his  colleagues  to  abdicate  their  authority  before  they  had 
settled  with  sufficient  precision  how  their  enactments  were  to 
be  put  in  practice  or  enforced.  It  thus  became  essential  to 
introduce*  certain /oniiti/i8  called  Legis  Actiones^  in  order 

*  De  LegUniUt  lib.  II.  c.  23.    JDe  Ormore,  Lib.  I.  c.  48. 


136  CICERO. 

that  the  mode  of  procedure  might  not  remain  arbitrary  and 
uncertain.  These,  consisting  chiefly  of  certain  symbolical 
gestures,  adapted  to  a  legal  claim  or  defence,  were  prepared  bj 
Claudius  Coecus  about  the  middle  of  the  fifth  century  of  Rome, 
but  were  intended  to  be  kept  private  among  the  pont'fi 
and  patrician  Jurisconsults,  that  the  people  might  not  hare 
the  benefit  of  the  law  without  their  assistance.  CI.  Flavios, 
however,  a  secretary  of  Claudius,  having  access  to  these 
formularies,  transcribed  and  communicated  them  to  the  peo- 
)>]e  about  the  middle  of  the  fifth  century  of  Romo*  From 
this  circumstance  they  were  called  the  Jus  civile  JWiamfin. 
This  discovery  was  so  disagreeable  to  the  patricians,  that 
they  devised  new  legal  forms,  which  they  kept  secret  with 
still  more  care  than  the  others.  But  *in  553,  Sextus  ^lios 
Catus  divulged  them  again,  and  in  consequence,  these  last 
prescripts  obtained  the  name  of  Jus  JElium^  which  may  here- 

{rarded  as  the  last  part  and  comfSletion  of  the  Decemriral 
aws ;  and  it  continued  to  be  employed  as  the  form  of  process 
during  the  whole  remaining  period  of  the  existence  of  the 
commonwealth. 

As  long  as  the  republic  survived,  the  Twelve  Tables  formed 
the  foundation  of  the  Roman  law,  though  th^y  were  inter- 
preted and  enlarged  by  such  new  enactments  as  the  circum- 
stances of  the  state  demanded*.  Thus  the  Lex  ^qtnUa  and 
AHnia  were  mere  modifications  q(  diflferent  heads  of  the 
twelve  tables.  Most  of  the  new  laws  were  introduced  in 
consequence  of  the  increase  of  empire  and  luxury,  and  the 
conflicting  interests  of  the  various  orders  in  the  state.  La«'s, 
properly  so  called,  were  proposed  by  a  superior  magistrate. 
as  the  Consul,  dictator,  or  Praetor,  with  consent  of  the  Sen- 
ate; they  were  passed  by  the  whole  body  of  the  people,  pa- 
tricians and  plebeians,  assembled  in  the  Comitia  Centuriati; 
and  bore  ever  after  the  name  of  the  proposer. 

The  Plebiscita  ^ere  enacted  by  the  plebeians  in  the  Comi- 
tia Tributa,  apart  from  the  patricians,  and  independently  o* 
the  sanction  of  the  Setfate,  at  the  rogation  of  their  own  Tri- 
bunes, instead  of  one  of  the  superior  magistrates.  The  pa- 
tricians generally  resisted  these  decrees,-  as  they  were  chiefly 
directed  against  the  authority  of  the  Senate,  and  the  priri- 
leges  of  the  higher  orders  of  the  state.  But,  by  the  Lex  Bcto- 
Na,  the  same  weight  and  authority  were  given  to  them  as  to 
laws  properly  so  termed,  and  thenceforth  they  difiered  only  m 
name,  and  the  manner  in  which  they  were  enacted. 

■ 

*  '*  Decern  tBbulaium  leges,*'  nys  liyy,  **  nunc  quoque,  in  hoc  immoMO  ^ 
arum  super  aliis  acervatuum  legum  cuniulo,  fi»B  omius  publid  fdni3Xp»  ^ 
juris." 


CICERO.  137 

A  SenatusconguUwn  was  an  ordinance  of  the  Senate  on 
those  points  concerning  which  it  possessed  exclusive  authority ; 
but  rather  referred  to  matters  of  state,  as  the  distribution  of 
provinces,  the  application  of  public  money,  and  the  like,  than 
to  the  ordinary  administration  of  justice. 

The  patricians,  being  deprived  by  the  Twelve  Tables  of  the 
privilege  of  arbitrarily  pronouncing  decisions,  as  best  suited 
their  interests;  and  being  frustrated  in  their  miserable  at- 
tempts to  maintain  an  undue  advantage  in  matters  of  form, 
by  secreting  the  rules  of  procedui:e  held  in  courts  of  justice, 
they  had  now  reserved  to  them  only  the  povver  of  interpreting 
to  others  the  scope  and  spirit  of  the  laws.  Till  the  age,  at 
least,  of  Augustus,  the  civil  law  was  completely  unconnected 
and  dissipated ;  and  no  systematic,  accessible,  or  authoritative 
treatise  on  the  subject,  appeared  during  the  existence  of  the 
republic*.  The  laws  of  the  Twelve  Tables  were  extremely 
concise  and  elliptical ;  and  it  seems  highly  probable  that  they 
were  written  in  this  style,  not  for  the  sake  of  perspicuity,  but  • 
to  leave  all  that  required  to  be  supplied  or  interpreted  in  the 
power  of  the  Patriciansf .'  The  changes,  too,  in  the  customg 
and  language  of  the  Romans,  rendered  the  style  of  the  Twelve 
Tables  less  familiar  to  each  succeeding  veneration ;  and  the 
ambiguous  passages  were  but  imperfectly  explained  by  the 
8tudy  of  legal  antiquarians.  It  was  the  custom,  likewise,,  for 
each  successive  Praetor  to  publish  an  edict,  announcing  the 
manner  in  which  justice  was  to  be  distributed  by  him — the 
rules  which  be  proposed  to  follow  in  the  decision  of  doubtful 
cases;  and  the  degree  of  relief  which  his  equity  would  afford 
from  the  precise  rigour  of  ancient  statutes.  This  annual  al- 
teration in  forms,  and  sometimes  even  in  the  principles  of  law, 
introduced  a  confusion,*  which  persons  engrossed  with  other 
occupations  could  not  unravel.  The  obscurity  of  old  laws, 
and  fluctuating  jurisdiction  of  the  Praetors,  gave  rise  to  that 
class- of  men  called  Jurisconsults,  whose  business  it  was  to  ex- 
plain legal  difficulties,  and  reconcile  statutory  contradictions. 
It  was  the  relation  of  patron  and  client,  wftich  was  coeval  al- 
most with  the  city  itself,  and  was  invested  with  a  sacred,  in- 
violable character,  that  gave  weight  to  the  dicta  of  those  who, 
in  some  measure,  came  in  place  of  the  ancient  patrons,  and 
usually  belonged  to  the  patrician  order. — ''On  the  public 
days  of  market  or  assembly,"  says  Gibbon,  ''  the  masters  of 
the  art  were  seen  walking  in  the  Forum,  ready  to  impart  the 
neediul  advice  to  the  meanest  of  their  fellow-citixens,  from 

*  Cicero,  De  Orat&re,  Lib.  II.  c.88. 

t  Saint  Prix,  Bist.  du  DroU  Utmainj  p.  28.  Ed.  Paris,  1821. 

Vol.  II.— S 


138  aCERO. 

whose  votes,  on  a  future  occasion,  they  might  solicit  agrtte* 
ful  return.  As  their  years  and  honours  increased,  they  seat- 
ed themselves  at  home  on  a  chair  or  throne,  to  expect  with 
patient  gravity  the  visits  of  their  clients,  who,  at  the  dawn  of 
day,  from  the  town  and  country,  began  to  thunder  at  tbeir 
door.  The  duties  of  social  life,  and  incidents  of  judicial  pro- 
ceedings, were  the  ordinary  subject  of  these  consultations; 
and  the  verbal  or  written  opinions  of  the  jurisconsults  were 
framed  according  to  the  rules  of  prudence  and  law.  The 
youths  of  their  own  order  and  family  were  permitted  to  listen; 
their  children  enjoyed  the  benefit  of  more  private  lessons;  and 
the  Mucian  race  was  long  renowned  for  the  hereditary  know- 
ledge of  the  civil  law*."  Though  the  judges  and  pratois 
were  not  absolutely  obliged,  till  the  time  of  the  emperors,  to 
follow  the  recorded  opinions  of  the  Jurisconsults,  they  pos- 
sessed during  the  existence  of  the  republic  a  preponderating 
weight  and  authority.  The  province  of  legislation  was  thitf 
*  gradually  invaded  by  these  expounders  of  ancient  statutes,  tilt 
at  length  their  recorded  opinions,  the  Reaponsa  PrudeiUt^ 
became  so  numerous,  and  of  such  authority,  that  they  formed 
the  greatest  part  of  the  system  of  Roman  jurisprudence^ 
whence  they  were  styled  by  Cicero,  in  his  oration  for  Cscioa, 
Jits  Civile. 

It  is  perfectly  evident,  however,  that  the  civil  law  was  nei- 
ther much  studied  nor  known  by  the  oraiors  of  the  Senate, 
and  Forum.  Cicero,  in  his  treatise  De  (jratore^  inforiD^  us, 
that  Ser.  Galba,  the  first  speaker  of  his  day,  was  ignorant  of 
law,  inexperienced  in  civil  rights,  and  uncertain  as  to  the  io- 
Btitutions  of  his  ancestors.  In  his  Bruius  he  says  nearly  the 
same  thing  of  Antony  and  Sulpicius,  who  were  the  two  great- 
est orators  of  their  age,  and  who,  he  declares,  knew  nothing  of 
public,  private,  or  civil  law.  Antony  in  particular,  always 
expressed  a  contempt  for  the  study  of  the  civil  lawf.  Accor- 
dingly, in  the  dialogue  De  Oratore,  he  is  madeto  say,  "  I  never 
studied  the  civil  l^w,  nor  have  I  been  sensible  of  any  lossfrxo 
iny  ignorance  of  it  in  those  causes  which  I  was  capable  of 
managing  in  our  courts|."  In  the  same  dialogue,  Sca^v^'la 
says,  "  The  present  age  is  totally  ignorant  of  the  laws  of  the 
Twelve  Tables,  except  you,  Crassus,  who,  led  by  curiosity, 
rather  than  from  its  being  any  province  annexed  to  eloquence, 
studied  civil  law  under  me."  In  his  oration  for  Mur«na,  Cicero 
talks  lightly  of  the  study  of  the  civil  law,  and  treats  his  oppo- 
nent with  scorn  on  account  of  his  knowledge  of  it3  words  oi 

*  DecUne  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire,  c.  44. 

t  Cicero,  J)e  Oral,  Lib.  I.  c  57.  %  lt>id.  Lib.  I.  c  58. 


CICERO.  139 

I 

style  and  forniB  of  procedure*.  With  exception,  then,  of  Cras- 
sus,  and  of  Scaevola,  who  was  rather  a  jurisconsult  than  a  spea- 
ker, the  orators  of  the  age  of  Cicero,  as  well  as  those  who 
preceded  it,  were  uninstructed  in  law,  and  considered  it  as  no 
part  of  their  duty  to  render  themselves  masters,  either  of  the 
general  principles  of  jurisprudence,  or  the  municipal  institu- 
tions of  the  state.  Crassus,  indeed,  expresses  his  opinion, 
that  it  is  impossible  for  an  orator 'to  do  justice  to  his  client 
without  some  knowledge  of  law.  particularly  in  questions  tried 
befoi^  the  Centumviri,  who  had  cognizance  of  points  with  re- 
gard to  egress  and  regress  in  property,  the  interests  of  minors, 
and  alterations  in  the  course  of  rivers ;  and  he  mentions  several 
cases,  some  of  a  criminal  nature,  which  had  lately  occurred  at 
Rome,  where  the  question  hinged  entirely  on  the  civil  law, 
and  required  constant  reference  to  precedents  and  authorities. 
Antony,  however,  explains  how  alf  this  may  be  managed.  A 
speaker,  for  example,  ignorant  of  the  mode  of  drawing  up  an 
agreement,  and  unacquainted  with  theformsof  acontract,  might 
defend  the  rights  of  a  woman  who  has  been  contracted  in 
marriage,  because  there  were  persons  who  brpught  everything 
to  the  orator  or  patron,  ready  prepared, — presenting  him  with 
a  brief,  or  memorial,  not  only  on 'matters  of  fact,  but  on  the 
decrees  of  the  Senate,  the  precedents  and  the  opinions  of  the 
jurisconsults.  It  'also  appears  that  there  were  solicitors,  or 
professors  of  civil  law,  whom  the  orators  consulted  on  any 
point  concerjving  which  they  wished  to  be  instructed,  and  the 
knowledge  of  which  might  be  necessary  previous  to  their  ap- 
pearance in  the  Forum.  In  this  situation,  the  harangue  of  the 
orator  was  more  frequently  an  appeal  to  the  equity,  common 
sense,  or  feelings  of  the  judge,  than  to  the  laws  of  his  country. 
Now,  where  a  pleader  addresses  himself  to  the  equity  of  his 
judges,  he  has  much  more  occasion,  and  also  much  more  scope, 
to  display  his  eloquence,  than  where  he  must  draw  his  argu- 
ments from  strict  law,  statutes,  and  precedents.  In  the  former 
^ase,  many  circumstances  must  be  taken  into  account ;  many 

*  It  most  be  admitted,  however,  that  Cicero,  in  other  jrassages  of  hi^  works,  has 
given  the  study  of  civil  law  high  encomiums,  particuiarly  in  the  following  beautiful 
l>a<*.4aee  delivered  in  the  person  of  Crassus :  "  Senectuti  vero  celebrande  et  ornaudas 
qaid  honestius  potest  esse  petfugium,  qukm  juris  interpretatio .'  Equidem  mihi  hoc 
sabsidium  jaminde-ab  adolescentia  comparavi,  non  solum  ad  causanim  usum  foren- 
0em,«ed  etiam  ad  decus  atque  omamentum  senectutis;  ut  ci^m  me  vires  (quod 
fere  jam  tempus  adventat)  deficere  coepissent,  ab  solitudine  domum  meam  vindica* 
rem."  {De  Oratorey  Lib.  I.  c.  45.)  Schuldngius,  the  celebrated  civilian,  in  liis 
dL»sertation  He  Jurisprudeniia  CUeronUt  tries  to  prove,  from  various  passages  in  his 
orations  and  rlietorical  writings,  that  Cicero  was  well  versed  in  the  most  profound 
and  nice  questions  of  Roman  jurisprudence,  and  that  he  was  well  skilled  in  interna- 
tional  law,  as  Grotius  has  borrowed  from  him  many  of  Us  principles  and  iUusttatloDs, 
in  his  treatise  JDe  Jure  BelH  et  Faeis. 


140  CICERO. 

Si 

personal  ciotisiderations  regarded ;  and  even  favour  and  ineli- 
nation,  which  it  belongs  to  the  orator  to  conciliate,  bj  his 
art  and  eloquence,  may  be  disguised  under  the  appearance  of 
equity.  Accordingly,  Cicero,  while  speaking  in  his  own  per- 
son, only  says,  that  the  science  of  law  and  civil  rights  shoaid 
not  be  neglected ;  but  he  does  not  seem  to  consider  it  as  es- 
sential to  the  orator  of  the  Forum,  while  |ie  enlarges  on  the 
necessity  of  elegance  of  language,  the  erudition  of  the  scho- 
lar, a  ready  and  popular  wit,  and  a  power  of  moTing  the  pas- 
sions^. 

That  these  were  the  arts  to  which  the  Roman  orators  chiefly 
trusted  for  success  in  the  causes  of  their  clients,  is  appareirt 
from  the  remains  of  their  discourses,  and  from  what  is  said  of 
the  mode  of  pleading  in  the  rhetorical  treatises  of  Cicero. 
"Pontius,"  says  Antony, in  the  dialogue  so  often  quoted,*^ hid 
a  son,  who  served  in  the  war  with  the  Cimbri,  and  whom  be 
had  destined  to  be  his  heir;  but  his  father,  believing  a  false  re- 
port which  was  spread  of  his  death,  made  a  will  in  filToar  of 
another  child.  The  soldier  returned  after  the  decease  of  his 
parent ;  and,  had  you  been  employed  to  defend  his  cause,  yon 
would  not  have  discussed  the  legal  doctrine  as  to  the  priority 
or  validity  of  testaments ;  you  would  have  raided  his  father 
from  the  grave,  made  him  embrace  his  child,  and  recomiDeDd 
him.  with  many  tears,  to  the  protection  of  the  Centumviri." 

Antony,  speaking  of  one  of  his  own  most  celebrated  ora- 
tions, says,  that  his  whole  address  consisted,  Ist,  in  moving 
the  passions ;  2d,  in  recommending  hinMdf;  and  that  it  was 
thus,  and  not  by  convincing  the  understanding  of  the  jodges, 
that  he  baffled  the  impeachment  against  his  cliedtsf .  Vale- 
rius Maximus  has  supplied,  in  his  eighth  book,  many  examples 
of  unexpected  and  unmerited  acquittals,  as  well  as  condemna- 
tions, from  bursts  of  compassion  and  theatrical  incidents.  The 
wonderful  influence,  too,  of  a  ready  and  popular  wit  in  the 
management  of  causes,  is  apparent  from  the  instances  given 
in  the  second  book  De  Oratore  of  the  effects  it  had  produced 
in  the  Forum.  The  jests  which  are  there  recordecL,  though 
not  very  excellent,  may  be  regarded  as  the  finest  flowers  of 
wit  of  the  Roman  bar.  Sometimes  they  were  directed  agaiosi 
the  opposite  party,  his  patron,  or  witnesses ;  and,  if  sufficieotiv 
impudent,  seldom  failed  of  effect. 

That  the  principles  and  precepts  of  the  civil  law  were  so 
little  studied  by  the  Roman  orators,  and  hardly  ever  alluded 
to  in  their  harangues,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  arts  of  per- 
suasion, and  wit,  and  excitement  of  the  passions,  were  all-pDW* 

•  Dc  Oraiore,  lib.  I.  f  /*«<«-^  I^b.  U.  c.  49. 


CICEKO.  141 

^erful}  and  were  the  great  engines  of  legal  discnsaion,  must  be 
attributed  to  the  constitution  of  the  courts  of  law,  and  the 
nature  of  the  judicial  procedure,  which,  though  very  imperfect 
for  the  administration  of  justice,  were  weU  adapted  to  promote 
and  exercise  the  highest  powers  of  eloquence.  It  was  the 
forms  of  procedure — the  description  of  the  courts  before  which 
questions  were  tried — and  the  nature  of  these  questions  them- 
selves*— that  gave  to  Roman  oratory  such  dazzling  splendour, 
and  surrounded  it  with  a  glory,  which  can  never  shine  on  the 
efforts  of  rhetoric  in  a  better-regulated  community,  and  under 
a  more  sober  dispensation  of  justice. 

The  great  exhibitions  of  eloquence  were,  1st,  In  the  civil 
and  criminal  causes  tried  before  the  Preetor,  or  judges  appoint- 
ed under  his  eye.  id,  The  discussions  on  laws  proposed  in 
the  assemblies  of  the  people.  3d,  The  deliberations  of  the 
Senate. 

The  PrsBtor  satin  the  Forum,  the  name  given  to  the  great 
square  situated  between  Mount  Palatine  and  the  Capitol,  and 
there  administered  justice.  Sometimes  he  heard  causes  in 
the  Basilicas,  or  halls  which  were  built  around  the  Forum; 
but  at  other  times  the  court  of  the  Praetor  was  held  in  the  area 
of  the  Forum,  on  which  a  tribunal  was  hastily  erected,  and  a 
certain  space  for  the  patron,  client,  and  witnesses,  was  railed 
off,  and  protected  from  the  encroachment  of  surrounding 
spectators.  This  space  was  slightly  covered  above  for  the 
occasion  with  canvass,  but  being  exposed  to  the  air  on  all 
sides,  the  court  was  an  open  one,  in  the  strictest  sense  of  the 
termf . 

From  the  time  of  the  first  Punic  war  there  were  two  Prae* 
tors,  to  whom  the  cognizance  of  civU  suits  was  committed,-^ 
the  Praior  urbdnus  and  Prator  peregrinus.  The  former 
tried  the  causes  of  citizens  according  to  the  Roman  laws ; 
the  latter  judged  the  cases  of  allies  and  strangers  by  the  prin- 
ciples of  natural  equity ;  but  as  judicial  business  multiplied,  the 
number  of  Praetors  was  increased  to  six.  The  Prsetor  was  the 
chief  judge  in  all  questions  that  did  not  fall  under  the  imme- 
diate cognizance  of  the  assemblies  of  the  people  or  the  Senate. 
Every  action,  therefore,  came,  in  the  first  instance,  before  the 
Prsetor ;  but  he  decided  only  in  civil  suits  of  importance :  and 
if  the  cause  was  not  of  suflicient  magnitude  for  the  immediate 
investigation  of  his  tribunal,  or  hinged  entirely  on  matters  of 
fact,  he  appointed  one  or  more  persons  to  judge  of  it.    These 

*  *'  An  noD  pudeat,  certam  creditam  peciiniam  periodia  poatulare,  aut  circa  stilil- 
cidia  affid?"— Quint.  Inst  Orai,  Lib.  VIII.  c.  8. 

t  Polletus,  Bistoria  Fori  Bffmanh  c^*  Supplement  ad  CfraevH  tt  Oronov.  an- 
l^qmtat.  T.  I.  p.  851. 


142  CICERO. 

were  choseii»froiii  a  list  of  judices  selectij  which  was  madenp 
.from  the.  three  orders  of  seDeLtors,  knights,  and  people.  If  hot 
one  person  was  appointed,  he  was  properly  called  a  judex,  or 
arbiief.  The  judex  determined  only  such  cases  as  were  easr, 
or  of  small  importance ;  and  he  was  bound  to  proceed  accor- 
ding to  an  express  law,  or  a  certain  form  prescribed  to  him  br 
the  Praetor.  The  arbiter  decided  in  questions  of  equitj 
which  were  not  sufficiently  defined  by  law,  and  his  powen 
were  not  so  restricted  by  the  Prstor  as  those  of  the  ordinarj 
judex.  When  more  persons  than  one  were  nominated  by  the 
Prsetor,  they  were  termed  Recuperaiores,  and  they  settled 
points  of  law  or  equity  requiring  much  deliberation.  Certaio 
cases,  particularly  those  relating  to  testaments  or  successioni, 
were  usually  remitted  by  the  Preetor  to  the  Centumoiri,  who 
were  105  persons,  chosen  eqqally  from  the  thirty-five  tribe& 
The  Praetor,  before  sending  a  case  to  any  of  those,  whom  I 
may  call  by  the  general  name  of  judges,  though,  in  fact,  they 
more  nearly  resembled  our  jury,  made  up  ^  formula,  as  it  was 
called,  or  issue  on  which  they  were  to  decide ;  as,  for  example, 
"  If  it  be  proved  that  the  field  is  in  possession  of  Servilius,  gire 
sentence  against  Catulus,  unless  he  produce  a  testament,  bm 
which  it  shall  appear  to  belong  to  him." 

It  was  in  presence  of  these  judges  that  the  patroDS 
orators,  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  friends  and  retainers,  plead- 
ed the  causes  of  their  clients.  They  commenced  with  a  brief 
exposition  of  the  nature  of  the  points  in  dispute.  Witnesses 
were  afterwards  examined^  and  the  arguments  on  the  case 
were  enforced  in  a  formal  harangue.  A  decision  was  then 
given,  according  to  the  opinion  of  a  majority  of  the  judges. 
The  Centumviri  continued  to  act  as  judges  for  a  whole  year; 
but  the  other  judices  only  sat  till  the  particular  cause  was  de- 
termined for  which  they  had  been  appointed.  They  remained, 
however,  on  the  numerous  list  of  the  jiulicea  Seledi,  and  were 
liable  to  be  again  summoned  till  the  end  of  the  year,  when  a 
new  set  was  chosen  for  the  judicial  business  of  the  ensuiag 
season.  The  Praetor  had  the  power  of  reversing  the  decisioos 
of  the  judges,  if  it  appeared  that  any  fraud  or  gross  error  had 
been  committed.  If  neither  was  alleged,  he  charged  himnjlf 
with  the  duty  of  seeing  the  sentence  which  the  jud^^es  had  pro- 
nounced carried  into  execution.  Along  with  his  judicial  and 
ministerial  functions,  the  Praetor  possessed  a  sort  of  legislative 
power,  by  which  he  supplied  the  deficiency  of  laws  that  were 
found  inadequate  for  many  civil  emergencies.  According^j 
each  new  Praetor,  as  we  have  already  seen,  when  he  entered 
on  his  office,  issued  an  edict,  announcing  the  supplementary 
code  which  he  intended  to  follow.    Every  Praetor  had  a  t»- 


CICERO.  143 

tally  difTerent  edict ;  and,  what  was  worse,  none  thought  of 
adhering  to  the  rules  which  he  had  himself  traced ;  till  at. 
length,  in  the  year  686,  the  Cornelian  law,  which  met  with 
much  opposition,  prohibited  the  Prsetor  from  departing  in 
practice  from  those  principles,  or  regulations,  he  had  laid  down 
in  his  edict. 

Capital  trials,  that  is,  all  those  which  regarded  the  life  or 
liberty  of  a  Roman  citizen,  had  been  held  in  the  Camitia 
CerUuriata,  sfier  the  institution  of  these  assemblies  by  Servius 
T  .tlius ;  but  the  authority  of  the  people  had  been  occasionally 
delegated  to  Inquisitors,  (Q^uBsiiores,)  in  points  previously 
fixed  by  law.  For  some  time,  all  criminal  matters  of  conse- 
quence were  determined  in  this  manner  :  But  from  the  multi- 
plicity of  trials,  which  increased  with  the  extent  and  vices  of 
thr  republic,  other  means  of  despatching  them  were  necessa- 
rily'resorted  to.  The  Prsetors,  originally,  judged  only  in  civil 
suits  ;  but  in  the  time  of  Cicero,  and  indeed  from  the  beginning 
of  the  seventh  century,  four  of  the  six  Prsetors  were  nominated 
to  preside  at  criminal  trials — one  taking  cognizance  of  ques- 
tions of  extortion — a  second  of  peculation — a  third  of  illegal 
canvass — and  the  last,  of  offences  against  the  state,  as  th^ 
Crimen  majestatis^  or  treason.  To  these,  Sylla,  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  seventh  century,  added  four  more,  who  inquired 
into  acts  of  public  or  private  violence.  In  trials  of  importance, 
the  PrsBtor  was  assisted  by  the  counsel  of  select  judges  or 
jurymen,  who  originally  were  all  chosen  from  the  Senate,  and 
afterwards  from  the  order  of  Knights;  but  in  Cicero's  time,  in 
consequence  of  a  Jaw  of  Cotta,  they  were  taken  from  the  Se- 
nators, Knights,  and  Tribunes  of  the  treasury.  The  number 
of  these  assessors,  who  were  appointed  for  the  year,  and  nom- 
inated by  the  Praetor,  varied  from  300  to  600 ;  and  from  them 
a  smaller  number  was  chosen  by  lot  for  each  individual  case. 
Any  Roman  citizen  might  accuse  another  before  the  Prcetor;* 
and  not  unfrequently  the  young  patricians  undertook  the 
prosecution  of  an  obnoxious  magistrate,  merely  to  recommend 
themselves  to  the  notice  or  favour  of  their  countrymen.  In 
such  cases  there  was  often  a  competition  between  two  persons 
for  obtaining  tl^e  management  of  the  impeachment,  and  the 
preference  was  determined  by  a  previous  trial,  called  Dimnor 
t%o»  This  preliminary  point  being  settled,  and  the  day  of  the 
principal  trial  fixed,  the  accuser,  in  his  first  speech,  explained 
the  nature  of  the  case, — ^fortifying  his  statements  as  he  pro- 
ceeded by  proofs,  which  consisted  in  the  voluntary  testimony 
of  free  citizens,  the  declarations  of  slaves  elicited  by  torture, 
and  written-  documents.  Cicero  made  little  account  of  the 
evidence  of  slaves ;  but  the  art  of  extracting  truth  firom  a  free 


144  aCERO. 

witDefls— of  exalting  or  depreciating  his  character— and  of 
placing  his  deposition  in  a  favourable  light,  was  considered 
among  the  most' important  qualifications  of  an  orator.  When 
the  evidence  was  concluded,  the  prosecutor  enforced  the 
proofs  by  a  set  speech,  after  which  the  accused  entered  ob  bis 
defence. 

But  though  the  cognizance  of  crimes  was  in  ordinary  cases 
delegated  to  the  Praetors,  still  the  Comitia  reserved  the  power 
of  judging;  and  they  actually  did  judge  in  causes,  in  which 
the  people,  or  tribunes,  who  dicti^ted  to  them,  took  an  interest, 
and  these  were  chiefly  impeachments  of  public  magistrates, 
for  bribery  or  peculation.  It  was  not  understood,  in  anf 
case,  whether  tried  be^re  the  whole  people  or  the  Pnetor,  that 
either  party  was  to  be  very  scrupulous  in  the  observance  of 
truth.  The  judges,  too,  were  sometimes  overawed  by  an 
array  of  troops,  and  by  menaces.  Canvassing  for  acquittal 
and  condemnation,  were  alike  avowed,  and  bribery,  at  least 
for  the  former  purpose,  was  currently  resorted  to.  Thufi  the 
very  crimes  of  the  wretch  who  had  plundered  the  province 
intrusted  to  his  care,  afforded  him  the  most  obvious  means  of 
absolution ;  and,  to  the  wealthy  peculator,  nothing  coaid  be 
more  easy  than  an  escape  from  justice,  except  the  oppor- 
tunity of  accusing  the  innocent  and  unprotected.  <^  Foreign 
nations,"  says  Cicero,  ^' will  soon  solicit  the  repeal  of  the  laVt 
which  prohibits  the  extortions  of  provincial  magistrates;  fof 
they  will  argue,  that  were  all  prosecutions  on  this  law  abol- 
ished, their  governors  would  take  no  more  than  what  satisfied 
their  own  rapacity,  whereas  now  they  exact  over  and  above 
this,  as  much  as  will  b<e  sufficient  to  gratify  their  patrons,  the 
PratoT  and  the  judges;  and  that  though  they  can  furnish 
enough  to  glut  the  avarice  of  one  man,  they  are  utterly  unable 
to  pay  for  his  impunity  in  guilt*." 

The  organization  of  the  judicial  tribunals  was  wretcbedt 
and  their  practice  scandalous.  The  Senate,  Prsetors,  and 
Comitia,  all  partook  of  the  legislative  and  judicial  power,  and 
had  a  sort  of  reciprocal  right  of  opposition  and  reversal,  which 
they  exercised  to  gratify  their  avarice  or  prejudices,  aod  not 
with  any  view  to  the  ends  of  justice.  Bat  however  injonoos 
this  system  might  be  to  those  who  had  claims  to  u^t  ^ 
rights  to  defend,  it  afforded  the  most  ample  field  for  the  ex- 
cursions of  eloquence.  The  PrcBtors,  thou^  the  supreffl^ 
judges,  were  not  men  bred  to  the  law— advanced  in  J®"^ 
familiarized  with  precedents-^— secure  of  independence— *pd 
fixed  in  their  stations  for  life.    They  were  young  mea  of  bi- 

*  M  Verrtm,  Act.  I.  c.  14. 


CICERa  145 


N 


tie  experience,  who  held  the  office  for  a  season,  and  proceed- 
ed through  it,  to  what  were  considered  as  the  most  important 
situations  of  the  republic.  Though  their  procedure  was 
strict  in  some  trivial  points  of  preliminary  form,  devised  by 
the  ancient  Jurisconsults,  they  enjoyed,  m  more  essential  mat- 
ters, a  perilous  latitude.  On  the  dangerous  pretext  of  equity, 
they  eluded  the  law  by  various  subtil  ties  or  fictions ;  and 
thus,  without  being  endued  with  legislative  authority,  they 
abrogated  ancient  enactments  according  to  caprice.  It  was 
worse  wJien,  in  civil  cases,  the  powers  of  the  Praetor  were 
intrusted  to  the  judges ;  or  when,  in  criminal  trials,  the  juris* 
diction  was  assumed  by  the  whole  people.  The  inexpe- 
rience,  ignorance,  and  popular  prejudices  of  those  who  were  to 
decide  them,  rendered  htigations  extremely  uncertain,  and 
dependent,  not  on  any  fixed  law  or  principle,  but  on  the 
opinions  or  passions  of  tumultuary  judges,  which  were  to  be 
influenced  and  moved  by  the  arts  of  oratory.  This  furnished 
ample  scope  for  displaying  all  that  interesting  and  varums 
elfK]uence,  with  which  the  pleadings  of  the  ancient  orators 
abounded.  The  means  to  be  employed  for  success,  were 
conciliating  favour,  rousing  attention,  removing  or  f  >menting 
prejudice,  but,  above  all,  exciting  compassion.  Hence  we 
fiod,  that  in  the  defence  of  a  criminal,  while  a  law  or  pre* 
cedent  was  seldom  mentioned,  every  thing  was  introduced 
which  could  serve  to  gain  the  favour  of  the  judges,  or  move 
their  pity.  The  accused,  as  soon  as  the  day  of  trial  was  fixed, 
assumed  an  apparently  neglected  garb;  and  although  allow- 
ed, whatever  was  the  crime,  to  go  at  large  till  sentence  was 
pronounced,  he  usually  attended  in  court  surrounded  by  his 
friends,  and  sometimes  accompanied  by  his  children,  in  order 
to  give  a  more  piteous  effect  to  the  lamentations  and  excla- 
mations of  his  counsel,  when  he  came  to  that  part  of  the  ora- 
tion, in  which  the  fallen  and  helpless  state  of  his  client  was 
to  be  suitably  bewailed.  Piso,  justly  accused  of  oppression 
towards  the  allies,  having  prostrated  himself  on  the  earth  in 
order  to  kiss  the  feet  of  his  judges,  and  having  risen  with  hii 
face  defiled  with  mud,  obtained  an  immediate  acquittal. 
Even  where  the  cause  was  good,  it  was  necessary  to  address 
the  passions,  and  to  rely  on  the  judge's  feelings  of  compassion, 
rather  than  on  his  perceptions  of  right.  Rutilius  prohibited 
all  exclamations  and- entreaties  to  be  used  in  his  defence: 
He  even  forbade  the  accustomed  and  expected  excitement  of 
invocations,  and  stamping  with  the  feet ;  and  ^^  he  was  con- 
demned," says  Cicero,  '*  though  the  most  virtuous  of  the  Ro- 
mans, because  his  counsel  was  compelled  to  plead  for  him  as 
he  would  have  done  in  the  republic  of  Plato."  It  thus  ap- 
VoL,  IL— T 


146  CICERO. 

pears,  that  it  was  dangerous  to  trust  to  innocence  alone,  and 
the  judges  were  the  capricious  arbiters  of  the  fate  of  theiF 
fellow-citizens,  and  not  (as  their  situation  so  urgently  requi- 
red) the  inflexible  interpreters  of  the  laws  of  their  exalted 
country. 

But  if  the  manner  of  treating  causes  was  favourable  to  the 
exertions  of  eloquence,  much  also  must  be  allowed  for  the 
nature  of  the  questions  themselves,  especially  those  of  a  crimi- 
nal description,  tried  before  the  Praetor  or  people.  One  can 
scarcely  figure  more  glorious  opportunities  for  the  display  of 
oratory,  than  were  anorded  by  those  complaints  of  the  op- 
pressed and  plundered  provinces  against  their  rapacious  go- 
vernors. From  the  extensive  ramifications  of  the  Romu 
power,  there  continually  arose  numerous  cases  of  a  descrip- 
tion that  can  rarely  occur  in  other  countries,  and  which  are 
unexampled  in  the  history  of  Britain,  except  in  a  memorable 
impeachment,  which  not  merely  displayed,  bat  created  such 
eloquence  as  can  be  called  forth  only  by  splendid  topics, 
without  which  rhetorical  indignation  would  seem  extravagafit, 
and  attempted  pathos  ridiculous. 

The  spot,  too,  on  which  the  courts  of  justice  assembled, 
was  calculated  to  inspire  and  heighten  eloquence.  The  Ro- 
man Forum  presented  one  of  the  most  splendid  spectacles  that 
eye  could  behold,  or  fancy  conceive.  This  space  formed  aa 
oblong  square  between  the  Palatine  and  Capitoline  hills,  com- 
posed of  a  vast  assemblage  of  sumptuous  though  irregular 
edifices.  On  the  side  next  the  Palatine  hill  stood  the  ancient 
Senate-house,  and  Comitium,  and  Temple  of  Romaics  the 
Founder.  On  the  opposite  quarter,  it  was  bounded  by  the 
Capitol,  with  its  ascending  range  of  porticos,  and  the  temple 
of  the  tutelar  deity  on  the  summit.  The  other  sides  of  the 
square  were  adorned  with  basilicae,  and  piazzas  terminated  bj 
triumphal  arches;  and  were  bordered  with  statues,  erected 
to  the  memory  of  the  ancient  heroes  or  preservers  of  their 
country*.  Having  been  long  the  theatre  o(  the  factions,  the 
politics,  the  intrigues,  the  crimes,  and  the  revolutions  of  the 
capital,  every  spot  of  its  surface  was  consecrated  to  the 
recollection  of  some  great  incident  in  the  domestic  history  of 
the  Romans ;  while  their  triumphs  over  foreign  enemies  i^ere 
vividly  called  to  remembrance  by  the  Rostrum  itself,  which 
stood  in  the  centre  of  the  vacant  area,  and  by  other  trophies 
gained  from  vanquished  nations: — 

"  Et  cristae  capitum,  et  portarum  ingenlia  claustra, 
SpiCulaque,  clipeique,  ereptaque  rostra  carinlat*" 


*  Nardinl,  Roma  ^rUica,  Lib.  V.  c.  2,  &tc. 
t  Virg.  JEnM,  Lib.  VH. 


CICERO-  147 

A  vast  variety  of  shops,  stored  with  a  profusion  of  the  most 
costly  merchandize,  likewise  surrounded  this  heart  and  centre 
of  the  world,  so  that  it  was  the  mart  for  all  important  com- 
mercial transactions.  Being  thus  the  emporium  of  law, 
politics,  and  trade,  it  became  the  resort  of  men  of  business, 
as  well  as  of  those  loiterers  whom  Horace  calls  Forenaes. 
Each  Roman  citizen,  regarding  himself  as  a  member  of  the 
same  vast  and  illustrious  family,  scrutinized  with  jealous 
watchfuliiess  the  conduct  of  his  rulers,  and  looked  with  anx- 
ious solicitude  to  the  issue  of  every  important  cause.  In  all 
trials  of  oppression  or  extortion,  the  Roman  multitude  took  a 
particular  interest, — repairing  in  such  numbers  to  the  Forum, 
that  even  its  spacious  square  was  hardly  sufficient  to  contain 
those  who  were  attracted  to  it  by  curiosity;  and  who,  in  the 
course  of  the  trial,  were  in  the  habit  of  expressing  their  feel- 
ings by  shouts  and  acclamations,  so  that  the  orator  was  ever 
surrounded  by  a  crowded  and  tumultuary  audience.  This 
numerous  assembly,  too,  while  it  inspired  the  orator  with 
confidence  and  animation,  after  he  had  commenced  his  ha- 
rangue, created  in  prospect  that  anxiety  which  led  to  the  most 
careful  preparation  previous  to  bis  appearance  in  pubfic. 
The  apprehension  and  even  trepidation  felt  by  the  greatest 
speakers  at  Rome  on  the  approach  of  the  day  fixed  for  the 
hearing  of  momentous  causes,  is  evident  from  many  passages 
of  the  rhetorical  works  of  Cicero.  The  Roman  orator  thus 
addressed  his  judges  with  all  the  advantages  derived  both 
from  the  earnest  study  of  the  closet,  and  the  exhilaration  im- 
parted to  him  by  unrestrained  and  promiscuous  applause. 

2.  Next  to  the  courts  of  justice,  the  great  theatre  for  the 
display  of  eloquence,  was  the  Comitia,  or  assemblies  of  the 
people,  met  to  deliberate  on  the  proposal  of  passing  a  new 
law,  or  abrogating  an  old  one.  A  law  was  seldoni  offered 
for  consideration  but  some  orator  was  found  to  dissuade  its 
adoption ;  and  as  in  the  courts  of  justice  the  passions  of  the 
judges  were  addressed,  so  the  favourers  or  opposers  of  a  law 
did  not  confine  themselves  to  the  expediency  of  the  measure, 
but  availed  themselves  of  the  prejudices  of  the  people,  alter- 
nately confirming  their  errors,  indulging  their  'caprices,  grati- 
fying their  predilections,  exciting  their  jealousies,  and  foment- 
ing their  dislikes.  Here,  more  than  anywhere,  the  many  were 
to  be  courted  by  the  few — here,  more  than  anywhere,  was 
created  that  excitement  which  is  most  favourable  to  the  in- 
fluence of  eloquence,  and  forms  indeed  the  element  in  which 
alone  it  breathes  with  freedom. 

3.  Finally,  the  deliberations  of  the  Senate,  which  was  the 
great  council  of  the  state,  afforded,  at  least  to  its  members, 


148  CICERO. 

the  noblest  opportunities  for  .the  exertions  of  eloqueiiec. 
This  august  and  numerous  body  consisted  of  indiTiduals  win 
had  reached  a  certain  age,  and  who  were  possessed  of  a  cer- 
tain extent  of  property,  who  were  supposed  to  be  of  unblem- 
ished reputation,  and  most  of  whom  had  passed  through  the 
annual  magistracies  of  the  state.  They  were  consulted  apoa 
almost  everything  that  regarded  the  administration  or  safety 
of  the  commonwealth.  The  power  of  making  war  aoid  peace, 
though  it  ultimately  lay  with  the  people  assembled  in  ihe 
Comitia  Centuriata,  was  generally  left  by  them  entirely  to  the 
Senate,  who  passed  a  decree  of  peace  or  war  previous  to  the 
sutfrages  of  the  Comitia.  The  Senate,  too,  had  always  re- 
served to  itself  the  supreme  direction  and  superintendaace  of 
the  religion  of  the  country,  and  the  distribution  of  the  public 
revenue — the  levying  or  disbanding  troops,  and  fixing  the 
service  on  which  they  should  be  employed — the  noniinatioD 
of  governors  for  the  provinces — the  rewards  assigned  to  suc- 
cessful generals  for  their  victories,  and  the  guardianship  of 
the  state  in  times  of  civil  dissension.  These  were  the  great 
subjects  of  debate  in  the  Senate,  and  they  were  discussed  oo 
certain  fixed  days  of  the  year,  when  its  members  assembled  of 
course,  or  when  they  were  summoned  together  for  any  emer- 
gency. They  invariably  met  in  a  temple,  or  other  conse- 
crated place,  in  order  to  give  solemnity  to  their  proceedings, 
as  being  conducted  under  the  immediate  eye  of  Heaven. 
The  Consul,  who  presided,  opened  the  business  of  tbe  dsr, 
by  a  brief  exposition  of  the  question  which  was  to  be  consid- 
ered by  the  assembly.  He  then  ashed  the  opinions  of  the 
members  in  the  order  of  rank  and  seniority.  Freedom  of  d^ 
bate  was  exercised  in  its  greatest  latitude;  for,  though  no  sena- 
tor was  permitted  to  deliver  his  sentiments  till  it  came  to  his 
turn,  he  had  then  a  right  to  speak  as  long  as  he  thought  proper* 
without  being  in  the  smallest  degree  confined  to  the  point  in 
question.  Sometimes,  indeed,  the  Conscript  Fathers  con- 
sulted on  the  state  of  the  commonwealth  in  general;  but 
^ven  when  summoned  to  deliberate  on  a  particular  subject, 
they  seem  to  have  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  talking  aboot  any- 
thing else  whict)  happened  to  be  uppermost  in  their  mind*- 
Thus  we  find  that  Cicero  took  the  opportunity  of  delivering 
his  seventh  Philippic  when  the  Senate  was  consulted  con- 
cerning the  Appian  Way,  the  coinage,  and  Luperci — subjects 
which  had  no  relation  to  Antony,  against  whom  he  inveighed 
frf)m  one  end  of  his  oration  to  the  other,  without  taking  the 
least  notice  of  the  only  points  which  were  referred  to  the 
consideration  of  the  senators*.     The  resolution  of  tbe  major- 

*  **  Ptrm  d€  rabus/*  sayv  he,  <*«ed  fortasie  necessaiiu  consuliiDur,  F^tres  c0B* 


CICERO,  149 

ity  w«s  expreMed  in  the  shape  of  a  decree^  which,  though  not 
properly  a  la^,  was  entitled  to  the  same  reverence  on  the 
point  to  which  it .  related ;  and,  except  in  matters  where  the 
interests  of  the  state  required  concealment,  all  pains  were 
taken  to  give  the  utmost  publicity  to  the  whole  proceedings 
of  the  Senate. 

The  number  of  the  Senate  varied,  but  in  the  time  of  Cicero, 
it  was  nearly  the  same  as  the  British  House  of  Commons;  but 
it  required  a  larger  number  to  make  a  quorum.  Sometimes 
there  were. between  400  and  500  members  present;  but  200, 
at  least  during  certain  seasons  of  the  year,  formed  what  was 
accounted  a  full  house.  This  gave  to  senatorial  eloquence 
something  of  the  spirit  and  animation  created  by  the  presence 
of  a  popular  assembly,  while  at  the  same  time  the  delibe- 
rative majesty  of  the  proceedings  required  a  weight  of  argu- 
ment and  dignity  of  demeanour,  unlooked  for  in  the  Comi- 
tia,  or  Forum.  Accordingly,  the  levity,  ingenuity,  and  wit, 
which  were  there  so  often  crowned  with  success  and  applause, 
were  considered  as  misplaced  in  the  Senate,  where  the  con- 
sular, or  prsBtorian  orator,  had  to  prevail  by  depth  of  reason- 
infc,  purity  of  expression,  and  an  apparent  zeal  for  the  public 
good. 

It  was  the  authority  of  the  Senate,  with  the  cbim  and 
imposing  aspect  of  'tis  deliberations,  that  gave  to  Latin  ora- 
tory a  somewhat  different  character  from  the  eloquence  of 
Greece,  to  which,  in  consequence  of  the  Roman  spirit  of  imi- 
tation, it  bore,  in  many  respects,  so  close  a  resemblance. 
The  power  of  the  Areopagus,  which  was  originally  the  most 
dignified  assembly  at  Athens,  had  been  retrenched  amid  the 
democratic  innovations  of  Pericles.  From  that  period,  every- 
thing, even  the  most  important  affairs  of  state,  depended  en- 
tirely, in  the  pure  democracy  of  Athens,  on.  the  opinion,  or 
rather  the  momentary  caprice  of  an  inconstant  people,  who 
were  foqd  of  pleasure  and  repose,  who  were  easily  swayed  by 
novelty,  and  were  confident  in  their  power.  As  their  pre- 
cipitate decisions  thus  often  hung  on  an  instant  of  enthusiasi)fi, 
the  orator  required  to  dart  into  their  bosoms  those  electric 
sparks  of  eloquence  which  inflamed  their  passions,  and  left 
no  corner  of  the  mind  fitted  for  cool  consideration.  It  was 
the  business  of  the  speaker  to  allow  them  no  time  to  recover 
from  the  shock,  for  its  force  would  have  been  spent  had  they 
been  permitted  to  occupy  themselves  with  the  beauties  of 
style  and  diction.     ''Applaud  not  the  orator,"  says  Demos- 

•cripti  De  Appia  vU  et  de  monetil  Consul — De  Lupercis  tribunus  plebis  refeif. 
Quarum  terum  etsi  (kcflis  expUcatio  videtur,  tamen  ammus  abenat  a  seotentia,  eus- 
pefvus  curie  iii8uoribi]8."—>C.  1. 


150  CICERO. 

tbenes,  at  the  end  of  one  of  his  Philippics,  "  but  do  what  I 
have  recommended.  I  cannot  save  you  by  my  words,  yoa 
must  save  yourselves  by  your  actions.*'  When  the  people 
were  persuaded,  every  thing  was  accomplished,  and  their  de- 
cision was  embodied  in  a  sort  of  decree  by  the  orator.  The 
people  of  Rome,  on  the  other  hand,  were  more  reflective  and 
moderate,  and  less  vain  than  the  Athenians ;  nor  was  the  whole 
authority  of  the  state  vested  in  them.  There  was,  on  the 
contrary,  an  accumulation  of  powers,  and  a  complication  of 
different  interests  to  be  managed.  Theoretically,  mdeed,  the 
sovereigrrty  was  in  the  people,  but  the  practical  government 
was  intrusted  to  the  Senate.  As  we  see  from  Cicero's  third 
oration,  De  Lege  Agraria,  the  same  affairs  were  often  treated 
at  the  same  time  in  the  Senate  and  on  the  Rostrum.  Heoce, 
in  the  judicial  and  legislative  proceedings,  in  which,  as  we 
have  seen,  the  feelings  of  the  judges  and  prejudices  of  the 
vulgar  were  so  frequently  appealed  to,  some  portion  of  the 
senatorial  spirit  pervaded  and  controlled  the  popular  assem- 
blies, restrained  the  impetuosity  of  decision,  and  gave  to  those 
orators  of  the  Forum,  or  Comitia,  who  had  just  spoken,  or 
were  to  speak  next  day  in  the  Senate,  a  more  grave  and  tem- 
perate tone,  than  if  their  tongues  had  never  been  employed 
but  for  the  purpose  of  impelling  a  headlong  multitude. 

But  if  the  Greeks  were  a  more  impetuous  and  inconstant, 
they  were  also  a  more  intellectual  people  than  the  Romans. 
Literature  and  refinement  were  more  advanced  in  the  age  of 
Pericles  than  of  Pompey.  Now,  in  oratory,  a  popular  audience 
must  be  moved  by  what  corresponds  to  the  feelings  and  taste 
of  the  age.  With  such  an  intelligent  race  as  the  Greeks,  the 
orator  was  obliged  to  employ  the  most  accurate  reasoning,  and 
most  methodical  arrangement  of  his  arguments.  The  flowers 
of  rhetoric,  unless  they  grew  directly  from  the  stem  of  his  dis- 
course, were  little  admired.  The  Romans,  on  the  other  bai^d, 
required  the  excitation  of  fancy,  of  comparisons,  and  meta- 
phors, and  rhetorical  decoration.  Hence,  the  Roman  orator 
was  more  anxious  to  seduce  the  imagination  than  convince 
the  understanding ;  his  discourse  was  adorned  with  frequent 
digressions  into  the  field  of  morals  and  philosophy^  and  he 
was  less  studious  of  precision  than  of  ornament. 

On  the  whole,  the  circumstances  in  the  Roman  consti- 
tution and  judicial  procedure,  appear  to  have  wonderfully 
conspired  to  render 


CICERO.  151 


CICERO 

an  accomplished  orator.  He  was  born  and  cdacated  at  a 
period  when  he  must  have  formed  the  most  exalted  idea  of  his 
country.  She  had  reached  the  height  of  power,  and  had  not 
yet  sunk  into  submission  or  servility.  The  subjects  to  be 
discussed,  and  characters  to  be  canvassed,  were  thus  of  the 
most  imposing  magnitude,  and  could  still  be  treated  with 
freedom  and  independence.  The  education,  too,  which  Cicero 
had  received,  was  highly  favourable  to  his  improvement.  He 
had  the  first  philosophers  of  the  age  for  his  teachers,  and  he 
studied  the  civil  law  under  ScsBvola,  the  most  learned-  jurist 
consult  who  had  hitherto  appeared  in  Rome.  When  he  came 
to  attend  the  Forum,  he  enjoyed  the  advantage  of  daily  hear- 
ing Hortensius,  unquestionably  the  most  eloquent  speaker  who 
had  yet  shone  in  the  Forum  or  Senate.  The  harangues  o( 
this  great  pleader  formed  his  taste,  and  raised  his  emulation, 
and,  till  near  the  conclusion  of  his  oratorical  career,  acted  as 
an  incentive  to  exertions,  which  might  have  abated,  had  he 
been  left  without  a  competitor  in  the  Forum.  Tt\e  blaze  of 
Hortensiu&'s  rhetoric  would  communicate  to  his  rival  a  brighter 
flame  of  eloquence  than  if  he  had  been  called  on  to  refute  a 
cold  and  inanimate  adversary.  Still,  however,  the  great 
secret  of  his  distinguished  oratorical  eminence  was,  that  not- 
withstanding his  vanity,  he  never  fell  into  the  apathy  with  re- 
gard to  farther  improvement,  by  which  self-complacency  is  so 
often  attended.  On  the  contrary,  Cicero,  after  he  had  deliv- 
ered two  celebrated  orations,  which  filled  the  Forum  with  his 
renown,  so  far  from  resting  satisfied  with  the  acclamations  of 
the  capital,  abandoned,  fpr  a  time,  the  brilliant  career  on 
which  he  had  entered,  and  travelled,  during  two  years,  through 
the  cities  of  Greece,  iii  quest  of  philosophical  improvement 
and  rhetorical  instruction. 

With  powers  of  speaking  beyond  what  had  yet  been  known 
in  his  own  country,  and  perhaps  not  inferior  to  those  which  had 
ever  adorned  any  other,  he  possessed,  in  a  degree  superior  to 
all  orators,  of  whatever  age  or  nation,  a  general  and  discur- 
sive acquaintance  with  philosophy  and  literature,  together 
with  an  admirable  facility  of  communicating  the  fruits  of  his 
labours,  in  a  manner  the  most  copious,  perspicuous,  and  at- 
tractive. To  this  extensive  knowledge,  by  which  his  mind  was 
enriched  and  supplied  with  endless  topics  of  illustration — to 
the  lofty  ideas  of  eloquence,  which  perpetually  revolved  in  his 
thoughts — to  that  image  which  ever  haunted  his  breast,  of 


162  CICERO. 

foch  infinite  and  superhuman  perfection  in  oratory,  that  even 
the  periods  of  Demosthenes  did  not  fill  up  the  measure  of  his 
conceptions*,  we  are  chiefly  indebted  for  those  emanatioDs  of 
genius,  which  have  given,  as  it  were,  an  immortal  tongue  to 
the  now  desolate  Forum  and  ruined  Senate  of  Rome. 

The  first  oration  which  Cicero  pronounced,  at  least  of  those 
which  are  extant,  was  delivered  in  presence  of  four  jud^ 
appointed  by  the  Praetor,  and  with  Hortensius  for  hts  opponent. 
It  was  in  the  case  of  Quintius,  which  was  pleaded  in  the  yeai 
672,  when  Cicero  was  26  years  of  age,  at  which  time  he^canie 
to  the  bar  much  later  than  was  usual,  after  having  studied  cud 
law  under  Mucins  Scaevola,  and  having  further  qualified  him- 
self for  the  exercise  of  his  profession  by  the  study  of  polite  lite- 
rature ui^der  the  poet  Archias,  as  also  of  philosophy  under 
the  principal  teachers  of  each  sect  who  had  resorted  to  Rouie^ 
This  case  was  undertaken  by  Cicero,  at  -the  request  of  the 
celebrated  comedian  Roscius,  the  brother-in-law  of  ^uintios; 
but  it.  was  not  of  a  nature  well  adapted  to  call  forth  or  display 
any  of  the  higher  powers  of  eloquence.  It  was  a  pure  ques- 
tion of  civil  right,  and,  in  a  great  measure,  a  matter  of  form; 
the  dispute  being  whether  his  client  had  forfeited  his  recog- 
nisances, and  whether  his  opponent  Neevius  had  got  le^ 
possession  of  his  effects  by  an  edict  which  the  Praetor  bad 
pronounced,  in  consequence  of  the  supposed  forfeiture.  Bat 
even  here,  where  the  point  was  more  one  of  dry  legal  discus- 
sion thai)  in  any  other  oration  of  Ciceto,  we  meet  with  much 
invective,  calculated  to  excite  the  indignation  of  the  judges 
against  the  adverse  party,  and  many  pathetic  supplications, 
interspersed  with  high-wrought  pictures  of  the  distresses  of 
his  client,  in  order  to  raise  their  sympathy  in  his  favour. 

Pro  Sext.  Rosdo.  In  the  year  following  that  in  which  he 
pleaded  the  case  of  Quintius,  Cicero  undertook  the  defence  of 
Roscius  of  Ameria,  which  was  the  first  public  or  criminal  trial 
in  which  he  spoke.  The  father  of  Roscius  had  two  mortal 
enemies,  of  his  own  name  and  district.  During  the  proscrip- 
tions of  Sylla,  he  was  assassinated  one  evening  at  Rome, 
while  returning  home  from  supper ;  and,  on  pretext  that  he 
was  in  the  list  proscribed,  his  estate  was  purchased  for  a 
mere  nominal  price  by  Chrysogonus,  a  favourite  slave,  to  wh«^fD 
Sylla  had  given  freedom,  and  whom  he  had  permitted  to  buy 
the  property  of  Roscius  as  a  forfeiture.  Part  of  the  valuable 
lands  thus  acquired,  were  made  over  by  Chrysogonus  to  the 
Roscii.  These  new  proprietors,  in  order  to  secure  themselves 
in  the  possession,  hired  Erucius,  an  informer  and  proeeciitor 

• 

*  Or0<or,c.SO. 


CICERO.  163 

by  profession,  to  charge  the  son  with  the  murder  of  his  father, 
and  they,  at  the  same  time,  suborned  witnesses,  in  order  to 
convict  him  of  the  parricide.     From  dread  of  the  power  of 
Sylla,  the  accused  had  difficulty  in  prevailing  on  any  patron 
to  undertake  his  cause ;  but  Cicero  eagerly  embraced  thia  op- 
portunity to  give  a  public  testimony  of  his  detestation  of  op- 
pression and  tyranny.     He  exculpates  his  client,  by  enlarging 
on  the  improbability  of  the  accusation,  whether  with  respect 
to  the  enormity  of  the  crime  charged,  or  the  blameless  cha- 
racter and  innocent  life  of  young  Roscius.    He  shows,  too,  that 
his  enemies  had  completely  failed  in  proving  that  he  laboured 
under  the  displeasure  of  his  father,  or  had  been  disinherited 
by  him;  and,  in  particular,  that  his  constant  residence  in  the 
country  was  no  evidence  of  this  displeasure-— a  topic  which 
leads  him  to  indulge  in  a  beautiful  commendation  of  a  rural 
life,  and  the  ancient  rustic  simplicity  of  the  Romans.     But 
while  he  thus  vindicates  the  innocence  of  Roscius,  the  orator 
has  so  managed  his  pleading,  that  it  appears  rather  an  artful 
accusation  of  the  two  Roscii,  than  a  defen.ce  of  his  own  client. 
He  trie)i  to  fix  on  them  the  guilt  of  the  murder,  by  showing 
that  they,  and  not  the  son,  had  reaped  all  the  advantages  of 
the  death  of  old  Roscius,  and  that,  availing  themselves  of  the 
strict  law,  which  forbade  slaves  to  be  examined  in  evidence 
against  their  masters,  they  would  not  allow  those  who  were 
with  Roscius  at  the  time  of  his  assassination,  but  had  subse- 
quently fallen  into  their  own  possession,  to  be  put  to  the  tor- 
ture.    The  whole  case  seems  to  have  been  pleaded  with  much 
animation  and  spirit,  but  the  oration  was  rather  too  much  in 
that  florid  Asiatic  taste,  which  Cicero  at  this  time  had  proba- 
bly adopted  from  imitation  of  Hortensius,  who  was  considered 
as  the  most  perfect  model  of  eloquence  in  the  Forum ;  and 
hence  the  celebrated  passage  on  the  punishment  of  parricide, 
(which  consisted  in  throwing  the  criminal,  tied  up  in^a  sack, 
into  a  river,)  was  condemned  by  the  severer  taste  of  his  more 
advanced  years.     "  Its  intention,"  he  declares,  ^' was  to  strike 
the  parricide  at  once  out  of  the  system  of  nature,  by  depriving 
him  of  air,  light,  water,  and  earth,  so  that  he  who  had  de- 
stroyed the  author  of  his  existence  might  be  excluded  from 
those  elements  whence  all  things  derived  their  being.     He 
was  not  thrown  to  wild  beasts,  Test  their  ferocity  should  be 
augmented  by  the  contagion  of  such  guilt — he  was  not  com- 
mitted naked  to  the  stream,  lest  he  should  contaminate  that 
sea  which  washed   away  all  other  pollutions.     Everything  in 
nature,  however  common,  was  accounted  too  good  for  him  to 
share  in ;  for  what  is  so  common  as  air  to  the  living,  earth  to 
the  dead,  the  sea  to  those  who  float,  the  shore  to  those  who  are 
Vol.  H.— U 


154  CICERO. 

cast  up.  But  the  parricide  lives  so  as  not  to  breathe  the  air  of 
heaven,  dies  so  that  the  earth  cannot  receive  his  bones,  is  tossed 
by  the  waves  so  as  not  to  be  washed  by  them,  so  cast  oo  tiie 
shore  as  to  find  no  rest  on  its  rocks."  This  declamatioo  ws 
received  with  shouts  of  applause  by  the  audience;  yet  Cicero, 
referring  to  it  in  subsequent  works,  calls  it  the  exuberance  of 
a  youthful  fancy,  which  wanted  the  control  of  his  sounder 
judgment,  and,  like  all  the  compositions  of  young  men,  was 
not  applauded  so  much  on  its  own  account,  as  Ibr  the  promise 
it  gave  of  more  improved  and  ripened  talents*.  This  pM* 
ing  is  also  replete  with  severe  and  sarcastic  declamation  oo 
the  audacity  of  the  Roscii,  as  well  as  the  overgrown  power 
and  luxury  of  Chrysogonus ;  the  orator  has  even  hazarded  a& 
insinuation  against  Sylla  himself,  which,  however,  be  ws 
careful  to  palliate,  by  remarking,  that  through  the  multipli- 
city' of  affairs,  he  was  obliged  to  connive  at  many  things  whick 
his  favourites  did  against  his  inclination. 

Cicero's  courage  in  defending  and  obtaining  the  acqoittsl 
of  Roscius,  under  the  circumstances  in  which  the  case  was 
undertaken,  was  applauded  by  the  whole  city.  By  this  pub- 
lic opposition  to  the  avarice  of  an  agent  of  Sylla,  who  was 
then  in  the  plenitude  of  his  power,  and  by  the  energy  ^i^ 
which  he  resisted  an  oppressive  proceeding,  he  fixed  his  cha- 
racter for  a  fearless  and  zealous  patron  of  the  injured,  as 
much  as  for  an  accomplished  orator.  The  defence  of  Roscius, 
which  acquired  him  so  much  reputation  in  his  youth,  was  re- 
membered by  him  with  such  delight  in  his  old  age,  that  be 
recommends  to  his  son,  as  the  surest  path  to  true  honour,  to 
defend  those  who  are  unjustly  oppressed,  as  he  himself  bad 
done  in  many  causes,  but  particularly  in  that  of  Roscius  of 
Ameria,  whom  he  had  protected  against  Sylla  himself,  in  tbe 
height  of  his  autborityf . 

Immediately  after  the  decision  of  this  cause,  Cicero,  parti; 
on  account  of  his  health,  and  partly  for  improvement,  travelled 
into  Greece  and  Asia,  where  he  spent  two  years  in  the  assi- 
duous study  of  philosophy  and  eloquence,  under  the  ablest 
teachers  of  Athens  and  Asia  Minor  Nor  was  his  style  alooc 
formed  and  improved  by  imitation  of  the  Greek  rhetoricians: 
his  pronunciation  also  was  corrected,  by  practising  under 
Greek  masters,  from  whom  he  learned  the  art  of  commanding 
his  voice,  and  6f  giving  it  greater  compass  ar^d  variety  ilia"  '^ 
had  hitherto  attained|.  The  first  cause  which  he  pleaded 
after  his  return  to  Rome,  was  that  of  Roscius,  the  celebrated 

*  Orator,  c.  80.  spe  et  expectatione  laudati. 

f  JDc  Offieiii,  Ub.  II.  e.  14.  f  Bnaui,  c.  91. 


CICERO.  15^ 

comedian,  in  a  dispute,  which  involved  a  mere  matter  of  civil 
right,  and  was  of  no  peculiar  interest  or  importance.  All  the 
orations  which  he  delivered  during  the  five  following  years, 
are  lost,  of  which  number  were  those  for  Marcus  Tullius,  and 
L.  Varenus,  mentioned  by  Priscian  as  extant  in  his  time.  At 
the  end  of  that  period,  however,  and  when  Cicero  was  now  in 
the  thirty-seventh  year  of  his  age,  a  glorious  opportunity  was 
afforded  for  the  display  of  his  eloquence,  in  the  prosecution 
instituted  against  Verres,  the  Preetor  of  Sicily,  a  criminal  infi- 
nitely more  hateful  than  Catiline  or  Clodius,  and  to  whom  the 
Roman  reptbblic,  at  least^  never  produced  an  equal  in  turpitude 
and  crime.  He  was  now  accused  by  the  Sicilians  of  many 
flagrant  acts  of  injustice,  rapine,  and  cruelty,  committed  by 
him  during  his  triennial  government  of  their  island,  which  he 
bad  done  more  to  ruin  than  all  the  arbitrary  acts  of  their  na- 
tive tyrants,  or  the  devastating  wars  between  the  Carthasinians 
and  feomans.  ,  ^ 

In  the  advanced  a^es  of  the  republic,  extortion  and  vio- 
lence almost  universally  prevailed  among  those  magistrates 
who  were  exalted  abroad  to  the  temptations  of  regal  power, 
and  whose  predecessors,  by  their  moderation,  had  called  forth 
in  earlier  times  the  applause  of  the  world.  Exhausted  in  for- 
tune by  excess  of  luxury,  they  now  entered  on  their  go- 
vernments only  to  enrich  themselves  with  the  spoils  of  the 
provinces  intrusted  to  their  administration,  and  to  plunder  the 
inhabitants  by  every  species  of  exaction.  The  first  laws 
against  extortion  were  promulgated  in  the  beginning  of  the 
seventh  century.  Bqt  they  afforded  little  relief  to  the  op- 
pressed nations,  who  in  vain  sought  redress  at  Rome ;  for  the. 
decisions  there  depending  on  judges  generally  implicated  in 
similar  crimes,  were  more  calculated  to  afford  impunity  to  the 
guilty,  than  redress  to  the  aggrieved.  This  undue  influence 
received  additional  weight  in  the  case  of  Verres,  from  the 
high  quality  and  connections  of  the  culprit. 

Such  were  the  difliculties  with  which  Cicero  had  to  strug- 
gle, in  entering  on  the  accusation  of  this  great  public  delin- 
quent. This  arduous  task  he  was  earnestly  solicited  to 
undertake,  by  a  petition  from  all  the  towns  of  Sicily,  except 
Syracuse  and  Messina,  both  which  cities  had  been  occasion- 
ally allowed  by  the  plunderer  to  share  the  spoils  of  the  pro- 
vince. Having  accepted  this  trust,  so  important  in  his  eyes 
to  the  honour  of  the  republic,  neither  the  far  distant  evidence, 
uor  irritating  delays  of  all  those  guards  of  guilt  with  which 
Verres  was  environed,  could  deter  or  slacken  his  exertions. 
The  first  device  on  the  part  of  the  criminal,  or  rather  of  his 
counsel,  Hortensius,  to  defeat  the  ends  of  justice,  was  an 


156  CICERO. 

attempt  to  wrest  the  conduct  of  the  trial  from  the  hands  of 
Cicero,  by  placing  it  in  those  of  Csecilius*,  who  was  a  crea- 
ture of  Verres,  and  who  now  claimed  a  preference  to  Cicero, 
on  the  ground  of  personal  injuries  received  from  the  accused, 
and  a  particular  knowledge  of  the  crimes  of  his  pretended 
enemy.  The  judicial  claims  of  these  competitors  had  therefore 
to  be  first  decided  in  that  kind  of  process  called  DMnatio,  io 
which  Cicero  delivered  his  oration^  entitled  Conira  dtdUmnj 
and  shewed,  with  much  power  of  argument  and  sarcasm,  that 
he  himself  was  in  every  way  best  fitted  to  act  as  the  impeacber 
of  Verres. 

Having  succeeded  in  convincing  the  judges  that  Cscilios 
only  wished  to  get  the  cause  into  his  own  hands,  in  order  to 
betray  it,  Cicero  was  appointed  to  conduct  the  proaecatioD, 
and  was  allowed  1 10  days  to  make  a  voyage  to  Sicily,  in  order 
to  collect  information  for  supporting  his  charge.     He  finished 
his  progress  through  the  island  in  less  than  half  the  time  which 
had  been  granted  him.     On. his  return  he  found  that  a  plan 
had  been  laid  by  the  friends  of  Verres,  to  procrastinate  the 
trial,  at  least  till  the  following  season,  when  they  expected  to 
have  magistrates  and  judges  who  would  prove  favourable  to 
his  interests.     In  this  design  they  so  far  succeeded,  that  time 
was  ndt  left  to  go  through  the  cause  according  to  the  ordinary 
forms  and  practice  oT  oratorical  discussion  in  the  course  of 
the  year :  Cicero,  therefore,  resolved  to  lose  no  time  by  en* 
forcing  or  aggravating  the  several  articles  of  charge,  but  to 
produce  at  once  all  his  documents  and  witnesses,  leaving  the 
rhetorical  part  of  the  performance  till  the  whole  evidence  was 
concluded.     The  first  oration,  therefore,  against  Verres,  which 
is  extremely  short,  was  merely  intended  to  explain  the  motives 
which  had  induced  him  to  adopt  .this  unusual  mode  of  proce- 
dure.    He  accordingly  exposes  the  devices  by  which  the  cul- 
prit and  his  cabal  were  attempting  to  pervert  the  course  of 
justice,  and  unfolds  the  eternal  disgrace  that  would  attach  to 
the  Roman  law,  should  their  stratagems  prove  successful.  This 
oration  was  followed  by  the  deposition  of  the  witnesses,  and 
recital  of  the  documents,  which  so  clearly  established  the 
guilt  of  Verres,  that,  driven  to  despair,  he  submitted,  without 
awaiting  his  sentence,  to  a  voluntary  exilef .     It  therefore  ap- 
pears, that  of  the  six  orations  against  Verres,  only  one  was 
pronounced.    The  other  five,  forming  the  series  of  harangues 

*  CaBciliuii  was  a  Jew,  who  had  heen  domiciled  in  SicOy ;  whence  Clcero»  pity- 
ing on  the  name  of  Verres,  asks,  "  Quid  Judaeo  cum  Verre?"  (a  boar.) 

t  He  ultimately,  however,  met  with  a  well-merited  and  appropriate  &te.  H«TiD|r 
refused  to  give  up  hia  Corinthian  vases  to  Marc  Antony,  he  was  proscribed  for  their 
Mke,  and  put  to  death  by  ihe  rapacious  Triumvir. 


CICERO.  167 

which  he  intended  to  deliver  after  the  proof  had  been  com- 
pleted, were  subsequently  published  in  the  same  shape  as  if 
the  delinquent  had  actually  stood  his  trial,  and  was  to  have 
made  a  regular  defence. 

The  first  of  these  orations,  which  to  us  appears  rather  fo- 
reign to  the  charge,  but  was  meant  to  render  the  proper  part 
of  the  accusation  more  probable,  exposes  the  excesses  and 
malversations  committed  by  Verres  in  early  life,  before  his 
appointment  to  the  Praetorship  ^f  Sicily — his  embezzlement 
of  public  money  while  Quaestor  of  Gaul — his  extortions  under 
Dolabella  in  Asia,  and,  finally,  his  unjust,  corrupt,  and  partial 
decisions  while  in  the  ofiice  of  Praior  Urbanua  at  Rome, 
which,  forming  a  principal  part  of  the  oration,  the  whole  has 
been  entitled  De  Prmtura  Urbana.    In  the  following  har- 
angue, entitled  De  Jurisdidione  SicUienH,  the  orator  com- 
mences with  an  elegant  eulogy  on  the  dignity,  antiquity,  and 
usefulness  of  the  province,  which  was  not  here  a  mere  idle  or 
rhetorical  embellishment,  but  was  most  appropriately  intro- 
duced, as  nothing  could  be  better  calculated  to  excite  indig- 
nation against  the  spoiler  of  Sicily,  than  the  picture  he  draws 
of  its  beauty ;  after  which,  he  proceeds  to  give  innumerable 
instances  of  the  flagrant  sale  of  justice,  ofiSces,  and  honours, 
and,  among  the  last,  even  of  the  priesthood  of  Jupiter.-    The 
next  oration  is  occupied  with  the  malversations  of  Verres 
concerning  grain,  and  the  new  ordinances,  by  which  he  had 
contrived  to  put  the  whole  corps  of  the  island  at  the  disposal 
of  his  officers.     In  this  harangue  the  dry  statements  of  the 
prices  of  com  are  rather  fatiguing ;  but  the  following  oration, 
De  Signis,  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  his  productions, 
particularly  as  illustrating  the  history  of  ancient  art.     For 
nearly  six  centuries  Rome  had  been  filled  only  with  the  spoils 
of  barbarous  nations,  and  presented  merely  the  martial  spec- 
tacle of  a  warlike  and  conquering  people.     Subsequently, 
however,  to  the  campaigns  in  Magna  Gneciay   Sicily,  and 
Greece^  the  Roman  commanders  displayed  at  their  triumphs 
costly  ornaments  of  gold,  pictures,  statues,  and  vases,  instead 
of  flocks  driven  from  the  Sabines  or  Volsci,  the  broken  arms 
of  the  Samnites,  and  empty  chariots  of  the  Gauls.     The  sta- 
tues and  paintings  which  Marcellus  transported  from  Syra- 
cuse to  Rome,  first  excited  that  cupidity  which  led  the  Roman 
provincial  magistrates  to  pillage,  without  ^scruple  or  distinc- 
tion, the  houses  of  private  individuals,   and  temples  of  the 
gods*.     Marcellus  and  Mummius,  however,   despoiled  only 
hostile  and  conquered  countries.    They  had  made  over  their 

*  Livy,  Lib.  XXV.  c.  40. 


168  CICERO. 

plunder  to  the  public,  and,  after  it  was  conveyed  to  Romef 
devoted  it  to  the  embellishment  of  the  capital ;  but  subse- 
quent governors  of  provinces  having  acquired  a  tas^te  for 
works  of  art,  began  to  appropriate  to  themselves  those  master- 
pieces of  Greece,  which  they  had  formerly  neither  known  nor 
esteemed.  Some  contrived  plausible  pretexts  for  borrowing 
valuable  works  of  art  from  cities  and  private  persons,  without 
any  intention  of  restoring  them;  while  others,  less  cautious, 
or  more   shameless,  seized  whatever  pleased  them,  whether 

Eublic  or  private  property,  without  excuse  or  remuneration, 
lut  though  this  passion  was  common  to  most  provincial 
governors,  none  of  them  ever  came  up  to  the  full  measure  of 
the  rapacity  of  Verres,  who,  allowing  much  for  the  high  co- 
louring of  the  counsel  and  orator,  appears  to  have  been  infected 
with  a  sort  of  disease,  or  mania,  which  gave  him  an  irre- 
sistible propensity  to  seize  whatever  he  saw  or  heard  of,  which 
was  precious  either  in  materials  or  workmanship.  For  this 
purpose  he  retained  in  his  service  two  brothers  from  Asia 
Mmor,  on  whose  judgment  he  relied  for  the  choice  of  statues 
and  pictures,  and  who  were  employed  to  search  out  every- 
thing of  this  sort  which  was  valuable  in  the  island.  Aided  by 
their  suggestions,  he  seized  tapestry,  pictures,  gold  and  silver 
plate,  vases,  gems,  and  Corinthian  bronzes,  tilt  he  literally 
did  not  leave  a  single  article  of  value  of  these  descriptions  in 
the  whole  island.  The  chief  objects  of  this  pillage  were  the 
statues  and  pictures  of  the  gods,  which  the  Romans  regarded 
with  religious  veneration ;  and  they,  accordingly,  viewed  such 
rapine  as  sacrilege.  Hence  the  frequent  adjurations  and 
apostrophes  to  the  deities  who  had  been  insulted,  which  are 
introduced  in  the  oration.  The  circumstances  of  violence 
and  circumvention,  under  which  the  depredations  were  com- 
mitted, are  detailed  with  much  vehemence,  and  at  con- 
siderable length.  Some. description  is  given  of  the  works  of 
sculpture;  and  the  names  of  the  statuaries  by  whom  they  were 
executed,  are  also  frequently  recorded.  Thus,  we  are  told 
that  Verres  took  away  from  a  private  gentleman  of  Messina 
the  marble  Cupid,  by  Praxiteles:  He  sacrilegiously  tore  a 
jBgure  of  Victory  from  the  temple  of  Ceres — he  deprived  the 
city  Tyndaris  of  an  image  of  Mercury,  which  had  been  resto- 
red to  it  from  Carthage,  by  Scipio,  and  was  worshipped  by 
the  people  with  singular  devotion  and  an  annual  festival. 
Some  of  the  works  of  art  were  openly  carried  off — some  bor- 
rowed under  plausible  pretences,  but  never  restored,  and 
others  forcibly  purchased  at  an  inadequate  value.  If  the 
speech  De  Signia  be  the  most  curious,  that  De  Stq^liciis  is 
incomparably  the  finest  of  the  series  of  Ferrine  orations.   The 


CICERO.  1 59 

subject  afforded  a  wider  field  than  the  former  for  the  display 
of  eloquence,  and  it  presents  us  with  topics  of  more  general 
and  permanent  interest.  Such,  indeed,  is  the  vehement 
pathos,  and  'such  the  resources  employed  to  excite  pity  in 
favour  of  the  oppressed,  and  indignation  against  the  guilty, 
that  the  genius  of  the  orator  is  nowhere  more  conspicuously 
displayed — not  even  in  the  Philippics  or  Catilinarian  ha- 
rangues. It  was  now  proved  that  Verres  had  practiced  every 
species  of  fraud  and  depredation,  and  on  these  heads  no  room 
was  left  for  defence.  But  as  the  duties  of  provincial  Prstors 
were  twofold— the  administration  of  the  laws,  and  the  direction 
of  warlike  operations — it  was  suspected  that  the  counsel  of 
Verres  meant  to  divert  the  attention  of  the  judges  from  his 
avarice  to  his  military  conductand  valour.  This  plea  the  orator 
completely  anticipates.  His  misconduct,  indeed,  in  the  course 
of  the  naval  operations  against  the  pirates,  forms  one  of  the 
chief  topics  of  Cicero's  bitter  invective.  He  demonstrates 
that  the  fleet  had  been  equipped  rather  for  show  than  for 
service;  that  it  was  unprovided  with  sailors  or  stores,  and 
altogether  unfit  to  act  against  an  enemy.  The  command  was 
given  to  Cleomenes,  a  Syracusan,  who  was  ignorant  of  naval 
affairs,  merely  that  Verres  might  enjoy  the  company  of  his 
wife  during  his  absence.  The  description  of  the  sailing  of 
the  fleet  from  Syracuse  is  inimitable,  and  it  is  so  managed 
that  the  whple  seems  to  pass  before  the  eyes.  Verres,  who 
had  not  been  seen  in  public  for  many  months,  having  retired 
to  a  splendid  pavilion,  pitched  near  the  fountain  of  Arethusa, 
where  he  passed  his  time  in  company  of  his  favourites,  amidst 
all  the  delights  that  arts  and  luxury  could  administer,  at  length 
appeared,  in  order  to  view  the  departure  of  the  squadron;  and 
a  Roman  Prsetor  exhibited  himself,  standing  on  the  shore  in 
sandals,  with  a  purple  cloak  flowing  to  his  heels,  and  leaning 
on  the  shoulder  of  a  harlot!  The  fleet,  as  was  to  be  expected, 
was  driven  on  shore,  and  there  burned  by  the  pirates,  who 
entered  Syracuse  in  triumph,  and  retired  from  it  unmolested. 
Verres,  in  order  to  divert  public  censure  from  himself,  put  the 
captains  of  the  ships  to  death;  and  this  naturally  leads  on  to 
the  subject  which  has  given  name  to  the  oration, — the  cruel 
and  illegal  executions,  not  merely  of  Sicilians,  but  Roman 
citizens.  The  punishments  of  death  and  torture  us.ually 
reserved  for  slaves,  but  inflicted  by  Verres  on  freemen  of 
Rome,  formed  the  climax  of  his  atrocities,  which  are  detailed 
in  oratorical  progression.  After  the  vivid  description  of  his 
former  crimes,  one  scarcely  expects  that  new  terms  of  indig- 
nation will  be 'found;  but  the  expressions  of  the  orator  become 
more  glowing,  in  proportion  as  Verres,  grows  more  daring  in 


160  CICERO. 

« 

his  guilt.  The  sacred  character  borne  otrer  all  the  world  by 
a  Roman  citizen,  must  be  fully  remembered,  in  order  to  read 
with  due  feeling  the  description  of  the  punishment  of  Gavius, 
who  was  scourged,  and  then  nailed  to  a  crossf  which,  by  a 
refinement  in  cruelty,  was  erected  on  th^  shore,  and  fiicing 
Italy,  that  he  might  suffer  death  with  his  view  directed  to- 
wards home  and  a  land  of  liberty.  The  whole  is  poured 
forth  in  a  torrent  of  the  most  rapid  and  fervid  compoeition; 
and  had  it  actually  flowed  from  the  lips  of  the  speaker,  we 
cannot  doubt  the  prodigious  effect  it  would  have  had  on  a 
Roman  audience,  and  on  Roman  judges.  In  the  oration  De 
Signis,  something,  as  we  have  seen,  is  lost  to  a  modem  reader, 
by  the  diminished  reverence  for  the  mythological  deities ;  and, 
in  like  manner,  we  cannot  enter  fully  into  the  spirit  of  the 
harangue  De  Suppliciia,  which  is  planned  with  a  direct 
reference  to  national  feeling,  to  that  stern 'decorum  which 
could  noi  be  overstepped  without  shame,  and  that  adoration 
of  the  majesty  of  Rome,  which  invested  its  citizens  with  inex- 
pressible digpity,  and  bestowed  on  them  an  almost  inYiolable 
nature.  Hence  the  appearance  of  Verres  in  public,  in  a  long 
purple  robe,  is  represented  as  the  climax  of  his  enormities, 
and  the  punishment  of  scourging  inflicted  on  a  Roman  citizen 
is  treated  (without  any  discussion  concerning  the  justice  of 
the  sentence)  as  an  unheard-of  and  unutterable  crime.  Yet 
even  those  parts  least  attractive  to  modern  readers,  are  per- 
fect in  their  execution ;  and  the  whole  series  of  orations  will 
ever  be  regarded  as  among  the  most  splendid  monuments  of 
Tully's  transcendent  genius. 

In  the  renowned  cause  against  Verres,  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  the  orator  displayed  the  whole  resources  of  his  vast  ta- 
lents. Every  circumstance  concurred  to  stimulate  his  exertions 
and  excite  his  eloquence.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ap- 
peared as  an  accuser  in  a  public  trial — his  clients  were  the 
injured  people  of  a  mighty  province,  rivalling  in  importance 
the  imperial  state — the  inhabitants  of  Sicily  surrounded  the 
Forum,  and  an  audience  was  expected  from  every  quarter  of 
Italy,  of  ail  that  was  exalted,  intelligent,  and  refined.  But, 
chiefly,  he  had  a  subject,  which,  from  the  glaring  guilt  of  the 
accused,  and  the  nature  of  his  crimes,  was  so  copious,  inter- 
esting, and  various,  so  abundant  in  those  topics  which  an  ora- 
tor would  select  to  afford  full  scope  for  the  exercise  of  his 
powers,  that  it  was  hardly  possible  to  labour  tamely  or  listlessly 
in  so  rich  a  mine  of  eloquence.  Such  a  wonderful  assem- 
blage of  circumstances  never  yet  prepared  the  course  for  the 
triumphs  of  oratpry ;  so  great  an  opportunity  for  the  exhibition 
of  forensic  art  will,  in  all  probability,  Qever  again  occur.  Suf* 


CICERO.  161 

fice  it  to  say,  that  the  orator  sarpassed  by  his  workmanship 
the  singular  beauty  of  his  materials ;  and  instead  of  being 
overpowered  by  their  magnitude,  derived  from  the  vast  re- 
sources which  they  supplied  the  merit  of  an  additional  excel- 
lence, in  the  skill  and  discernment  of  his  choice. 

The  infinite  variety  of  entertaining  anecdotes  with  which  the 
series  of  pleadings  against  Verres  abounds — the  works  of  art 
which  are  commemorated-^the  interesting  topographical  de* 
scriptions^-the  insight  afforded  into  the  laws  and  manners  of 
the  ancient  Sicilians — the  astonishing  profusion  of  ironical 
sallies,  all  conspire  to  dazzle  the  imagination  and  rivet  the 
attention  of  the  reader ;  yet  there  is  something  in  the  idea  that 
they  •were  not  actually  delivered,  which  detracts  from  the 
effect  of  circumstances  which  would  otherwise  heighten  our 
feelings*  It  appears  to  us  even  preposterous  to  read,  in  the 
commencement  of  the  second  oration,  of  a  report  having  been 
spread  that  Verres  was  to  abandon  his  defence,  but  that  there 
he  sat  braving  his  accusers  and  judges  with  his  characteristic 
impudence.  The  exclamations  on  his  effrontery,  and  the  ad- 
jurations of  the  judges,  lose  their  force,  when  we  cannot  help 
recollecting  that  before  one  word  of  all  this  could  be  pro- 
nounced, the  person  against  whom  they  were  directed  as  pre- 
sent had  sneaked  off  into  voluntary  exile.  Whatever  effect 
this  recollection  may  have  had  on  the  ancients,  who  regarded 
oratory  as  an  art,  and  an  oration  as  an  elaborate  composition, 
nothinff  can  be  more  grating  or  offensive  to  the  taste  and  feel- 
ings of  a  modern  reader,  whose  idea  of  eloquence  is  that  of 
something  natural,  heart-felt,  inartificial,  and  extemporaneous. 

The  Sicilians,  though  they  could  scarcely  have  been  satis- 
fied with  the  issue  of  the  trial,  appear  to  have  been  sufficiently 
sensible  of  Cicero's  great  exertions  in  their  behalf.  Blainville, 
in  his  Travels,  mentions,  that  while  at  Grotta  Ferrata,  a  con- 
vent built  on  the  ruins  of  Cicero's  Tusculan  Villa,  he  had  been 
shown  a  silver  medal,  unquestionably  antique,  struck  by  the 
Sicilians  in  gratitude  for  his  impeachment  oJP  Verres.  One 
side  exhibits  a  head  of  Cicero,  crowned  with  laurel,  with  the 
legend  M.  T.  Ctceroiii— on  the  reverse,  there  is  the  represen- 
tation of  three  legs  extended  in  a  triangular  position,  in  the 
form  of  the  three  grtat  capes  or  promontories  of  Sicily,  with 
the  motto, — "  Prostrato  Verre  Trinacria.^^ 

Pro  Fonteio.  It  is  much  to  be  regretted,  that  the  oration 
for  Fonteius,  the  next  which  Cicero  delivered,  has  descended 
to  us  incomplete.  It  was  the  defence  of  an  unpopular  gover- 
nor, accused  of  oppression  by  the  province  intrusted  to  his  ad- 
ministration ;  and,  as  such,  would  have  formed  an  interesting 
contrast  to  the  accusation  of  Verres. 
Vol.  II.—V 


162  CICERO. 

Pro  Cacina.    This  was  a  mere  question  of  civil  right,  turn- 
ing on  the  etfect  of  a  Prcetorian  edict. 

Pro  Lege  Manilia,  Hitherto  Cicero  had  only  addressed 
the  judges  in  the  Fotum  in  civil  suits  or  criminal  prosecution!. 
The  oration  for  the  Manilian  law,  which  is  accounted  one  of 
the  most  splendid  of  his  productions,  was  the  first  in  which  be 
spoke  to  the  whole  people  from  the  rostrum.  It  was  pro- 
nounced in  favour  of  a  law  proposed  by  Manilius,  a  tribune 
of  the  people,  for  constituting  Pompey  sole  general,  with  ex- 
traordinary powers,  in  the  war  against  Milhridatea  and  Tigra- 
nes,  in  which  Lucullus  at  that  time  commanded.  The  chieB 
of  the  Senate  regarded  this  law  as  a  dangerous  precedent  in 
the  republic ;  and  all  the  authority  of  Catulus,  and  eloquence 
of  Hortensius,  were  directed  against  it.  It  has  been  conjec- 
tured, that  in  supporting  pretensions  which  endangered  the 
public  liberty,  Cicero  was  guided  merely  by  interest,  since  an 
opposition  to  Pompey  might  have  prevented  his  oiivn  electtOD 
to  the  consulship,  which  was  now  the  great  object  of  his  am- 
bition. His  life,  however,  and  writings,  will  warrant  us  in 
ascribing  to  him  a  different,  though  perhaps  less  obvious  mo- 
tive. With  the  love  of  virtue  and  the  republic,  which  glowed 
so  intensely  in  the  breast  of  this  illustrious  Roman,  that  less 
noble  passion,  the  immoderate  desire  of  popular  fame,  was 
unfortunately  mingled.  '^  Fame,"  says  a  modern  historian, 
<^  was  the  prize  at  which  he  aimed ;  his  weakness  of  bodily 
constitution  sought  it  through  the  most  strenuous  labours — 
his  natural  timidity  of  mind  pursued  it  through  the  greatest 
dangers.  Pompey,  who  had  fortunately  attained  it,  he  con- 
templated as  the  happiest  of  men,  and  was  led,  from  this  illu- 
sion of  fancy,  not  only  to  speak  of  him,  but  really  to  think  of 
him,"  (till  he  became  unfortunate,)  '<  with  a  fondness  of  re- 
spect bordering  on  enthusiasm.  iThe  glare  of  glory  that  sur- 
rounded Pompey,  concealed  from  Cicero  his  many  and  great 
imperfections,  and  seduced  an  honest  citizen,  and  finest  genius 
in  Rome,  a  man  of  unparalleled  industry,  and  that  generally 
applied  to  the  noblest  purposes,  into  the  prostitution  of  his 
abilities  and  virtues,  for  exalting  an  ambitious  chief,  and  in- 
vesting him  with  such  exorbitant  and  unconstitutional  powers, 
as  virtually  subverted  the  commonwealtlP." 

In  defending  this  pernicious  measure,  Cicero  divided  his  dis- 
course into  two  parts — ^showing,  first,  that  the  importance  and 
imminent  dangers  of  the  contest  in  which  the  state  was  engag- 
ed, required  the  unusual  remedy  proposed — and,  secondly,  that 
Pompey  was  the  fittest  person  to  be  intrusted  with  the  conduct 

•  Gilliefl,  BUtary  </  Greece,  Part  II.  T.  IV.  c.  2T. 


CICERO.  163 

of  the  war.  This  leads  to  a  splendid  panegyric  on  that  renown- 
ed commander,  in  which,  while  he  does  justice  to  the  merits 
of  his  predecessor,  Lucullus,  he  enlarges  on  the  military  skill, 
valour,  authority,  and  good  fortune  of  this  present  idol  of  his 
luxuriant  imagination,  with  all  the  force  and  beauty  which 
language  can  afford.  lie  fills  the  imagination  with  the  im- 
mensity of  the  object,  kindles  in  the  breast  an  ardour  of  adec- 
tion  and  gratitude,  and,  by  an  accumulation  of  circumstances 
and  proofs,  so  aggrandizes  his  hero,  that  he  exalts  him  to 
something  more  than  mortal  in  the  minds  of  his  auditory ; 
while,  at  the  same  time,  every  word  inspires  the  most  perfect 
veneration  for  his  character,  and  the  most  unbounded  confi- 
dence in  his  integrity  and  judgment.  The  whole  world  is 
exhibited  as  an  inadequate  theatne  for  "^he  actions  of  such  a 
superior  genius ;  while  all  the  nations,  and  potentates  of  the 
earth,  are  in  a  manner  called  as  witnesses  of  his  valour  and 
his  truth.  By  enlarging  on  these  topics,  by  the  most  solemn 
protestations  of  his  own  sincerity,  and  by  adducing  examples 
from  antiquity,  of  the  state  having  been  benefited  or  saved, 
by  intrusting  unlimited  power  to  a  single  person,  he  allayed 
all  fears  Qf  the  dangers  which  it  was  apprehended  might  result 
to  the  constitution,  from  such  extensive  authority  being  vested 
in  one  individual — and  thus  struck  the  first  blow  towards  the 
subversion  of  the  republic  ! 

Pro  Cltientio.  This  is  a  pleading  for  Cluentius,  who,  at 
his  mother's  instigation,  was  accused  of  having  poisoned  his 
stepfather,  Oppianicus.  Great  part  of  the  harangue  appears 
to  be  but  collaterally  connected  with  the  direct  subject  of  the 
prosecution.  Oppianicus,  it  seems,  had  been  formerly  accused 
by  Cluentius,  and  found  guilty  of  a  similar  attempt  against  his 
life ;  but  after  his  condemnation,  a  report  became  current  that- 
Cluentius  had  prevailed  in  the  cause  by  corrupting  the  judges, 
and,  to  remove  the  unfavourable  impression  thus  created 
against  his.  client,  Cicero  recurs  to  the  circumstances  of  that 
case.  In  the  second  part  of  the  oration,  which  refers  to  the 
accusation  of  poisoning  Oppianicus,  he  finds  it  necessary  to 
clear  bis  client  from  two  previous  charges  of  attempts  to  poi- 
son. In  treating  of  the  proper  subject  of  the  criminal  pro- 
ceedings, which  does  not  occupy  above  a  sixth  part  of  the 
whole  oration,  he  shows  that  Cluentius  could  have  had  no 
access  or  opportunity  to  administer  poison  to  his  father,  who 
was  in  exile ;  that  there  was  nothing  unusual  or  suspicious  in 
the  circumstances  of  his  death  ;  and  that  the  charge  originated 
in  the  machinations  of  Cluentius'  unnatural  mother,  against 
whom  he  inveighs  with  much  force,  as  one  hurried  along  blind- 
fold by  guilt— rwho  acts  with  such  folly  that  no  one  can  ac- 


164  CICERO. 

count  her  a  rational  creature — ^with  such  violence  that  none 
can  imagine  her  to  be  a  woman — with  such  cruelty,  that  none 
can  call  her  a  mother.  The  whole  oration  discloses  such  a 
scene  of  enormous  villainy — of  murders,  by  poison  and  as- 
sassination— of  incest,  and  subornation  of  witnesses,  that  the 
family  history  of  Cluentius  may  be  regarded  as  the  counter- 
part in  domestic  society,  of  what  the  government  of  Verres 
was  in  public  life.  Though  very  long,  and  complicated  too, 
in  the  subject,  it  is  one  of  the  most  correct  and  forcible  of  all 
Cicero's  judicial  orations ;  and,  under  the  impression  that  it 
comes  nearer  to  the  strain  of  a  modern  pleading  than  any  of 
the  others,  it  has  been  selected  by  Dr  Blair  as  the  subject  of 
a  minute  analysis  and  criticism*. 

De  Lege  Agraria  contra  Ruttum.    In  his  discourse  Pro 
Lege  Alanilia^  the  first  of  the  deliberative  kind  addressed  to 
the  assembly  of  the  people,  Cicero   had   the  advantage  of 
speaking  for  a  favourite  of  the  multitude,  and  against  the  chiefs 
of  the  Senate ;  but  he  was  placed  in  a  very  different  situation 
when  he  came  to  oppose  the  Agrarian  law.     This  had  been 
for  300  years  the  darling  object  of  the  Roman  tribes — ^the 
daily  attraction  and  rallying  word  of  the  populace— -4he  signal 
of  discord,  and  most  powerful  engine  of  the  seditious  tribu- 
nate.    The  first  of  the  series  of  orations  against  the  Agrarian 
law,  now  proposed  by  Rullus,  was  delivered  by  Cicero  in  the 
Senate-house,  shortly  after  bis  election  to  the  consulship: 
The  second  and  third  were  addressed  to  the  people  from  the 
rostrum.     The  scope  of  the  present  Agrarian  law  was,  to  ap- 
point Decemvirs  for  the  purpose  of  selling  the  public  domains 
in  the  provinces,  and  to  recover  from  the  generals  the  spoils 
acquired  in  foreign  wars,  by  which  a  fund  might  be  formed 
for  the  purchase  of  lands  in  Italy,  particularly  Campania — to 
be  equally  divided  among  the  people.    Cicero^  in  his  fint 
oration,  of  which  the  commencement  is  now  wanting,  quieted 
the  alarms  of  the  Senate,  by  assuring  them  of  his  resolution 
to  oppose  the  law  with  his  utmost  power.     When  the  ques- 
tion came  before  the  people,  he  did  not  fear  to  encounter 
the  Tribunes  on  their  own  territory,  and  most  popular  sub- 
ject ;  he  did  not  hesitate  to  make  the  rabble  judges  in  their 
ovn  cause,  though  one  in  which  their  passions,  iuterests,  and 
prejudices,  and  those  of  their  fathers,  had  been  engaged  for 
so  many  centuries.     Conscious  of  his  superiority,  he  invited 
the  Tribunes  to  ascend  the  rostrum,  and  argue  the  point  with 
him  before  the  assembled  multitude ;  but  the  field  was  left 
clear  to  his  argument  and  eloquence,  and  by  alternately  flat- 

*  Lecture*  on  Shetorie,  &c.  Vol.  II.  Lect  XXVIIf. 


CICERO-  165 

tering  the  people,  and  ridiculing  the  proposer  of  the  law,  he 
gave  such  a  turn  to  their  inclinations,  that  they  rejected  the 
proposition  as  eagerly  as  they  had  before  received  it. 

But  although  the  Tribunes  were  unable  to  cope  with  Cicero 
in  the  Forum,  they  subsequently  contrived  to  instil  suspicions 
into  the  minds  of  the  populace,  with  regard  to  his  motives  in 
opposing  the  Agrarian  law.  These  imputations  made  such  an 
impression  on  the  city,  that  he  found  it  necessary  to  defend 
himself  against  them,  in  a  short  speech  to  the  people.  It  has 
been  disputed,  whether  this  third  oration  was  the  last  which 
Cicero  pronounced  on  occasion  of  this  Agrarian  law.  In  the 
letters  to  Atticus,  while  speaking  of  his  consular  orations,  he 
says,  '^  that  among  those  sent,  was  that  pronounced  in  the 
Senate,  and  that  addressed  to  the  people,  on  the  Agrarian 
law*^."  These  are  the  first  and  second  of  the  speeches,  which 
we  now  have  against  RuUus ;  but  he  also  mentions,  that  there 
were  two  apospasmatia,  as  he  calls  them,  concerning  the 
Agrarian  law.  Now,  what  is  at  present  called  the  third,  was 
probably  the  first  of  these  two,  and  the  last  must  have  pe* 
rished. 

Pro  Rabirio.  About  the  year  654,  Saturninus,  a  seditious 
Tribune,  had  been  slain  by  a  party  attached  to  the  interests  of 
the  Senate.  Thirty-six  years  afterwards,  Rabirius  was  accu- 
sed of  accession  to  this  murder,  by  Labienus,  subsequently 
well  known  as  Caesar's  lieutenant  in  Gaul.  Hortensius  had 
pleaded  the  cause  before  the  Duumvirs,  Caius  and  Lucius 
Caesar,  by  whom  Rabirius  being  condemned,  appealed  to  the 
people,  and  was  defended  by  Cicero  in  the  Comitia.  The 
Tribune,  it  seems,  had  been  slain  in  a  tumult  during  a  season 
of  such  danger,  that  a  decree  had  been  passed  by  the  Senate, 
requiring  the  Consuls  to  be  careful  that  the  republic  received 
no  detriment.  This  was  supposed  to  sanction  every  proceed- 
ing which  followed  in  consequence ;  and  the  design  of  the 
popular  party,  in  the  impeachment  of  Rabirius,  was  to  attack 
this  prerogative  of  the  Senate.  Cicero's  oration  on  this  con- 
tention between  the  Senatorial  and  Tribunitial  power,  gives 
us  more  the  impression  of  prompt  and  unstudied  eloquence 
than  most  of  his  other  harangues.  It  is,  however,  a  httle  ob- 
scure, partly  from  the  circumstance  that  the  accuser  would 
not  permit  him  to  exceed  half  an  hour  in  the  defence.  The 
argument  seems  to  have  been,  that  Rabirius  did  not  kill  Sa- 
turninus ;  but  that  even  if  he  had  slain  him,  the  action  was  not 
merely  legal,  but  praiseworthy,  since  all  citizens  had  been  re* 
quired  to  arm  in  aid  of  the  Consuls. 

♦  Lib.  II.  Ep.  1. 


166  CICERO. 

It  was  believed,  that  in  spite  of  the  exertions  of  CicerO; 
Rabirius  would  have  been  condemned,  had  not  the  Praetor 
Metellus  devised  an  expedient  for  dissolving  the  Comitia,  be* 
fore  sentence  could  be  passed.  The  cause  was  neither  far- 
ther prosecuted  at  this  time,  nor  subsequently  revived;  the 
public  attention  being  now  completely  engrossed  by  the  im- 
minent dangers  of  the  Catilinarian  Conspiracy,  which  was  dis- 
covered during  the  Consulship  of  Cicero. 

Contra  CatUinam.    The  detection  and  suppression  of  that 
nefarious  plot,  form  the  most  glorious  part  of  the  political 
life  of  Cicero;  and  the  orations  he  pronounced  against  the 
chief  conspirator,   are  still  regarded  as   the  most  splendid 
monuments  of  his  eloquence.     It  was  no  longer  to  defend  the 
rights  and  prerogatives  of  a  municipal  town  or  province,  nor 
to  move  and  persuade    a  judge  in  favour  of  an  unfortunate 
client,  but  to  save  his  country  and  the  republic,  that  Cicero 
ascended  the  Rostrum.     The  conspiracy  of  Catiline  tended  to 
the  utter  extinction  of  the  city  and  government.     Cicero,  hav- 
ing discovered  his  design,  (which  was  to  leave  Rome  and  join 
his  army,  assembled  in  different  parts  of  Italy,  while  the  other 
conspirators  remained  within  the  walls,  to  butcher  the  Sena- 
tors and  fire  the  capital,)  summoned  the  Senate  to  meet  in  the 
Temple  of  Jupiter  Stator,  with  the  intention  of  laying  before 
it  the  whole  circumstances  of  the  plot.     But  Catiline  having 
unexpectedly  appeared  in  the  midst  of  the  assembly,  his  auda- 
city impelled  the  consular  orator  into  an  abrupt  invective, 
which  is  directly  addressed  to   the  traitor,  and   commences 
without  the  preamble  by  which  most  of  his  other  harangues  are 
introduced.     In  point  of  effect,  this  oration  must  have  been 
perfectly  electric.    The  disclosure  to  the  criminal  himself  of 
his  most  secret  purposes — their  flagitious  nature,  threatening 
the  life  of  every  one  present — the  whole  course  of  his  villainies 
and  treasons,  blazoned  forth  with  the  fire  of  incensed   elo- 
quence— and  the  adjuration  to  him,  by  flying  from  Rome,  to 
free  his  country  from  such  a  pestilence,  were  all  wonderfully 
calculated   to  excite   astonishment,  admiration,  and  horror. 
The  great  object  of  the  whole  oration,  was  to  drive  Catiline 
into  banishment;  and  it  appears  somewhat  singular,  that  so 
dangerous  a  personage,  and  who  might  have  been  so  easily 
convicted,  should  thus  have  been  forced,  or  even  allowed,  to 
withdraw  to  his  army,  instead  of  being  seized  and  punished. 
Catiline  having  escaped  unmolested  to  his  camp,  the  conduct 
of  the  Consul  in  not  apprehending,  but  sending  away  this 
formidable  enemy,  had  probably  excited  some  censure  and 
discontent ;  and  the  second  Catilinarian  oration  was  in  conse- 
quence delivered  by  Cicero,  in  an  assembly  of  the  people,  in 


CICERO.  167 

order  to  justify  his  driving  the  chief  conspirator  from  Rome. 
A  capital  punishment,  he  admits,  ought  long  since  to  have 
overtatien  Catiline,  but  such  was  the  spirit  of  the  times,  that  the 
existence  of  the  conspiracy  would  not  have  been  believed,  and 
he  had  therefore  resolved  to  place  his  guilt  in  a  point  of  view 
so  conspicuous,  that  vigorous  measures  might  without  hesita- 
tion be  adopted,  both  against  Catiline  and  his  accomplices. 
He  also  takes  this  opportunity  to  warn  his  audience  against 
those  bands  of  conspirators  who  still  lurked  within  the  city, 
and  whom  he  divides  into  various  classes,  describing,  in  the 
strongest  language,  the  different  degrees  of  guilt  and  profli- 
gacy by  which  they  were  severally  characterized. 

Manifest  proofs  of  the  whole  plot  having  been  at  length 
obtained,  by  the  arrest  of  the  ambassadors  from  the  Allobro- 
ges,  -with  whom  the  conspirators  had  tampered,  and  who  were 
bearing  written  credentials  from  them  to  their  own  country, 
Cicero,  in  his  third  oration,  laid  before  the  people  all  the  par- 
ticulars of  the  discovery,  and  invited  them  to  join  in  celebra- 
ting a  thanksgiving,  which  had  been  decreed  by  the  Senate  to 
his  honour,  for  the  preservation  of  his  country. 

The  last  Catilinarian  oration  was  pronounced  in  the  Senate, 
on  the  debate  concerning  the  punishment  to  be  inflicted  on 
the  conspirators.  Silanus  had  proposed  the  infliction  of  in- 
stant death,  while  Csesar  had  spoken  in  favour  of  the  more 
lenient  sentence  of  perpetual  imprisonment.  Cicero  does  not 
precisely  declare  for  any  particular  punishment ;  but  he  shows 
that  his  mind  evidently  inclined  to  the  severest,  by  dwelling 
on  the  enormity  of  the  conspirators'  guilt,  and  aggravating  all 
their  crimes  with  much  acrimony  and  art.  His  sentiments 
finally  prevailed ;  and  those  conspirators,  who  had  remained 
in  Rome,  were  strangled  under  his  immediate  superinten- 
dence. 

In  these  four  orations,  the  tone  and  style  of  each  of  them, 
particularly  of  the  first  and  last,  is  very  diflerent,  and  accom- 
modated with  a  great  deal  pf  judgment  to  the  occasion,  and  to 
the  circumstances  under  which  they  were  delivered.  Through 
the  whole  series  of  the  Catilinarian  orations,  the  language  of 
Cicero  is  well  calculated  to  overawe  the  wicked,  to  confirm  the 
good,  and  encourage  the  timid.  It  is  of  that  description 
which  renders  the  mind  of  one  man  the  mind  of  a  whole  as- 
sembly, or  a  whole  people*. 

*  Wolf,  in  the  preface  to  his  edition  of  the  Oration  for  Marcellus,  mentions  havine 
seen  a  scliolastic  declamation,  entitled,  Oratio  CatiliruB,  in  M.  Cieeronem.  It 
concludes  thus, — **  Me  consularem  patricium,  civem  et  aiiiicum  reipublice  a  fauci- 
bus  inimici  consulis  eripite ;  supplicem  atque  insontem  pristins  clatitudini,  omnium 
dvium  gratis,  et  benevolentie  vestne  restitute.  Amen." 


168  CICERO. 

Pro  Jlfuri8na.-*-The  Comitia  being  now  held  in  order  to 
choose  Consuls  for  the  ensuing  year,  Junius  Stlanus  and  Mo- 
raena  were  elected.     The  latter  candidate  bad  for  bis  com- 

Eetitor  the  celebrated  jurisconsult  Sulpicius  Rufus;  who, 
eing  assisted  by  Cato,  charged  Mursena  with  having  pre- 
vailed by  bribery  and  corruption.  This  impeachment  was 
founded  on  the  Calpurnian  law,  which  had  lately  been  rendered 
more  strict,  on  the  suggestion  of  Sulpicius,  by  a  Senaiusconsut- 
turn.  Along  with  this  accusation,  the  profligacy  of  Murcena^s 
character  was  objected  to,  and  also  the  meanness  of  his  rank, 
as  he  was  but  a  knight  and  soldier,  whereas  Sulpicius  was  a 
patrician  and  lawyer.  Cicero  therefore  shows,  in  the  first 
place,  that  he  amply  merited  the  consulship,  from  his  services 
in  the  war  with  Mithridates,  which  introduces  a  comparison 
between  a  military  and  forensic  life.  While  he  pays  his  usual 
tribute  of  applause  to  cultivated  eloquence,  he  derides  the 
forms  and  phraseology  of  the  jurisconsults,  by  whom  the  civil 
law  was  studied  and  practised.  As  to  the  proper  subject  of 
the  accusation,  bribery  in  his  election,  it  seems  probable  that 
Mursena  had  been  guilty  of  some  practices  which,  strictly 
speaking,  were  illegal,  yet  were  warranted  by  custom.  They 
seem  to  have  consisted  in  encouraging  a  crowd  to  attend  him 
on  the  streets,  and  in  providing  shows  for  the  entertainment 
of  the  multitude ;  which,  though  expected  by  the  people,  and 
usually  overlooked  by  the  magistrates,  appeared  heinous  of- 
fences in  the  eye  of  the  rigid  and  stoical  Cato.  Aware  of  the 
weight  added  to  the  accusation  by  his  authority,  Cicero,  in 
order  to  obviate  this  influence,  treats  his  stoical  principles  in 
the  same  tone  which  he  had  already  used  concerning  the  pro- 
fession of  Sulpicius.  In  concluding,  he  avails  himself  of  the 
difliculties  of  the  times,  and  the  yet  unsuppressed  conspiracy 
of  Catiline,  which  rendered  it  unwise  to  deprive  the  city  of  a 
Consul  well  qualified  to  defend  it  in  so  dangerous  a  crisis. 

This  case  was  one  of  great  expectation,  from  the  dignity  of 
the  prosecutors,  and  eloquence  of  the  advocates  for  the  ac- 
cused. Before  Cicero  spoke,  it  had  been  pleaded  by  H<»ten- 
sius,  and  Crassus  the  triumvir ;  and  Cicero,  in  engaging  in  the 
cause,  felt  the  utmost  desire  to  surpass  these  rivals  of  his 
eloquence.  Such  was  his  anxiety,  that  he  slept  none  during 
the  whole  night  which  preceded  the  hearing  of  the  cause ;  and 
being  thus  exhausted  with  care,  his  eloquence  on  this  occasion 
fell  short  of  that  of  Hortensius*.  He  shows,  however,  much 
delicacy  and  art  in  the  manner  in  which  he  manages  the  at- 
tack on  the  philosophy  of  Cato,  and  profession  of  Sulpicius, 

*  FuDccius,  De  VirU,  JEtat,  Ling.  Lat.  Pan  II.  c  ). 


CICERO.  16» 

both  of  whom  were  his  particular  friends,  and  high  in  the 
estimation  of  the  judges  he  addressed^. 

Pro  Valerio  Flacco. — Flaccus  had  aided' Cicero  in  his  dis- 
covery of  the  conspiracy  of  Catiline,  and,  in  return,  was 
defended  by  him  against  a  charge  of  extortion  and  peculation, 
brought  by  various  states  of  Asia  Minor,  which  ho  had  go- 
verned as  Pro-praetor. 

Pro  Cornelio  SyUa. — Sylla,  who  was  afterwards  a  great 
partizan  of  Caesar's,  was  prosecuted  for  having  been  engaged 
in  Catiline's  conspiracy ;  but  his  accuser,  Torquatus,  digres- 
sing from  the  charge  against  Sylla,  turned  his  raillery  on 
Cicero;  alleging,  that  he  had  usurped  the  authority  of  a  king; 
and  asserting,  that  he  was  the  third  foreign  sovereign  who  had 
reigned  at  Rome  after  Numa  and  Tarquin.  Cicero,  therefore, 
in  his  reply,  had  not  only  to  defend  his  client,  but  to  answer  the 
petulant  raillery  by  which  his  antagonist  attempted  to  excite 
envy  and  odium  against  himself.  He  admits  that  he  was  a 
foreigner  in  one  sense  of  the  word,  having  been  born  in  a 
municipal  town  of  Italy,  in  common  with  many  others  who 
had  rendered  the  highest  services  to  the  city;  but  he  repels 
the  insinuation  that  he  usurped  any  kingly  authority ;  and  be- 
ing instigated  by  this  unmerited  attack,  he  is  led  on  to  the 
eulogy  of  his  own  conduct  and  consulship, — a  favourite  sub- 
ject, from  which  he  cannot  altogether  depart,  even  when  he 
enters  more  closely  into  the  grounds  of  the  prosecution. 

For  this  defence  of  Cornelius  Sylla,  Cicero  privately  re- 
ceived from,  his  client  the  sum  of  20,000  sesterces,  which 
chiefly  enabled  him  to  purchase  his  magnificent  house  on  the 
Palatine  Hill. 

Pro  ArcMa. — This  is  one  of  the  orations  of  Cicero  on  which 
he  has  succeeded  in  bestowing  the  finest  polish,  and  it  is  per- 
haps the  most  pleasing  of  all  his  harangues.  Archias  had  been 
his  preceptor,  and,  after  having  obtained  much  reputation  by 
his  Greek  poems,  on  the  triumphs  of  Lucullus  over  Mithri- 
dates,  and  of  Marius  over  the  Cimbrl,  was  now  attempting  to 
celebrate  the  consulship  of  Cicero ;  so  that  the  orator,  in  plead- 
ing his  cause,  expected  to'  be  requited  by  the  praises  of  his 
muse. 

This  poet  was  a  native  of  Antioch,  and,  having  come  to 
Italy  in  early  youth,  was  rewarded  for  his  learning  and  ge- 
nius with  the  friendship  of  the  first  men  in  the  state,  and  with 
the  citizenship  of  Heraclea,  a  confederate  and  enfranchised 
town  of  Magna  Grsecia.     A  few  years  afterwards,  a  law  was 

*  AoDius  Palearius  wrote  a  dedamatioD  in  answer  to  this  fpeech,  entitled,  C<m- 
tra  JfurtBnam, 

Vol.  II.— W 


170  CICERO. 

enacted,  conferring  the  rights  of  Roman  citizens  on  all  who 
had  been  admitted  to  the  freedom  of  federate  states,  provided 
they  had  a  settlement  in  Italy  at  the  time  when  the  law  was 
passed,  and  had  asserted  the  privilege  before  the  PrsBtor  within 
sixty  days  from  the  period  at  which  it  was  promulgated.  Af- 
ter Archias  had  enjoyed  the  benefit  of  this  law  for  more  than 
twenty  years,  his  claims  were  called  in  question  by  one 
Gracchus,  who  now  attempted  to  drive  him  from  the  city,  un- 
der the  enactment  expelling  all  foreigners  who  usurped,  with- 
out due  title,  the  name  and  attributes  of  Roman  citizens. 
The  loss  of  records,  and  some  other  circumstances,  having 
thrown  doubts  on  the  legal  right  of  his  client,  Cicero  chiefly 
enlarged  on  the  dignity  of  literature  and  poetry,  and  the  va- 
rious accomplishments  of  Archias,  which  gave  him  so  just  a 
claim  to  the  privileges  he  enjoyed.  He  beautifully  describes 
the  influence  which  study  and  a  love  of  letters  had  exercised 
on  his  own  character  and  conduct.  He  had  thence  imbibed 
the  principle,  that  glory  and  virtue  should  be  the  darling  ob- 
jects of  life,  and  that  to  attain  these,  all  difiiculties,  or  even 
dangers,  were  to  be  despised.  But,  of  all  names  dear  to  lite- 
rature and  genius,  that  of  poet  was  the  most  sacred  :  hence  it 
would  be  an  extreme  of  disgrace  and  profanation,  to  reject  a 
bard  who  had  employed  the  utmost  efforts  of  his  art  to  make 
Rome  immortal  by  his  muse,  and  had  possessed  such  prevailing 
power  as  to  touch  with  pleasure  even  the  stubborn  and  in- 
tractable soul  of  Marius. 

The  whole  oration  is  interspersed  with  beautiful  maxims 
and  sentences,  which  have  been  quoted  with  delight  in  all 
ages.  There  appears  in  it,  however,  perhaps  too  much,  and 
certainly  more  than  in  the  other  orations,  of  what  Lord  Mun- 
boddo  calls  candnnUy.  "We  have  in  it,*'  observes  he,  speak- 
ing of  this  oration,  "strings  of  antitheses,  the  figure  of  like 
endings,  and  a  perfect  similarity  of  the  structure,  both  as  to 
the  grammatical  form  of  the  words,  and  even  the  number  <>i 
them*.''  The  whole,  too,  is  written  in  a  style  of  exaggeration 
and  immoderate  praise.  The  orator  talks  of  the  poet  Archias. 
as  if  the  whole  glory  of  Rome,  and  salvation  of  the  common- 
wealth, depended  on  his  poetical  productions,  and  as  if  the 
smallest  injury  offered  to  him  would  render  the  name  of  Rom^ 
execrable  and  infamous  in  all  succeeding  generations. 

Pro  Cn.  Plancio. — The  defence  of  Plancius  was  one  of  the 
first  orations  pronounced  by  Cicero  after  his  return  from  ban- 
ishment. Plancius  had  been  Quaestor  of  Macedon  when 
Cicero  came  to  that  country  during  his  exile,  and  had  received 

*'Or%tn  and  PrQgru$  of  Language,  Book  IT. 


CICERO.  171 

him  with  honours  proportioned  to  his  high  character,  rather 
than  his  fallen  fortunes.  In  return  for  this  kindness,  Cicero 
undertook  his  defence  against  a  charge,  preferred  by  a  disap- 
pointed competitor,  of  bribery  and  corruption  in  suing  for  the 
aedileship. 

Pro  Sextio. — ^This  is  another  oration  produced  by  the  grati* 
tude  of  .Cicero,  and  the  circumstances  of  his  banishment. 
Sextius,  while  Tribune  of  the  people,  had  been  instrumental 
in  procuring  his  recall,  and  Cicero  requited  this  good  office 
by  one  of  the  longest  and  most  elaborate  of  his  harangues* 
The  accusation,  indeed,  was  a  consequence  of  bis  interpo- 
sition in  favour  of  the  illustrious  exile;  for  when  about  to  pro* 
pose  his  recall  to  the  people,  he  was  violently  attacked  by  the 
Clodian  faction,  and  left  for  dead  on  the  street.  His  enemies, 
however,  though  obviously  the  aggressors,  accused  him  of 
violence,  and  exciting  a  tumult.  This  was  the  charge  against 
which  Cicero  defended  him.  The  speech  is  valuable  for  the 
history  of  the  times ;  as  it  enters  into  all  the  recent  political 
events  in  which  Cicero  had  borne  so  distinguished  a  part. 
Th^  orator  inveighs  against  his  enemies,  the  Tribune  Clodius, 
and  the  Consuls  Gabinius  and  Piso,  and  details  all  the  circum- 
stances connected  with  his  own  banishment  and  return, 
occasionally  throwing  in  a  word  oir  two  about  his  client  Sex- 
tius. 

Centra  Fatinium. — Vatinius,  who  belonged  to  the  Clodian 
faction,  appeared,  at  the  trial  of  Sextius,  as  a  witness  against 
him.  This  gave  Cicero  an  opportunity  of  interrogating  him; 
and  the  whole  oration  being  a  continued  invective  on  the 
conduct  of  Vatinius,  poured  forth  in  a  series  of  questions, 
without  waiting  for  an  answer  to  any  of  them,  has  been  enti- 
tled, Interrogatio. 

Pro  Caiio. — Middleton  has  pronounced  this  to  be  the  most 
entertaining  of  the  orations  which  Cicero  has  left  us,  from  the 
Tivacity  of  wit  and  humour  with  which  he  treats  the  gallant- 
tries  of  Clodia,  her  commerce  with  Cselius,  and  in  general  the 
gaieties  and  licentiousness  of  youth. 

Cselius  was  a  young  man  of  considerable  talents  and  accomi 

Elishments,  who  had  been  intrusted  to  the  care  of  Cicero  on 
is  first  introduction  to  the  Forum ;  but  having  imprudently 
engaged  in  an  intrigue  with^Clodia,  the  well-knowU' sister  of 
Clodius,  and  having  afterwards  deserted  her,  she  accused  him 
of  an  attempt  to  poison  her,  and  of  having  borrowed  money 
from  her  in  order  to  procure  the  assassination  of  Dio,  the 
Alexandrian  ambassador.  In  this,  as  in  most  other  prose- 
cutions of  the  period,  a  number  of  charges,  unconnected  with 
the  main  one,  seem  to  have  been  accumulated,  in  order  to 


172  CICERO. 

give  the  chief  accusation  additional  force  and  credibilltj. 
Cicero  had  thus  to  defend  his  client  against  the  suspicions 
arising  from  the  general  libertinism  of  his  conduct.  He  jus- 
tifies that  part  of  it  which  related  to  his  intercourse  with 
Clodia,  by  enlarging  on  the  loose  character  of  this  woman, 
whom  he  treats  wi£  very  little  ceremony ;  and,  in  order  to 
place  her  dissolute  life  in  a  more  striking  point  of  view,  be 
conjures  up  in  fancy  one  of  her  grim  and  austere  ancestors 
of  the  Clodian  femily  reproaching  her  with  her  shameful  de- 
generacy. All  this  the  orator  was  aware  would  not  be 
sufficient  for  the  complete  vindication  of  his  client ;  and  it  is 
curious  to  remark  the  ingenuity  with  which  the  strenuoiu 
advocate  of  virtue  and  regularity  of  conduct  palliates,  on  this 
occasion,  the  levities  of  youth, — ^not,  indeed,  by  lessening  the 
merits  of  strict  morality,  but  by  representing  those  who  with- 
stand the  seductions  of  pleasure  as  supernaturally  endued. 

This  oration  was  a  particular  favourite  of  one  who  was 
long  a  distinguished  speaker  in  the  British  Senate,  ^ij 
the  way,"  says  Mr  Fox,  in  a  letter  to  Wakefield,  "  I  know 
no  speech  of  Cicero  more  ful^  of  beautiful  passages  thao 
this  is,  nor  where  he  is  more  in  his  element.  Argumentative 
contention  is  what  he  by  no  means  excels  in ;  and  he  is  neter, 
I  think,  so  happy  as  when  he  has  an  opportunity  of  exhibiting 
a  mixture  of  philosophy  and  pleasantry ;  and  especially  wbeo 
he  can  interpose  anecdotes  and  references  to  the  authority  of 
the  eminent  characters  in  the  history  of  his  country.  No  man 
appears,  indeed,  to  have  had  such  real  respect  for  aothoritj 
as  he ;  and  therefore,  when  he  speaks  upon  that  subject,  he  is 
always  natural  and  in  earnest;  and  not  like  those  among «^ 
who  are  so  often  declaiming  about  the  wisdom  of  our  ances- 
tors, without  knowing  what  they  mean,  or  hardly  ever  citiog 
any  particulars  of  their  conduct,  or  of  their  dicta* J" 

De  Provinciia  Consularilms.  The  government  of  Ga«' 
was  continued  to  Caesar,  in  consequence  of  this  oration, 
so  that  it  may  be  considered  as  one  of  the  immediate  causes 
of  the  ruin  of  the  Roman  Republic,  which  it  was  incontestibly 
the  great  wish  of  Cicero  to  protect  and  maintain  inviolate. 
But  Cicero  had  evidently  been  duped  by  Csesar,  as  he  fonnerlj 
had  nearly  been  by  Catiline,  and  as  he  subsequently  wai  h; 
Octavius,  Pollio,  and  every  ono^who  found  it  his  interest  to 
cajole  him,  by  proclaiming  his  praises,  and  professing  ardent 
zeal  for  the  safety  of  the  state.  So  little  had  he  penetrated 
the  real  views  of  Ceesar,  that  we  find  him  asking  the  Senate, 
in  this  oration,  what  possible  motive  or  inducement  Caesaf 

• 

*  Corre$pondenu,  p.  85. 


CICERO.  173 

could  have  to  remain  in  the  province  of  Gaul,  except  the  pub- 
lic good.  '^  For  would  the  amenity  of  the  regions,  the  beauty 
of  the  cities,  or  civilization  of  the  inhabitants,  detain  him 
there— or  can  a  return  to  one's  native  country  be  so  distaste* 
fuH" 

Pro  Comelio  BaJbo. — Balbus  was  a. native  of  Cadiz,  who 
having  been  of  considerable  service  to  Pompey,  during  his 
war  in  Spain,  against  Sertorius,  had,  in  return,  received  the 
freedom  of  Rome  from  that  commander,  in  virtue  of  a  special 
law,  by  which  he  had  obtained  the  power  of  granting  this  be- 
nefit to  whom  he  chose.  The  validity  of  Pompey's  act,  how- 
ever, was  now  questioned,  on  the  ground  that  Cadiz  was  not 
vrithin  the  terms  of  that  relation  and  alliance  to  Rome,  which, 
could,  under  any  circumstances,  entitle  its  citizens  to  such  a 
privilege.  The  question,  therefore,  was,  whether  the  inhabi- 
tants cfa  federate  state,  which  had  not  adopted  the  institutions 
and  civil  jurisprudence  of  Rome,  could  receive  the  rights  of 
citizenship.  This  point  was  of  great  importance  to  the  muni- 
cipal towns  of  the  Republic,  and  the  oration  throws  considera- 
ble light  on  the  relations  which  existed  between  the  provinces 
and  the  capital. 

In  Pisonem, — Piso  having  been  recalled  from  his  govern- 
ment'of  Macedon,  in  consequence  of  Cicero's  oration,  De 
Provinciis  ConwlaribiM,  he  complained,  in  one  of  his  first 
appearances  in  the  Senate,  of  the  treatment  he  had  received, 
and  attacked  the  orator,  particularly  on  the  score  of  his  poe- 
try, ridiculing  the  well  known  line. 


«  Cedant  an&a  togn — concedat  laurea  Ungiue." 

Cicero  replied  in  a  bitter  invective,  in  which  be  exposed  the 
whole  life  and  conduct  of  his  enemy  to  public  contempt  and 
detestation.  The  most  singular  feature  of  thi^i  harangue  is 
the  personal  abuse  and  coarseness  of  expression  it  contains, 
which  appear  the  more  extraordinary  when  we  consider  that 
it  was  delivered  in  the  Senate-house,  and  directed  against  an 
individttal  of  such  distinction  and  consequence  as  Piso.  ^Ci- 
cero applies  to  him  the  opprobrious  epithets  of  beUuaj'furiOf 
camtf€X,/urcifer^  &c. ;  he  banters  him  on  his  personal  defor- 
mities, and  upbraids  him  with  his  ignominious  descent  on  one 
side  of  the  family,  while,  on  the  other,  he  had  no  resemblance 
to  his  ancestors,  except  to  the  sooty  complexion  of  their 
images. 

Pro  MUone. — ^^When  Milo  was  candidate  for  the  Consulship, 
the  notorious  demagogue  Clodius  supported  his  competitors, 
and  daring  the  canvass,  party  spirit  grew  so  violent,  that  the 


174  CICERO. 

• 

two  (actions  often  came  to  blows  within  the  wall^  of  the  (i\j* 
While  these  dissensions  were  at  their  height,  Clodius  nod 
Milo  met  on  the  Appian  Way— the  former  returning  from  the 
country  towards  Rome,  and  the  latter  setting  out  for  Lanu- 
.  vium,  both  attended  by  a  great  retinue.  A  quarrel  arose  amoog 
their  followers,  in  which  Clodius  was  wounded  and  carrid 
into  a  house  in  the  vicinity.  By  order  of  Milo,  the  doors  were 
broken  open,  his  enemy  dragged  out,  and  assassinated  on  the 
highway.  The  death  of  Clodius  excited  much  confusion  and 
tumult  at  Rome,  in  the  course  of  which  the  courts  of  justice 
were  burned' by  a  mob.  Milo  having  returned  from  the  ba- 
nishment into  which  he  had  at  first  withdrawn,  was  impeached 
for  the  crime  by  the  Tribunes  of  the  people  ;  and  Pompej,  in 
virtue  of  the  authority  conferred  on  him  by  a  decree  of  the  Se- 
nate, nominated  a  special  commission  to  inquire  into  the  mur- 
der committed  on  the  Appian  Way.  In  order  to  preserve  the 
tranquillity  of  the  city,  he  placed  guards  in  the  Fonim,  and 
occupied  all  its  avenues  with  troops.  This  unusual  appear- 
ance, and  the  shouts  of  the  Clodian  faction,  which  the  mili- 
tary could  not  restrain,  so  discomposed  the  Orator,  that  he  fell 
short  of  his  usual  excellence.  The  speech  which  he  actually 
delivered,  was  taken  down  in  writing,  and  is  mentioned  by 
Asconius  Pedianus  as  still  extant  in  his  time.  But  that  beau- 
tiful harangue  which  we  now  possess,  is  one  which  was  re^ 
touched  and  polished,  as  a  gift  for  Milo,  after  he  had  retired 
in  exil6  to  Marseilles. 

In  the  oration,  as  we  now  have  it,  Cicero  takes  his  exor- 
dium from  the  circumstances  by  which  he  was  so  much,  though, 
as  he  adnpiits,  so  causelessly  disconcerted ;  since  he  knew  that 
the  troops  were  not  placed  in  the  Forum  to  overawe,  but  to 
protect.  In  entering  on  the  defence,  he  grants  that  Clodius 
was  killed,  and  by  Milo;  but  he  maintains  that  homicide  is, 
on  many  occasions,  justifiable,  and  on  none  more  so  than  whea 
force  can  only  be  repelled  by  force,  and  when  the  slaughter 
of  the  aggressor  is  necessary  for  self-preservation.  These 
principles  are  beautifully  illustrated,  and  having  been,  ais  the 
orator  conceives,  sufficiently  established,  are  applied  to  the 
case  under  consideration.  He  shows,  from  the  circumstantial 
evidence  of  time  and  place — the  character  of  the  deceased-- 
the  retinue  by  which  he  was  accompanied — his  Hatred  to  Milo 
— the  advantages  which  would  have  resulted  to  him  from  the 
death  of  his  enemy,  and  the  expressions  proved  to  have  beea 
used  by  him,  that  Clodius  had  laid  an  ambush  for  Milo.  Ci' 
cero,  it  is  evident,  had  here  the  worst  of  the  cause.  The  ea- 
counter  appears,  in  fact,  to  have  been  accidental ;  and  though 
the  servants  of  Clodius  may,  perhaps,  have  been  the  assailants? 


CICERO.  176 

JMilo  had  obviously  exceeded  the  legitimate  bounds  of  self 
defence.  The  orator  accordingly  enforces  the  argument,  that 
the  assassination  of  Clodius  was  an  act  of  public  benefit^ 
^hich,  in  a  consultation  of  Milo's  friends,  was  the  only  one 
intended  to  have  been  advanced,  and  was  the  sole  defence 
adopted  in  the  oration  which  Brutus  is  said  to  have  prepared 
for  the  occasion.  Cicero,  while  he  does  not  forego  the  ad- 
vaiitage  of  this  plea,  maintains  it  hypothetically,  contending 
that  even  if  Milo  had  openly  pursued  and  slain  Clodius  as  a 
common  enemy,  he  might  well  boast  of  having  freed  the  state 
from  so  pernicious  and  desperate  a  citizen.  To  add  force  to 
this  argument,  he  takes  a  rapid  view  of  the  various  acts  of 
atrocity  committed  by  Clodius,  and  the  probable  situation  of 
the  Republic,  were  he  to  revive.  When  the  minds  of  the 
judges  were  thus  sufficiently  prepared,  he  ascribes  his  tragical 
end  to  the  immediate  interposition  of  the  providential  powers, 
specially  manifested  by  his  fall  near  the  temple  of  Bona  Dea, 
whose  mysteries  he  had  formerly  profaned.  Having  excited 
sufficient  indignation  against  Clodius,  he  concludes  with  mov- 
ing commiseration  for  Milo,  representing  his  love  for  his  coun- 
try and  fellow-citizens, — the  sad  calamity  of  exile  from  Rome, . 
— and  his  manly  resignation  to  whatever  punishment  might 
be  inflicted  on  him. 

The  argument  in  this  oration  was  perhaps  as  good  as  the 
circumstances  admitted;  but  we  miss  through  the  whole  that 
reference  to  documents  and  laws,  which  gives  the  stamp  of 
truth  to  the  orations .  of  Demosthenes.  Each  gr6und  of  de-> 
fence,  taken  by  itself,  is  deficient  in  argumentative  force. 
Thus,  in  maintaining  that  the  death  of  Clodius  was  of  no 
benefit  to  Milo,  he  has  taken  too  little  into  consideration  the 
hatred  and  rancour  mutually  felt  by  the  heads  of  political  fac- 
tions: but  he  supplies  his  weakness  of  argument  by  illustra- 
tive digressions,  flashes  of  wit,  bursts  of  eloquence,  and  ap- 
peals to  the  compassion  of  the  judges,  on  which  he  appears  to 
have  placed  much  reliance*.  On  the  whole,  this  oration  wais 
accounted,  both  by  Cicero  himself  and  by  his  contemporaries, 
as  the  finest  effort  of  his  genius;  which  confirms  what  indeed 
is  evinced  by  the  whole  history  of  Roman  eloquence,  that  the 
judges  were  easily  satisfied  on  the  score  of  reasoning,  and 
attached  more  importance  to  pathos,  and  wit,  and  sonorous 
periods,  than  to  fact  or  law. 

Pro  Rabirio  Po«/timo.-^This  is  the  defence  of  Rabirius, 
who  was  prosecuted  for  repayment  of  a  sum  whiqh  he  was 

*  Jenisch,  ParctUd  der  beiden  grb'sten  Redner  des  Jittherthum,  p.  124,  ed.  Ber- 
lin, 1821. 


176  CICERO. 

supposed  to  have  received,  in  conjunction  with  the  Proconsul 
Gabinius,  from  King  Ptolemy,  for  having  placed  him  on  the 
throne  of  Egypt,  contrary  to  the  injunctions  of  the  Senate. 

Pro  lAgario. — ^This  oration  was  pronounced  after  Caesar, 
having  vanquished  Pompey  in  Thessaly,  and  destroyed  the  re- 
mains of  the  Republican  party  in  Africa,  assumed  the  supreme 
administration  of  affairs  at  Rome.  Merciful  as  the  conqueror 
appeared,  he  was  understood  to  be  much  exasperated  against 
those  who,  after  the  rout  at  Pharsalia,  had  renewed  Jthe  war  in 
Africa.  Ligarius,  when  on  the  point  of  obtaining  a  pardon, 
was  formally  accused  by  his  old  enemy  Tubero,  of  having 
borne  arms  in  that  contest.  The  Dictator  himself  presided  at 
the  trial  of  the  case,  much  prejudiced  against  Ligarius,  as  was 
known  from  his  having  previously  declared,  that  his  resolution 
was  fixed,  and  was  not  to  be  altered  by  the  charms  of  elo- 
quence. Cicero,  however,  overcame  his  prepossessions,  and 
extorted  from  him  a  pardon.  The  countenance  of  Caesar,  it 
is  said,  changed,  as  the  orator  proceeded  in  his  speech;  but 
when  he  touched  on  the  battle  of  Pharsalia,  and  described 
Tubero  as  seeking  his  life,  amid  the  ranks  of  the  army,  the 
Dictator  became  so  agitated,  that  his  body  trembled,  and  the 
papers  which  he  held  dropped  from  his  hand*. 

This  oration  is  remarkable  for  the  free  spirit  which  it 
breathes,  even  in  the  face  of  that  power  to  which  it  was  ad- 
dressed for  mercy.  But  Cicero,  at  the  same  time,  shows  much 
art  in  not  overstepping  those  limits,  within  which  he  knew  he 
might  speak  without  offence,  and  in  seasoning  his  frqedom 
with  appropriate  compliments  to  Caesar,  of  which,  perhaps, 
the  most  elegant  is,  that  he  forgot  nothing  but  the  injuries 
done  to  himself.  This  was  the  person  whom,  in  the  time  of 
Pompey,  he  characterized  as  monstrum  et  portentum  fjfrnfi- 
num^  and  whose  death  he  soon  afterwards  celebrated  as  divi- 
num  inrempublicam  beneficium! 

The  oration  of  Tubero  against  Ligarius,  was  extant  in 
^uintilian^s  time,  and  probably  explained  the  circumstances 
which  induced  a  man,  who  had  fought  so  keenly  against 
CsBsar  at  Pharsalia,  to  undertake  the  prosecution  of  Ligarius. 

Pro  Rege  Dgotaro. — Dejotarus  was  a  Tetrarch  of  (^atia, 
who  obtained  from  Pompey  the  realm  of  Armenia,  and  from 
the  Senate  the  title  of  King.  In  the  civil  war  he  had  es- 
poused the  cause  of  his  benefactors.  Csesar,  in  consequence, 
deprived  him  of  Armenia,  but  was  subsequently  reconciled  to 
him,  and,  while  prosecuting  the  war  against  Phamaces,  visi- 
ted him  in  his  original  states  of  Galatia.    Some  time  afler- 

^  Plutarch,  In  Cicero. 


CICERO.  177 

wardi,  Phidippusy  the  physician  of  the  king,  and  his  grandson 
Castor,  accused  hioi  of  an  attempt  to  poison  Ceesar,  during  the 
stay  which  the  Dicjtator  had  made  at  his  court.  Cicero  de- 
fended him  in  the  private  apartments  of  Caesar,  and  adopted 
the  same  happy  union  of  freedom  and  flattery,  which  he  bad 
so  successfully  employed  in  the  case  of  Ligarius.  Csssar, 
however,  pronounced  no  decision  on  the  one  side  or  other. 

PhUippica. — The  remaining  orations  of  Cicero  are  those 
directed  against  Antony,  of  whose  private  life  fSf4  political 
conduct  they  present  us  with  a  full  and. gluing  picture.  The 
character  of  Antony,  next  to  that  of  Sylla,  was  the  most  sin- 
gular in  the  Annals  of  Rome,  and  in  some  of  its  features  bore 
a  striking  resemblance  to  that  of  the  fortunate  Dictator.  Both 
were  possessed  of  uncommon  military  talents — both  were  im- 
bued with  cruelty  which  makes  human  nature  shudder — both 
were  inordinately  addicted  to  luxury  and  pleasure — and  both, 
for  men  of  their  powers  of  mind  and  habits,  had  apparently, 
at  least,  a  strange  superstitious  reliance  on  destiny,  portents, 
and  omens.  Yet  there  were  strong  shades  of  distinction  even 
in  those  parts  of  their  characters  in  which  we  trace  the  closest 
resemblance :  The  cruelty  of  Sylla  was  more  deliberate  and 
remorseless — that  of  Antony,  more  regardless  and  unthinking 
-*and  amid  all  the  atrocities  of  the  latter,  there  burst  forth 
occasional  gleams  of  generosity  and  feeling.  But  then  Sylla 
was  a  man  of  much  greater  discernment  and  penetration — a 
much  more  profound  and  successful  dissembler-— and  he  was 
possessed  of  many  refined  and  elegant  accomplishments,  of 
which  the  coarser  Antony  was  destitute.  Sylla  gratified  his 
voluptuousness,  but  Antony  was  ruled  by  it.  The  former 
indulged  in  pleasure  when  within  his  grasp,  but  ease,  power, 
and  revenge,  were  his  great  and  ultimate  objects :  The  chief 
aim  of  the  latter,  was  the  sensual  pleasure  to  which  he  was 
subservient.  Sylla  would  never  have  been  the  slave  of  Cleo- 
patra, or  the  dupe  of  Octavius.  Hence  the  wide  difference 
between  the  destiny  of  the  triumphant  Dictator,  whose  chariot 
rolled  on  the  wheels  of  Fortune  to  the  close  of  his  career, 
and  the-  sad  fate  of  Antony.  Yet  that  very  fate  has  mitigated 
the  abhorrence  of  posterity,  and  weakness  having  been  added 
to  wickedness,  has  unaccountably  palliated,  in  our  eyes,  the 
faults  of  the  soft  Triumvir,  now  more  remembered  as  the  de- 
voted lover  of  Cleopatra,  than  as  the  chief  promoter  of  the 
Proscriptions. 

The  Philippics  against  Antony,  like  those  of  Demosthenes, 

derive  their  chief  beauty  fi'om  the  noble  expression  of  just 

indignation,  which  indeed  composes  many  of  the  most  splendid 

and  admired  passages  of  ancient  eloquence.    They  were  all 

Vol.  II.^X 


178  CICERO. 

pronounced  during  the  period  which  elapsed  between  the 
assassination  of  Csesar,  and  the  defeat  of  Antony  at  Modena. 
Soon  after  Ceesar's  death,  Cicero,  fearing  danger  from  Antony, 
who  held  a  sort  of  mihtary  possession  of  the  city,  resolved  on 
a  voyage  to  Greece.  Being  detained,  however,  by  contrary 
winds,  after  he  had  set  out,  and  having  received  favourable 
intelligence  from  his  friends  at  Rome,  he  determined  to  return 
to  the  capital.  The  Senate  assembled  the  day  after  his  arrival, 
in  order,  at  the  suggestion  of  Antony,  to  consider  of  some  new 
and  extraordinary  honours  to  the  memory  of  Csesar.  To  this 
meeting  Cicero  was  specially  summoned  by  Antony,  but  he 
excused  himself  on  pretence  of  indisposition,  and  the  &tigiie 
of  his  journey.  He  appeared,  however,  in  his  place,  when  the 
Senate  met  on  the  following  day,  in  absence  of  Antony,  and 
delivered  the  first  of  the  orations,  afterwards  termed  Pbilip- 

£ics,  from  the  resemblance  they  bore  to  tliose  invectives  which 
Demosthenes  poured  forth  against  the  great  foe  of  the  inde- 
pendence of  Greece.  Cicero  opens  his  speech  by  explaining 
the  motives  of  his  recent  departure  from  Rome — his  sudden 
return,  and  his  absence  on  the  preceding  day — declaring,  that 
if  present,  he  would  have  opposed  the  posthumous  honours 
decreed  to  the  usurper.  His  next  object,  after  vindicating 
himself,  being  to  warn  the  Senate  of  the  designs  of  Antony, 
he  complains  that  he  had  violated  the  most  soleran  and 
authentic  even  of  Csesar's  laws ;  and  at  the  same  time  enforced, 
as  ordinances,  what  were  mere  jottings,  found,  or  pretended 
to  have  been  found,  among  the  Dictator's  Memanmd€i^  after 
his  death. 

Antony  was  highly  incensed  at  this  speech,  and  summoned 
another  meeting  of  the  Senate,  at  which  he  again  required 
the  presence  of  Cicero^  These  two  rivals  seem  to  have  been 
destined  never  to  meet  in  the  Senate-house.  Cicero,  being 
apprehensive  of  some  design  against  his  life,  did  not  attend; 
so  that  the  Oration  of  Antony,  in  his  own  justification,  which  he 
had  carefully  prepared  in  intervals  of  leisure  at  his  villa,  near 
Tibur,  was  unanswered  in  the  Senate.  The  second  Pbillippie 
was  penned  by  Cicero  in  his  closet,  as  a  reply  to  this  speech 
of  Antony,  in  which  he  had  been  particularly  charged  with 
having  been  not  merely  accessary  to  the  murder  of  Caesar,  but 
the  chief  contriver  of  the  plot  against  him.  Some  part  of 
Cicero^s  oration  was  thus  necessarily  defensive,  but  the  larger 
portion,  which  is  accusatory,  is  one  of  the  severest  and  most 
bitter  invectives  ever  composed,  the  whole  being  expressed  in 
terms  of  the  most  thorough  contempt  and  strongest  detestation 
of  Antony.  By  laying  open  his  whole  criminal  excesses  from 
his  earliest  youth,  be  exhibits  one  continued  scene  of  debauch- 


CICEflO.  179 

ery,  faction,  rapine,  and  violence ;  but  he  dwells  with  peculiar 
horror  on  his  offer  of  the  diadem  to  Caesar,  at  the  festival  of 
the  Lupercalia — his  drunken  debauch  at  the  once  classic 
villa  of  Terentius  Varro — and  his  purchase  of  the  effects  that 
belonged  to  the  great  Pompey — on  which  last  subject  he 
pathetically  contrasts  the  modesty  and  decorum  of  that  re- 
nowned warrior,  once  the  Favourite  of  Fortune,  and  darling 
of  the  Roman  people,  with  the  licentiousness  of  the  military 
adventurer  who  now  rioted  in  the  spoils  of  his  country.  '  In 
concluding,  he  declares,  on  his  own  part,  that  in  his  youth  be 
had  defended  the  republic,  and,  in  his  old  age,  he  would  not 
abandon  its  cause. — ''The  sword  of  Catiline  I  despised;  and 
never  shall  I  dread  that  of  Antony/'  This  oration  is  adorned 
with  all  the  charms  of  eloquence,  and  proves,  that  in  the  de* 
cline  of  life  Cicero  had  not  lost  one  spark  of  the  fire  and 
spirit  which  animated  his  earlier  productions.  Although  not 
delivered  in  the  Senate,  nor  intended  to  be  published  till 
things  were  actually  come  to  an  extremity,  and  the  affairs  of 
the  republic  made  it  necessary  to  render  Antony's  conduct 
and  designs  manifest  to  the  people,  copies  of  the  oration  were 
sent  to  Brutus,  Cassius,  and  other  friends  of  the  commonwealth: 
hence  it  soon  got  into  extensive  circulation,  and,  by  exciting 
the  vengeance  of  Antony,  was  a  chief  cause  of  the  tragical 
death  of  its  author. 

The  situation  of  Antony  having  now  become  precarious, 
from  the  union  of  Octavius  with  the  party  of  the  Senate,  and 
the  defection  of  two  legions,  he  abruptly  quitted  the  city,  and 
placing  himself  at  the  bead  of  his  army,  marched  into  Cisalpine 
Gaul,  which,  since  the  death  of  Caesar,  had  been  occupied  by 
Decimus  Brutus,  one  of  the  conspirators.  The  field  being 
thus  left  clear  for  Cicero,  and  the  Senate  being  assembled,  he 
pronounced  the  third  Philfppic,  of  which  the  great  object  was 
to  induce  it  to  support  Brutus,  by  placing  an  army  at  the  dis- 
posal of  Octavius,  along  with  the  two  Consuls  elect,  Hirtius 
and  Pansa.  He  exhorts  the  Senate  to  this  measure,  by  enlarg- 
ing on  the  merits  of  Octavius  and  Brutus,  and  concludes  with 
proposing  public  thanks  to  these  leaders,  and  to  the  legions 
which  had  deserted  the  standard  of  Antony. 

From  the  Senate,  Cicero  proceeded  directly  to  the  Forum, 
where,  in  his  fourth  Philippic,  he  gave  an  account  to  the 
people  of  what  had  occurred,  and  explained  to  them,  that 
Antony,  though  not  nominally,  had  now  been  actually  declared 
the  enemy  of  his  country.  This  harangue  was  so  well  receiv- 
ed by  an  audience  the  most  numerous  that  had  ever  listened 
to  his  orations,  that,  speaking  of  it  afterwards,  he  declares  he 
would  have  reaped  sufficient  fruit  from  the  exertions  of  his 


180  CICERO. 

whole  life,  had  he  died  on  the  day  it  was  pronounced,  whoi 
the  whole  people,  with  one  voice  and  mind,  called  out  that  be 
had  twice  saved  the  republic*. 

Brutus  being  as  yet  unable  to  defend  himself  in  the  field, 
withdrew  into  Modena,  where  he  was  besieged  by  Antony. 
Intelligence  of  this  having  been  brought  to  Rome,  Cicero,  in 
his  fifth  Philippic,  endeavoured  to  persuade  the  Senate  to 
proclaim  Antony  an  enemy  of  his  country,  in  opposition  to 
Calenus,  who  proposed,  that  before  proceeding  to  acts  of  hos- 
tility, an  embassy  should  be  sent  for  the  purpose  of  admonish- 
ing Antony  to  desist  from  his  attempt  on  Gaul,  and  submit 
himself  to  the  authority  of  the  Senate.  After  three  days'  suc- 
cessive debate,  Cicero's  proposal  would  have  prevailed,  had 
not  one  of  the  Tribunes  interposed  his  negative,  in  conse- 

Juence  of  which  the  measure  of  the  embassy  was  resorted  to. 
'icero,  nevertheless,  before  any  answer  could  be  received,  per- 
sisted, in  his  sixth  and  seventh  Philippics,  in  asserting  that 
any  accommodation  with  a  rebel  such  as  Antony,  would  be 
equally  disgraceftil  and  dangerous  to  the  republic.  The  de- 
puties having  returned,  and  reported  that  Antony  would  coo- 
sent  to  nothing  which  was  required  of  him,  the  Senate  declared 
War  against  him— employing,  however,  in  their  decree,  the 
term  tumult,  instead  of  war  or  rebellion.  Cicero,  in  his  eighth 
Philippic,  expostulated  with  them  on  their  timorous,  and  im- 
])olitic  lenity  of  expression.  In  the  ninth  Philippic,  pro- 
nounced on  the  following  day,  he  called  on  the  Senate  to  erect 
a  statue  to  one  of  the  deputies,  Servius  Sulpicius,  who,  while 
labouring  under  a  severe  distemper,  had,  at  the  risk  of  his 
life,  undertaken  the  embassy,  but  had  died  before  he  coold 
acquit  himself  of  the  commission  with  which  he  was  charged. 
The  proposal  met  with  considerable  opposition,  but  it  was  at 
length  agreed  that  a  brazen  statue  should  be  erected  to  him 
in  the  Forum,  and  that  an  inscription  should  be  placed  on  the 
base,  importing  that  he  had  died  m  the  service  of  the  republic. 
The  Philippics,  hitherto  mentioned,  related  chiefly  to  the 
affairs  of  Cisalpine  Gaul,  the  scene  of  the  contest  between  D. 
Brutus  and  Antony.  A  long  period  was  now  elapsed  since  the 
Senate  had  received  any  intelligence  concerning  the  chiefs  of 
the  conspiracy,  Marcus  Brutus  and  Cassius,  the  former  of 
whom  had  seized  on  the  province  of  Macedonici,  while  the  lat- 
ter occupied  Syria.  Public  despatches,  however,  at  length 
arrived  from  M.  Brutus^  giving  an  account  of  his  successAil 
proceedings  in  Greece.  The  Consul  Pansa  having  communi- 
cated the  contents  at  a  meeting  of  the  Senate,  and  having 

♦  PkO^.  VI.  c.  1. 


CICERO.  181 

proposed  for  him  pablic  thanks  and  honours,  Calenns,  a  crea- 
ture of  Antony,  objected,  and  moved,  that  as  what  he  had 
done  was  without  lawful  authority,  he  should  be  required  to 
deliver  up  his  army  to  the  Senate,  or  the  proper  governor  of 
the  province.  Cicero,  in  his  tenth  Philippic,  replied,  in  a 
transport  of  eloquent  and  patriotic  indignation,  to  this  most 
unjust' and  ruinous  proposal,  particularly  to  the  assertion  by 
which  it  was  supported,  that  veterans  would  not  submit  to  be 
commanded  by  Brutus.  .  He  thus  succeeded  in  obtaining  from 
the  Senate  an  approbation  of  the  conduct  of  Brutus,  a  cooti-' 
nuance  of  his  command,  and  pecuniary  assistance. 

About  thesame  time  accounts  arrived  from  Asia,  that  Dola- 
bella,  on  the  part  of  Antony,  had  taken  possessiqn  of  Smyrna, 
and  there  put  Trebonius,  one  of  the  conspirators,  to  death. 
On  receiving  this  intelligence,  a  debate  arose  concerning  the 
choice  of  a  general  to  be  employed  against  Dolabella,  and 
Cicero,  in  his  eleventh  Philippic,  strenuously  maintained  the 
right  of  Cassius,  who  was  then  in  Greece,  to  be  promoted  to 
that  command.  In  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth,  he  again 
warmly  and  successfully  opposed  the  sending  a  deputation 
to  Antony.  All  further  mention  of  pacification  was  terminated 
by  the  joyful  tidings  of  the  total  defeat  of  Antony  before  Mo- 
dena,  by  the  army '  under  Octavius,  and  the  Consuls  Hirtkis 
and  Pansa — the  latter  of  whom  was  mortally  wounded  in  the 
conflict.  The  intelligence  excited  incredible  joy  at  Rome, 
which  was  heightened  by  the  unfavourable  reports  that  had 
previously  prevailed.  The  Senate  met  to  deliberate  on  the 
despatches  of  the  Consuls  communicatiog  the  event.  Never 
was  there  a  finer  opportunity  for  the  display  of  eloquence, 
than  what  was  afforded  to  Cicero  on  this  occasion ;  of  which 
be  most  gloriously  availed  himself  in  the  fourteenth  Philippic. 
The  excitation  and  tumult  consequent  on  a  great  recent  vic- 
tory, ^ive  winff  to  hi|[h  flights  of  eloquence,  and  also  prepare 
the  mmds  of  the  audience  to  follow  the  ascent.  The  success 
at  Modena  terminated  a  long  period  of  anxiety.  It  was  for 
the  time  supposed  to  have  decided  the  fate  of  Antony  and  the 
Republic ;  and  the  orator,  who  thus  saw  all  his  measures  justi- 
fied, must  have  felt  the  exultation^  confidence,  and  spirit^  so 
iavourable  to  the  highest  exertions  of  eloquence.  This,  with 
the  detestable  character  of  the  conquered  foe, — the  wounds 
of  Pansa,  who  was  once  suspected  by  the  Republic,  but  by 
his  faithful  zeal  had  gradually  obtained  its  confidence,  and  at 
length  sealed  his  fidelity  with  his  blood, — the  rewards  due  to 
the  surviving  victors, — the  honours  to  be  paid  to  those  who 
had  fallen  in  defence  of  their  country, — the  thanksgivings  to 
be  rendered  to  the  immortal  gods,— -all  afforded  topics  of  tri- 


182  CICERO. 

umph,  panegyric,  and  pathos,  which  have  been  fleldom  sup- 
plied to  the  orator  in  any  age  or  country.  In  extolling  those 
who  had  fallen,  Cicero  d\^ells  on  two  subjects;  one  apper* 
taining  to  the  glory  of  the  heroes  themselves,  the  other  to  the 
consolation  of  their  friends  and  relatives.  He  proposes  that  a 
splendid  monument  should  be  erected,  in  common  to  all  who 
had  perished,  with  an  inscription  recording  their  names  and 
services ;  and  in  recommending  this  tribute,  of  public  grati- 
tude, he  breaks  out  into  a  funeral  panegyric,  which  has  formed 
a  more  lasting  memorial  than  the  monument  he  suggested. 
This  was  the  last  Philippic  and  last  oration  which  Cicero 
delivered.  The  union  of  Antony  and  Octavius  soon  after 
annihilated  the  power  of  the  Senate;  and  Cicero,  like  Demos- 
thenes, fell  the  victim  of  that  indignant  eloquence  with  which 
he  had  lashed  the  enemies  of  his  country  :— 

«  Eloquio  sed  uterque  periit  ontor ;  utromque 
Largus  et  exuDdans  letho  dedit  ingeoii  fons. 
Ingenio  inanus  est  et  cervix  ccsa,  nee  unquam 
SaDguine  cauaidici  maduenmt  rostra  puailli*.*' 

Besides  the  complete  orations  above  mentioned,  Cicero  de- 
livered many,  of  which  only  fragments  remain,  or  which  are 
DOW  entirely  lost.  All  those  which  he  pronounced  during 
the  five  years  intervening  between  his  election  to  the  Quaes- 
torship  and  the  iEdileship  have  perished,  except  that  for  M. 
Tullius,  of  which  the  exordium  and  narrative  were  brought  to 
light  at  the  late  celebrated  discovery  by  Mai,  in  the  Ambrosian 
librury  at  Milan.  Tullius  had  been  forcibly  dispossessed  {vi 
armata)  by  one  of  the  Fabii  of  a  farm  he  held  in  Lucania ; 
and  the  whole  Fabian  race  were  prosecuted  for  damages, 
under  a  law  of  LucuUus,  whereby,  in  consequence  of  depre- 
dations committed  in  the  municipal  states  of  Italy,  every 
family  was  held  responsible  for  the  violent  aggressions  of  any 
of  its  tribe.  A  large  fragment  of  the  oration  for  Scaurus 
forms  by  far  the  most  valuable  part  of  the  discovery  in  the 
Ambrosian  library.  The  oration,  indeed,  is  not  entire,  bat 
the  part  we  have  of  it  is  tolerably  well  connected.  The 
charge  was  one  of  provincial  embezzlement,  and  in  the  exor- 
dium the  orator  announces  that  he  was  to  treat,  Ist,  of  the 
general  nature  of  the  accusation  itself;  2d,  of  the  character 
of  the  Sardinians ;  3d,  of  that  of  Scaurus ;  and,  lastly,  of  the 
special  charge  concerning  the  corn.  Of  these,  the  first  two 
heads  are  tolerably  entire ;  and  that  in  which  he  exposes  the 
faithless  character  of  the  Sardinians,  and  thus  shakes  the  cred* 

«  Javeoal,  Satir.  X.  ▼.  118. 


CICERO.  183 

ibility  of  the  witnesses  for  the  prosecution  is  artfully  managed^ 
The  other  fragments  discovered  in  the  Ambrosian  library 
consist  merely  of  detached  sentences,  of  which  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  make  a  connected  meaning.  Of  this  descrip- 
tion is  the  oration  In  P.  Clodium;  yet  still,  by  the  aid  of  .the 
Commentary  found  along  with  it,  we  are  enabled  to  foim 
some  notion  of  the  tenor  of  the  speech.  The  well-known 
story  of  Clodius  finding  access  to  the  house  of  Caesar,  in  fe- 
male disguise,  during  the  celebration  of  the  mysteries  of  Bona 
Dea,  gave  occasion  to  this  invective.  A  sort  of  altercation 
had  one  day  passed  in  the  Senate  between  Cicero  and  Clodius^ 
soon  after  the  acquittal  of  the  latter  for  this  offence,  which 
probably  suggested  to  Cicero  the  notion  of  writing  a  con- 
nected oration,  inveighing  against  the  vices  and  crimes  of 
Clodius,  particularly  his  profanation  of  the  secret  rites  of  the 
goddess,  and  the  corrupt  means  by  which  he  had  obtained  his 
acquittal.  In  one  of  his  epistles  to  Atticus,  Cicero  gives  a 
detailed  account  of  this  altercation,  which  certainly  does  not 
afford  us  a  very  dignified  notion  of  senatorial  gravity  and 
decorum. 

Of  those  orations  of  Cicero  which  have  entirely  perished, 
the  greatest  loss  hasbeen  sustained  by  the  disappearance  of 
the  defence  of  Cornelius,  who  was  accused  of  practices  against 
the  state  during  his  tribuneship.  This  speech,  which  was 
divided  into  two  great  parts,  was  continued  for  four  successive 
days,  in  presence  of  an  immense  concourse  of  people,  who 
testified  their  admiration  of  its  bright  eloquence  by  repeated 
applause*.  The  orator  himself  frequently  refers  to  it  as 
among  the  most  finished  of  his  compositionsf ;  and  the  old 
critics  cite  it  as  an  example  of  genuine  eloquence.  *^  Not 
merely,"  says  Quintilian,  *'  with  strong,  but  with  shining  armour 
did  Cicero  contend  in  the  cause  of  Cornelius."  We  have  also 
to  lament  the  loss  of  the  oration  for  C.  Piso,  accused  of  op- 
pression in  his  government— of  the  farewell  discourse  delivered 
to  the  Sicilians,  {Quum  Qutestar  LUybao discederet^)  in  which 
he  gave  them  an  account  of  his  administration,  and  promised 
them  his  protection  at  Rome — of  the  invective  pronounced  in 
the  Senate  against  Metellus,  in  answer  to  a  harangue  which 
that  Tribune  had  delivered  to  the  people  concerning  Cicero's 
conduct,  in  putting  the  confederates  of  Catiline  to  death  with- 
out trial;  and,  finally,  of  the  celebrated  speech  De  Proscrip" 
torum  lAberis,  in  which,  on  political  grounds,  he  opposed, 
while  admitting  their  justice,  the  claims  of  the  children  of 
those  whom  Sylla  had  proscribed  and  disqualified  from  holding 

^  Quinta.  But.  Oral,  Lib.  V.  t  Orator,  c  67, 70. 


184  CICERO. 

any  honours  in  the  state,  and  who  now  applied  to  be  relieTed 
from  their  disabilities.  The  success  which  he  obtained  in  re- 
sisting this  demand,  is  described  in  strong  terms  by  Pliny : 
"  Te  orante,  proscriptorum  liberos  honores  petere  puduit*." 
A  speech  which  is  now  lost,  and  which,  though  afterwards  re- 
4pced  to  writing,  must  have  been  delivered  extempore,  afforded 
another  strong  example  of  the  persuasiveness  of  bis  eloqfaence. 
The  appearance  of  the  Tribune,  Roscius  Otho,  who  had  set 
apart  seats  for  the  knights  at  the  public  spectacles,  having  one 
day  occasioned  a  disturbance  at  the  theatre,  Cicero,  on  being 
informed  of  the  tumult,  hastened  to  the  spot,  and,  calling  oat 
the  people  to  the  Temple  of  Bellona,  he  so  calmed  them  by 
the  magic  of  his  eloquence,  that,  returning  inmiediately  to  the 
theatre,  ti^y  clapped  their  hands  in  honour  of  Otho,  and  vied 
with  the  knights  in  giving  him  demonstrations  of  reapectf . 
One  topic  which  he  touched  on  in  this  oration,  and  the  only 
one  of  which  we  have  any  hint  from  antiquity,  was  the  rioters' 
want  of  taste,  in  creating  a  tumult,  while  Roscius  was  per- 
forming on  the  stage|.  This  speech,  the  orations  agatnst  the 
Agrarian  law,  and  that  De  Proscriptorum  LiberiSy  have  long 
been  cited  as  the  strongest  examples  of  the  power  of  elo- 
quence over  the  passions. of  mankmd  :  And  it  is  difficult  to 
say,  whether  the  highest  praise  be  due  to  the  orator,  who  could 
persuade,  or  to  the  people,  who  could  be  thus  induced  to 
relinquish  the  most  temptii^g  expectations  of  property  and 
honours,  and  the  full  enjoyment  of  their  favourite  amusements. 
In  the  age  of  that  declamation  which  prevailed  at  Rome 
from  the  time  of  Tiberius  to  the  fieill  of  the  empire,  it 
was  the  practice  of  rhetoricians  to  declaim  on  similar  topics 
with  those  on  which  Cicero  bad  delivered,  or  was  supposed 
to  have  delivered,  harangues.  It  appears  from  Aulas  Gel- 
lius^,  that  in  the  age  of  Marcus  Aurelius  doubts  were 
entertained  with  regard  to  the  authenticity  of  certain  ora- 
tions circulated  as  production^  of  Cicero.  He  was  known 
to  have  delivered  four  speeches  almost  immediately  after  his 
recall  from  banishment,  on  subjects  closely  connected  with 
his  exile.  The  first  was  addressed  to  the  Senate||,  and  the 
second  to  the  people,  a  few  days  subsequently  to  his  return?; 
the  third  to  the  college  of  Pontiffs,  in  order  to  obtain  restitu- 
tion of  a  piece  of  ground  on  the  Palatine  hill,  on  which  his 
house  had  formerly  stood,  but  had  been  demolished,  and  a 
temple  erected  on  the  spot,  with  a  view,  as  he  feared,  to  alie- 
nate it  irretrievably  from  the  proprietor,  by  thus  consecratiJig 


*  Bi$t  JVctf.  Lib.  YII.  e.  80.  t  Plutarch,  M  CSeer. 

'  Macrobius,  SatwmaL  Ub.  III.  c.  14.       0  JVbct.  Atiic.  Lib.  I.  e.  7. 


i 


CICERO/  186 

it  to  religious  purposes*.  The  fourth  was  pronounced  in  con- 
sequence of  Clodius  declaring  that  certain  menacing  prodigies, 
which  had  lately  appeared,  were  indubitably  occasioned  by 
the  desecration  of  this  ground,  which  the  Pontiffs  had  now 
discharged  from  religious  uses.  Four  orations,  supposed  to 
have  been  delivered  on  those  occasions,  and  entitled,  PoH 
ItedUum  in  Senatu,  Ad  Quirites  post  Reditum,  Pro  damo  sua 
ad  FoniiJiceSf  De  Haruspicum  Respon&is,  were  published  in 
all  the  early  editions  of  Cicero,  without  any  doubts  of  their 
authenticity  being  hinted  by  the  commentators,  and  were  also 
referred  to  as  genuine  authorities  by  Middleton  in  his  Life  of 
Cicero.  At  length,  about  the  middle  of  last  century,  the  well- 
known  dispute  having  arisen  between  Middleton  and  Tunstall, 
concerning  the  letters  to  Brutus,  Markland  engaged  in  the 
controversy  ;  and  his  remarks  on  the  correspondence  of  Cicero 
and  Brutus  were  accompanied  with  a  "  Dissertation  on  the 
Four  Orations  ascribed  to  M.  T.  Cicero,"  published  in  1745, 
which  threw  great  doubts  on  their  authenticity.  Middleton 
made  no  formal  reply  to  this  part  of  Markland's  observations ; 
but  he  neither  retracted  his  opinion  nor  changed  a  word  in  his 
subsequent  edition  of  the  Life  of  Cicero. 

Soon  afterwards,  Ross,  the  editor  of  Cicero's  Epistola  Fa^ 
miliares,  and  subsequently  Bishop  of  Exeter,  ironically  showed, 
in  his  "  Dissertation,  in  which  the  defence  of  P.  Sulla,  ascribed 
to  Cicero,  is  clearly  proved  to  be  spurious,  ^fter  the  manner 
of  Mr  Markland,*'  that,  on  the  principles  and  line  of  argument 
adopted  by  his  opponent,  the  authenticity  of  any  one  of  the 
orations  might  be  contested.  This  jeu  d*esprit  of  Bishop  Ross 
was  seriously  confuted  in  a  '<  Dissertation,  in  which  the  Ob* 
jections  of  a  late  Pamphlet  to  the  Writings  of  the  Ancients, 
after  the  manner  of  Mr  Markland,  are  clearly  Answered ;  and 
those  Passages  in  Tully  corrected,  on  which  some  of  the  Ob- 
jections are  founded. — 1746.'*  This  dissertation  was  printed 
by  Bowyer,  and  he  is  generally  believed  to  have  been  the  au- 
thor of  itf .  In  Germany,  J.  M.  Gesner,  with  all  the  weight 
attached  to  his  opinion,  and  Thesaurus^  strenuously  defended 
these  orations  in  two  prelections,  held  in  1753  and  1754,  and 
inserted  in  the  3d  volume  of  the  new  series  of  the  Transactions 
of  the  Royal  Academy  at  Gottingen,  under  the  title  Cicero 
Restitutus^  in  which  he  refuted,  one  by  one,  all  the  objections 
of  Markland. 

•  Epist.  ad  Attic.  Lib.  IV.  Ep.  2. 

t  See  NichoPs  Literary  Anecdotes.  Harles,  also,  seems  to  suppose  that  Bishop 
Roiss  was  in  earnest  :^"  Orationem  pro  Sulla  spuriam  esse  audacter  pronundavit 
Tir  quidam  doctus  in— A  Dissertation,  in  which  the  defence  of  P.  Sulla,  kc.  is  proved 
to  bfi  spurious.'* — HarIiKs,  Introduet.%n  JVotttiam Literat,  Mom. Tom.  II.  p.  118. 

Vol.  II.— Y 


186  CICERO. 

After  this,  although  the  Letters  of  Brutus  were  no  kmger 
considered  as  authentic,  literary  men  in  all  countries — as  De 
Brosses,  the  French  Translator  of  Sallust,  Ferguson,  Saxiost 
in  his  OnamcLstican^  and  Rhunkenius — adopted  the  orations  as 
genuine.  Ernesti,  in  his  edition  of  Cicero,  makes  no  mentioD 
of  the  existence  of  any  doubts  respecting  them ;  and,  in  his 
edition  of  Fabricius*,  alludes  to  the  controversy  concerning 
them  as  a  foolish  and  insignificant  dispute.  A  change  of  opi- 
nion, however,  was  produced  by  an  edition  of  the  four  oratioos 
which  Wolfius  published  at  Berlin  in  1801,  to  which  he  pre- 
fixed  an  account  of  the  controversy,  and  a  general  view  of  the 
jBU'puments  of  Markland  and  Gesner.  The  observations  of  each, 
relating  to  particular  words  and  phrases,  are  placed  below  the 
passages  as  they  occur,  and  are  followed  by  Wolf's  own  re- 
marks, refiiting,  to  the  utmost  of  his  power,  the  opinions  of 
Gesner,  and  confirming  those  of  Markland.  Schiitz,  the  late 
German  editor  of  Cicero,  has  completely  adopted  the  notions 
of  Wolf;  and  by  printing  these  four  harangues,  not  in  their 
prder  in  the  series,  but  separately,  and  at  the  end  of  the  whole, 
along  with  the  discarded  correspondence  between  Cicero  and 
Brutus,  has  thrown  them  without  the  classical  pale  as  efiecto- 
ally  as  Lambinus  excluded  the  once  recognized  orations,  h 
pace^  and  Antequam  tret  in  ExUium.  In  the  fourth  volome 
of  his  new  edition  of  the  works  of  Cicero  now  proceeding  in 
Germany,  Beck  has  followed  the  opinion  of  Wolf,  after  an  im- 
partial examination  of  the  different  arguments  in  his  notes, 
and  in  an  excursus  criHcus  devoted  to  this  subject. 

Markland  and  Wolf  believe,  that  these  harangues  were 
written  as  a  rhetorical  exercise,  by  some  declaimer,  who  lived 
not  long  after  Cicero,  probably  in  the  time  of  Tiberius,  and 
who  had  before  his  eyes  some  orations  of  Cicero  now  lost, 

i perhaps  those  which  he  delivered  on  his  return  from  exile,) 
rom  which  the  rhetorician  occasionally  borrowed  ideas  or 
phrases,  not  altogether  unworthy  of  the  orator's  genius  and 
eloquence.  But,  though  they  may  contain  some  insulated  Ci- 
ceronian expressions,  it  is  utterly  denied  that  these  orations 
can  be  the  continued  composition  of  Cicero.  The  arguments 
against  their  authenticity  are  deduced,  first  from  their  matter; 
and,  secondly^  from  their  style.  These  critics  dwell  much  on 
the  numerous  thoughts  and  ideas  inconsistent  with  the  known 
sentiments,  or  unsuitable  to  the  disposition  of  the  author, — 
on  the  relation  of  events^  told  in  a  different  manner  from  that 
in  which  they  have  been  recorded  by  him  in  his  undoubted 
works, — and,  finally,  on  the  gross  ignorai\ce  shown  of  tlie  laws, 

•  Bib.  Lot.  Lib.  I.  c.  8. 


CICERO.  187 

institutions,  and  customs  of  Rome,  and  even  of  the  events 
passing  at  the  time.     Thus  it  is  said,  in  one  of  these  four  ora* 
tion8,that,  on  some  political  occasion,  all  the  senators  chang- 
ed their  garb,  as  also  the  Praetors  and  iEdiles,  which  proves, 
that  the  author  was  ignorant  that  all  ^diles  and  Praetors *were 
necessarily  senators,  since,  otherwise,  the  special  mention  of 
them  would  be  superfluous  and  absurd.     What  is  still  stronger, 
the  author,  in  the  oration  Ad  Quirites  post  i^editumf  refers  to 
the  speech  in  behalf  of  Gabinius,  which  was  not  pronounced 
till  699,  three  years  subsequently  to  Csesar's  recall ;  whereas 
the  real  oration,  .^d  ^uirites,  was  delivered. on  the  second  or 
third  day  after  his  return.     With  regard  to  the  style  of  these 
harangues,  it  is  argued,  that  the  expressions  are  aflfected,  the 
sentences  perplexed,  and  the  transitions  abrupt ;  and  that  their 
languor  and  want  of  animation  render  them  wholly  unworthy 
of  Cicero.     Marktand  particularly  points  out  the  absurd  repe- 
tition  of  what    the   declaimer   had    considered   Ciceronian 
phrases, — as,  ''  Aras,  focos,  penates — Deos   immortales — ^Res 
incredibiles — ^JEsse  videatur."     Of  the  orations  individually  he 
remarks,  and  justly,  that  the  one  delivered  by  Cicero  in  the 
Senate  uhnrediately  after  his  return,  was  known  to  have  been 
prepared  with  the  greatest  possible*  care,  and  to  have   been 
committed  to  writing  before  it  was  pronounced ;  while  the 
fictitious  harangue  which  we  now  have  in  its  place,  is  at  alP 
events,  quite  unlike  anything  that  Cicero  would  have  produced 
with  elaborate  study.     The  second  is  a  sort  of  compendium 
of  the  first,  and  the  same  ideas  and  expressions  are  slavishly 
repeated  ;  which  implies  a  barrenness  of  invention,  and  ste- 
rility of  language,  that  cannot  be  supposed  in  Cicero.     Of  the 
third  oration  he  Speaks,  in  his  letters  to  Atticus,  as  one  of  his 
happiest  efforts* ;  but  nothing  can  be  more  wretched  than  that 
which  we  now  have  in  its  stead, — ^the  fjrst  twelve  chapters,  in- 
deed, being  totally  irrelevant  to  the  question  at  issue. 

The  oration  for  Marcellus,  the  genuineness  ai  wh'rch  has  also 
been  called  in  question,  is  somewhat  in  a  different  style  fr^nn 
the  other  harangues  of  Cicero ;  for,  though  entitled  Pro  Mar^ 
cello^  it  is  not  so  much  a  speech  in  his  defence,  as  a  pane- 
gyric on  Cflssar,  for  having  granted  the  pardon  of  Marcellus  at 
the  intercession  of  the  Senate.  Marcellus  had  been  one  of 
the  most,  violent  opponents  of  the  views  of  Caesar.  He  had 
recommended  in  the  Senate,  that  he  should  be  deprived  of  the 
province  of  Gaul :  he  had  insulted  the  magistrates  of  one  of 
CsBsar's  new-founded  colonies ;  and  had  been  present  at  Pharr 
salia  on  the  side  of  Pompey.  .  After  that  battle  he  retired  to 
Mityl^ne,  where  he  was  obliged  to  remain,  being  one  of  the 

*  Lib.  IV.  Ep.  2. 


188  CICERO. 

few  adversaries  to  whom  the  conqueror  refused  to  be  recAo- 
ciled.  The  Senate,  however,  one  day  when  Cssar  was  preseot, 
with  an  united  voice,  and  in  an  attitude  of  supplication,  haiiog 
implored  his  clemency  in  favour  of  Marceilus,  and  their  re- 
quest having  been  granted,  Cicero,  though  he  had  resolved  to 
preserve  eternal  silence',  being  moved  by  the  occasion,  deli- 
vered one  of  the  most  strained  encomiums  that  has  ever  been 
pronounced. 

In  the  first  part  he  extols  the  military  exploits  of  Csesar ;  bat 
shows,  that  his  clemency  to  Marcellus  was  more  glorious  than 
any  of  his  other  ^tions,  as  it  depended  entirely  on  himself, 
while  fortune  and  his  army  had  their  share  in  the  events  of  the 
war.  In  the  second  part  he  endeavours  to  dispel  the  saspicioas 
which  it  appears  Csesar  still  entertained  of  the  hostile  inten- 
tions of  Marcellus,  and  takes  occasion  to  assure  the  Dictator 
that  his  life  was  most  dear  and  valuable  to  all,  since  on  it 
depended  the  tranquillity  of  the  state,  and  the  hopes  of  tiie 
restoration  of  the  commonwealth. 

This  oration,  which   Middleton  declares  to   be  superior 
to  anything  extant  of  the  kind  in  all  antiquity,  and  which 
a  celebrated  French  critic  terms,  "Le  discours*le  plus  no- 
ble, le  plus  pathetique,  et  en  meme  terns  le  plus  patriotique, 
que  la  reconnaissance,  I'amitie,  et  la  vertu,  puissent  inspirer 
a  une  ame  elevee  et  sensible,"  continued  to  be  not  onlj  of 
undisputed  authenticity,  but  one  of  Cicero's  most  admired 
productions,   till  Wolf,  in  the   preface  and  notes  to  a  oetr 
edition  of  it,  printed  in  1802,  attempted  toshow^  that  it  was  a 
spurious   production,  totally    unworthy  of  the  orator  whose 
name  it  bore,  and  that  it  was  written  by  some  declaimer,  sood 
after  the  Augustan  age,  not  as  an  imposition  upon  the  public, 
but  as  an  exercise, — according  to  the  practice  of  the  rhetori- 
cians, who  were  wont  \o  choose,  as  a  theme,  some  subject  oa 
which  Cicero  had  spoken.     In  his  letters  to  Atticus,  Ci*  ero 
says,  that  he  had  returned  thanks  to  Caesar  plnribus  verbiS' 
This  Middleton  translates  a  long  speech;  but  Wolf  alleges  it 
can  only  niean  a  few  words,  and  never  can  be  interpreted  to 
denote  a  full  oration,  such  as  that  which  we  now  posses'!  foj 
Marcellus.     That  Cicero  did  not  deliver  a  long  or  formal 
speech,  is  evident,  he  contends,  from  the  testimony  of  Plu- 
tarch, who  mentions,  in  his  life  of  Cicero,  that,  a  short  time 
afterwards,  when  the  orator  was  about  to  plead  for  Ligariu^ 
Ceesar  asked,  how  it  happened  that  he  had  not  heard  Cicero 
speak  for  so  long  a  period, — which  would  have  been  absurd" 
he  had  heard  him,  a  few  months  before,  pleading  for  Marcellus- 
Being  an  extemporary  effusion,  called  forth  by  an  unforeseen 
occasion,  it  could  not  (he  continues  to  urge)  have  beea  pr^ 


CICERO.  18» 

pared^  and  written  beforehand ;  nor  is  it  at  all  probable^  that, 
like  many  other  orations  of  Cicero,  it  was  revised  and  made 
public  after  being  delivered.    The  causes  which  induced  the 
Roman  orators  to  write  out  their  speeches  at  leisure,  were  the 
magnitude  and  public  importance pf  the  subject,  or  the  wished 
of  those  in  whose  defence  they  were  made,  and  who  were 
anxious  to  possess  a  sort  of  record  of  their  vindication.     But 
none  of  these  motives  existed  in  the  present  case.     The  mat- 
ter was  of  nd  importance  or  difficulty;  and  we  know  that 
Marcellus«  who  was  a  stern  republican,  was  not  at  all  gratiKed 
by  the  intervention  of  the  senators,  or  conciliated  by  the  cle- 
mency of  Ceesar.     As  to  internal  evidence,  deduced  from  the 
oration,  Wolf  admits^  that  there  are  interspersed  in  it  some 
Ciceronian  sentences;  and  how  otherwise  could  the  learned 
have  been  so  egregiously  deceived?  but  the  resemblance  is 
more  in  the  varnish  of  the  style  than  in  the  substance.     We 
have  the  words  rather  than  the  thoughts  of  Cicero ;  and  the 
rounding  of  his  periods,  without  their  energy  and  argumenta- 
tive connection.     He  adduces,  also,  many  instances  of  phrases 
unusual  among  the  classics,  and  of  conceits  which  betray  the 
rhetorician  or  sophist.     Hi^  extolling  the  act  of  that  day  on 
which  CdBsar  pardoned  Marcellus  as  higher  than  all  his  war- 
like exploits,  would  but  have  raii^ed  a  smile  on  the  lips  of  the 
Dictator;  and  the  slighting  way  in  which  the  cause  of  the  re- 
public and  Pompey  are  mentioned,  is  totally  different  from  the 
manner  in  which  Cieero  expressed  himself  on  these  deli<!!ate 
topics,  even  in  presence  of  CsBSi^r,  in  bis  authentic  orations'for 
Beiotarus  and  Ligarins.  * 

It  is  evident,  at  first  view,  that  many  of  Wolfs  observations 
are  hypercritical ;  and  that  in  his  argument  concerning  the 
encomiums  on  Caesar,  and  the  overrated  importance  of  his 
clemency  to  Marcellus,  he  does  not  make  sufficient  allowance 
for  Cicero's  habit  of  exaggeration,  and  the  momentary  enthu- 
siasm produced  by  one  of  those  transactions, 


.«  Que,  dura  geruntur, 


Percellunt  animos."- 

r      ft 

Accordingly,  in  the  year  following  that  of  Wolf's  edition, 
Olaus  Wormius  published,  at  Copenhagen,  a  vindication  of 
the  authenticity  of  this  speech.  To  the  argument  adduced 
from  Plutarch,  he  answers,  that  some  months  had  elapsed  be- 
tween the  orations  for  Marcellus  and  Ligarius,  which  might 
readily  be  called  a  long  period,  by  one  accustomed  to  hear 
Cicero  harangue  almost  daily  in  the  Senate  or  Forum.  Be- 
sides,  the  phrase  of  Plutarch,  Xs/ovro^  may  mean  pleading 


190  CICERO. 

for  some  one,  which  was  not  the  nature  of  the  speech  for  Mar- 
cellus.  As  to  the  motive  which  Ipd  to  write  and  publish  the 
oration,  Cicero,  above  all  men,  was  delighted  with  his  own 
productions,  and  nothing  can  be  more  probable  than  that  he 
should  have  wished  .to  preserve  the  remembrance  of  that  me- 
morable day,  which  he  calls  in  his  letters,  diem  iUam  putdter- 
rimam.  It  was  natural  to  send  the  oration  to  Marcellus,  in 
order  to  hasten  his  return  to  Rome,  and  it  must  have  been  an 
acceptable  thing  to  Caesar,  thus  to  record  his  fearlessness  and 
benignity.  With  regard  to  the  manner  in  which  Pompey  and 
the  republican  party  are  talked  of,  it  is  evident,  from  his  let- 
ters, that  Cicero  was  disgusted  with  the  political  measures  of 
that  &ction,  that  he  wholly  disapproved  of  their  plan  of  the 
campaign,  and  foreseeing  a  renewal  of  Sylla's  proscriptions  in 
the  triumph  of  the  aristocratic  power,  he  did  not  exaggerate 
in  so  highly  extolling  the  humanity  of  Caesar. 

The  arguments  of  Wormius  w^re  expanded  and  illustrated 
by  Weiske,  In  Commmtario  perpeiuo  et  pleno  in  Oral.  Cir 
ceronis  pro  MarceUOj  published  at  Leipsic,  in  1805*,  while, 
on  the  other  hand,  Spalding,  in  his  De  Oratione  pro  Mcr- 
ceUo  DisputatiOj  published  in  1808,  supported  the  opinions  of 
Wolfius. 

The  controversy  was  in  this  state,  and  was  considered  as 
involved  in  much  doubt  and  obscurity,  when  Aug.  Jacob,  Id 
an  academical  exercise,  printed  at  Halle  and  Berlin,  in  1B13, 
and  entitled  De  OrcUione  qum  vascribUwr  pro  MarceUd,  dee- 
roni  vd  abjtulicata  vd  culjudicata,  (^uasHo  novaque  cov^to- 
tura,  adopted  a  middle  course.  Findmg  such  dissimilarity  in 
the  different  passages  of  the  oration,  some  being  most  power- 
ful, elegant,  and  beaijtiful,  while  others  were  totally  futile  and 
frigid,  he  was  led  to  believe  that  part  had  actually  flowed  from 
the  lips  of  Cicero,  but  that  much  had  been  subsequently  inter- 
polated by  some  rhetorician  or  declaimer.  He  divides  his 
whole  treatise  into  four  heads,  which  comprehend  all  the  va- 
rious points  agitated  on  the  subject  of  this  oration :  I.  The 
testimony  of  different  authors  tending  to  prove  the  authenti- 
city or  spuriousness  of  the  production  :  2.  The  history  of  the 
period,  with  which  every  genuine  oration  must  necessarily 
concur :  3.  The  genius  and  manner  of  Cicero,  from  which  no 

•  "  Cum  Appendice  De  Oratione,  qu»  volgo  fertur,M.  T.  Ciccronis  pro  Q.  IJg>- 
rio,"  in  which  Uie  author  attempts  to  abjudicate  Xrom  Cicero  the  beautiful  oration  w 
Ligarius,  which  shook  evei^  the  soul  of  Caesar,  while  he  has  translated  into  his  own 
langua^  the  two  wretched  orations,  Post  Reditum, fti^d  Ad  QmrUes, inststiDgM 
the  le^timacy  of  both,  and  enlarging  on  their  truly  classical  beauties !  In  his  ne* 
face,  he  has  pleasantly  enough  parodied  the  arguments  of  Wolf  against  the  oiatioD 
for  Marcellus,  ironically  showing  that  they  came  not  from  that  great  fcholir,  bo* 
from  9ip$ettdo  Wolf,  who  had  assumed  bis  name. 


CICERO.  m 

one  of  his  orations  could  be  entirely  remote :  4.  The  style 
and  phraseology,  which  must  be  correct  and  classical.  In  the 
prosecution  of  his  inquiry  in  these  different  aspects  of  the 
subject,  the  author  successively  reviews  the  opinions  and 
judgments. of  his  predecessors,  sometimes  agreeing  with  Wolf 
and  his  followers,  at  other  times,  and  more  frequently,  with 
their  opposers.  He  thinks  that  the  much-contested  phrsise 
pluribu9  verbis,  may  mean  a  long  oration,  as  Cicero  elsewhere 
talks  of  having  pleaded  for  Cluentius,  pluribus  verbis,  though 
the  speech  in  his  defence  consists  of  58  chapters.  Besides, 
Cicero  only  says  that  he  had  returned  thanks  to  Caesar,  pluir- 
rtbus  verbis.  Now,  the  whole  speech  does  not  consist  of 
thanks  to  Csesar,  being  partly  occupied  in  removing  the  sus- 
picions which  he  entertained  of  Marcellus.  With  regard  to 
encomiums  on  Ccesar,  which  Spalding  has  characterized  as 
abject  and  fulsome,  and  totally  different  from  the  delicate 
compliments  addressed  to  him  in  the  oration  for  Deiotarus  or 
Ligarius,  Jacob  reminds  his  readers  that  the  harangues  codfld 
have  no  resemblance  to  eaoh  other,  the  latter  being  pleadings 
in  behalf  of  the  accused,  lind  the  former  a  professed  panegyric. 
Nor  can  any  one  esteem  the  eulogies  on  Caesar  too  extrava- 
gant for  Cicero,  when  he  remembers  the  terms  in  which  the 
orator  had  formerly  spoken  of  Roscius,  Archias,  and  Pompey. 

Schiitz,  the  late  German  editor  of  Cicero,  has  subscribed  to 
the  opinion  of  Wolf,  and  has  published  the  speech  for  Mar- 
cellus, along  with  the  other  four  doubtful  harangues  at  the 
end  of  the  genuine  orations. 

Bnt  supposing  that  these  five  contested  speeches  are  spu- 
rious, a  sufficient  number  of  genuine  orations  remain  to  enable 
us  to  distinguish  the  character  of  Cicero's  eloquence.  Ambi- 
tious from  his  youth  of  the  honours  attending  a  fine  speaker, 
he  early  travelled  to  Greece,  where  he  accumulated  all  the 
stores  of  knowledge  and  rules  of  art,  which  could  be  gathered 
from  the  rhetoricians,  historians,  and  philosophers,  of  that 
intellectual  land.  While  he  thus  extracted  and  imbibed  the 
copiousness  of  Plato,  the  sweetness  oPlsocrates,  and  force  of 
Demosthenes,  he,  at  the  same  time,  imbued  his  mind  with  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  the  laws,  constitution,  antiq[uities,  and 
literature,  of  his  native  country.  Nor  did  he  less  study  the 
peculiar  temper,  the  jealousies,  and  enmities  of  the  Roman 
people,  both  as  a  nation  and  as  individuals,  without  a  know- 
ledge of  which,  his  eloquence  would  have  been  unavailing  in 
the  Forum  or  Comitia,  where  so  much  was  decided  by  favour- 
itism and  cabal.  By  these  means  he  ruled  the  passions  and 
deliberations  of  his  countrymen  with  almost  resistless  sway — 


19S  CICERO. 

upheld  the  power  of  the  Senate — stayed  the  progress  of  tyraim| 
—drove  the  audacious  Catiline  from  Rome — directed  the  feel- 
ings of  the  state  in  favour  pf  Pom pey — ^shook  the  strong  mind 
of  CsBsar — and  kindled  a  flame  by  which  Antony  had  t>een 
nearly  consumed.  But  the  main  secret  of  his  success  lay  in 
the  warmth  and  intensity  of  his  feelings.  His  heart  swelled 
with  patriotism,  and  was  dilated  with  the  most  magnificent 
conceptions  of  the  glory  of  Rome.  Though  it  throbbed  w\\k 
the  fondest  anticipations  of  postliumous  fame,  the  momeatary 
acclaim  of  a  multitude  was  a  chord  to  which  it  daily  and  most 
readily  vibrated ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  his  high  conceptions 
of  oratory  counteracted  the  bad  effect  which  this  eiuberant 
vanity  might  otherwise  have  produced.  Thus,  when  two 
speakers  were  employed  in  the  same  cause,  though  Cicero  was 
the  junior,  to  him  was  assigned  the  peroration,  in  which  be 
surpassed  all  his  contemporaries ;  and  he  obtained  this  pre- 
emmence  not  so  much  on  account  of  his  superior  genius  or 
knowledge  of  law,  as  because  he  was  more  moved  and  affected 
himself,  without  which  he  would  never  have  moved  or  affected 
his  judges. 

With  such  natural  emdowments,  and  such  acquirements,  he 
early  took  his  place  as  the  refuge  and  support  of  his  fellow- 
citizens  in  the  Forum,  as  the  arbiter  of  the  deliberations  of 
the  Senate,  and  as  the  most  powerful  defender  firom  the  Ros- 
trum of  the  political  interests  of  the  conmionwealth. 

Cicero  and  Demosthenes  have  been  frequently  compared. 
Suidas  says,  that  one  Cicilil^s,  a  native  of  Sicily,  whose  works 
are  now  lost,  was  the  first  to  institute  the  parallel,  and  they 
have  been  subsequently  compared,  in  due  form,  by  Plutarch 
and  Quintilian,  and,  (as  far  as  relates  to  sublimity,)  by  Longi- 
nus,  among  the  ancients ;  and  among  the  moderns,  by  Heider, 
in  his  Philosophical  History  of  Man^  and  by  Jenisch,  in  a 
German  work  devoted  to  the  subject*.  Rapin,  and  all  other 
French  critics^  with  the  exception  of  Fenelon,  give  the  pre- 
ference to  Cicero. 

From  what  has  already  been  said,  it  is  sufficiently  evident 
that  Cicero  had  not  to  contend  with  any  of  those  obstructions 
from  nature  which  Demosthenes  encountered ;  and  his  youth, 
in  place  of  being  spent  like  that  of  the  Greek  orator,  in  reme- 
dying and  supplying  defects,  was  unceasingly  employed  in 
pursuit  of  the  improvements  auxiliary  to  his  art.  But  if  Cicero 
derived  superior  advantages  from  nature,  Demosthenes  pos- 
sessed other  advantages,  in  the  more  advanced  progress  of  his 
country  in  refinement  and  letters,  at  the  era  in  which  be  ap- 

*  Parol,  der  Beyden  Qroittn  lUdnur  da  MtherthumM. 


CICEROi  193 

peared.  Greek  literature  had  reached  its  full  perfection  be- 
fore the  birth  of  Demosthenes,  but  Cicero  was,  in  a  great 
measure,  himself  the  creator  of  the  literature  of  Rome,  and  no 
prose  writer  of  eminence  had  yet  existed,  after  whom  he  could 
model  his  phraseology  In  other  external  circumstances,  they 
were  placed  in  situations  not  very  dissimilar.  But  Cicero  had 
a  wider,  and  perhaps  more  beautiful  field,  in  which  to  expa- 
tiate and  to  exercise  his  powers.  The  wide  extent  of  the  Ro- 
man empire,  the  striking  vices  and  virtues  of  its  citizens,  the 
memorable  events  of  its  history,  supplied  an  endless  variety  of 
great  and  interesting  topics ;  whereas  many  of  the  orations  of 
Demosthenes  are  on  subjects  unworthy  of  his  talents.  Their 
genius  and  capacity  were  in  many  respects  the  same.  Their 
eloquence  was  of  that  great  and  comprehensive  kind,  which 
flignifies  every  subject,  and  gives  it  all  the  force  and  beauty  it 
is  capable  of  receiving.  ^'  I  judge  Cicero  and  Demosthenes,'^ 
says  Quintilian,  '^  to  be  alike  in  most  of  the  great  qualities  they 
possessed.  They  were  alike  in  design,  in  the  manner  of  divi* 
ding  their  subject,  and  preparing  the  minds  of  the  audience ; 
in  short,  in  every  thing  belonging  to  invention."  But  while 
there  was  much  similarity  in  their  talents,  there  was  a  wide 
difference  in  their  tempers  and  characters.  Demosthenes  was 
of  an  austere,  harsh,  melancholy  disposition,  obstinate  and  re- 
solute in  all  his  undertakings  :  Cicero  was  of  a  lively,  flexible, 
and  wavering  humour.  This  seems  the  chief  cause  of  the 
difference  in  their  eloquence ;  but  the  contrasts  are  too  ob- 
vious, and  have  been  too  often  exhibited  to  be  here  displayed. 
No  person  wishes  to  be  told,  for  the  twentieth  time,  that  De- 
mosthenes assumes  a  higher  tone,  and  is  more  serious,  vehe- 
ment, and  impressive,  than  Cicero;  while  Cicero  is  more 
insinuating,  graceful,  and  affecting:  That  the  Greek  orator 
struck  on  the  soul  by  the  force  of  his  argument,  and  ardour  of 
bis  expressions ;  while  the  Roman  made  his  way  to  the  heart, 
alternately  moving  and  allaying  the  passions  of  his  hearers,  by 
all  the  arts  of  rhetoric,  and  by  conforming  to  their  opinions 
and  prejudices. 

Cicero  was  not  only  a  great  orator,  but  has  also  left  the  ful- 
lest instructions  and  the  most  complete  historical  details  on 
the  art  which  he  so  gloriously  practised.  His  precepts  are 
contained  in  the  dialogue  De  Oratore  and  the  Orator;  while 
the  history  of  Roman  eloquence  is  comprehended  in  the  dia- 
logue entitled,  Brvtus^  nve  De  Claris  Oratoribus. 

In  his  youth,  Cicero  had  written  and  published  some  undi- 
gested observations  on  the  subject  of  eloquence ;  but  consi- 
VoL.  IL— Z 


V 


194  CICERO. 

dering  these  as  unworthy  of  the  character  and  experience  he 
after  wards,  acquired,  he  applied  himself  to  write  a  treatise  on 
the  art  which  might  be  more  commensurate  to  his  matured  ta- 
lents. He  himself  mentions  several  Sicilians  and  Greeks,  who 
had  written  on  oratory*.  But  the  models  he  chiefly  followed, 
were  Aristotle,  in  his  books  of  rhetoric^ ;  and  Isocrates,  the 
whole  of  whose  theories  and  precepts  he  has  comprehended  in 
his  rhetorical  works.  He  has  thrown  his  ideas  on  the  subject 
ifito  the  form  of  dialogue  or  conference,  a  species  of  composi- 
tion, which,  however  much  employed  by  the  Greeks,  had  not 
hitherto  been  attempted  at  Rome.  This  mode  of  writing  pre- 
sented many  advantages :  By  adopting  it  he  avoided  that  dog- 
matical air,  which  a  treatise  from  him  on  such  a  subject  would 
necessarily  have  worn,  and  was  enabled  to  instruct  witboat 
dictating  rules.  Dialogue,  too,  relieved  monotony  of  style,  by 
affording  opportunity  of  varying  it  according  to  the  characters 
of  the  different  speakers — it  tempered  the  austerity  of  precept 
by  the  cheerfulness  of  conversation,  and  developed  each  opi- 
nion with  the  vivacity  and  fulness  naturally  employed  in  the 
oral  discussion  of  a  favourite  topic.  Add  to  this,  the  facility 
which  it  presented  of  paying  an  acceptable  compliment  to  the 
friends  who  were  introduced  as  interlocutors,  and  its  suscepti- 
bility of  agreeable  description  of  the.  scenes  in  which  the  per- 
sons of  the  dialogue  were  placed — a  species  of  embellishment, 
for  which  ample  scope  was  afforded  by  the  numerous  villas  of 
Cicero,  situated  in  the  most  beautiful  spots  of  Italy,  and  in 
every  variety  of  landscape,  from  the  Alban  heights  to  the  shady 
banks  of  the  Liris,  or  glittering  shore  of  Baia:.  As  a  method 
of  communicating  knowledge,  however,  (except  in  discussions 
which  are  extremely  simple,  and  susceptible  of  much  delinea- 
tion of  character,)  the  mode  of  dialogue  is,  in  many  respects, 
extremely  inconvenient.  "By  the  interruptions  which  are 
given,"  says  the  author  of  the  life  of  Tasso,  in  his  remarks  on 
the  dialogues  of  that  poet, — "  By  the  interruptions  which  are 
given,  if  a  dialogue  be  at  all  dramatic — by  the  preparations 
and  transitions,  order  and  precision  must,  in  a  great  degree, 
be  sacrificed.  In  reasoning,  as  much  brevity  must  be  used  as 
is  consistent  with  perspicuity ;  but  in  dialogue,  so  much  ver- 
biage must  be  employed,  that  the  scope  of  the  argument  is 
generally  lost.  The  replies,  too,  to  the  objections  of  the  op- 
ponent, seem  rather  arguments  ad  hominem,  than  possessed  of 
the  value  of  abstract  truth ;  so  that  the  reader  is  perplexed 
and  bewildered,  and  concludes  the  inquiry,  beholding  one  of 
the  characters  puzzled,  indeed,  and  perhaps  subdued,  but  not 

*  3ruh$8,  c.  12,  &c.  f  EpUt  FamU.  lib.  I.  Ep.  9. 


CICERO.  •  .195 

at  all  satisfied  that  the  battle  might  not  have  been  better 
fought,  and  more  victorious  arguments  adduced.'' 

The  dialogue  De  Oratore  was  written  in  the  year  698,  whea 
Cicero,  disgusted  with  the  political  dissensions  of  the  capital, 
had  retired,  during  part  of  the  summer,  to  the  country :  But, 
according  to  the  supposition  of  the  piece,  the  dialogue  occur- 
ed  in  662.  The  author  addresses  it  to  his  brother  in  a  dedica- 
tion, strongly  expressive  of  his  fondness  for  study ;  and,  after 
some  general  observations  on  the  difficulty  of  the  oratoric  art, 
and  the  numerous  accomplishments  requisite  to  form  a  com- 
plete orator,  he  introduces  his  dialogue,  or  rather  the  three 
dialogues,  of  which  the  performance  consists.  Dialogue  wri- 
ting may  be  executed  either  as  direct  conversation,  in  which 
none  but  the  speakers  appear,  and  where,  as  in  the  scenes  of 
a  play,  no  information  is  afforded  except  from  what  the  per- 
sons of  the  drama  say  to  each  other;  or  as  the  recital  of  the 
conversation,  where  the  author  himself  appears,  and  after  a 
preliminary  detail  concerning  the  persons  of  the  dialogue,  and 
the  circumstances  of  time  and  place  in  which  it  was  held,  pro- 
ceeds to  give  ah  account  of  what  passed  in  the  discourse  at 
which  he  had  himself  been  present,  or  the  import  of  which 
was  communicated  to  him  by  some  one  who  had  attended  and 
borne  his  part  in  the  conference.  It  is  this  latter  method  that 
has  been  followed  by  Cicero,  in  his  dialogues  De  Oratore. 
He  mentions  in  his  own  person,  that  during  the  celebration  of 
certain  festivals  at  Rome,  the  orator  Crassus  retired  to  his  villa 
at  Tusculum,  one  of  the  most  delightful  retreats  in  Italy,  whi- 
ther he  was  accompanied  by  Antony,  his  most  intimate  friend 
in  private  life,  but  most  formidable  rival  in  the  Forum ;  and  by 
his  father-in-law,  Scaevola,  who  was  the  greatest  jurisconsult 
of  his  age,  and  whose  house  in  the  city  was  resorted  to  as  an 
oracle,  by  men  of  the  highest  rank  and  dignity.  Crassus  waa 
also  attended  by  Cotta  and  Sulpicius,  at  that  time  the  two 
roost  promising  orators  of  Rome,  the  former  of  whom  after- 
wards related  to  Cicero  (for  the  author  is  not  supposed  to  be 
personally  present)  the  conversation  which  passed  among 
these  distinguished  men,  as  they  reclined  on  the  benches  un- 
der a  planetree,  that  grew  on  one  of  the  walks  surrounding  the 
villa.  It  is  not  improbable,  that  some  such  conversation  may 
have  been  actually  held,  and  that  Cicero,  notwithstanding  hui 
age,  and  the  authority  derived  from  his  rhetorical  reputation, 
may  have  chosen  to  avail  himself  of  the  circumstance,  in  or- 
der to  shelter  his  opinions  under  ihose  of  two  ancient  masters, 
wlio,  previously  to  his  own  time,  were  regarded  as  the  chief 
ergans  of  Roman  eloquence. 

Crassus,  in  order  to  dissipate  the  gloom  which  had  been  oc^ 


1«  '    CICERO. 

casioned  by  a  serious  and  even  melancholy  conversation,  qb 
the  situation  of  public  aff&drs,  turned  the  discourse  on  oratory. 
The  sentiments  which  he  expresses  on  this  subject  are  sup- 
posed to  be  those  which  Cicero  himself  entertained.  In 
order  to  excite  the  two  young  men,  Cotta  and  Sulpicius,  to 
prosecute  with  ardour  the  career  they  had  so  successfully 
commenced,  he  first  enlarges  on  the  utility  and  excellence  of 
oratory ;  and  then,  proceeding  to  the  object  which  he  had 

1  principally  in  view,  he  contends  that  an  almost  universal  know- 
edge  is  essentially  requisite  to  perfection  in  this  noble  art 
He  afterwards  enumerates  those  branches  of  knowledge  whiek 
the  orator  should  acquire,  and  the  purposes  to  which  he  should 
apply  them  :  he  inculcates  the  necessity  of  an  acquaintance 
with  the  antiquities,  manners,  and  constitution  of  the  republic 
— ^the  constant  exercise  of  written  composition — ^the  study  of 
gesture  at  the  theatre-^the  translation  of  the  Greek  orators- 
reading  and  commenting  on  the  philosophers,  reading  and 
criticizing  the  poets.     The  question  hoocc  arises,  whether  a 
knowledge  of  the  civil  law  be  serviceable  to  t)ie  orator  ?  Cras- 
sus  attempts  to  prove  its  utility  from  various  examples  of  cases, 
where  its  principles  required  to  be  elucidated ;  as  also  froni  the 
intrinsic  nobleness  of  the  study  itself,  and  the  superior  excel- 
lence of  the  Roman  law  to  all  other  systems  of  jurispradence. 
Antony,  who  was  a  mere  practical  pleader,  considered  philo- 
sophy and  civil  law  as  useless  to  the  orator,  being  foreign  to 
the  real  business  of  life.     He  conceived  that  eloquence  might 
subsist  without  them,  and  that  with  regard  to  the  other  ac- 
complishments enumerated  by  Crassus,  they  were  totally  dis- 
tinct from  the  proper  office  and  duty  of  a  public  speaker.   It 
is  accordingly  agreed,  that  on  the  following  day  Antony  shonld 
state  his  notions  of  the  acquirements  appropriate  to  an  orator. 
Previous  to  the  commencement  of  the  second  conversation,  the 
party  is  joined  by  Catulus  and  Julius  CaBsar,  (grand-uncle  to 
the  Dictator,)  two  of  the  most  eminent  orators  of  the  time,  the 
former  being  distinguished  by  his  elegance  and  purity  of  dic- 
tion, the  latter  by  his  turn  for  pleasantry.     Having  met  Scc- 
vola,  on  his  way  from  Tusculum  to  the  villa  of  Laelius,  and 
having  heard  from  him  of  the  interesting  conversatioa  which 
had  been  held,  the  remainder  of  which  had  been  deferred  till 
the  morrow,  they  came  over  from  a  neighbouring  villa  to  par- 
take of  the  instruction  and  entertainment.     In  their  presence, 
and  in  that  of  Crassus,  Antqpy  maintains  his  favourite  system, 
that  eloquence  is  not  an  art,  because  it  depends  not  on  know- 
ledge.    Imitation  of  sood  models,  practice,  and  minute  atten- 
tion to  each  particular  case,  which  should  be  scrupulously 
examined  in  all  its  bearings,  are  laid  down  by  him  as  the  foon* 


CICERO.  19t 

dations  of  forensic  eloquence.  The  great  objects  of  an  orator 
being,  in  the  ^first  place,  to  recommend  himself  to  his  clients, 
and  then  to  prepossess  the  audience  and  judges  in  their  favour, 
Antony  enlarges  on  the  practice  of  the  bar,  in  conciliating, 
informing,  moving,  and  undeceiving  those  on  whom  the  deci- 
sion of  causes  depends  ;  all  which  is  copiously  illustrated  by 
examples  drawn  from  particiilar  questions,  which  had  occurred 
at  Rome  in  cades  of  proof,  strict  law,  or  equity.  The  chief 
weight  and  importance  is  attributed  to  -  moving  the  springs  of 
the  passions.  Among  the  methods  of  conciliation  and  prepos- 
session, humour  and  drollery  are  particularly  mentioned.  Cae- 
sar being  the  oratorical  wit  of  the  party,  is  requested  to  give 
some  examples  of  forensic  jests.  Those  he  affords  are  for  the 
most  part  wretched  quibbles,  or  personal  reflections  on  the 
opposite  parties,  and  their  witnesses.  The  length  of  the  dis- 
sertation, however,  on  this  topic,  shows  the  important  share  it 
was  considered  as  occupying  among  the  qualifications  of  the 
ancient  orator. 

Antony  having  thus  explained  the  mechanical  part  of  the 
orator's  duty,  it  is  agreed,  that  in  the  afternoon  Crassus  should 
enter  on  the  embellishments  of  rhetoric.  In  the  execution 
of  the  task  assigned  him,  he  treats  of  all  that  relates  to  what 
maybe  called  the  ornamental  part  of  oratory — pronunciation, 
elocution,  harmony  of  periods,  metaphors,  sentiments,  action, 
(which  he  terms  the  predominant  power  in  eloquence,)  ex- 
pression of  countenance,  modulation  of  voice,  and  all  those 
properties  which  impart  a  finished  grace  and  dignity  to  a  pub- 
lic discourse. 

Cicero  himself  highly  approved  of  this  treatise  on  Oratory, 
and  his  friends  regarded  it  as  one  of  his  best  productions.  The 
style  of  the  dialogue  is  copious,  without  being  redundant,  as  is 
sometimes  the  case  in  the  orations.  It  is  admirable  for  the 
diversity  of  character  in  the  speakers,  the  general  conduct  of 
the  piece,  and  the  variety  of  matter  it  contains.  It  compre- 
hends, I  believe,  everything  valuable  in  the  Greek  works'"  on 
rhetoric,  and  also  many  excellent  observations,  suggested  by 
the  author's  long  experience,  acquired  in  the  numerous  causes, 
both  public  and  private,  which  he  conducted  in  the  Forum, 
and  the  important  discussions  in  which  he  swayed  the  coun- 
sels of  the  Senate.  As  a  composition,  howevet,  I  cannot  con- 
sider the  dialogue  De  Oratore  altogether  faultless.  It  is  too 
little  dramatic  for  a  dialogue,  and  occasionally  it  expands  into 
continued  dissertation ;  while,  at  thie  same  time,  by  adopting 
the  form  of  dialogue,  a  rambling  and  desultory  effect  is  pro- 
duced in  the  discussion  of  a  subject,  where,  of  all  others,  me- 
thod and  close  connection  were  most  desirable.    There  is  also 


198  CICERO. 

frequently  an  assumed  liveliness  of  manner,  which   seans 
forced  and  affected  in  these  grave  and  consular  orators. 

The  dialogue  entitled  Brutus^  8ive  De  CkarU  OraiarUna, 
was  written,  and  is  also  feigned  to  have  taken  place,  after  Ce- 
sar had  attained  to  sovereign  power,  though  he  was  still  en- 
gaged in  the  war  against  Scipio  in  Africa.  The  conference 
is  supposed  to  be  held  among  Cicero,  Atticus,  and  Brutus, 
(from  whom  it  has  received  its  name,)  near  a  statue  of  Plato, 
which  stood  in  the  pleasure-grounds  of  Cicero's  mansion,  at 
Rome. 

Brutus  having  experienced  the  clemency  of  the  conqueror, 
whom  he  afterwards  sacrificed,  left  Italy,  in  order  to  amuse 
himself  with  an  agreeable  tour  through  the  cities  of  Greece 
and  Asia.  In  a  few  months  he  returned  to  Rome,  resigned 
himself  to  the  calm  studies  of  history  and  rhetoric,  and  passed 
many  of  his  leisure  hours  ii>  the  society  of  Cic^o  and  Atticus. 
The  first  part  of  the  dialogue,  among  these  three  friencls,  con- 
tains a  few  slight,  but  masterly  sketches,  of  the  most  cele- 
brated speakers  who  had  flourished  in  Greece ;  but  these  are 
not  so  much  mentioned  with  an  historical  design,  as  to  sup- 
port by  examples  the  author's  favourite  proposition,  that  per- 
fection in  oratory  requires  proficiency  in  all  the  arts.  The 
dialogue  is  chiefly  occupied  with  details  concerning  Romao 
orators,  from  the  earliest  ages  to  Cicero's  own  time.  He  first 
mentions  such  speakers  as  Appius  Claudius  and  Fabricios,  of 
whom  he  knew  nothing  certain,  w^hose  harangues  had  never 
been  committed  to  writing,  or  were  no  longer  extant,  and  con- 
cerning whose  powers  of  eloquence  he  could  only  derive  con- 
jectures, fi'om  the  effects  which  they  produced  on  the  people 
and  Senate,  as  recorded  in  the  ancient  annals.  The  second 
class  of  orators  are  those,  like  Cato  the  Censor,  and  the  Gracchi, 
whose  speeches  still  survived,  or  of  whom  he  could  speak  tra- 
ditionally, from  the  report  of  persons  still  living  who  had  heard 
them.  A  great  deal  of  what  is  said  concerning  this  "bet  of 
orators,  rests  on  the  authority  of  Hortensius,  from  whom  Cicero 
derived  his  information*".  The  third  class  are  the  deceased 
contemporaries  of  the  author,  whom  he  had  himself  seen  and 
heard ;  and  he  only  departs  from  his  rule  of  mentioning  no 
living  orator  at  the  special  request  of  Brutus,  who  expresses 
an  anxiety  to  learn  his  opinion  of  the  merits  of  Marcellus  and 
Julius  CsBsar.  Towards  the  conclusion,  he  gives  some  ac- 
count of  his  own  rise  and  progress,  of  the  education  he  had 
received,  aiid  the  variousi  methods  which  he  had  practised  in 
order  to  reach  those  heights  of  eloquence  he  had  attained. 

*  Epi9t,  ad  Attit.  Lib.  XII.  Gp.  9,  fce. 


CICERO-  199 

This  work  is  certaiDly  of  the  greatest  service  to  the  history 
of  Roman  eloquence ;  and  it  likewise  throws  considerable 
light  on  the  civil  transactions  of  the  republic,  as  the  author 
generally  touches  on  the  principal  incidents  in  the  lives  of 
those  eminent  orators  whom  he  mentions.  It  also  gives  ad- 
ditional weight  and  authority  to  the  oratorical  precepts  con- 
tained m  his  other  works,  since  it  shows,  that  they  were 
founded,  not  on  any  speculative  theories,  but  on  a  minute 
observation  of  the  actual  faults  and  excellencies  of  the  most 
renowned  speakers  of  his  age.  Yet,  with  all  thefte  advantages, 
it  is  not  so  entertaining  as  might  be  expected.  The  author 
mentions  too  many  orators,  and  says  too  little  of  each,  which 
gives  his  treatise  the  appearance  rather  of  a  dry  catalogue, 
than  of  a  literary  essay,  or  agreeable  dialogue.  He  acknow- 
ledges, indeed,  in  the  course  of  it,  that  he  had  inserted  in  his 
list  of  orators  many* who  possessed  little  claim  to  that  appella- 
tion, since  he  designed  to  give  an  account  oi  all  the  Romans, 
without  exception,  who  had  made  it  their  study  to  excel  in 
the  arts  of  eloquence. 

The  (JrcUorj  addressed  to  Brutus,  and  written  at  his  solici- 
tation, was  intended  to  complete  the  subjects  examined  in  the 
dialogues,  De  OratorCy  and  De  Claris  Oratoribua.  It  con- 
tains the  description  of  what  Cicero  conceived  necessary  to 
form  a  perfect  orator, — a  character  which,  indeed,  nowhere 
existed,  but  of  which  he  had  formed  the  idea  in  his  own  ima- 
gination. He  admits,  that  Attic  eloquence  approached  the 
nearest  to  perfection  ;  he  pauses,  however,  to  correct  a  pre- 
vailing error,  that  the  only  genuine  Atticism  is  a  correct, 
plam>  and  slender  discourse,  distinguished  by  purity  of  style, 
and  delicacy  of  taste,  but  void  of  all  ornaments  and  redun- 
dance. In  the  time  of  Cicero,  there  was  a  class  of  orators, 
including  several  men  of  parts  and  learning,  and  of  the  first 
quality,  who,  while  they  acknowledged  the  superiority  of  his 
genius,  yet  censured  his  diction  as  not  truely  Attic,  some  cal- 
ling it  loose  and  languid,  others  tumid  and  exuberant.  These 
speakers  affected  a  minute  and  fastidious  correctness,  pointed 
sentences,  short  and  concise  periods,  without  a  syllable  to 
spare  in  them — as  if  the  perfection  of  oratory  consisted  in 
frugality  of  words,  and  the  crowding  of  sentiments  into  the 
narrowest  possible  compass.  The  chief  patrons  of  this  taste 
were  Brutus  and  Licinius  Calvus.  Cicero,  while  he  admitted 
that  correctness  was  essential  to  eloquence,  contended,  that  a 
nervous,  copious,  animated,  and  even  ornate  style,  may  be 
truely  Attic ;  since,  otherwise,  Lysias  would  be  the  only  Attic 
orator,  to  the  exclusion  of  Isocrates,  and  even  Demosthenes 
himself.    He  accordingly  opposed  the  system  of  these  ultra- 


200  CICERO. 

Attic  orators,  whom  he  represents  as  often  deserted  in  the 
midst  of  their  harangues ;  for  although  their  style  of  rhetoric 
might  please  the  ear  of  a  critic,  it  was  not  of  that  sublime,  pa- 
thetic, or  sonorous  species,  of  which  the  end  was  not  only  to 
instruct,  but  to  move  an  audience, — ^whose  excitement  and 
admiration  form  the  true  criterions  of  eloquence. 

The  remainder  of  the  treatise  is  occupied  with  the  three 
things  to  be  attended  to  by  an  orator, — what  he  is  to  say,  in 
what  order  his  topics  are  to  be  arranged,  and  how  they  are  to 
be  expressed.  In  discussing  the  last  point,  the  author  enten 
very  fully  into  the  collocation  of  words,  and  that  measured 
cadence,  which,  to  a  certain  extent,  prevails  even  in  prose  ;^ 
a  subject  on  which  Brutus  wished  particularly  to  be  instructed, 
and  which  he  accordingly  treats  in  detail. 

This  tract  is  rather  confusedly  arranged  ;  and  the  disserta- 
tion on  prosaic  harmony,  though  curious,  appears  to  us  some- 
what too  minute  in  its  object  for  the  attention  of  an  orator. 
Cicero,  however,  set  a  high  value  on  this  production ;  and,  in 
a  letter  to  Lepta,  he  declares,  that  whatever  judgment  he  pos- 
sessed on  the  subject  of  oratory,  he  had  thrown  it  all  into  that 
work,  and  was  ready  to  stake  his  reputation  on  its  merits*. 

The  Topica  may  also  be  considered  as  another  work  on  the 
subject  of  rhetoric.  Aristotle,  as  is  well  known,  wrote  a  book 
with  this  title.  The  lawyer,  Caius  Trebatius,  a  friend  of  Ci* 
cero,  being  curious  to  know  the  contents  and  import  of  the 
Greek  work,  which  he  had  accidentally  seen  in  Cicero's  Tuscn- 
lan  library,  but  being  deterred  from  its  study  by  the  obscurity 
of  the  writer,  (though  it  certainly  is  not  one  of  the  most  diffi- 
cult of  Aristotle's  productions,)  requested  Cicero  to  draw  up 
this  extract,  or  commentary,  in  order  to  explain  the  varioos 
topicSy  or  common-places,  which  are  the  foundation  of  rheto- 
rical argument.  Of  this  request  Cicero  was  some  time  after- 
wards reminded  by  the  view  of  Velia,  f  the  marine  villa  of 
Trebatius,)  during  a  coasting  voyage  which  he  undertook, 
with  the  intention  of  retiring  to  Greece,  in  consequence  of  the 
troubles  which  followed  the  death  of  Csesar.  Though  he  had 
neither  Aristotle  nor  any  other  book  at  hand  to  assist  him,  be 
drew  it  up  from  memory  as  he  sailed  along,  and  finished  it  be- 
fore he  arrived  atRhegium,  whence  he  sent  it  to  Trebatiusf . 

This  treatise  shows,  that  Cicero  had  most  dilisently  studied 
Aristotle's  Topica.  It  is  not,  however,  a  translation,  but  an 
extract  or  explanation  of  that  work ;  and,  as  it  was  addressed 
to  a  lawyer,  he  has  taken  his  examples  chiefly  from  the  civil 
law  of  the  Romans,  which  he  conceived  Trebatius  would  on- 

^  £jri$t.  FamU,  Lib.  VI.  Ep.  18.  \  IM.  Lib.  TIL  Ep.  19. 


CICERO.  SOI 

derstand  better  than  illustrations  drawn,  like  those  of  Aristotle, 
from  the  philosophy  of  the  Greeks. 

It  is  impossible  sufficiently  to  admire  Cicero's  industry  and 
love  of  letters,  which  neither  the  inconveniences  of  a  sea  voy- 
age, which  he  always  disliked,  nor  the  harassing  thoughts  of 
leaving  Italy  at  such  a  conjuncture,  could  divert  from  the  calm 
and  regular  pursuit  of  his  favourite  studies. 

The  work  De  Fartitiom  Rhetaricaf  is  written  in  the  form 
of  a  dialogue  between  Cicero  and  his  son  ;  the  former  replying 
to  the  questions  of  the  latter  concerning  the  principles  and 
doctrine  of  eloquence.  The  tract  now  entitled  De  Optimo 
genere  Oratorum,  was  originally  intended  as  a  preface  to  ft 
translation  which  Cicero  had  made  from  the  orations  of 
iEschines  and  Demosthenes  in  the  case  of  Ctesipho,  in  which 
an  absurd  and  trifling  matter  of  ceremony  has  become  the  ba- 
sis of  an  immortal  controversy.  In  this  preface  he  reverts  to 
the  topic  on  which  he  had  touched  in  the  Orator — the  mis- 
take which  prevailed  in  Rome,  that  Attic  eloquence  was 
limited  to  that  accurate,  dry,  and  subtle  manner  of  expression, 
adopted  in  the  oration^  of  Lysias.  It  was  to.  correct  this 
error,  that  Cicero  undertook  a  free  translation  of  the  two 
master-pieces  of  Athenian  eloquence ;  the  one  being  an  exam- 
ple of  vehement  and  energetic,  the  other  of  pathetic  and  orna- 
mental oratory.  It  is  probable  that  Cicero  was  prompted  to 
these  repeated  inquiries  concerning  the  genuine  character  of 
Attic  eloquence,  from  the  reproach  frequently  cast  on  his  own 
discourses  by  Brutus,  Calvus,  and  other  sterile,  but,  as  they 
supposed  themselves,  truely  Attic  orators,  that  his  harangues 
were  not  in  the  Greek,  but  rather  in  the  Asiatic  tastCj-^that  is, 
nerveless,  florid,  and  redundant. 

It  appears,  that  in  Rome,  as  well  as  in  Greece,  oratory  was 
genersdly  considered  as  divided  into  three  difierent  styles-— 
the  Attic,  Asiatic,  and  Rhodian.  Quintilian,  at  least,  so 
classes  the  various  sorts  of  oratory  iii  a  passage,  in  which  he 
also  shortly  characterizes  them  by  those  attributes  froni  which 
they  were  chiefly  distinguishable.  "  Mihi  autem,'*  says  he, 
"  orationis  diflerentiam  fecisse  et  dicentium  et  audientium  na- 
turae videntur,  quod  ^ittici  limati  quidem  et  emuncti  nihil  inane 
aut  redundans  ferebant.  Aaiana  gens,  tumidior  alioquin  et 
jactantior,  vaniore  etiam  dicendi  gloria  inflata  est.  Tertium 
mox  qui  haec  dividebant  adjecerunt  genus  Rhodium,  quod 
velut  medium  esse,  atque  ex  utroque  mixtum  volunt*."  Bru- 
tus and  Licinius  Calvus,  as  we  have  seen,  aflected  the  slender, 
polished,  and  somewhat  barren  conciseness  of  Attic  eloquence. 

«  Jhst  Oral.  Lib.  XII.  c.  10. 

Vol.  II.— 2  A 


2Q3  CICERO. 

The  speeches  of  HortensiuS)  and  a  few  of  Cicero's  earlier 
harangues,  as  that  for  Sextus  Roscius,  afforded  examples  c( 
the  copious,  florid,  and  sometimes  tumid  style  of  Asiatic  ora- 
tory. The  latter  orations  of  Cicero,  refined  by  his  study  and 
experience,  were,  I  presume,  nearly  in  the  Rhodian  tasie. 
That  celebrated  school  of  eloquence  had  been  founded  bj 
^schines,  the  rival  of  Demosthenes,  when,  being  4>aiiished 
from  his  native  city  by  the  influence  of  his  competitor,  he  had 
retired  to  the  island  of  Rhodes.  Inferior  to  Demosthenes  in 
power  of  argument  and  force  of  expression,  he  surpassed  him 
in  copiousness  and  ornament.  The  school  which  he  founded, 
and  which  subsisted  for  centuries  after  his  death,  adnaitted  not 
the  luxuries  of  Asiatic  diction  ;  and  although  the  most  onue 
mental  of  Greece,  continued  ever  true  to  the  principles  of  its 
great  Athenian  master.  A  chief  part  of  the  two  years  during 
which  Cicero  travelled  in  Greece  and  Asia  was  spent  at 
Rhodes,  and  his  principal  teacher  of  eloquence  at  Rome  was 
Molo  the  Rhodian,  from  whom  he  likewise  afterwards  received 
lessons  at  Rhodes.  The  great  difllculty  which  that  rhetori- 
cian encountered  in  the  instruction  of  his  promising  disciple, 
was,  as  Cicero  himself  informs  us,  the  effort  of  containing 
within  its  due  and  proper  channel  the  overflowings  of  a  youth- 
fbl  imagination*.  Cicero's  natural  fecundity,  and  the  bent  of 
his  own  inclination,  preserved  him  from  the  risk  of  dwindling 
into  ultra-Attic  slendemess ;  but  it  is  not  improbable,  that 
from  the  example  of  Hortensius  and  his  own  copiousness,  he 
might  have  swelled  out  to  Asiatic  pomp,  had  not  his  exuber- 
ance been  early  reduced  by  tbfi  seasonable  and  salutary  dis- 
cipline of  the  Rhodian. 

Cicero,  in  his  youth,  also  wrote  the  Rhetoricaj  seu  de  hwem- 
tione  Rheiorica,  of  which  there  are  still  extant  two  books, 
treating  of  the  part  of  rhetoric  that  relates  to  invention.  This 
is  the  work  mentioned  by  Cicero,  in  the  commencement  of  the 
treatise  De  Oratore,  as  having  been  published  by  him  in  his 
youth.  It  is  generally  believed  to  have  been  written  in  666, 
when  Cicero  was  only  twenty  years  of  age,  and  to  have  origi- 
nally contained  four  books.  Schutz,  however,  the  German 
editor  of  Cicero,  is  of  opinion,  that  he  never  wrote,  or  at  least, 
never  published,  more  than  the  two  books  we  still  possess. 

A  number  of  sentences  in  these  two  books  of  the  Rhetorica^ 
seu  de  Itwentiane^  coincide  with  passages  in  the  Rhetaricum 
ad  Herennium^  which  is  usually  published  along  with  the 
works  of  Cicero,  but  is  not  of  his  composition.     Purgold  thinks 

*  Brutus,  c.  91 .  Is  dedit  operam  (si  modo  id  consequi  potuit)  at  minis  redun- 
dantcs  nos  juvenili  quadam  dicendi  iispunitale  et  UccntlA  reprixneretj  et  quasi  exta 
lipas  difflueotes  coerceret. 


CICERO.  203 

that  the  Rhetor,  ad  Herennium  was  published  first,  and  that 
Cicero  copied  from  it  those  corresponding  passages*.  It  ap- 
pears, however,  a  little  singular,  that  Cicero  should  have  bor- 
rowed so  largely,  and  without  acknowledgment,  from  a  recent 
publication  of  one  of  his  contemporaries.  To  account  for  this 
difficulty  some  critics  have  supposed,  that  the  anonymous  au- 
thor of  the  Rhetor,  ad  Herennium  was  a  rhetorician,  whose 
lectures  Cicero  had  attended,  and  had  inserted  in  his  own 
work  notes  taken  by  him  from  these  prelections,  before  they 
were  edited  by  their  authorf .  Some,  again,  have  imagined, 
that  Cicero  and  the  anonymous  author  were  fellow-students 
under  the  same  rhetorician,  and  that  both  had  thus  adopted 
his  ideas  and  expressions;  while  others  believe,  that  both  co- 
pied from  a  common  Greek  original.  But  then,  in  opposition 
to  this  last  theory,  it  has  been  remarked,  that  the  Latin  words 
employed  by  both  are  frequently  the  same ;  and  there  are  the 
same  references  to  the  history  of  Rome,  and  of  its  ancient  na- 
tive poets,  with  which  no  Greek  writer  can  be  supposed  to 
have  had  much  acquaintance. 

Who  the  anonymous  author  of  the  Rhetor,  ad  Herennium 
actually  was,  has  been  the  subject  of  much  learned  contro- 
versy, and  the  point  remains  still  undetermined.  Priscian  re- 
peatedly cites  it  as  the  work  of  Cicero;  whence  it  was  believed 
to  be  the  production  of  Cicero  by  Laurentius  Valla,  George 
of  Trebizond,  Politian,  and  other  great  restorers  of  learning 
in  the  fifteenth  century;  and  this  opinion  was  from  time  to 
time,  though  feebly,  revived  by  less  considerable  writers  in 
succeeding  periods.  It  seems  now,  however,  entirely  aban- 
doned ;  but,  while  all  critics  and  commentators  agree  in  abjiJh 
dicating  the  work  from  Cicero,  they  differ  widely  as  to  the 
person  to  whom  the  production  should  be  assigned.  Aldus 
Manutius,  Sigonius,  Muretus,  and  Riccobonus,  were  of  opi- 
nion, that  it  was  written  by  Q.  Cornificius  the  elder,  who  was 
Csesar^s  Clusestor  during  the  civil  war,  and  subsequently  his 
lieutenant  in  Africa,  of  which  province,  after  the  Dictator's 
death,  he  kept  pbssession  for  the  republican  party,  till  he  was 
slain  in  an  engagement  with  one  of  the  generals  of  Octavius. 
The  judgment  of  these  scholars  is  (^hiefly  founded  on  some 
passages  in  Cluintilian,  who  attributes  to  Cornificius  several 
critical  and  philological  definitions  which  coincide  with  those 
introduced  in  the  Rhetorica  ad  Herennium.  Gerard  Vossius, 
however,  has  adopted  an  opinion,  that  if  at  all  written  by  a 

*  Observat.  Oritie.  m  Sophae,  et  Oeeron.    Lips.  1802. 
t  FuhroMDiii  JEbndfttfcft  iier  CloMwcA.  Xitorot. 


304  CICERO. 

person  of  that  name,  it  must  have  been  by  the  yoimger  Conu* 
ficius*,  who  was  bom  in  662,  and,  having  followed  the  paity 
of  Octavius,  was  appointed  Consul  by  favour  of  the  TriumTi- 
rate  in  718.  Raphael  Regius  also  seems  inclined  to  attribute 
the  work  to  Cornificius  the  sonf .  But  if  the  style  be  consi- 
dered too  remote  from  that  of  the  age  of  Cicero,  to  be  ascribed 
to  any  of  his  contemporaries,  he  conceives  it  may  be  plausibly 
conjectured  to  have  been  the  production  of  Timolaus,  one  of 
the  thirty  tyrants  in  the  reign  of  Gallienus.  Timolaus  had  a 
brother  called  Herenianus,  to  whom  his  work  may  have  been 
dedicated,  and  he  thinks  that  Timolaus  ad  Herenianwun  may 
have  been  corrupted  into  TuUius  ad  Herenmum.  J.  C.  Sca- 
liger  attributes  die  work  toGallio,  a  rhetorician  in  the  time  of 
Nero| — an  opinion  which  obtained  currency  in  consequence 
of  the  discovery  of  a  MS.  copy  of  the  Rhetorica  ad  Utra^ 
fiium,  with  the  name  of  Gallto  prefixed  to  it^. 

Sufficient  scope  being  thus  left  for  new  conjectures,  Schiitz, 
the  German  editor  of  Cicero,  has  formed  a  new  hypothesis  on 
the  subject.    Cicero's  tract  De  Inventione  having  been  written 
in  his  early  youth,  the  period  of  its  composition  may  be  placed 
about  672.     From  various  circumstances,  which  he  discusses 
at  great  length,  Schiitz  concludes  that  the  Rhetorica  ad  He- 
rennium  was  the  work  which  was  first  written,  and  conse- 
quently previous  to  672.  Farther,  the  Rhetorica  ad  Herennium 
must  have  been  written  subsequentlv  to  665,  as  it  mentions  the 
death  of  Sulpicius,  which  happened  in  that  year.     The  time 
thus  limited  corresponds  very  exactly  with  the  age  of  M.  Ant. 
Gnipho,  who  was  bom  in  the  year  640 ;  and  him  Schvitz  con- 
siders as  the  real  author  of  the  Rhetorica  ad  Herennium.  This 
he  attempts  to  prove,  by  showing,  that  many  things  which 
Suetonius  relates  of  Gnipho,  in  his  work  De  Clarie  RhetoribtUf 
agree  with  what  the  author  of  the  Rhetorica  ad  Herennium 
delivers  concerning  himself  in  the  course,  of  that  production. 
It  is  pretty  well  established,  that  both  Gnipho  and  the  anony- 
mous author  of  the  Rhetorica  ad  Herennium  were  free-bom, 
had  good  memories,  understood  Greek,  and  were  voluminous 
authors.     It  is  unfortunate,  however,  that  these  characteris- 
tics, except  the  first,  were  probably  common  to  almost  all 
rhetoricians ;  and  Schiitz  does  not  allude  to  any  of  the  more 
particular   circumstances  mentioned  by  Suetonius,  as   that 
Gnipho  was  a  Gaul  by  birth,  that  he  studied  at  Alexandria, 

*  De  MU.  et  Const,  Rhetor,  e.  18. 

t  Dissert.  Utrumara  Rhetorica  ad  Herennium  Ciceroni  faho  inscribUwr. 
1  De  Re  Poet.  Lib.  III.  c.  31.  and  84. 

§  See  P.  HumiaDDi  Secund.    M Praef.  ad  Rhetoric,  ad  Eercnmitm.    AkoFi- 
bndtts,  Rib,  Lot,  Lib.  I.  c.  8. 


CICERO.  306 

and  that  he  taught  rhetoric  in  the  house  of  the  father  of  Julius 
Caesar. 

Cicero,  who  was  unquestionably  the  first  orator,  was  as  de* 
cidedly  the  most  learned  philosopher  of  Rome ;  and  while  he 
eclipsed  all  his  contemporaries  in  eloquence,  he  acquired,  to- 
wards the  close  of  his  life,  no  small  share  of  reputation  as  a  writer 
on  ethics  and  metaphysics.  His  wisdcmi,  however,  was  founded 
entirely  on  that  of  the  Greeks,  and  his  philosophic  writings 
were  chiefly  occupied  with  the  discussion  of  questions  which 
had  been  agitated  in  the  Athenian  schools,  and  from  them  had 
been  transmitted  to  Italy.  The  disquisition  respecting  the 
certainty  or  uncertainty  of  human  knowledge,  with  that  con- 
cerning the  supreme  good  and  evil,  were  the  inquiries  which 
he  chiefly  pursued ;  and  the  notions  which  he  entertained  of 
these  subjects,  were  all  derived  from  the  Portico,  Academy,  or 
Lyceum. 

The  leading  principles  of  the  chief  philosophic  sects  of 
Greece  flowed  originally  from  Socrates — 

**  From  whose  mouth  issued  forth 


Mellifluous  stream?,  that  watered  all  the  schools 
Of  Academics,  Old  and  New* ;' 


.»> 


and  who  has  been  termed  by  Cicerof  the  perennial  source  of 
philosophy,  much  more  justly  than  Homer  has  been  styled  the 
fountain  of  all  poetry.  Though  somewhat  addicted  to  them 
from  education  and  early  habit,  Socrates  withdrew  philosophy 
from  those  obscure  and  intricate  physical  inquiries,  in  which 
she  had  been  involved  by  the  founders  and  followers  of  the 
Ionic  school,  and  from  the  subtle  paradoxical  hypotheses  of 
the  sophists  who  established  themselves  at  Athens  in  the  time 
of  Pericles.  It  being  his  chief  aim  to  improve  the  condition 
of  mankind,  and  to  incline  them  to  discharge  the  several  du- 
ties of  the  stations  in  which  they  had  been  placed,  this  moral 
teacher  directed  his  examinations  to  the  nature  of  vice  and 
virtue,  of  good  and  evil.  To  accomplish  the  great  object  he 
had  in  view,  his  practice  was  to  hazard  no  opinion  of  his  own, 
but  to  refute  prevalent  errors  and  prejudices,  by  involving  the 
pretenders  to  knowledge  in  manifest  absurdity,  while  he  him- 
self, as  if  in  contrast  to  the  presumption  of  the  sophists,  always 
professed  that  he  knew  nothing.  Tnis  confession  of  ignorance, 
which  amounted  to  no  more  than  a  general  acknowledgment 

*  ParadUe  Regained, 

t  De  Oroi.  Lib.  I.  c.  10.    Ab  iUo  fonte  et  capite  Socrate. 


206  CICERO. 

of  the  imbecility  of  the  human  understanding,  and  was  merely 
designed  to  convince  his  followers  of  the  futility  of  those  spe- 
culations which  do  not  rest  on  ti^e  firm  basis  of  experience,  or 
to  teach  them  modesty  in  their  inquiries,  and  diffidence  in 
their  assertions,  having  been  interpreted  in  jl  different  sense 
from  that  in  which  it  was  originally  intended,  gave  rise  to  the 
celebrated  dispute  concerning  the  certainty  of  knowledge. 

The  various  founders  of  the  philosophic- sects  of  Greece, 
imbibed  that  portion  of  the  doctrines  of  Socrates  which  suited 
their  own  tastes  and  views,  and  sometimes  perverted  his  high 
authority  even  to  dogmatical  or  sophistical  purposes.  It  is 
from  Plato  we  have  derived  the  fullest  account  of  his  system; 
but  this  illustrious  disciple  had  also  greatly  extended  his  know* 
ledge  by  his  voyage*)  to  Egvpt,  Sicily,  and  Magna  Gnecia. 
Hence  in  the  Academy  which  he  founded,  (while,  as  to  mo- 
rals, he  continued  to  follow  Socrates,)  he  superadded  the  me- 
taphysical doctrines  of  Pythagoras ;  in  physics,  which  Socrates 
had  excluded  from  philosophy,  he  adopted  the  system  of  He- 
raclitus ;  and  he  borrowed  his  dialectics  from  Euclid  of  Megara. 
The  recondite  and  eisoieric  tenets  of  Pythagoras — the  obscure 
principles  of  Heraclitus— the  superhuman  knowledge  of  Em- 
pedocles,  and  the  sacred  Arcana  of  Egyptian  priests,  have 
diffused  over  the  page  of  Plato  a  majesty  and  mysticism  very 
different  from  what  we  suppose  to  have  been  the  familiar  tone 
of  instruction  employed  by  his  great  master,  of  whose  style  at 
least,  and  manner,  Xenophon  probably  presents  us  with  a  more 
faithful  image. 

In  Greece,  the  heads  of  sects  were  succeeded  in  their 
schools  or  academies  as  in  a  domain  or  inheritance.  Speusip- 
pus,  the  nephew  of  Plato,  continued  to  deliver  lectures  in  the 
Academy,  as  did  also  four  other  successive  masters,  Xeno- 
crates,  Polemo,  Crates,  and  Crantor,  all  of  whom  retained  the 
name  of  Academics,  and  taught  the  doctrines  of  their  master 
without  mixture  or  corruption.  But  on  the  appointment  of 
Xenocrates  to  the  chair  of  the  Academy,  Aristotle,  the  most 
eminent  of  Plato's  scholars,  had  betaken  himself  to  another 
Gymnasium,  called  the  Lyceum,  which  became  the  resort  of  the 
Peripatetics.  The  commanding  genius  of  their  founder  enlarg- 
ed the  sphere  of  knowledge  and  intellect,  devised  the  rules  of 
logic,  and  traced  out  the  principles  of  rhetorical  and  poetical 
criticism :  But  the  sect  which  he  exalted  to  unrivalled  celebrity, 
though  differing  in  name  from  the  contemporary  Academics, 
coincided  with  them  generally  in  all  the  principal  points  of 
physical  and  moral  philosophy,  and  particularly  in  those  con- 
cerning which  the  Romans  chiefly  inquired.    '<  Though  they 


CICERO.  207 

differed  in  terms,"  says  Cicero,  ^'  fhey  agreed  in  things*,  and 
those  persons  are  grossly  mistaken  who  imagine  that  the  old 
Academics,  as  they  are  called,  are  any  other  than  the  Peripa- 
tetics." Accordingly,  we  find  that  both  believed  in  the  super- 
intending care  of  Providence,  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and 
a  future  state  of  reward  and  punishment.  The  supreme  good 
they  placed  in  virtue,  with  a  sufficiency  of  the  chief  external 
advantages  of  nature,  as  health,  riches,  and  reputation.  Such 
enjoyments  they  taught,  when  united  with  virtue,  make  the 
felicity  of  man  perfect ;  but  if  virtuous,  he  is  capable  of  being 
happy,  (though  not  entirely  so,)  without  them. 

Plato,  in  his  mode  of  conununicating  instruction,  and  pro- 
mulgating his  opinions,  had  not  strictly  adhered  to  the  method 
of  his  master  Socrates.  He  held  the  concurrence  of  memory, 
with  a  recent  impression,  to  be  a  criterion  of  truth,  and  he 
taught  that  opinions  might  be  formed  from  the  comparison  of 
a  present  with  a  recollected  perception.  But  his  successors, 
DOth  in  the  Academy  and  Lyceum,  departed  from  the  Socratic 
method  still  more  widely.  They  renounced  the  maxim,  of 
affirming  nothing ;  and  instead  of  explaining  everything  with 
a  doubting  reserve,  they  converted  philosophy,  as  it  were,  into 
an  art,  and  formed  a  system  of  opinions,  which  they  delivered 
to  their  disciples  as  the  peculiar  tenets  of  their  sect.  They 
inculcated  the  belief,  that  our  knowledge  has  its  origin  in  tlie 
senses — that  the  senses  themselves  do  not  judge  of  truth,  but 
the  mind  through  them  beholds  things  as  they  really  are — 
that  is,  it  perceives  the  ideas  which  always  subsist  in  the  same 
state,  without  change;  so  that  the  senses,  through  the  medium 
of  the  mind,  may  he  relied  on  for  the  ascertainment  of  truth. 
Such  was  the  state  of  opinions  and  instruction  in  the  Academy 
when  Arcesilaus,  who  was  the  sixth  master  of  that  school  from 
Plato,  and  in  his  youth  had  heard  the  lessons  of  Pyrrho  the 
sceptic,  resolved  to  reform  the  dogmatic  system  into  which  his 
predecessors  had  fallen,  and  to  restore,  as  he  conceived,  in  all 
its  purity,  the  Socratic  system  of  affirming  nothing  witii  cer- 
tainty. This  founder  of  the  New,  or  Middle  Academy  as  it  is 
sometimes  called,  denied  even  the  certain  truth  of  the  propo- 
sition that  we  know  nothing,  which  Socrates  had  reserved  as 
an  exception  to  his  general  principle.  While  admitting  that 
there  is  an  actual  certainty  in  the  nature  of  things,  he  rejected 
the  evidence  both  of  the  senses  and  reason  as  positive  testimo- 
ny ;  and  as  he  denied  that  there  existed  any  infallible  criterion 
ef  truth  or  falsehood,  he  maintained  that  no  wise  man  ought  to 

^  Jieadetn,  Lib.  11.  e.  5. 


308  CICERO. 

five  any  proposition  whatever  the  sanction  of  his  assent.  He 
iifered  from  the  Sceptics  or  Pyrrhonists  only  in  this,  that  he 
admitted  degrees  of  probability,  whereas  the  Sceptics  fluctu- 
ated in  total  uncertainty. 

As  Arcesilaus  renounced  all  pretensions  to  the  certain  de- 
termination of  any  question,  he  was  chiefly  employed  in  exam- 
ining and  refuting  the  sentiments  of  others.  His  principal 
opponent  was  his  contemporary,  Z^no,  the  founder  of  Ae  sto- 
ical philosophy,  which  ultimately  became  the  chief  of  those 
systems  which  flourished  at  Rome.  The  main  point  in  dispute 
between  Zeno  and  Arcesilaus,  was  the  evidence  of  the  senses. 
Arcesilaus  denied  that  truth  could  be  ascertained  by  their  as- 
sistance, because  there  is  no  criterion  by  which  to  distingui^ 
false  and  delusive  objects  from  such  as  are  real.  Zeno,  on  the 
other  hand,  maintained  that  the  evidence  of  the  senses  is  cer- 
tain and  clear,  provided  they  be  perfect  in  themselves,  and 
without  obstacle  to  prevent  their  effect.  Thus,  though  on 
different  principles,  the  founder  of  the  Stoics  agreed  wifli  the 
Peripatetics  and  old  Academicians,  that  there  existed  certain 
means  of  ascertaining  truth,  and  consequently  that  there  was 
evident  and  certain  knowledge.  Arcesilaus,  tnough  he  did  not 
deny  that  truth  existed,  would  neither  give  assent  nor  enter- 
tain opinions,  because  appearances  could  never  warrant  his 
pronouncing  on  any  object  or  proposition  whatever.  Nor  did 
the  Stoics  entertain  opinions;  but  they  refrained  from  this, 
because  they  thought  that  everything  might  be  perceived  with 
certainty. 

Arcesilaus,  while  differing  widely  from  the  teachers  of  the 
old  Platonic  Academy  in  his  ideas  as  to  the  certainty  of  know- 
ledge, retained  their  system  concerning  the  supreme  good, 
which,  like  them,  he  placed  in  virtue,  accompanied  by  exter- 
nal advantages.  This  was  another  subject  of  contest  with 
Zeno,  who,  as  is  well  known,  placed  the  supreme  good  in  vir- 
tue alone, — health,  riches,  and  reputation,  not  being  by  him 
accounted  essential,  nor  disease,  poverty,  and  ignominy,  inju- 
rious to  happiness. 

The  systems  promulgated  in  the  old  and  new  Academy,  and 
the  stoical  Portico,  were  those  which  became  most  prevalent 
in  Rome.  But  the  Epicurean  opinions  were  also  fashionable 
there.  The  philosophy  of  Epicurus  has  been  already  men- 
tioned while  speaking  of  Lucretius.  Moschus  of  Phoenicia, 
who  lived  before  the  Trojan  war,  is  said  to  have  been  the  in- 
ventor of  the  Atomic  system,  which  was  afterwards  adopted 
and  improved  by  Leucippus  and  Democritus,  whose  works,  as 
Cicero  expresses  it,  were  the  source  from  which  flowed  the 


CICERO.  209 

streams  that  watered  the  gardens  of  Epicurus*.  To  the  evi- 
dence of  the  senses  this  teacher  attributed  such  weight,  that 
he  considered  them  as  an  infallible  rule  of  truth.  The  supreme 
good  he  placed  in  pleasure,  and  the  chief  evil  in  pain.  IJis 
scholars  maintained,  that  by  pleasure,  or  rather  happiness,  he 
meant  a  life  of  wisdom  and  temperance ;  but  a  want  of  clear- 
ness and  explicitness  in  the  definition  of  what  constituted  plea- 
sure, has  given  room*  to  his  opponents  for  alleging  that  he 
placed  consummate  felicity  in  sensual  gratification. 

It  was  long  before  a  knowledge  of  any  portion  of  Greek 
philosophy  was  introduced  at  Rome.  For  600  years  after  the 
building  of  the  city,  those  circumstances  did  not  arise  in  that 
capital  which  called  forth  and  promoted  philosophy  in  Greece. 
The  ancient  Romans  were  warriors  and  agriculturists.  Their 
education  was  regulated  with  a  view  to  an  active  life,  and 
rearing  citizens  and  heroes,  not  philosophers.  The  Campua 
JMartius  was  their  school ;  the  tent  their  Lyceum,  and  the  tra- 
ditions of  their  ancestors,  and  religious  rites,  their  science, — 
they  were  taught  to  act,  to  believe,  and  to  obey,  not  to  reason 
or  discuss.  Among  them  a  class  of  men  may  indeed  have 
existed  not  unlike  the  seven  sages  of  Greece — men  distin- 
guished by  wisdom,  grave  saws,  and  the  services  they  had  ren- 
dered to  their  country ;  but  these  were  not  philosophers  in  our 
sense  of  the  term.  The  wisdom  they  inculcated  was  not  sec- 
tarian, but  resembled  that  species  of  philosophy  cultivated  by 
Solon  and  Lycurgus,  which  has  been  termed  political  by  Bruc- 
ker,  and  which  was  chiefly  adapted  to  the  improvement  of 
states,  aiid  civilization  of  infant  society.  At  length,  however, 
in  the  year  586,  when  Perseus,  King  of  Macedon,  was  finally 
vanquished,  his  conqueror  brought  with  him  to  Rome  the  phi- 
losopher Metrodorus,  to  aid  in  the  instruction  of  his  childrenf. 
Several  philosophers,  who  had  been  retained  in  the  court  of 
that  unfortunate  monarch,  auguring  well  from  this  incident, 
followed  Metrodorus  to  Italy;  and  about  the  same  time  a  num- 
ber of  Achaeans,  of  distinguished  merit,  who  were  suspected 
to  have  favoured  the  Macedonians,  were  summoned  to  Rome, 
in  order  to  account  for  their  conduA.  The  younger  Scipio 
Africanus,  in  the  course  of  the  embassy  to  which  he  was  ap- 
pointed by  the  Senate,  to  the  kings  of  the  east,  who  were  in 
alliance  with  the  republic,  having  landed  at  Rhodes,  took 
under  his  protection  the  Stoic  philosopher  PanaJtiusJ,  who  was 
a  native  of  that  island,  and  carried  him  back  to  Rome,  where 

•  De  J^ator.  Deoy.  Lib.  I.  c.*43. 

t  PJiny,  Hist.  JSTat,  Lib.  XXXV.  c.  11. 

X  Mem,  de  V  Instil.  Roy  ale,  Tom.  XXX. 

Vol.  II.— 2  B 


210  CICERO. 

he  resided  in  the  house  of  his  patron.  PansBtius  afterwatds 
went  to  Athens,  where  he  became  one  of  the  most  distin- 
guished teachers  of  the  Portico*,  and  composed  a  number 
of  philosophical  treatises,  of  which  the  chief  was  that  on  the 
Duties  of  Man. 

But  though  the  philosophers  were  encouraged  and  cherished 
by  Scipio,  Lselius,  Scaevola,  and  others  of  the  more  mild  and 
enlightened  Romans,  they  were  viewed  with  an  eye  of  sus- 
picion by  the  grave  Senators  and  stem  Censors  of  the  republic. 
Accordingly,  in  the  year  692,  only  six  years  after  their  first 
arrival  in  Rome,  the  philosophers  were  banished  from  the  city 
by  a  formal  decree  of  the  Senatef .  The  motives  for  issuing 
this  rigorous  edict  are  not  very  clearly  ascertained.  A  notioo 
may  have  been  entertained  by  the  severer  members  of  the 
commonwealth,  that  the  established  religion  and  constitution 
of  Rome  might  suffer  by  the  discussion  of  speculative  theories, 
and  that  the  taste  for  science  might  withdraw  the  minds  of 
youth  from  agriculture  and  arms.  This  dread,  so  natural  to  a 
rigid,  laborious,  and  warlike  people,  would  be  increased  by 
the  degraded  and  slavish  character  of  the  Greeks,  which,  hav- 
ing been  an  accompaniment,  might  be  readily  mistaken  for  a 
consequence,  of  their  progress  in  philosophy.  As  most  of  the 
philosophers,  too,  had  come  from  the  states  of  a  hostile  mo- 
narch, the  Senate  may  have  feared,  lest  they  should  inspire  sen- 
timents in  the  minds  of  youth,  not  altogether  patriotic  or  purely 
republican. 

"  Sed  vetuere  patres  quod  non  potuere  Tetue»" 

Though  driven  from  Rome,  many  of  the  Greek  philosophers 
took  up  their  residence  in  the  municipal  towns  of  Italy.  By 
the  intercession  likewise  of  Scipio  Africanus,  an  exception 
was  made  in  favour  of  Panaetius  and  the  historian  Polybius, 
whe  were  permitted  to  remain  in  the  capital.  The  spirit  of 
inquiry,  too^  had  been  raised,  and  the  mind  had  received  an 
impulse  which  could  not  be  arrested  by  any  senatorial  decree, 
and  on  which  the  slightest  incident  necessarily  bestowed  an 
accelerated  progress. 

The  Greek  philosophers  returned  to  Rome  in  the  year  598, 
under  the  sacred  character  of  ambassadors,  on  occasion  of  a 
political  complaint  which  had  been  made  against  the  Athe- 
nians, and  from  which  they  found  it  necessary  to  defend  them- 

» 

*  Ciceio  styles  him  Princep*  Stoiconim,  (De  Dhin,  Lib.  II.  c.  47,)  and  eradi- 
tissimum  hominem,  et  paene  divinum.    {Pro  Muranaf  c.  81.) 

t  Censuerunt  ut  M.  Pomponius  Praetor  aoimadverteret  ati  e  lepabfica  SAtipit 
sua  videretur  Rom«  ne  euent.    (An.  Gellius,  JVoet.  AtHc.  lib.  Xv.  c.  II.) 


CICERO.  211 

selTes.     Notwithstanding  the  disrespect  with  which  philoso- 
phers had  recently  been  treated  in  Italy,  the  Athenians  resolved 
to  dazzle  the  Romans  by  a  grand  scientific  embassy.    The 
three  envoys  chosen  were  at  that  time  the  heads  of  the  three 
leading  sects  of  Greek  philosophers, — ^Diogenes,  the  Stoic, 
Critolaus,  the  Peripatetic,  and  Carneades  of  Cyrene,  who  now 
held  the  place  of  Arcesilaus  in  the  new  Academy.    Besides 
their  philosophical  learning,  they  were  well  qualified  by  their 
eloquence,  (a  talent  which  had  always  great  influence  with 
the  Romans,)  to  persuade  and  bring  over  the  minds  of  men 
to  their  principles.     Suchy  indeed,  were  their  extraordinary 
powers  of  speaking  and  reasoning,  that  it  was  commonly 
said  at  Rome  that  the  Athenians  had  sent  orators,  not  to  per- 
suade, but  to  compel*.     During  the  period  of  their  embassy 
at  Rome  they  lectured  to  crowded  audiences  in  the  most  pub- 
lic parts  of  the  city.     The  immediate  effect  of  the  display 
which  these  philosophic  ambassadors  made  of  their  eloquence 
and  wisdom,  was  to  excite  in  the  Roman  youth  an  ardent 
thirst  after  knowledge,  which  now  became  a  rival  in  their 
breasts  to  the  love  of  military  gloryf .     Scipio  Lselius,  and 
Furius,  showed  the  strongest  inclination  for  these  new  studies, 
and  profited  most  by  them;  but  there  was  scarcely  a  young 
patrician  who  was  not  in  son\e  degree  attracted  by  the  modest 
simplicity  of  Diogenes,  the  elegant,  ornamental,  and  polished 
discourse  of  Critolaus,  or  the  vehement,  rapid,  and  argumen- 
tative eloquence  of  Carneades^.     The  principles  inculcated 
by  Diogenes,  who  professed  to  teach  the  art  of  reasoning,  and 
of  separating  truth  fron  falsehood,   received  their  strongest 
support  from  the  jurisconsults,  most  of  whom  became  Stoics ; 
and  in  consequence  of  their  responses,  we  find  at  this  day  that 
the  stoical  philosophy  exercised  much  influence  on  Roman 
jurisprudence,  and  that  many  principles  and  divisions  of  the 
civil  law  have  been   founded  on  its  favourite  maxims.     Of 
these  philosophic  ambassadors,  however,  Carneades  was  the 
most  able  man,  and  the  most  popular  teacher.    ^'He   was 
blessed,"  says  Cicero,  ^^with   a  divine  quickness  of  under- 
standing and  command  of  expression^.''    *'  In  his  disputations, 
he  never  defended  what  he  did  not  prove,  and  never  attacked 
what  he  did  not  overthrow ||.''    By  some  he  has  been  consi- 
dered and  termed  the  founder  of  a  third  Academy,  but  there 
appears  to  be  no  solid  ground  for  such  a  distinction.     In  his 
lectures,  which  chiefly  turned  on  ethics,  he  agreed  with  both 

«  JEXan,  Hktar,  Var,  Lib.  III.  c.  17.  f  Phitarch,  hi  CkUone, 

X  Au.  Geliiiu,  JVoeL  JltHe,  Lib.  VII.  ci  14. 

§  Ve  Oratore,  Lib.  IIL  c.  18.  ||  Ibid.  Lib.  U.  c.  8S, 


212  eiCERO- 

Academies  as  to  the  supreme  'good,  placing  it  in  virtue  and 
the  primary  gifts  of  nature.     Like  Arcesilaus,  he  was  a  a^al(»as 
advocate  for  the  uncertainty  of  human  knowledge,  but  he  did 
not  deny,  with  him,  that  there  were  truths,  but  only  main- 
tained that  we  could  not  clearly  discern  them*.     The  sole 
other  difference  in  their  tenets,  is  one  not  very  palpable,  men- 
tioned by  Lucullus  in  the  Acadeniica.     Arcesilaus,  it  seems, 
would  neither  assent  to  anything  nor  opine.  Carneades,  though 
he  would  not  assent,  declared  that  he  would  opine  ;  tinder  the 
constant  reservation,  however,  that  he  was  merely  opinionating, 
and  that  thq^e  was  no  such  thing  as  positive  comprehension 
or  perceptionf .     In  this,  Lucullus,  who  was  a  follower  of  the 
old  Academy,  thinks  Carneades  the  most  absurd  and  incon- 
sistent of  the  two.     Carneades  succeeded  to  the  old  dispute 
between  the  Academics  and  Stoics,  and  in  his  prelections  he 
combated  the  arguments  employed  by  Chrysippus|,  in  his  age 
the  chief  pillar  of  the  Portico,  as  Arcesilaus  had  formerly  maiih 
tained  the  controversy  with  Zeno,  its  founder.     He  differed 
from  the  Pyrrhonists,  by  admitting  the  real  existence  of  good 
and  evil,  and  by  allowing  different  degrees  of  probability^ 
while  his  sceptical  opponents  contended   that  there  was  no 
ground  for  embracing  or  rejecting  one  opinion  more  than  ano- 
ther.    Carneades  was  no  less  distinguished  by  his  artful  and 
versatile  talents  for  disputation,  than  his  vehement  and  com- 
manding oratory.     But  his  extraordinary  powers  of  persuasion, 
and  of  maintaining  any  side  of  an  argument,  for  which  the  aca- 
demical philosophy  peculiarly  qualified  him,   were  at  length 
abused  by  him,  to  the  scandal  of  the  serious  and  inflexible  Ro- 
mans.    Thus,  we  are  told,  that  he  one  day  delivered   a  dis- 
course before  Cato,  with  great  variety  of  thought  and  copious- 
ness of  diction,  on  the  advantages  of  a  rigid  observance  of  the 
rules  of  justice.     Next  day,  in  order  to  fortify  his  doctrine  of 
the  uncertainty  of  human  knowledge,  he  undertook  to  refute 
all  his  former  argumcnts||.     It  is  likely  that  his  attack  on  jus- 
tice was  a  piece  of  pleasantry,  like  Erasmus'  Encomium  of 
Folly ;  and  many  of  his  audience  were  captivated  by  his  inge- 
nuity ;  but  the  Censor  immediately  insisted,  that  the  afiaiis 
which  had  brought  these  subtle  ambassadors  to  Rome,  should 
be  forthwith  despatched  by  the   Senate,  in  order  that  they 
might  be  dismissed  with  all  possible  expeditionlT.     Whether 

*  If  aec  in  philonophia  ratio  contra  omnia  disserendii  nullamque  rem  aperte  jiidi- 
candi,  profecta  a  Socrate,  repeiita  ab  Arcesilao,  confirmata  a  Cameade»  usque  ad 
nostrdin  vipiit  a^tatem.     DeJSTat.  Deor,  Lib.  I.  c.  5. 

t  Jlcadem.  Prior.  Lib.  11.  c.  48.  |  Valer.  Max,  Lib.  VIIL  c.  7. 

§  Academ  Prior.  Lib.  II.  c.  31. 

II  Quintil.  ImU  Oral.  Lib.  XII.  c.  1.    Lactant.  in^tit.  Lib.  V.  c.  1^. 

IT  Plutarch,  M  Catone.    Plin.  HiaU  JVIdlL  Lib.  VII.  c.  30. 


CICERO.  213 

Cato  entertained  serious  apprehensions,  as  is  alleged  by  Plu- 
tarch, that  the  military  virtues  of  his  country  m.ght  be  enfee- 
1>led,  and  its  constitution  undermined,  by  the  study  of  piido- 
sophy,  may,  I  think,  be  questioned.  It  is  more  probable  tiiat 
he  dreaded  the  influence  of  the  philosophers  themselves  on  the 
opmions  of  his  fellow-<;itizens,  and  feared  lest  their  eloquence 
should  altogether  unsettle  the  principles  of  his  countrymen,  or 
mould  them  to  whatever  form  they  chose*  *  Lactantius,  tdo, 
in  a-  quotation  from  Cicero's  treatise  Ue  Republican  attbrds 
what  may  be  considered  as  an  explanation  of  the  reason  why 
Carneades'  lecture  against  justice  was  so  little  palatable  to  the 
Censor,  and  probably  to  many  others  of  the  Romans.  One  of 
the  objections  which  he  urged  against  justice,  or  rather  against 
the  e:nstence  of  a  due  sense  of  that  quality,  was,  that  if  such 
a  thing  as  justice  were  to  be  found  on  earth,  the  Romans 
would  resign  their  conquests,  and  return  to  their  huts  and  ori- 
ginal poverty*.  Cato  likewise  appears  to  have  had  a  conside- 
rable spirit  of  personal  jealousy  and  rivalry ;  while,  at  the  same 
time,  his  national  pride  led  him  to  scorn  all  the  arts  of  a  coun- 
try which  the  Roman  arms  had  subdued. 

Carneades  promulgated  his  opinions  only  in  his  eloquent 
lectures ;  and  it  is  not  known  that  he  left  any  writings  of  im- 
portance behind  himf .  But  his  oral  instructions  had  made  a 
permanent  impression  on  the  Roman  youth,  and  the  want  of 
a  written  record  of  his  principles  was  amply  supplied  by  his 
successor  Clitomachus,  who  was  by  birth  a  Carthaginian,  and 
was  origmally  called  Asdrubal.  He  had  ^ed  from  his  own 
country  to  Athens  during  the  siege  of  Carthage,  by  the  Ro- 
mans, in  the  third  Punic  war| ;  and  in  the  year  623  he  went 
from  Greece  to  Italy,  to  succeed  Carneades  in  the  school 
which  he  had  there  established.  Clitomachus  w^as  a  most 
voluminous  author,  having  written  not  less  than  four  ample 
treatises  on  the  necessity  of  withholding  the  assent  from 
every  proposition  whatever.  One  of  these  tracts  was  dedi- 
cated to  Lucilius,  the  satiric  poet§,  and  another  to  the  Consul 
Censorinus.  The  essence  of  the  principles  which  he  main- 
tained in  these  works,  has  been  extracted  by  Cicero,  and 
handed  down  to  us  in  a  passage  inserted  in  the  Academica. 
It  is  there  said,  that  the  resemblances  of  things  are  of  such  a 
nature  that  some  of  them  appear  probable,  and  others  not ; 
but  this  is  no  suflicient  ground  for  supposing  that  some 
objects  may  be  correctly  perceived,  since  many  falsities  are 
probable,  whereas  no  falsity  can  be  accurately  perceived  or 

•  Divin,  Institut.JAh.  V.  c.  10.  f  Plutarch,  De  FortUud.  Alexandria 

X  Diog.  Laert.  In  ClitQiJtacho.  §  Cicero,  Jieademte.  Prior,  Lib.  II.  c.  32. 


214  CICERO. 

known :  The  Academy  never  attempted  to  deprive  mankind 
of  the  use  of  their  senses,  by  denying  that  there  are  such  things 
as  colour,  taste,  and  sound ;  but  it  denied  that  there  exists  in 
these  qualities  any  criterion  or  characteristic  of  truth  and  cer- 
tainty. A  wise  man,  therefore,  is  said,  in  a  double  sense,  to 
withhold  his  assent ;  in  one  sense,  when  it  is  understood  that 
he  absolutely  assents  to  no  proposition ;  in  another,  when  he 
suspends  answering  a  question,  without  either  denying  or 
affirming.  He  ought  never  to  assent  implicitly  to  any  propo- 
sition, and  his  answer  should  be  withheld  until,  according  to 
ftobabilUy^  he  is  in  a  condition  to  reply  in  the  affirmative  or 
negative.  But  as  Cicero  admits,  that  a  wise  man,  who,  on 
every  occasion,  suspends  his  assent,  may  yet  be  impelled  and 
moved  to  action,  he  leaves  him  in  full  possession  of  those  mo- 
tives which  excite  to  action,  together  with  a  power  of  answer- 
ing in  the  affirmative  or  negative  to  certain  questions,  and  of 
following  the  probability  of  objects;  yet  still  without  givjng 
them  his  assent*. 

Clitomachus  was  succeeded  by  Philo  of  Larissa,  who  fled 
from  Greece  to  Italy,  during  the  Mithridatic  war,  and  revived 
at  Rome  a  system  of  philosophy,  which  by  this  time  began  to 
be  rather  on  the  decline.  Cicero  attended  his  lectures,  and 
imbibed  from  them  the  principles  of  the  new  Academy,  to 
which  he  ultimately  adhered.  Philo  published  two  treatises, 
explanatory  of  the  doctrines  of  the  new  Academy,  which  were 
answered  in  a  work  entitled  Sosus,  by  Antiochus  of  Ascalon, 
who  had  been  a  fcholar  of  Philo,  but  afterwards  abjured  the 
innovations  of  the  new  Academy,  and  returned  to  the  old,  as 
tauglit  by  Plato  and  his  immediate  successors, — ^uniting  with 
it,  however,  some  portion  of  the  systems  of  Aristotle  and 
Zenof .  In  his  own  age,  Antiochus  was  the  chief  support  of 
the  original  principles  of  the  Academy,  and  was  patronized  by 
all  those  at  Rome,  who  were  still  attached  to  them«  particu- 
larly by  Lucullus,  who  took  the  philosopher  along  with  him 
to  Alexandria,  when  he  went  there  as  Quaestor  of  Egypt. 

In  the  circumstances  of  Rome,  the  first  steps  towards  philo- 
sophical improvement,  were  a  general  abatement  of  that  con- 
tempt which  had  been  previously  entertained  for  philosophical 
studies — a  toleration  of  instruction — the  power  of  communi- 
cating wisdom  without  shame  or  restraint,  and  its  cordial 
reception  by  the  Roman  youth.  This  proficiency,  which 
necessarily  preceded  speculation  or  invention,  had  already 
taken  place.     Partly  thrqugh  the  instructions  of  Greek  philo- 

*  Academic,  Prior,  Lib.  II.  c.  S2. 

t  Mater,  EeoU  d^JIexandrie,  Tom.  II.  p.  181. 


CICERO.  216 

sophers  who  resided  at  Romey  and  partly  by  means  of  the 
practice  which  now  began,  to  prevail,  of  sending  young  men 
for  education  to  the  ancient  schools  of  wisdom,  philosophy 
made  rapid  progress,  and  almost  every  sect  found  followers 
or  patrons  among  the  higher  order  of  the  Roman  citizens. 

From  the  earliest  times,  however,  till  that  of  Cicero,  Greek 
philosophy  was  chiefly  inculcated  by  Greeks.  There  was  no 
Roman  who  devoted  himself  entirely  to  metaphysical  contem- 
plation, and  who,  like  Epicurus,  Aristotle,  and  Zeno,  lounged 
perpetually  in  a  garden,  paced  about  in  a  Lyceum,  or  stood 
upright  in  a  portico.  The  Greek  philosophers  passed  their 
days,  if  not  in  absolute  seclusion,  at  least  in  learned  leisure 
and  retirement.  Speculation  was  the  employment  of  their 
lives,  and  their  works  were  the  result  of  a  whole  age  of  study 
and  reflection*.  The  Romans,  on  the  other  hand,  regarded 
philosophy,  not  as  the  business  of  life,  but  as  an  elegant  relax- 
ation, or  the  means  of  aiding  their  advancement  in  the  state. 
They  heard  with  attention  the  ingenious  disputes  agitated 
among  the  Greeks,  and  perused  their  works  with  pleasure ;  but 
with  all  this  taste  for  philosophy,  they  had  not  suflicient  lei- 
sure to  devise  new  theories.  The  philosophers  of  Rome  were 
Scipio,  Cato,  Brutus,  Lucullus — men  who  governed  their 
country  at  home,  or  combated  her  enemies  abroad.  They  had, 
indeed,  little  motive  to  invent  new  systems,  since  so  many  were 
presented  to  them,  ready  formed,  that  every  one  foUnd  in  the 
doctrines  of  some  Greek  sect,  tenets  which  could  be  sufli- 
ciently  accommodated  to  his  own  disposition  and  situation.  In 
the  same  manner  as  the  plunder  of  Syracuse  or  Corinth  sup- 
plied Rome  with  her  statues  and  pictures,  and  rendered  un- 
necessary the  exertions  of  native  artists ;  and  as  the  dramas  of 
Euripides  and  Menander  provided  sufficient  materials  for  the 
Roinan  stage ;  so  the  Garden,  Porch,  and  Academy,  flemished 
such  variety  of  systems,  that  new  inventions  or  speculations 
could  easily  be  dispensed  with.  The  prevalence,  too,  of  the 
principles  of  that  Academy,  which  led  to  doubt  of  all  things, 
must  have  discouraged  the  formation  of  new  and  original  theo- 
ries. Nor  were  even  the  Greek  systems,  after  their  introduc- 
tion into  Italy,  classed  and  separated  as  they  had  been  in 
Greece.  Most  of  the  distinguished  men  of  Rome,  however,  in 
the  time  of  Cicero,  were  more  inclined  to  one  school  thsEn 

*  Dans  la  Grhce,  apr^s  ces  ^preuves,  conunen^oit  eofin  la  vie  champ^tre  dans  les 
jardios  du  Lyc^  ou  de  TAcademie,  oh.  Ton  entrepreooit  un  cours  de  phUosophie, 
que  les  v^ritables  amateurs  avoient  Part  singulier  de  ne  jamais  finir.  lis  restoient 
toute  leur  vie  attaches  a  quelque  chef  de  secte  cooime  Metrodore  ii  Epicure,  mou- 
roient  daos  les  ^coles,  et  etoi^t  ensuite  enterr^s  a  Tombre  de  ces  m^mes  arbustea* 
sous  lesqiMMs  avoient  taut  m^dit^.  (De  Paow,  BeeJierehes  0kUowpki^[tt€$  nir 
Ves  ChreeWl^.  11.) 


216  CICERO, 

another,  and  they  applied  the  lessons  of  the  sect  which  they 
followed  with  more  success,  perhaps,  tlian  their  masters,  to 
the  practical  purposes  of  active  life.  The  jurisconsults,  chief 
magistrates,  and  censors,  adopted  the  Stoical  philosophy, 
which  had  some  affinity  to  the  principle?  of  the  Roman  con- 
stitution, and  which  they  considered  best  calculated  for  ruling 
their  fellow-citizens,  as  well  as  meliorating  the  laws  aad  mo- 
rals of  the  state.  The  orators  who  aspired  to  rise  by  eloquence 
to  the  highest  honours  of  the  republic,  had  recourse  to  the 
lessons  of  the  new  Academy,  which  furnished  them  with  wea- 
pons for  disputation ;  while  those  who  sighed  for  the  enjoy- 
ment of  tranquillity,  amid  the  factions  and  dangers  of  the 
commonwealth,  retired  to  tli.e  Gardens  of  Epicurus.  But 
while  subscribing  to  the  leading  tenets  of  a  sect,  they  did  not 
strive  to  gain  followers  with  any  of  the  spirit  of  sectarism; 
and  it  frequently  happened,  that  neither  in  principle  nor  prac- 
tice did  they  adopt  all  the  doctrines  of  the  school  to  which 
they  chiefly  resorted.  Thus  Caesar,  who  was  accounted  an 
Epicurean,  and  followed  the  Epicurean  system  in  some  things, 
as  in  his  belief  of  the  materiality  and  mortality  of  the  soul, 
doubtless  held  in  little  reverence  those  ethical  precepts,  ac- 
cording to  which, 


"  Nihil  in  Dostro  corpore  prosunt. 

Nee  fama.  Deque  ttobiUtas,  nee  gloria  regni. 


)» 


Lucretius  was  a  sounder  Epicurean,  and  gave  to  the  pre- 
cepts of  his  master  all  the  dignity  and  grace  which  poetical 
embellishment  could  bestow.  But  Atticus,  the  well-known 
friend  and  correspondent  of  Cicero,  was  perhaps  the  most 
perfect  example  ever  exhibited  of  genuine  and  practical  Epi- 
curism. 

The' rigid  and  inflexible  Cato,  was,  both  in  his  life  and  prin- 
ciples, the  great  supporter  of  the  Stoical  philosophy — conduc- 
ting himself,  according  to  an  expression  of  Cicero,  as  if  be 
had  lived  in  the  polity  of  Plato,  and  not  amid  the  dregs  of 
Romulus.  The  old  Academy  boasted  among  its  adherents 
Lucullus,  the  conqueror  of  Mithridat«s — the  Lorenzo  of  Ro- 
man arts  and  literature — whose  palaces  rivalled  the  porticos 
6{  Greece,  and  whose  library,  with  its  adjacent  schools  and 
galleries,  was  the  resort  of  all  who  were  distinguished  for  their 
learning  and  accomplishments.  Whilst  Quaestor  of  Macedo- 
nia, and  subsequently,  while  he  conducted  the  war  agaiast 
Mithridates,  Luculius  had  enjoyed  frequent  opportunities  of 
conversing  with  the  Greek  philosophers,  and  had  acquired 
such  a  relish''  for  philosophical  studies,  that  he  S^ted  to 


CICERO.  217 

them  all  the  leisure  he  could  conunand*.  At  Rome,  his  con- 
stant companion  was  Antiochus  of  Ascalon,  who,  though  a 
pupil  of  Philo,  became  himself  a  zealous  supporter  of  the  old 
Academy ;  and  accordingly,  Lucullus,  who  favoured  that  sys- 
tem, often  repaired  to  his  house,  to  partake  in  the  private 
disputations  which  were  there  carried  on  against  the  advo- 
oates  for  the  new  or  middle  Academy.  The  old  Academy 
also  numbered  among  its  votaries  Varro,  the  most  learned  of 
the  Romans,  and  Brutus,  who  was  destined  to  perform  so  tra*^ 
gic  a  part  on  the  ensanguined  stage  of  his  country. 

Little  was«done  by  these  eminent  men  to  illustrate  or  eh- . 
Ibrce  their  favourite  systems  by  their  writings.  Even  the 
productions  of  Varro  were  calculated  rather  to  excite  to  the 
study  of  philosophy,  than  to  aid  its  progress.  The  new  Aca- 
demy was  more  fortunate  in  the  support  of  Cicero,  who  has 
asserted  and  vindicated  its  principles  with  equal  industry  and 
eloquence.  From  their  first  introduction,  tjie  doctrines  of 
the  .new  Academy  had  been .  favourably  received  at  Rome. 
The  tenets  of  the  dogmatic  philosophers  were  so  various  and 
contradictory,  were  so  obstinately  maintained,  and  rested  on 
such  precarious  foundations,  that  they  afforded  much  scope 
and  encouragement  to  scepticism.  The  plausible  arguments 
by  which  the  most  discordant  opinions  were  supported,  led  to 
a  distrust  of  the  existence  of  absolute  truth,  and  to  an  acqui- 
escence in  such  probable  conclusions,  as  were  adequate  to 
the  practical  purposes  of  life.  The  speculations,  too,  of  the 
new  Academy,  were  peculiarly  fitted  to  the  duties  of  a  public 
speaker,  as  they  left  free  the  field  of  disputation,  and  habitua- 
ted him  to  the  practice  of  collecting  arguments  from  all  quar- 
ters, on  every  doubtful  question.  Hence  it  was  that  Cicero 
addicted  himself  to  this  sect^  and  persuaded  others  to  follow 
his  example.  It  has  been  disputed,  if  Cicero  was  really  at- 
tached to  the  new  Academic  system,  or  had  merely  resorted 
to  it  as  being  best  adapted  for  furnishing  him  with  oratorical 
arguments  suited  to  all  occasions.  At  first,  its  adoption  was 
subsidiary  to  his  other  plans.  But,  towards  the  conclusion  of 
his  life,  when  he  no  longer  maintained  the  place  he  was  wont 
to  hold  in  the  Senate  or  the  Forum,  and  when  philosophy 
formed  the  occupation  '^with  which  existence  was  just  tolera- 
ble, and  without  which  it  would  ^  have  been  intolerable!,"  he 
doubtless  became  convinced  that  the  principles  of  the  new 
Academy,  illustrated  as  they  had  been  by  Carneades  and 
Philo,  formed  the  soundest  system  which  had  descended  to 
mankind  from  the  schools  of  Athens. 

*  Cicero,  Academ.  Prior.  Lib.  U.  c.  4.         >     f  Spi»^*  FamUiaret, 

Vol.  IL— 2  C 


218  CICERO. 

The  attachment,  however,  of  Cicero  to  the  Academic  phi* 
losophy,  was  free  from  the  exclusive  spirit  of  sectarism,  and 
hence  it  did  not  prevent  his  extracting  from  other  systems 
what  he  found  in  them  conformable  to  virtue  and  reason.  His 
ethical  principles,  in  particular,  appear  Eclectic,  having  been, 
in  a  great  measure,  formed  from  the  opinions  of  the  Stoics. 
Of  most  Greek  sects  he  speaks  with  respect  and  esteem.  For 
the  Epicureans  alone,  he  seems  (notwithstanding  his  friend- 
ship for  Atticus)  to  have  entertained  a  decided  aversion  and 
contempt. 

The  general  purpose  of  Cicero's  philosophical  works,  was 
rather  to  give  a  history  of  the  ancient  philosophy,  than  dog- 
matically to  inculcate  opinions  of  his  own.  It  was  his  great 
aim  to  explain  to  his  fellow-citizens,  in  their  own  language, 
whatever  the  sages  of  Greece  had  taught  on  the  most  import- 
ant subjects,  in  order  to  enlarge  their  minds  and  reform  their 
morals ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  he  exercised  himself  in  the 
most  useful  employment  which  now  remained  to  bim — a 
superior  force  having  deprived  him  of  the  privilege  of  serving 
his  country  as  an  orator  or  Consul. 

Cicero  was  in  many  respects  well  qualified  for  the  arduous 
but  noble  task  which  he  had  undertaken,  of  naturalizing  phi- 
losophy in  Rome,  and  exhibiting  her,  according  to  the  expres- 
sion of  Erasmus,  on  the  Stage  of  life.  He  was  a  man  of 
fertile  genius,  luminous  understanding,  sound  judgment,  and 
indefatigable  industry— qualities  adequate  for  the  cultivatioD 
of  reason,  and  sufficient  for  the  supply  of  subjects  of  medita- 
tion. Never  was  philosopher  placed  in  a  situation  more 
favourable  for  gathering  the  fruits  of  an  experience  employed 
on  hunian  nature  and  civil  society,  or'  for  observing  the  effects 
of  various  qualities  of  the  mind  on  public  opinion  and  on  the 
actions  of  men.  He  lived  at  the  most  eventful  crisis  in  the 
fate  of  his  country,  and  in  the  closest  connection  with  men  of 
various  and  consummate  talents,  whose  designs,  when  fully 
developed  by  the  result,  must  have  afforded  on  reflection,  a 
splendid  lesson  in  the  philosophy  of  mind.  But  this  situation, 
in  some  respects  so  favourable,  was  but  ill  calculated  for 
revolving  abstract  ideas,  or  for  meditating  on  those  abstruse 
and  internal  powers,  of  which  the  consequences  are  mani- 
fested in  society  and  the  transactions  of  life.  Accordingly, 
Cicero  appears  to  have  been  destitute  of  that  speculative  dis- 
position which  leads  us  to  penetrate  into  the  more  recondite 
and  original  principles  of  knowledge,  and  to  mark  the  internal 
operations  of  thought.  He  had  cultivated  eloquence  as 
clearing  the  path  to  political  honours,  and  had  studied  phi- 
losophy, as  the  best  auxiliary  to  eloquence.    But  the  contem- 


CICERO.  319 

ptative  sciences  only  attracted  his  attention,  in  so  far  as  they 
tended  to  ehicidate  ethical,  practical,  and  political  subjects, 
to  which  he  applied  a  philosophy  which  was  rather  that  of 
life  than  of  speculation. 

In  the  writings  of  Cicero,  accordingly,  everything  deduced 
from  experience  and  knowledge  of  the  world — every  observa- 
tion on  the  duties  of  society,'  is  clearly  expressed,  and  re- 
markable for  justness  and  acuteness.  But  neither  Cicero,  nor 
any  other  Roman  author,  possessed  sufficient  subtlety  and 
refinement  of  spirit,  for  the  more  abstruse  discussions,  among 
the  labyrinths  of  which  the  Greek  philosophers  delighted  to 
find  a  fit  exercise  for  their  ingenuity.  Hence,  all  that  required 
research  into  the  ultimate  foundation  of  truths,  or  a  more 
exact  analysis  of  common  ideas  and  perceptions — all,  in  short, 
that  related  to  the  subtleties  of  the  Greek  schools,  is  neither 
so  accurately  expressed,  nor  so  logically  connected. 

In  theoretic  investigation,  then, — in  the  explication  of 
abstract  ideas — in  the  analysis  of  qualities  and  perceptions, 
Cicero  cannot  be  regarded  as  an  inventor  or  profound  original 
thinker,  and  cannot  be  ranked  with  Plato  and  Aristotle,  those 
mighty  fathers  of  ancient  philosophy,  who  carried  back  their 
inquiries  into  the  remotest  truths  on  which  philosophy  rests. 
Where  he  does  attempt  fixing  new  principles,,  he  is  neither 
very  clear  nor  consistent ;  and  it  is  evident,  that  his  general 
study  of  all  systems  had,  in  some  degree,  unsettled  his  belief, 
and  had  better  qualified  him  to  dispute  on  either  side  with 
the  Academics,  than  to  examine  the  exact  weight  of  evidence 
in  the  scale  of  reason,  or  to  exhibit  a  series  of  arguments,  ia 
close  and  systematic  arrangement,  or  to  deduce  accurate  con- 
clusions firom  established  and  certain  principles.  His  philo- 
sophic dialogues  are  rather  to  be  considered  as  popular 
treatises,  adapted  to  the  ordinary  comprehension  of  well- 
informed  men,  than  profound  disquisitions,  suited  only  to  a 
Portico  or  Lyceum.  They  bespeak  the  orator,  even  in  the 
most  serious  inquiries.  Elegance  and  fine  writing,  their 
author  appears  to  have  considered  as  essential  to  philosophy; 
and  historic,  or  even  poetical  illustration,  as  its  brightest 
ornament.  The  peculiar  merit,  therefore,  of  Cicero,  lay  in  the 
happy  execution  of  what  had  never  been  before  attempted — 
the  luminous  and  popular  exposition  of  the  leading  principles 
and  disputes  of  the  ancient  schools  of  philosophy,  with  judg- 
ments concerning  them,  and  the  application  of  results,  dedu- 
ced from  their  various  doctrines  to  the  peculiar  manners  or 
employments  of  his  countrymen.  Hence,  though  it  may  be 
honouring  Cicero  too  highly,  to  term  his  works,  with  Gibbon, 
a  Repository  of  Reason,  they  are  at  least  a  Miscellany  of 


220  CICERO. 

Philosophic  Information,  which  has  become  doubly  valuable, 
from  the  loss  of  the  Writings  of  many  of  those  philosophers, 
whose  opinions  he  records;  and  though  the  merit  of  originaiitj 
rests  with  the  Greek  schools,  no  compositions  transmitted 
from  antiquity  present  so  concise  and  comprehensive  a  view 
of  the  opinions  of  the  Greek  philosophers*. 

That  the  mind  of  Cicero  was  most  amply  stored  with  the 
learning  of  the  Greek  philosophers,  and  that  he  had  the  whole 
circle  of  their  wisdom  at  his  command,  is  evident,  from  the  ra- 
pidity with  which  his  works  were  composed — having  been  all 
written,  except  the  treatise  De  LegibuSy  during  the  period 
which  elapsed  from  the  battle  of  Pharsalia  till  his  death;  and 
the  greater  part  of  them  in  the  course  of  the  year  708. 

It  is  justly  remarked  by  Goerenz,  in  the  introduction  to  his 
edition  of  the  book  De  Fimbus\y  and  assented  to  by  Schutz|, 
that  it  seems  scarcely  possible,  that  those  numerous  philoso- 
phical works,  which  are  asserted  to  have  been  composed  bj 
Cicero  in  the  year  708,  could  have  been  begun  and  finished 
in  one  year;  and  that  such  speed  of  execution  leads  us  to  sup- 
pose, that  either  the  materials  had  been  long  collected,  or 
that  the  productions  themselves  were  little  more  than  versions. 
In  his  Academica^  Cicero  remarks,—^'*  Ego  autem,  dum  me 
ambitio,  dum  honores,  dum  causae,  dum  reipubliese  non  solum 
cura,  sed  qusedam  etiam  procuratio  multis  officiis  implicatum 
et  constrictum  tenebat,  hfec  inclusa  habebam ;  et,  ne  obsoles- 
cerent,  renovabam,  quum  licebat,  legendo.  Nunc  vero  et  fer- 
tunsB  gravissimo  percussus  vulnere,  et  administrattone  reipub- 
licse  liberatus,  doloris  medicinam  a  philosophic  peto,  et  otii 
oblectationem  hanc,  honestissimam  judico."  It  is  not  easy  to 
determine,  as  Schiitz  remarks,  whether,  by  the  expressioii 
"  hsec  inclusa  habebam,'*  Cicero  means  merely  the  writings 
of  philosophical  authors,  or  treatises  and  materials  for  treatises 
by  himself.  "  We  ought,  however,"  proceeds  Schiitc,  "  the 
less  to  wonder  that  Cicero  composed  so  many  works  in  so 
short  a  time,  when  we  read  the  following  passage  in  a  letter 
to  Atticus,  written  in  July  708 — '  De  lingua  Latina  securi  es 
animi,  dices,  qui  talia  conscribis  !  diefiyga(pa  sunt ;  minore  labore 
fiunt:  verba  tantum  affero,  quibus  abundo§;  which  words, 
according  to  Gronovius,  imply,  that  the  philosophic  writings 
of  Cicero  are  little  more  than  versions  from  the  Grreek.*' 

In  the  laudable  attempt  of  naturalizing  philosophy  at  Rome, 

*  Garre,  Anmerk.  zu  JBuchem  von  den  PflidUen.  Breslau,  1819.  Sclioell,  jKii. 
JOfrtgee  de  la  LUterat,  Romaine. 
t  P.  XII.  i  Cieeran.  Opera,  Tom.  XIU.  p.  15. 

§  £piat.  ad  Jittic.  Ub.  XII.  Ep.  52. 


CICERO.  221 

the  diffictfUy  which  Li^kcretius  had  encountered,  in  embodying 
in  Latin  verse  the  precepts  of  Epicurus, — 

"  Propter  agestatem  liDguae  reramqiie  noTitatem/'  . 

must  have  been  almost  as  powerfully  feh  by  Cicero.  Philo- 
sophy was  still  little  cultivated  among  the  Romans;  and  no 
people  will  invent  terms  for  thoughts  or  ideas  with  which  it  is 
little  occupied.  One  of  his  letters  to  Atticus  is  strongly  ex- 
pressive of  the  trouble  which  he  had  in  interpreting  the  phi- 
losophic terms  of  Greece  in  his  native  tonffue*.  Thus,  for 
example,  he  could  find  no  Latin  word  equivalent  to  the  i^v^n^ 
or  that  withholding  of  assent  from  all  propositions,  which 
the  new  Academy  professed.  The  language  of  the  Greeks 
had  been  formed  along  with  their  philosophy.  Their  terms 
of  physics  had  their  origin  in  the  ancient  Theogonies,  or  the 
speculations  of  the  Milesian  sage ;  and  Plato  informs  us,  that 
one  might  make  a  course  of  moral  philosophy  in  travelling 
through  Attica  and  reading  the  inscriptions  engraved  on  the 
tombs,  pillars,  and  monuments,  erected  in  the  earliest  ages 
near  the  public  ways  and  centre  of  villagesf .  Hence,  in 
Greece,  words  naturally  became  the  apposite  signs  of  specu- 
lative and  moral  ideas;  but  in  Rome,  a  foreign  philosophy 
had  to  be  inculcated  in  a  tongue  which  was  already  completely 
formed,  which  was  greatly  inferior  in  flexibility  and  precision 
to  the  Greek ;  and  which,  though  Cicero  certainly  used  some 
liberties  in  this  respect,  had  too  nearly  reached  maturity,  to 
admit  of  much  innovation.  Its  words,  accordingly,  did  not 
always  precisely  express  the  subtle  notions  signified  in  the 
original  language,  whence  there  was  often  an  appearance  of 
obscurity  in  the  idea,  and  of  a  defect  in  conclusions,  drawn 
from  premises  which  were  indefinite,  or  which  differed  by  a 
shade  of  meaning  from  those  established  in  Greece. 

Aware  of  this  difficulty,  and  conscious,  perhaps,  that  he 
possessed  not  precision  and  originality  of  thinking  sufficient 
to  recommend  a  formal  treatise,  Cicero  adopted  the  mode  of 
writing  in  dialogues,  in  which  rhetorical  diffuseness,  and 
looseness  of  definitioUj  might  be  overlooked,  and  in  which 
ample  scope  would  be  afforded  for  the  ornaments  of  language. 

It  was  by  oral  discourse  that  knowledge  was  chiefly  com- 
municated at  the  dawn  of  science,  when  books  Either  did  not 
exist,  or  were  extremely  rare.  In  the  Porch,  in  the  Garden, 
or  among  the  groves  of  the  Academy,  the  philosopher  con- 
ferred with  his  disciples,  listened  to  their  remarks,  and  replied 

*  Epi$t  Lib.  XIII.  Ep.  21.  t  tHalog,  Hxp^are^m. 


222  CICERO. 

to  their  objections.  Socrates,  in  particular,  was  accustomed 
thus  to  inculcate  his  moral  lessons ;  and  it  was  natural  for  tbe 
scholars,  who  recorded  them,  to  follow  tiie  manner  io  which 
they  had  been  disclosed.  Of  these  disciples,  Plato,  who  was 
the  most  distinguished,  readily  adopted  a  form  of  composition, 
which  gave  scope  to  his  own  fertile  and  poetical  imagination; 
while,  at  the  same  time,  it  enabled  him  more  accurately  to 
paint  his  great  master.  One  of  his  chief  objects,  too,  was  to 
represent  the  triumph  of  Socrates  over  the  Sophists;  and  if  a 
writer  wish  to  cover  an  opponent  with  ridicule,  perhaps  no 
better  mode  could  be  devised,  than  to  set  him  up  as  a  man  of 
straw  in  a  dialogue.  As  argumentative  victory,  or  the  em- 
barrassment of  the  antagonist  of  Socrates,  was  often  all  that 
was  aimed  at,  it  was  unnecessary  to  be  very  scrupulous  about 
the  means,  and,  considered  in  this  view,  the  agreeable  irony 
of  that  philosopher — the  address  with  which,  by  seeming  to 
yield,  he  ensnares  the  adversary — his  quibbles — his  subtle 
distinctions,  and  perplexing  interrogatories,  display  consum- 
mate skill,  and  produce  considerable  dramatic  effect ;  while, 
at  the  same  time,  the  scenery  and  chxumstances  of  the  dia- 
logue are  often  described  with  a  richness  and  beauty  of  imagi- 
nation, which  no  philosophic  writer  has  as  yet  surpassed'*'. 

When  Cicero,  towards  the  close  of  his  long  and  meritorious 
life,  employed  himself  in  transferring  to  Rome  the  philosophy 
of  Greece,  he  appears  to  have  been  chiefly  attracted  by  the 
diffusive  majesty  of  Plato,  whose  intellectual  character  was  in 
many  respects  congenial  to  bis  own.  His  dialogues  in  so  far 
resemble  those  of  Plato,  that  the  personages  are  real,  and  of 
various  characters  and  opinions ;  while  the  circumstances  of 
time  and  place  are,  for  the  most  part,  as  completely  Octitioos 
as  in  his  Greek  models.  Yet  there  is  a  considerable  difference 
in  the  manner  of  Cicero's  Dialogues,  from  those  of  the  great 
founder  of  the  Academy.  Plato  ever  preserved  something  of 
the  Socratic  method  of  giving  birth  to  the  thoughts  of  others 
-^of  awakening,  by  interrogatories,  the  sense  of  truth,  and 
supplanting  errors.  But  Cicero  himself,  or  the  person  whs 
speaks  his  sentiments,  always  takes  the  lead  in  the  conference, 
and  gives  us  long,  and  often  uninterrupted  dissertations.  His 
object,  too,  appears  to  have  been  not  so  much  to  cover  his 
adversaries  with  ridicule,  or  even  to  prevail  in  tbe  argument, 
as  to  pay  a  complimentary  tribute  to  his  numerous  and  illus* 
trious  friends,  or  to  recall,  as  it  were,  from  the  tomb,  the  de- 
parted heroes  and  sages  of  his  country. 

In  the  form  of  dialogue,  Cicero  has  successively  treated  of 
Law,  Metaphysics,  Theology,  and  Morals. 

*  Black's  Life  of  l^$o.  Vol.  II. 


CICERO.  228 

De  Legibus.'^Of  this  dialogue  there  are  only  three  books 
now  extant,  and  even  in  these  considerable  chasms  occur.    A 
conjecture  has  been  recently  hazarded  by  a  learned  German, 
in  an  introduction  to  a  translation  of  the  dialogue,  that  these 
three  books,  as  we  now  have  them,  were  not  written  by  Cicero, 
but  that  they  are  mere  excerpts  taken  from  his  lost  writings, 
by  some  monk  or  father  of  the  church*.  There  are  few  works, 
however,  in  which  more  genuine  marks  of  the  master-hand  of 
Cicero  may  be  traced,  than  in  the  tract  De  Legibus;  and  the 
connection  between  the  different  parts  is  top  closely  preserved, 
to  admit  of  the  notion  that  it  has  been  made  up  in  the  manner 
irvhich  this  critic  supposes.     Another  conjecture  is,  that  it 
formed  part  of  the  third,  fourth,  and  fifth  books  of  Cicero's  lost 
treatise  De  JUgmblica.  This  surmise,  however,  was  highly  im- 
probable, since  Cicero,  in  the  course  of  the  work  De  LegibuSj 
refers  to  that  De  ReptAlica  as  a  separate  production,  and  it  is 
now  proved  to  be  chimerical  by  the  discovery  of  Mai.     The 
dialogue  De  Legibw^  however,  seems  to  have  been  drawn  up 
as  a  kii\d'of  supplement  to  that  De  RepubUca,  being  intended 
to  point  out  what  laws  would  be  most  suitable  to  the  perfect 
repubhc,  which  the  author  had  previously  describedf . 

As  to  the  period  of  composition,  it  thus  manifestly  appears 
to  have  been  written  subsequently  to  the  dialogue  De  Repub- 
lica;  and  it  is  evident,  from  his  letters  to  his  brother  Quintus, 
that  the  work  De  Republica  was  begun  in  699,  and  finished  in 
700|,  so  that  the  dialogue  De  Legibue  could  not  have  been 
composed  before  that  year.  It  is  further  clear,  that  it  was 
written  after  the  year  701,  since  he  obviously  alludes  in  it  to 
the  murder  of  Clodius, — boasting  that  his  chief  enemy  was 
now  not  only  -deprived  of  life,  but  wanted  sepulture,  and  the 
accustomed  funeral  obsequies^.  Now,  it  is  well  known  that 
Clodius  was  slain  in  701,  and  that  his  dead  body  was  dragged 
naked  by  a  lawless  mob  into  the  Forum,  where  it  was  con-, 
sumed  amid  the  conflagration  raised  in  the  Senate-house.  It 
is  equally  evident  that  the  treatise  De  Legibua  was  writtei^  be- 
fore that  De  Finibus,  composed  in  708,  since,  in  the  former 
work,  the  author  alludes  to  the  questions  which  we  find  dis- 
cussed in  the  latter,  as  controversies  which  he  is  one  day  to 
take  up||.  But  it  is  demonstrable  that  the  dialogue  De  Legi- 
bus  was  written  even  previous  to  the  battle  of  Pharsalia,  which 
"Was  fought  in  705,  Bince  the  author  talks  in  it  of  Pompey  as  of 

*  Hulsemann,  Uberdie  Piineipien  und  den  GeUt  der  Gesetze.   Leipsic,  1802. 
t  Quxque  de  optima  republica  sentiremus,  in  sex  Hbris  ante  diaumus ;  accommo* 
dabimas  hoc  tempera  leges  ad  iUum,  quern  probamus  civitatus  statum.    De  Legib, 
Lib  III.  c.  2. 

Epist.  ad<iui/U.  Frat.  Lib.  II. £p.  14.    Lib.  HI.  Ep.  5  and  6. 
J)e  Legib.  Lib.  U.  c.  17.  ||  Jlrid.  Lib.  I.  c.  20. 


I 


T-*- 


224  CICERO. 

a  person  still  alive,  and  in  the  plenitude  of  glory*.  Chapoian. 
in  his  dissertation  De  JEtate  Librorum  de  LegibuSy  subjoined 
to  Tunstall's  Latin  letter  to  Middleton,  concerning  the  epis- 
tles to  Brutus,  thinks  that  it  was  not  written  till  the  year  709. 
He  is  of  opinion,  that  what  is  said  of  Pompey,  and  the  allu* 
sions  to  the  murder  of  Clodius,  as  to  a  recent  event,  were  oolj 
intended  to  suit  the  time  in.  which  the  dialogue  takes  place : 
But  then  it  so  happens,  that  no  historical  period  whatever  is 
assigned  by  the  author  of  the  dialogue,  as  the  date  of  its  ac- 
tual occurrence.  Chapman  also  maintains,  that  this  is  the 
only  mode  of  accounting  for  the  work  De  Legibus  not  being 
mentioned  in  the  treatise  De  Dimnatione^  where  Cicero^a  other 
philosophical  productions  are  enumerated.  The  reason  of  this 
omission,  however,  might  be,  that  the  work  De  LegibuM  never 
was  made  public  by  the  author ;  and,  indeed,  with  exc^ptioD 
of  the  first  book,  the  whole  is  but  a  sketch  or  outline  of  what 
he  intended  to  write,  and  is  far  from  having  received  the  po- 
lish and  perfection  of  those  performances  which  he  circulated 
himself. 

The  discussion  De  LegUms  is  carried  on,  in  the  shape  of 
dialogue,  by  Cicero,  his  brother  Quintus,  and  Atticus.     Of 
these  Cicero  is  the  chief  interlocutor.  ^  The  scene  is  laid  amid 
the  walks  and  pleasure-grounds  of  Cicero's  villa  of  Arpinum, 
which  lay  about  three  miles  from  the  town  of  that  name,  and 
was  situated  in  a  mountainous  but  picturesque  region  of  the 
ancient  territory  of  the  Samnites,  now  forming  part  of  the 
kingdom  of  Naples.    This  house  was  the  original  seat  of  the 
family  of  Cicero,  who  was  born  in  it  during  the  life  of  his 
grandfather,  while  it  was  yet  small  and  humble  as  the  Sabine 
cottage  of  Curius  or  Cincinnatus ;  but  his  father  had  gradually 
enlarged  and  embellished  it,  till  it  became  a  spacious  and  ele- 
gant mansion,  where,  as  his  health  was  infirm,  he  passed  the 
greater  part  of*  his  life  in  literary  retirementf .     Cicero  was 
thus  equally  attracted  to  this  villa  by  the  many  pleasing  and 
tender  recollections  with  which  it  was  associated,  and  by  the 
amenity  of  the  situation,  which  was  the  most  retired  and  de- 
lightful, even  in  that  region  of  enchanting  landscape.     It  was 
closely  surrounded  by  a  grove,  and  stood  not  far  from  the  con- 
jQuence  of  the  Fibrenus  with  the  Liris.    The  former  stream, 
which  murmured  over  a  rockv  channel,  was  remarkable  for  its 
clearness,  rapidity,  and  coolness;  and   its   sloping  verdant 
b^nks  were  shaded  with  lofty  poplars|.     ^'Many  streams," 
says  Mr  Kelsall,  one  of  our  latest  Italian  tourists,  ^*  which  are 
celebrated  in  story  and  3ong,  disappoint  the  traveller, — 

*  Hominis  Amicittimi,  Cd.  Pompeii,  laudet  iUustrabit.  Lib.  I.  e.  8. 
t  De  Legibut,  Lib.  II.  c.  I.  t  Jbid.  lib.  I.  c.  5. 


CICERO.  225 

*  Dumb  are  their  fountains,  and  their  chumeli  diy»'— 

but,  in  the  course  of  long  travels,  I  never  met  with  so  abun«- 
dant  and  lucid  a  current  as  the  Fibrenus;  the  length  of  the 
stream  considered,  which  does  not  exceed  four  miles  and  a 
half.   It  flows  with  great  rapidity^  and  is  about  thirty  or  thirty- 
five  feet  in  width  near  the  Ciceronian  isles.     It  is  generally 
fifteen  and  even  twenty  in  depth ;  '  largus  et  exundans/  like 
the  genius  of  him  who  had  so  often  trodden  its  banks.    The 
water  even  in  the  intenscst  heats,  still  retains  its  icy  coldness; 
and,  although  the  thermometer  was  above  80°  in  the  shade, 
the  hand,  plunged  for  a  few  seconds  into  the  Fibrenus,  caused 
a  complete  numbness*."    Near  to  the  house,  the  Fibrenus 
was  divided  into  equal  streams  by  a  little  island,  which  was 
(ringed  with  a  few  plane-trees,  and  on  which  stood  a  porticof , 
where  Cicero  often  retired  to  read  or  meditate,  and  composed 
some  of  his  sublimest  harangues.    Just  below  this  islet,  each 
branch  of  the  stream  rushed  by  a  sort  of  cascade,  into  the  ce^ 
rulean   LirisJ,  on  which   the  Fibrenus  bestowed  additional 
freshness  and  coolness,  and  after  this  union  received  the  name 
of  the  more  noble  river^.    The  epithet  tcuitumua,  applied  to 
the  Liris  by  Horace,  ayd  quieius,  by.  Silius  Italtcus,  must  be 
understood  only  of  the  lower  windings  of  its  course.    No  river 
in  Italy  is  so  noisy  as  the  Liris  about  Arpino  and  Cicero's 
villa;  for  the  space  of  a  mile  and  a  half  after  receiving  the 
Fibrenus,  it  formed  no  less  than  six  cascades,  varying  in  height 
from  three  to  twenty  ieet||.    This  spot,  embellished  with  alt 
the  ornaments  of  hills  and  valleys,  and  wood  and  water^falls, 
was  one  of  Cicero's  most  favourite  retreats.    When  Atticus 
first  visited  it,  he  was  so  charmed,  that,  instead  of  wondering 
as  before  that  it  was  such  a  favourite  residence  of  his  friend^ 
he  expressed  his  surprise  that  he  ever  retired  elsewherelT ;  de« 
daring,  at  the  same  time,  his  contempt  of  the  marble  pave- 
ments, arched  ceilings,  and  artificial  canals  of  magnificent 
villas,  compared  with  the  tranquillity  and  natural  beauties  of 
Arpinum.   Cicero,  indeed,  appears  at  one  time  to  have  thought 
of  the  island,  formed  by  the  Fibrenus,  as  the  place  most  suita- 
ble  for  the  monument  which  he  intended  to  raise  to  his  beloved 

4 

daughter  Tullia*f . 
The  situation  of  this  villa  was  close  to  the  spot  where  now 

*  BxcurHonfram  Rome  to  Jbrpinot  p.  89.  Ed.  OeneTa,  1820. 
t  PUn.  Hi»t,  JV'at,  Lib.  XXXI.  c.  2. 

t  '*  CBnileus  DOS  Liris  amat."-^«arfta/,  Lib.  XIIL  £p.  83.    See  also  Lucan, 
Ub.  H. 
4  De  Lmbui,  Lib.  II.  c.  2.  ||  Kelsall,  Excunion^  p.  116. 

IT  Ik  LegUnu,  Ub.  II.  c.  1.  "t  JE^'*  «l  AttU.  Lib.  XII.  Sp.  12.- 

Vol.  II.— 3  D 


226  CICERO. 

stands  the  city  of  Sora*.  "  The  Liris,"  says  Eastace,  '*  stili 
bears  its  ancient  name  till  it  passes  Sora,  when  it  is  called  the 
Garigliano.  The  Fibrenus,  still  so  called,  falls  into  it  a  littk 
below  Sora,  and  continues  to  encircle  the  island  in  which  Ci- 
cero lays  the  scene  of  the  d\|Bilogue  De  Legibus.  Arpinom, 
also,  still  retains  its  liamef ."  Modern  travellers  bear  ample 
testimony  to  the  scenery  round  Sora  being  such  as  folly  jasd- 
fies  the  fond  partiality  of  Cicero,  and  the  admiration  of  Aui- 
cus.  *^  Nothmg,"  says  Mr  Kelsall,  *'  can  be  imagined  finer 
than  the  surrounding  landscape.  The  deep  azure  of  theskj, 
unvaried  by  a  single  cloud — Sora  on  a  rock  at  the  foot  of  the 
precipitous  Apenninesr— both  banks  of  the  Garigliano  covered 
with  vineyards — the  fragar  iiquarumj  alluded  to  by  Atticusio 
the  work  De  Legtims — (he  coolness,  rapidity,  and  ultramarioe 
hue  of  the  Fibrenus, — the  noise  of  its  cataracts — the  rich  tur- 
quoise colour  of  the  Liris — ^the  minor  Apennines  rouad  Ar- 
pino,  crowned  with  umbrageous  oaks  to  their  very  siiminits, 
present  scenery  hardly  elsewhere  to  be  equalled,  certainlj  not 
to  be  surpassed,  even  in  Italy^."  The  spot  where  Cicero^ 
villa  stood,  was,  in  the  time  of  Middleton,  possessed  by  a  con- 
vent of  monks,  and  was  called  the  villa  of  St  Dominic.  It  wis 
built  in  the  year  1030,  from  the  fragments  of  the  Arpine 
villa ! 

*'  Art,  Gloiy,  Freedom,  fail— but  Nature  gtiU  is  fiur.*' 

« 

The  first  conference,  De  Legibus,  is  held  in  a  walk  on  the 
banks  of  the  Fibrenus ;  the  other  two  in  the  island  which  it 
formed,  and  which  Cicero  called  Amalthea,  from  a  villa  be- 
longing to  Atticus  in  Epirus.  These  three  books  are  all  that 
are  now  extant.  *  It  appears,  however,  that,  at  the  commeoce- 
ment  of  the  fifth  dialogue,  the  sun  having  then  passed  the  ine- 
ridian,  and  its  beams  striking  in  such  a  direction  that  the 
speakers  were  no  longer  sheltered  from  its  rays  by  the  young 
plane-trees,  which  had  been  recently  planted,  they  left  the 
island,  and  descending  to  the  banks  of  the  Liris,  finished  their 
discourse  under  the  shade  of  the  alder-trees,  which  stretched 
their  branches  over  its  mairgin^. 

*  Cflasne  Timr  ihramh  Raty^  by  Sir  R.  C.  Hoare,  Vol.  I.  p.  2S3. 

t  Clessictd  Tour,  Vol.  II.  c.  9. 

X  CUuncal  Exeurnonfrotn  Home  to  Arpino,  p.  99.  Cicero  always  coiisidaN 
the  cidzens  of  Arpinum  as  under  his  particular  protection  and  patronage ;  and  i(i^ 
pleasant  to  find,  that  its  modem  inhabitants  still  testify,  In  wious  ways,  ^^^ 
ration  for  their  illustrious  townsman.  Their  theatre  is  called  the  Ttatro  T»i*^ 
of  which  the  drop-scene  is  painted  with  a  bust  of  the  orator  ;*and  even  now,  won* 
men  are  employed  in  building  a  new  town-haU,  witi^  niches,  destined  to  receiTC 
statues  of  Marius  and  Cicero. 

§  Macrob..  Satumcd,  Lib.  YI.  c.  4. 


CICERO.  327 

An  ancient  oak,  which  stood  in  Cicero's  pleasure-grounds, 
led  Atticus  to  inquire  concerning  the  augury  which  had  been 
presented  to  Marius,  a  native  of  Arpinum,  from  that  very  oak, 
and  which  Cicero  had  celebrated  in  a  poem  devoted  to  the  ex- 
ploits of  his  ferocious  countryman.  Cicero  hints,  that  the 
portent  was  all  a  fiction  ;  which  leads  ta  a  discussion  on  the 
diflerence  between  poetry  and  history,  and  the  poverty  of 
Rome  in  the  latter  department.  As  Cicero,  owing  to  the  mul- 
tiplicity of  affairs,  had  not  then  leisure  to  supply  thiif  defici- 
ency, he  is  requested  by  his  guests,  to  give  them,  in  the 
meanwhile,  a  dissertation  on  Laws — a  subject  with  which  he 
was  so  conversant,  that  he  could  require  no  previous  prepara- 
tion. It  is  agreed,  that  he  should  not  treat  of  particular  or 
arbttirary  laws, — as  those  concerning  StiUicide^  and  the  forms 
of  judicial  procedure — but  should  trace  the  philosophic  prin- 
ciples of  jurisprudence  to  their  remotest  sources.  From  this 
recondite  investigation  he  excludes  the  Epicureans,  who  de- 
cline all  care  of  the  republic,  and  bids  them  retire  to  their  gar- 
dens. He  entreats,  that  the  new  Academy  should  be  silent, 
since  her  bold  objections  would  soon  destroy  the  fair  and 
well-ordered  structure  of  his  lofty  system.  Zeno,  Aristotle, 
and  the  immediate  followers  of  Plato,  he  represents  as  the 
teachers  who  best  prepare  a  citizen  for  performing  the  duties 
of  social  life.  Them  he  professes  chiefly  to  follow ;  and,  in 
conformity  with  their  system,  he  announces  in  the  first  book, 
which  treats  of  laws  in  general,  that  man  being  linked  to  a 
supreme  God  by  reason  and  virtue,  and  the  whole  species 
being  associated  by  a  communion  of  feelings  and  interests, 
laws  are  alikcf  founded  on  divine  authority  and  natural  bene- 
volence. 

According  to  this  sublime  hypothesis,  the  whole  universe 
forms  one  immense  commonwealth  of  gods  and  men,  who  par- 
ticipate of  the  same  essence,  and  are  members  of  the  same 
community.  Reason  prescribes  the  law  of  nature  and  nations ; 
and  all  positive  institutions,  however  modified  by  accident  or 
custom,  are  drawn  from  the  rule  of  right  which  the  Deity  has 
inscribied  on  every  virtuous  mind.  Some  actions,  therefore,  are 
just  in  their  own  nature,  and  ought  to  be  performed,  not  be- 
cause we  live  in  a  society  where  positive  laws  punish  those 
who  pay  no  regard  to  them,  but  for  the  sake  of  that  equity 
which  accompanies  them,  independently  of  human  ordi- 
nances. These  principles  may  be  applicable  to  laws  in  a  certain 
sense;  but,  in  fact,  it  is  rather  moral  right  and  justice  than 
laws  that  the  author  discusses — for  bad  or  pernicious  laws  he 
does  not  admit  to  be  laws  at  all.    To  do  justice,  to  love  mer- 


338  CICERO. 

cy,  and  to  worship  God  with  a  pure  hc^art,  were,  doabtkai, 
laws  in  his  meaning,  (that  is,  they  were  right,)  previous  lo 
their  enactment,  and  no  human  enactment  to  the  contnirj 
could  abrogate  them.  His  principles,  however,  apply  to  Irni 
in  this  sense,  and  not  to  arbitrary  civil  institutions. 

Having,  in  the  first  discourse,  laid  open  the  origin  of  laws, 
and  source  of  obligations,  he  proceeds,  in  the  remaining  books, 
to  set  forth  a  body  of  laws  conformable  to  his  own  plan  and 
ideas  of  a  well-ordered  state ; — ^announcing,  in  the  first  place, 
those  which  relate  to  religion  and  the  worship  of  the  g^ods ; 
secondly,  such  as  prescribe  the  duties  and  powers  of  magis- 
trates. These  laws  are,  for  the  most  part,  taken  from  the  an- 
cient government  and  customs  of  Rome,  with  some  little  mo- 
dification calculated  to  obviate  or  heal  the  disorders  to  which 
the  republic  was  liable,  and  to  give  its  constitution  a  stronger 
bias  in  favour  of  the  aristocratic  faction.  The  species  of  in- 
struction communicated  in  these  two  books,  has  very  little  re- 
ference to  the  sublime  and  general  principles  with  wfaicb  the 
author  set  out.  Many  of  his  laws  are  arbitrary  municipal  re- 
gulations. The  number  of  the  magistrates,  the  period  of  the 
duration  of  their  offices,  with  the  suffrages  and  elections  in  the 
Comitia,  were  certainly  not  founded  in  the  immutaible  laws  of 
God  or  nature ;  and  the  discussion  concerning  them  has  led 
to  the  belief,  that  the  second  and  third  books  merely  compre- 
hended a  collection  of  facts,  from  which  general  principles 
were  to  be  subsequently  deduced. 

At  the  end  of  the  third  book  it  is  mentioned,  that  the  execu- 
tive power  of  the  magistracy,  and  rights  of  the  Roman  citixens, 
still  remain  to  be  discussed.  In  what  number  of  books  this 
plan  was  accomplished,  is  uncertain.  Macrobius,  as  we  have 
seen,  quotes  the  fifth  book* ;  and  Goerenz  thinks^  it  probable 
ther^were  six, — the  fourth  being  on  the  executive- power,  the 
fifth  on  public,  and  the  sixth  on  priviue  rights. 

What  authors  Cicero  chiefly  followed  and  imitated  in  hs 
work  De  I^gibua,  has  been  a  celebrated  controversy  since  the 
time  of  Tumebus.  It  seems  now  to  be  pretty  well  settled,  that, 
in  substance  and  principles,  he  followed  the  Stoics;  but  that 
he  imitated  Plato  in  the  style  and  dress  in  which  be  arrayed 
his  sentiments  and  opinions.  That  philosopher,  as  is  well 
known,  afler  writing  on  government  in  general,  drew  up  a  body 
of  laws  adapted  to  that  particular  form  of  it  which  he  had  de- 
lineated. In  like  manner,  Cicero  chose  to  deliver  his  senti- 
ments, not  by  translating  Plato,  but  by  imitating  his  manner 

*  fkOumal,  Lib.  VI.  c.  4. 


CICERQ.  839 

in  the  explication  of  them,  and  adapting  everything  to  the  con- 
stitution of  his  own  country.  The  Stoic  whom  he  principally 
ibliowed,  was  probably  Chrysippus,  who  wrote  a  book  Ile^i  JNo^*, 
some  passages  of  which  are  still  extant,  and  exhibit  the  out- 
lines of  the  system  adopted  in  the  first  book  De  LegibuB. 
What  of  general  discussion  appears  in  the  third  book  is  taken 
from  Theophrastus,  Dio,  and  Pansetius  the  Stoic. 

JJe  Finibus  Banarum  et  Malorum. — This  work  is  a  phi- 
losophical account  of  the  various  opinions  entertained  by  the 
Greeks  concerning  the  Supreme  Good  a^d  Extreme  Evil,  and 
is  by  much  the  most  subtle  and  difficult  of  the  philosophic  writ- 
ings of  Cicero,  It  consists  of  five  books,  of  that  sort  of  dia- 
logue, in  which,  as  in  the  treatise  Th  Oratore^  the  discourse  is 
not  dramatically  represented,  but  historically  related  by  the 
author.  The  constant  repetition  of  '^  -said  I,"  and  '^  says  he," 
is  tiresome  and  clumsy,  and  not  nearly  so  agreeable  as  the 
dramatic  form  of  dialogue,  where  the  names  of  the  different 
speakers  are  alternately  prefixed,  as  in  a  play.  The  whole  is 
addressed  to  Marcus  Brutus  in  an  Introduction,  where  the  au- 
thor excuses  his  study  of  philosophy,  which  some  persons  had 
blamed  as  unbecoming  his  character  and  dignity.  The  con- 
ference in  the  first  two  books  is  supposed  to  be  held  at  Cice- 
ro's Cuman  villa,  which  was  situated  on  the  hills  of  old  CumsB, 
and  commanded  a  prospect  of  the  Campi  Phlegrsei,  the  bay  of 
Puteoli,  with  its  islands,  the  Portus  Misenus  the  harbour  of  the 
Roman  fleet,  and  Baiae,  the  retreat  of  the  most  wealthy  patri- 
cians. Here  Cicero  received  a  visit  from  Lucius  Torquatus, 
a  confirmed  Epicurean,  and  from  a  young  patrician,  Caius 
Triarius,  who  is  a  mute  in  the  ensuing  colloquy.  Torquatus 
engages  their  host  in  philosophical  discussion,  by  requesting 
to  know  his  objections  to  the  Epicurean  system.  These  Cicero 
states  generally  ;  but  Torquatus,  in  his  answer,  confines  him- 
self to  the  question  of  the  Supreme  Good,  which  he  placed  in 
pleasure.  This  tenet  he  supports  on  the  principle,  that,  of  all 
things,  Virtue  is  the  most  pleasurable ;  that  we  ought  to  fol- 
low its  laws,  in  consequence  of  tlie  serenity  and  satisfaction 
arising  from  its  practice ;  and  that  honourable  toil,  or  even 
pain,  are  not  always  to  be  avoided,  as  they  often  prove  neces- 
sary means  towards  obtaining  the  most  exquisite  gratifications. 
Cicero,  in  his  reftitation,  which  is  contained  in  the  second 
book,  gives  rather  a  different  representation  of  the  philosophy 
of  Epicurus,  from  his  great  poetic  contemporary  Lucretius. 
The  term  ^^owj,  (voluptas,)  used  by  Epicurus  to  express  his 
Supreme  Good;  can  only,  as  Cicero  maintains,  mean  sensual 

*  DU>gene$  Laertiw,  Lib.  VII. 


230  CICERO. 

enjoyment,  and  can  never  be  so  interpreted  as  to  denote  tnn- 
quillity  of  mind.  But  supposing  virtue  to  be  cultivated  merelj 
as  productive  of  pleasure,  or  as  only  valuable  because  agree- 
able—-a  cheat,  who  had  no  remorse  or  conscience,  might  «i- 
joy  the  9ummum  banum  in  defrauding  a  rightful  owner  of  hi§ 
property ;  and  no  act  would  thus  be  accounted  criminal,  if  it 
escaped  the  brand  of  public  infamy.  On  the  other  hand,  if 
pain  be  accounted  the  Supreme  Evil,  how  can  any  man  enjoy 
felicity,  when  this  greatest  of  all  misfortunes  may  at  any  mo- 
ment seize  him ! 

In  the  third  and  fouith  books,  the  scene  of  the  dialogue  is 
changed.  In  order  to  inspect  some  books  of  Aristotelian  phi- 
losophy, Cicero  walks  over  to  the  villa  of  young  Lucullus,  to 
whom  he  had  been  appointed  guardian,  by  the  testament  of 
his  illustrious  father.  Here  he  finds  Cato  employed  in  perus- 
ing certain  works  of  Stoical  authors ;  and  a  discussion  arises  on 
that  part  of  the  Stoical  system,  relating  to  the  Supreme  Crood, 
which  Cato  placed  in  virtue  alone.  Cicero,  in  his  answer  to 
Cato,  attempts  to  reconcile  this  tenet  with  the  doctrines  of  the 
Academic  philosophy,  which  he  himself  professed,  by  showing 
that  the  diflference  between  them  consisted  only  in  the  import 
affixed  to  the  term  good — the  Academic  sect  assigning  a  pre- 
eminence to  virtue,  but  admitting  that  external  advantages 
are  good  also  in  their  decree.  Now,  the  Stoics  would  not 
allow  them  to  be  good,  but  merely  valuable,  eligible,  or  prefe- 
rable ;  so  that  the  sects  could  be  reconciled  in  sentiments,  if  the 
terms  were  a  little  changed.  The  Academical  system  is  fiiily 
developed  in  the  fifth  book,  in  a  dialogue  held  within  the 
Academy ;  and,  at  the  commencement,  the  associations  which 
that  celebrated,  though  then  solitary  spot,  was  calculated  to 
awal^en  are  finely  described.  ^'  I  see  before  me,"  says  Piso, 
^<  the  perfect  form  of  Plato,  who  was  wont  to  dispute  in  this 
very  place :  These  gardens  not  only  recall  him  to  my  me- 
mory, but  present  his  very  person  to  my  senses-^I  fancy  to 
myself  that  here  stood  Speusippus — there  Xenocrates — and 
here,  on  this  bench,  sat  his  disciple  Polemo.  To  me,  our  an- 
cient Senate-house  seems  peopled  with  the  like  visionary 
forms;  for  often  when  I  enter  it,  the  shades  of  Scipio,  of  Cato, 
and.  of  L8elius,<  and,  in  particular,  of  my  venerable  grandia- 
ther,  rise  up  to  my  imagination."  Here  Piso,  who  was  a  great 
Platonist,  gives  an  account,  in  the  presence  of  Cicero  and 
Cicero's  brother  duintus,  of  the  hypothesis  of  the  old  Acade- 
my concerning  moral  good,  which  was  also  that  adopted  by 
the  Peripatetics.  According  to  this  system,  the  summum  ba- 
num consists  in  the  highest  improvement  of  all  the  mental 
and  bodily  faculties.     The  perfection,  in  short,  of  everything 


CICERO.  231 

consistent  with  nature,  enters  into  the  composition  of  supreme 
felicity.  Virtue,  indeed,  is  the  highest  of  all  things,  but  other 
advantages  must  also  be  valued  according  to  their  worth. 
Even  pleasures  become  ingredients  of  happiness,  if  they  he 
such  as  are  included  in  the  prima  nattira^  or  priradry  advan-* 
tages  of  nature.  Cicero  seems  to  approve  this  system,  and 
objects  only  to  one  of  the  positions  of  Piso,  That  a  wise  man 
must  be  always  happy.  Our  author  thus  contrasts  with  each 
other  the  different  systems  of  Greek  philosophy,  particularly 
the  Epicurean  with  the  Stoical  tenets ;  and  hence,  besides, 
refuting  them  in  his  own  person,  he  makes  the  one  baffle  the 
other,  till  he  arrives  at  what  is  most  probable,  the  utmost 
length  to  which  the  middle  or.  new  Academy  pretended  to 
reach.  The  chief  part  of  the  work  De  Finibus^  is  taken  from 
the  best  writings  of  the  different  philosophers  whose  doctrines 
he  explains.  The  first  book  closely  follows  the  tract  of  Epi- 
curus, Kvgtuv  ^o^ojv.  Cicero's  second  book,  in  which  he  refutes 
£picurism,  is  borrowed  from  the  stoic  Chrysippus,  who  wrote 
ten  books  Of  the  beautiful,  and  of  pleasure,  (ns^i  rS  xoXS  xoi 
rv)(  4^ovT)^,)  wherein  he  canvassed  the  Epicurean  tenets  concern- 
ing the  Supreme  Good  and  Evil.  His  third  book  is  derived 
from  a  treatise  of  the  sameiChrysippus,  entitled  UBp  rsXcjv*. 
The  fourth,  where  he  reiutes  the  Stoics,  is  from  the  writings 
of  Polemo,  who,  following  the  example  of  his  master  Xeno- 
crates,  amended  the  Academic  doctrines,  and  nearly  accom- 
modated them  on  this  subject  of  Good  and  Evil  to  the  opinions 
of  the  ancient  Peripatetics.  Some  works  of  Antiochus  of  As- 
calon,  who,  in  the  time  of  Cicero,  was  the  head  of  the  old 
Academy,  supplied  the  materials  for  the  concluding  dialogue. 

The  work  JDe  Finibus  was  written  in  708,  and  though  I^gun 
subsequently  to  the  Academica^  was  finished  before  it.  The 
period,  however,  of  the  three  different  conferences  of  which  it 
consists,  is  laid  a  considerable  time  before  the  date  of  its  pub- 
lication. It  is  evident  that  the  first  dialogue  is  supposed  to  be 
held  in  703,  since  Torquatus,  the  principal  speaker,*  who  pe- 
rished in  the  civil  war,  is  mentioned  as  Prator  DeHgnatuSf 
and  this  prsetorship  he  bore  in  the  year  704.  The  following 
conference *is  placed  subsequently,  at  least,  to  the  death  of 
the  ^reat  Lucollus,  who  died  in  701.  The  last  dialogue  is 
carried  more  than  thirty  years  back,  being  laid  in  674,  when 
Cicero  was  in  his  twenty-seventh  year,  and  was  attending  the 
lessons  of  the  Athenian  philosophers.  For  this  change,  th^ 
reason  seems  to  have  been,  that  as  Piso  was  the  fittest  person 
whom  the  author  could  find  to  support  the  doctrines  of  the 

*  Dwg,  Laert.  Lib.  YII. 


2SS  CICERO. 

old  Academy,  and  as  he  had  renounced  his  friendship  duriflg 
the  time  of  the  disturbances  occasioned  by  the  Clodian  hxr 
lion,  it  becaAie  necessary  to  place  the  conference  at  a  period 
when  they  were  fellow-students  at  Athens.  The  critics  bare 
observed  some  anachronisms  in  this  last  book,  in  making  Piiw 
refer  to  the  other  two  dialogues,  of  which  he  had  no  share,  and 
could  have  had  no  knowledge,  as  being  held  at  a  later  period 
than  that  of  the  conference  he  attended. 

^cademica. — ^This  work  is  termed  Academica,  either  be* 
cause  it  chiefly  relates  to  the  Academic  philosophy,  or  because 
it  was  composed  at  the  villa  of  Puteoli,  where  a  grove  and 
portico  were  called  by  Cicero,  from  an  affected  imitation  of 
the  Athenians,  his  Academy*.     There  evidently  existed  what 
may  be   termed  two  editions  of  the  Academica^  neither  of 
which  we  now  possess  perfect — ^what  we  have  being  the  «• 
cond  book  of  the  first  edition,  and  the  first  of  the  second.   In 
the  first  edition,  the  speakers  were  Cicero  himself,  Catolus, 
LucttUus,  and  Hortensius.    The  first  book  was  inscribed  Ca- 
tulus,  and  the  second  Lucullus,  these  persons  being  the  chief 
interlocutors  in  their  respective  divisions.    The  first  dialogae, 
or  Catulus,  was  held  in  the  villa  of  that  senator.  Every  word  ofit 
is  unfortunately  lost,  but  the  import  may  be  gathered,  from  the 
references  to  it  in  the  Lucullus,  or  second  book,  which  is  $till 
extant.     It  appears  to  have  contained  a  sketch  of  the  history 
of  the  old  and  the  new  Academy,  and  then  to  have  entered 
minutely  into  the  doctrines  and  principles  of  the  latter,  to 
which  Catulus  was  attached.    Catulus  explained  them  as  they 
had  been  delivered  by  Carneades,  whose  lectures  his  father 
had  attended,  and  in  his  old  age  imparted  their  substance  to 
his  son.     He  refuted  the  philosophy  of  Philo,  where  that  wri- 
ter differed  from  Carneades,  (which,  though  of  the  new  Aca- 
demy, he  did  in  some  particulars,)  and  also  the  opinions  of 
Antiochus,  who  followed  the  old  Academy.     Hortensioa  seems 
to  have  made  a  short  reply,  but  the  more  ample  discussion  of 
the  system  of  the  old  Academy  was  reserved  for  Lucullus- 
Previous,  however,  to  entering  on  this  topic,  our  philosopbefs 
pass  over  firom  the  Cuman  villa  of  Catulus  to  that  of  Horten- 
sius, at  Bauli,  one  of  the  many  magnificent  seats  belonging  fo 
that  orator,  and  situated  a  little  above  the  luxurious  Baiie,  io 
the  direction  towards  CumsB,  on  an  inlet  of  the  Bay  of  Naple^ 
Here  they  had  resolved  to  remain  till  a  favourable  breeie  should 
spring  up,  which  might  carry  Lucullus  to  his  Neapolitan,  sod 
Cicero  to  his  Pompeian  villa.     While  awaiting  this  oppof^' 
nity,  they  repaired  to  an  open  gallery,  which  looked  towards 

•  FUn.  mu.  Jm.  Lib.  XXXI.  c8. 


CICERO.  2S3 

the  sea,  whence  they  descried  the  vessels  sailing  across  the 
bay,  and  the  ever  changeful  hueof  its  waters,  which  appeared 
of  a  safiroQ  colour  under  the  morning  beam,  but  l>ecaiiie 
azure  at  noon,  till,  as  the  day  declined,  they  were  rippled  by 
the  western  breeze,  and  empurpled  by  the  setting  sun*. 
Here  Lucullus  commenced  his  defence  of  the  old  Academy, 
and  his  disputation  against  Philo,  according  to  what  he  had 
learned  from  the  philosopher  Antiochus,  who  had  accompa- 
nied him  to  Ale:tandria,  when  he  went  there  as  Quaestor  of 
Egypt*  While  residing  in  that  city,  two  books  of  Philo 
arrived,  which  excited  the  philosopinc  wrath  of  Antiochus, 
and  gave  rise  to  much  oral  discussion,  |is  well  as  to  a  book 
from  his  pen,  entitled  Sasus^  in  which  he^attempted  to  refute 
tlie  doctrines  so  boldly  promulgated  by  Philo.  Lucullus  was 
thus  enabled  fully  and  faithfully  to  detail  the  arguments  of  the 
chief  supporter  and  reviver  in  those  later  ages  of  the  old 
Platonic  Academy.  His  discourse  is  chiefly  directed  against 
that  lead'mg  principle  of  the  new  Academy,  which  taught  that 
nothing  can  be  known  or  ascertained.  Recurring  to  nature, 
apd  the  constitution  of  man,  he  confirms  the  faith  we  have  in 
our  external  senses,  and  the  mental  conclusions  deduced  from 
them.  To  this  Cicero  replies,  from  the  writings  of  Clitoma- 
cbus,  and  of  course  enlarges  on  the  delusion  of  the  senses— 
the  ftilse  appearances  we  behold  in  sleep,  or  while  under  the 
influence  of  phrensy,  and  the  uncertainty  of  everything  so 
fully  demonstrated  by  the  different  opinions  of  the  great  phi- 
losophers, on  the  most  important  of  all  subjects,  the  Provi- 
dence of  the  Gods — ^the  Supreme  Good  and  Evil,  and  the  for« 
mation  of  the  world. 

These  two  books,  the  Catulus  and  Lucullus,  of  which,  as 
already  mentioned,  the  last  alone  is  extant,  were  written  after 
the  termination  of  the  civil  wars,  and  a  copy  of  them  sent  by 
Cicero  to  Atticus.  It  occurred,  however,  to  the  author  soon 
afterwards,  that  the  characters  introduced  were  not  very  suit- 
able to  this  subjects  discussed,  since  Catulus  and  Lucullus, 
though  both  ripe  scholars,  and  well-educated  men,  could  not, 
as  statesmen  and  ffenerals,  be  supposed  to  be  acquainted  with 
all  the  mintUuB  of  philosophic  controversy  contained  in  the 
books  bearing  their  names.  While  deliberating  if  he  should 
not  rather  put  the  dialogue  intothe  lips  of  Cato  and  Brutus, 
he  received  a  letter  fron  Atticus,  acknowledging  the  present 
of  bis  work,  but  mentioning  that  their  common  friend,  Varro, 
was  displeased  to  find  that  none  of  his  treatises  were  addressed 
to  him,  or  inscribed  with  his  name.    This  intimation,  and  the 

*  Jieadem.  Prior,  Lib.  II.  c.  83. 

Vol.  IL— 2  E 


234  CICERO. 

incongruity  of  the  former  characters  with  the  subject,  deter- 
mined the  author  to  dedicate  the  work  to  Varro^  and  to  make 
him  the  principal  speaker  in  the  dialogue*.  This  change, 
and  the  reflection,  perhaps,  on  certain  defects  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  old  work,  as  also  the  discovery  of  considerable 
omissions,  particularly  with  regard  to  the  tenets  of  Arceaiians, 
the  founder  of  the  new  academy,  induced  him  to  remodel  the 
whole,  to  add  in  some  places,  to  abridge  in  others,  and  to  be- 
stow on  it  more  lustre  and  polish  of  style.  In  this  new  form, 
the  Academica  consisted  of  four  books,  a  division  which  was 
better  adapted  for  treating  his  subject :  But  of  these  four, 
only  the  first  remaii^.  The  dialogue  it  contains  is  supposed 
to  be  held  during. a  visit  which  Atticus  and  Cicero  paid  to 
Varro,  in  his  villa  near  CumsB.  His  guests  entreat  him  U> 
give  an  account  of  the  principles  of  the  old  Academy,  from 
which  Cicero  and  Atticus  had  long  since  withdrawn,  but  to 
which  Varro  had  continued  steadily  attached.  This  first 
book  probably  comprehends  the  substance  of  what  was  con- 
tained in  tlie  Catulus  of  the  former  edition.  Varro,  in  com- 
plying with  the  request  preferred  to  him,  deduces  the  origin 
of  the  old  Academy  from  Socrates ;  he  treats  of  its  doctrines 
as- relating  to  physics,  logic,  ai\d  morals,  and  traces  its  pro- 
gress under  Plato  and  his  legitimate  successors.  Cicero  takes 
up  the  discourse  when  this  historicel  account  is  brought  down 
tcT  Arcesilaus,  the  founder  of  the  new  Academy.  But  the 
work  is  broken  off  in  the  most  interesting  part,  and  just  as  the 
author  is  entering  on  the  life  and  lectures  of  Carneades,  who 
introduced  the  new  Academy  at  Rome.  Cicero,  however, 
while  he  styles  it  the  new  Academy,  will  scarcely  allow  it  to 
be  new,  as  it  was  in  fact  the  most  genuine  exposition  of  those 
sublime  doctrines  which  Plato  had  imbibed  from  Socrates. 
The  historical  sketch  of  the  Academic  philosophy  having 
been  nearly  concluded  in  the  first  book,  the  remaining  books, 
which  are  lost,  contained  the  disputatious  part.  In  the  second 
book  the  doctrines  of  Arcesilaus  were  explained ;  and  from 
one  of  the  few  short  fragments  preserved,  there  appears  to 
have  been  a  discussion  concerning  the  remarkable  changes 
that  occur  in  the  colour  of  objects,  and  the  complexion  of  in- 
dividuals, in  consequence  of  the  alterations  they  undergo  in 
position  or  age,  which  was  one  of  Arcesilaus'  chief  arguments 
against  the  certainty  of  evidence  derived  from  the  senses. 
The  third  and  fourth  books  probably  contained  the  doctrines 
of  Carneades  and  Philo,  with  Varro's  refutation  of  them,  ac- 
cording to  the  principles  of  Antiochus.     From  a  fiiigment  of 

•  EpUt.  Famil.  Lib.  IX.  ^p.  8. 


CICERO.  935 

Ihethifd  book,  preserved  by  Nonius,  it  appears  that  the  scene 
of  the  dialogue  was  there  transferred  to  tlie  banks  of  the  Lur 
crine  lakef  which  lay  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  Varro's 
Cuooian  villa*. 

These  four  books  formed  the  work  which  Cicero  wished  to 
be  considered  as.  the  genuine  and  improved  Academics.  The 
former  edition,  howQyer,  which  he  had  sent  to  Atticus,  had 
gone  abroad,  and  as  he  could  not  recall  it,  he  resolved  to  com- 
plete it,  by  prefixing  an  introductory  eulogy  of  Catulus  to  the 
first,  and  of  LucuUus  to  the  second  book, — extolling,  in  parti- 
cular, the  incredible  genius  of  the  latter,  which  enabled  him, 
though  previously  inexperienced  in  the  art  of  war,  merely  by 
conversation  and  study,  during  his  voyage  from  Rome,  to  land 
on  the  coast  of  Asia,  with  the  acquirements  of  a  consummate 
commander,  and  to  extort  the  admission  from  his  antagonist, 
Mitbridates,  who  had  coped  with  Syila,  that  he  was  the  first  of 
warriors. 

This  account  of  the  two  editions  of  the  Academics,  which 
was  first  suggested  by  Tals&usf ,  has  been  adopted  by  Goer- 
enz| ;  and  it  appears  to  me  completely  confirmed  by  the  series 
of  Cicero's  letters  to  Atticus,  contained  in  the  13th  book  of  his 
Epistles.  It  is  by  no  means,  however,  unanimously  assented 
to  by  the  French  and  German  oommentators.  Lambinus,  see- 
ing that  Nonius  quoted,  as  belonging  to  the  fourth  book  of 
the  ^cademica,  passages  which  we  find  in  the  Lucullus,  or 
second  book  of  the  first  edition,  considered  and  inscribed  it 
as  the  fourth  of  the  new  edition,  insftead  of  the  second  of  the 
old,  in  which  he  was  followed  by  many  subsequent  editors ; 
but  this  is  easily  accounted  for,  since  the  new  edition,  being 
remodelled  on  the  old,  many  things  in  the  last  or  second  book 
of  the  old  edition  would  naturally  be  transferred  to  the  fourth 
or  last  of  the  new,  and  be  so  citeid  by  those  grammarians  who 
wrote  when  the  whole  work  was  extant.  Ranitz  denies  that 
there  ever  were  two  editions  of  .the  jlcademica  made  public, 
or  preserved,  and  that,  so  far  from  the  last  three  books  being 
lost,  the  Lucullus  contains  the  whole  of  these  three,  but  from 
the  error  of  transcribers  they  have  been  run  into  each  other^. 
This  critic  is  right,  indeed,  in  the  notion  he  entertains,  that 
Cicero  wished  the  first  edition  of  the  Acadernica  to  be  de- 
stroyed, or  to  fall  into  oblivion,  but  it  does  not  follow  that 

*  Et  ut  pof  nunc  fledemus  ad  Lucriniim,  pisciculosque  exsujtaotee  videmtis.  De 
propriet.  Serm.  c.  1.  SS5.  voc.  extultare. 

t  Epi9t,  Dedieat.  ad  PralectAn  CSe.  Aead. 

1  Introduct,  in  Academic,    £d.  Lips.  1810.    * 

§  Nee  efse,  nee  dici  posse  novum  opus,  ac  penitus  mutatom;  sed  tanturomodo 
correctum,  magls  poUtum,  et  quoad  fonnam  et  dictionem,  hxc  Qt  ilUc»  splendidiun 
matatum.    De  L&.  Cic,  Academ,  Comment, 


236  CICERO. 

eilher  of  these  wishes  was  accoropliflihed ;  and  indeed  it  if 
proved,  from  Cicero's  own  letters,  tfiat  the  older  edition  had 
passed  into  extensive  circulation.  '  * 

Twcttkifue  DUpuiaiiones^  are  so  called  by  Cicero,  bm 
having  been  held  at  his  seat  near  Tusculinn — a  town  which 
stood  on  the  sununit  of  the  Alban  hill,  about  a  mile  higher  op 
than  the  modem  Frescati,  and  conrnionicated  its  name  to  all 
the  rural  retreats  in  its  neighbourhood.  This  was  Cicero's 
chief  and  most  favourite  villa.     '^  It  is,''  sajs  be,  ''  the  only 

3K>t  in  which  I  completely  rest  from  all  my  uneasiness,  and 
1  my  toils." — "  It  stood,"  says  Eustace,  "on  one  of  the  7V 
mtili,  or  beautiful  hills  grouped  together  on  the  Alban.  Mount 
It  is  bounded  on  the  south  by  a  deep  dell,  with  a  streamlet 
that  falls  from  the  rock,  then  meanders  through  the  recess,  and 
disappears  in  its  windings.    Eastward  rises  the  lofly  eminence, 
once  crowned  with  Tusculum — ^Westward,  the  view  descends, 
and  passing  over  the  Campagna,  fixes  on  Rome,  and  the  dis- 
tant  mountains  beyond  it.^-On  the  south,  a  gentle  swell  pre- 
sents a  succession  o£  vineyards  and  orchards ;  and  behind  it 
towers  the  summit  of  the  Alban  Mount,  once  crowned  with  the 
temple  of  Jupiter  Latiaris.    Thus  Cicero,  from  bis  portico,  en- 
joyed the  noblest  and  most  interesting  view  that  could  beinia* 
gined  to  a  Roman  and  a  Consul ;  tl^  temple  of  the  tatelaiy 
divinity  of  the  empire,  the  seat  of  victory  and  triumph,  and  the 
theatre  of  his  glorious  labours, — ^the  Capital  of  the  World*." 
A  yet  more  recent  traveller  informs  us,  that  "  the  situation  of 
the  ancient  Tusculum  is  delightful.    The  road  which  leads  to 
it  is  shaded  with  umbrageous  woods  of  oak  and  ilex.    The  an- 
cient trees  and  soft  verdant  meadows  around  it,  almost  reinind 
us  of  some  of  the  loveliest  scenes  of  England;  and  the  litt)e 
brook  that  babbles  by,  was  not  the  less  interesting  from  the 
thought,  that  its  murmurs  might  perchance  have  <mce  soothed 
the  ear  of  Cicerp+." 

The  distance  of  Tusculum  from  Rome,  which  was  only  four 
leagues,  afforded  Cicero  an  easy  retreat  from  the  fatigues  of 
the  Senate  and  Forum.  Being  the  villa  to  which  he  most  fre- 
quently resorted,  he  had  improved  and  adorned  it  beyond  all 
his  other  mansions,  and  rendered  its  internal  elegance  suitable 
to  its  majestic  situation.  It  had  originally  belonged  to  S/'J^f 
by  whom  it  was  highly  ornamented.  In  one  of  its  apaitments 
there  was  a  painting  of  his  victory  near  Nola,  during  the  Mar- 
sic  war,  in  which  Cicero  had  served  under  him  as  a  volonteer* 
But  its  new  master  had  bestowed  on  this  seat  a  more  classical 

•  dasiiedl  JTVtir,  Vol.  II.  c.  S. 

t  BomtintheJ>nneieenth  Century t  Vol.  III.  Let.  93. 


aCERO.  .237 

&nd  Grecian  air.    He  bad  built  several  balls  and  galleries  in 
imitation  of  th^  schools  and  porticos  of  Athens,  which  he 
termed  Gymnasia.    One  of  these,  which  he  named  the  Aca« 
demia,  was  erected  at  a  little  distance  from  the  villa,  on  the 
declivity  of  the  hill  facing  the  Alb'an  Mount*.     Another  Gym- 
nasium, which  be  called  the  Lyceum,  stood  higher  up  the  hill 
than  the  Academy :  It  was  adjacent  to  the  villa,  and  was  chiefly 
designed  for  philosophical  conferences.    Cicero  had  given  a 
general  commission  to  Atticus,  who  spent  much  of  his  time  ip 
Greece,  to  purchase  any  elegant  or  curious  piece  of  Grecian 
art,  in  painting  or  sculpture,  which  his  refined  taste  might 
select  as  a  suitable  ornament  for  his  Tusculan  villa.     He,  in 
consequence,  received  from  his  friend  a  set  of  marble  Mer- 
curies, with  brazen  heads,  with  which  he  was  much  pleased ; 
but  he  was  particularly  delighted  with  a  sort  of  compound 
emblematical  figures  called  HermaiheruB  and  HertneracUe  re* 
representing  Mercury  and  Minerva,  or  Mercury  and  Hercules, 
jointly  on  one  base ;  for,  Hercules  being  the  proper  deity  of 
the  Gymnasium,  Minerva  of  the  Academy,  and  Mercury  com- 
.mon  to  both,  they  precisely  suited  the  purpose  for  which  he 
desired  them  to  be  procured.     One  of  these  Minerval  Mercu- 
ries pleased  him  so  wonderfully,  and  stood  in  such  an  advantar 
geous  position,  that  ^^  declared  the  whole  Academy  at  Tus- 
culum  appeared  to  have  been  contrived  in  order  to  receive 
itf .     So  intent  was  he  on  embellishing  this  Tusculan  villa 
with  all  sorts  of  Grecian  art,  that  he  sent  over  to  Atticus  the 
plans  and  devices  for  his  ceilings,  which  were  of  stucco-work, 
in  order  to  bespeak  various  pieces  of  sculpture  and  painting 
to  be  inserted  in  the  compartments;  as  also  the  covers  for  two 
of  his  wells  or  fountains^  which,  by  the  custom  of  those  times, 
were  often  formed  after  some  elegant  pattern,  and  adorned  with 
figures  in  relief|;. 

La  Grotta  Ferrata,  a  convent  of  Basilian  friars,  is  now,  ac- 
cording to  Eustace,  built  on  the  site  of  Cicero's  Tusculan  villa* 
Nardini,  who  wrote  about  the  year  1650,  says,  that  there  had 
been  recently  found,  amon^  the  ruins  of  Grotta  Ferrata,  a 
piece  of  sculpture,  which  Cicero  himself  mentions  in  one  of 
his  Fan^iliar  Epistles.  In  the  middle  of  last  century,  there  yet 
remained  vast  subterranean  apartments,  as  well  as  a  sreai  cir* 
cumference  and  extent  of  ruins^.  But  these,  it  would  appear, 
have  been  still  farther  dilapidated  since  that  period.   "  Scarce 

*  Jk  Finibui,  lib.  III.  and  IV.    Kelsall,  Excurnonfrom  Home  to  Jlrpino^  p. 
193. 
t  BaUi,  adAttU,  Lib.  I.  Ep.  1. 
X  Ifiddleton'e  Ufe  of  Cieero,  Vol.  I.  p.  142. 
^  BlaiiiTiUe*8  TVovdft,  Vol.  11. 


238  CICERO. 

a  trace/'  says  Eustace,  '^  of  the  ruins  of  Tusculum  is  now  dis- 
coverable :  Great  part  remained  at  the  end  of  the  10th  cen- 
tury,  when  a  Greek  monk  from  Calabria  demolished  it,  and 
erected  on  the  site,  the  monastery  of  Grotta  Ferrata.  At  each 
end  of  the  portico  is  fixed  in  the  wall  a  fragment  of  basso  re- 
lievo. One  represents  a  philosopher  sitting  with  a  scroti  in 
his  hand,  in  a  thinking  posture— in  the  other,  are  four  figures 
supporting  the  feet  of  a  fifth  of  colossal  size,  supposed  to 
represent  Ajax.  These,  with  the  beautiful  pillars  which  sup- 
port the  church,  are  the  only  remnants  of  the  decoratioDS  and 
furniture  of  the  ancient  villa.  *  Cof^idantj*  says  an  itiscriptioB 
near  the  spot, '  qu4B  ei  quanta  fueruntJ*^ 

When  Cffisar  had  attained  the  supremacy  at  Rome,  and 
Cicero  no  longer  gave  law  to  the  Senate,  he  became  the  head 
of  a  sort  of  literary  or  philosophical  society.  Filelfo,  who  de- 
livered public  lectures  at  Rome,  on  the  Tusculan  Disputations, 
attempted  to  prove  that  he  had  stated  meetings  of  learned 
men  at  his  house,  and  opened  a  regular  Academy  at  Tusea- 
lumf .  This  notion  was  chiefly  founded  on  a  letter  of  Cicero 
to  Psetus,  where  he  says  that  he  bad  followed  the  example  of 
the  younger  Dionysius,  who,  being  expelled  from  Syracuse, 
taught  a  school  at  Athens.  At  all  events,  it  was  his  custom, 
in  the  opportunities  of  his  leisure,  to  carrj  some  friends  with 
him  from  Rome  to  the  country,  where  the  entertainments  they 
enjoyed  were  chiefly  speculative.  In  this  manner,  Cicero,  on 
one  occasion,  spent  five  days  at  his  Tusculan  villa;  and  afler 

*  Eustace,  Classieal  Hour,  Vol.  II.  c.  8.  Grotta  Femta  was  long^conaideiedboft 
by  travellers  (Addison,  Letters  on  Holy,  BlaiovQle,  TVooels,  &c.>  and  andquamxki 
(Calmet,  Hist.  Uhivers.  Cluverius,  RtUic.  Jlntiq.)  as  the  site  of  Cicero's  Tusculaii 
villa.  The  opinion  thus  eenerally  received,  was  first  delibentely  called  in  quesboB 
by  Zuzzeri,  in  a  diMertaUon  published  in  1746,  entitled  Sopra  tm*  anHea  Ftfis 
scoperfa  sopra  FrescatineU  appartenenze  deUanuovantUadeUeoU^gio  Mosmoio. 
This  writer  places  the  site  close  to  the  villa  and  convent  of  Rufiindla»  which  is 
hieher  up  the  hill  than  Grotta  Ferrata,  lying  between  FrescaU  and  the  town  of  Tus- 
cuIuRi.  He  was  answered  by  Cardoni,  a  monk  of  the  Basilian  order  o£  Grotta  Fer- 
rata, in  his  JOiseeptatio  ApologetUade  Tusculano  Cieeronis,  Rome,  1757.  Car- 
doni chiefly  rests  his  argument  on  a  passage  of  Strabo,  where  that  geographer  says, 
that  the  Tusculan  hill  is  fertile,  well  watered,  and  surrounded  with  beautifel  villas. 
Now  Cardoni,  referring  this  passage  (which  applies  to  the  Tusculan  hill  in  geneial) 
solely  to  the  Tusculan  villa,  argUes  somewhat  unfairly,  that  Strabo*8  descfipcion  an- 
swers to  Grotta  Ferrata,  but  not  to  Ruffinella.  (p.  8,  &c.)  Nibby  in  hie.  Vimggit 
^ntiquario^  supports  the  claims  of  Ruffinella,  on  the  authority  of  a  ftaasage  in  Fnm- 
tinus,  which  he  interprets  with  no  greater  candour  or  success.  (T.  IL  p.  41.)  Widi 
exception  of  Eustace,  however,  all  modem  travellers,  whose  works  I  have  coiuulted, 
declare  in  favour  of  Ruffinella.  "  At  the  convent  of  Ruffinella,  says  Foi^rtb,  fiu^her 
up  the  hill  than  Grotta  Ferrata,  his  (Cicero's)  name  was  found  stamped  on  warns 
ancient  tiles,  which  should  ascertain  die  situation  of  a  viUa  in  piemenee  to  any 
moveable/' — Remarks  on  Rahf,  p.  281.  See  also  Rime  in  lAe  JVhuUasik  On- 
tury.  Vol.  III.  Letter  92,  and  Kelsall's  dasrical  JSMUrston,  p.  1S2. 

t  Alex,  ab  Alexandre,  Dies  Oeniales,  Lib.  I.  c.  28.    RoiMnini,  Fita  di  FUeifr, 
T.  III.  p.  59.  Ed.  MUan,  1808, 3  Tom.  ^vo. 


CICERO.  239 

employing  the  morning  in  declamation  and  rhetorical  exer- 
cises, retired  in  the  afternoon  with  his  friends  to  the  gallery^ 
called  the  Academy,  which  he  had  constructed  for  the  pur- 
pose of  philosophical  conference.  Here  Cicero  daily  offered 
to  maintain  a  thesis  on  any  topic  proposed  to  him  by  his 
guests ;  and  the  five  dialogues  thus  introduced,  were,  as  we 
are  informed  by  the  author,  afterwards  committed  to  writing, 
nearly  in  the  words  which  had  actually  passed"*^.  They  were 
completed  early  in  709,  and,  like  so  many  of  his  other  works, 
are  dedicated  to  Brutus — each  conference  being  at  the  same 
time  furnished  with  an  introduction  expatiating  on  the  excel- 
lence of  philosophy,  and  the  advantage  of  naturalizing  the  wis- 
dom of  the  Greeks,  by  transfusing  it  into  the  Latin  language. 
In  the  first  dialogue,  entitled  De  Cantemnenda  Morte^  one  of 
the  guests,  who  is  called  the  At^ditor  through  the  remainder 
of  the  performance,  asserts,  that  death  is  an  evil.  This  pro- 
position Cicero  immediately  proceeds  to  refute,  which  natu- 
rally introduces  a  disquisition  on  the  immortality  of  the  soul — 
a  subject  which,  in  the  pages  of  Cicero,  continued  to  be  in- 
volved in  the  same  doubt  and  darkness  that  had  veiled  it  in  the 
schools  of  Greece. 

It  is  true,  that  in  the  ancient  world  some  notion  had4>een  en- 
tertained, and  by  a  few  some  hope  had  been  cherished,  that  we 
are  here  only  in  the  infancy  of  our  existence,  and  that  the  grave 
might  be  the  porch  of  immortality,  and  not  the  goal  of  our 
career.  Th^  natural  love  that  we  have  for  life,  amidst  all  its 
miseries — the  grief  that  we  sometimes  feel  at  being  torn  from 
all  that  is  dear  to  us — the  desire  for  posterity  and  for  posthu- 
mous fame — the  humiliating  idea,  that  the  thoughts^  which 
wander  through  eternity,  should  be  the  operations  of  a  being 
destined  to  flutter  for  a  moment  on  the  surface  of  the  earth, 
and  then  for  ever  to  be  buried  in  its  bosom — all,  in  short,  that 
is  selfish,  and  all  that  is  social  in  our  nature,  combined  in  giv- 
ing importance  to  the  inquiry,  If  the  thinking  principle  was 
to  be  destroyed  by  death,  or  if  that  great  change  was  to  be  an 
introduction  to  a  future  state  of  existence.  Having  thus  a  na- 
tural desire  for  the  truth  of  this  doctrine,  the  philosophers  of 
antiquity  anxiously  devised  arguments,  which  might  justify 
their  hopes.  Sometimes  they  deduced  them  from  metaphysi-, 
cal  speculations — the  spirituality,  unity,  and  activity  of  the 
soul — sometimes  from  its  high  ideas  of  things  moral  and  intel- 
lectual. Is  it  possible,  they  asked,  that  a  being  of  such  excel- 
lence should  be  here  imprisoned  for  a  term  of  years,  only  to 
be  the  sport  of  the  few  pleasures  and  the  many  pains  which 

•  TuscIHfP'  Lib.  II.  c.  3.    Lib.  IIL  c.  8. 


340     .  CICERO. 

chequer  this  mortal  life  9  Is  not  its  future  destination  teen 
in  that  satiety  and  disrelish,  which  attend  all  earthly  eajoj- 
ments — in  those  desires  of  the  naind  for  things  more  pare  and 
intellectual  than  are  here  supplied — in  that  longing  and  eo- 
deavour,  which  we  feel  after  something  above  us,  and  perfect 
tive  of  our  nature  9  At  other  times,  they  have  found  argu- 
ments in  the  unequal  distribution  of  rewards  and  puoidunents; 
and  in  our  sighs  over  the  misfortunes  of  virtue,  they  have  re- 
cognized a  principle,  which  points  to  a  Aiture  state  of  things 
where  that  shall  be  discovered  to  be  good  which  we  now  la- 
ment as  evil,  and  where  the  consequences  of  vice  and  virtue 
shall  be  more  fully  and  regularly  unfolded,  than  in  this  inhar- 
monious scene.  They  have  then  looked  abroad  into  nature, 
and  have  seen,  that  if  death  follows  life,  life  seemingly  ema« 
nates  from  death,  and  that  the  cheerful  animations  of  spring 
succeed  to  the  dead  horrors  of  winter.  They  have  observed 
the  wonderful  changes  that  take  place  in  some  sentient 
beings — ^they  have  considered  those  which  man  himself  has 
undergone^— and,  charmed  by  all  these  speculations,  tbey  have 
indulged  in  the  pleasing  hope,  that  our  death  may,  like  our 
birth,  be  the  introduction  to  a  new  state  of  existence.  Bat  all 
these  fond  desires — all  these  longings  after  immortality,  were 
insufficient  to  dispel  the  doubts  of  the  sage,  or  to  fill  the  mora- 
list with  confidence  and  ccmsolation.  The  wisest  and  most 
virtuous  of  the  philosophers  of  antiquity,  and  who  most  strongly 
indulged  the  hope  of  immortality,  is  represented,  by  an  illus- 
trious disciple  as  expressing  himself  in  a  manner  winch  dis- 
closes his  sad  uncertainty,  whether  he  was  to  be  released  firom 
the  tomb,  or  for  ever  confined  within  its  barriers. 

In  the  age  of  Cicero,  the  existence  of  a  world  beyond  the 
grave  was  still  covered  with  shadows,  clouds,  and  darkness. 
"  Whichsoever  of  the  opinions  concerning  the  substance  of 
the  soul  be  true,"  says  he,  in  his  first  Tusculan  Disputation, 
'Mt  will  follow,  that  death  is  either  a  good,  or  at  least  not  an 
evil — for  if  it  be  brain,  blood,  or  heart,  it  will  perish  with  the 
whole  body — if  fire,  it  will  be  extinguished — ^if  breath,  it  will 
be  dissipated — if  harmony,  it  will  be  broken — not  to  speak  of 
those  who  affirm  that  it  is  nothing ;  but  other  opinions  give 
hopci  that  the  vital  spark,  after  it  has  left  tfie  body,  may  mount 
up  to  Heaven,  as  its  proper  habitation." 

Cicero  then  proceeds  to  exhaust  the  whole  Plat<Miic  reason- 
ing for  the  souPs  inunortality,  and  its  ascent  to  the  celestial 
regions,  where  it  will  explore  and  traverse  all  space — ^receiv- 
ing, in  its  boundless  flight,  infinite  enjoyment.  From  his 
system  of  future  existence,  Cicero  excludes  all  the  gloomy 
fables  feigned  of  the  descent  to  Avemus,  the  pale  murky  re- 


CICERO.  ^241 

^ons,  the  Bhiggish  stream,  the  gaunt  hound,  and  the  grim 
boatman.  But  6Ven  if  death'  is  to  be  considered  as  the  total 
extinction  of  sense  and  feeling,  our  author  still  denies  that  it 
should  be  accounted  an  evil.  This  view  he  strongly  supports, 
from  a  consideration  of  the  insignificance  of  those  pleasures 
of  which  we  are  deprived,  and. beautifully  illustrates,  from  the 
fate  of  many  characters  distinguished  in  history,  who,  by  an 
earlier  death,  would  have  avoided  the  greatest  ills  of  life. 
Had  Metullus  died  sooner,  he  would  not  have  laid  his  s<ms  on 
the  funeral  pile — had  Pompey  expired,  when  the  inhabitants 
of  all  Italy  were  decked  with  wreaths  and  garlands,  as  testi- 
monies  of  joy  for  his  restoration  to  health  from  the  fever  with 
which  he  was  seized  in  Campania,  he  would  not  have  taken 
arms  unprepared  for  the  contest,  nor  fled  his  home  and  coun- 
try ;  nor,  having  lost  a  Roman  army,  would  he  have  &llen  on 
a  foreign  shore  by  the  sword  of  a  slave*.  He  completes  these 
illustrations  by  reference  to  his  own  misfortunes;  and  the  ar- 
guments which  he  deduced  from  them,  received,  in  a  few 
months,  a  strong  and  melancholy  confirmation. — ^^  Etiam  ne 
mors  nobis  expedit  ?  qui  et  domesticis  et  forensibus  solatiis 
ornamentisque  privati,  certe,  si  ante  occidissemus,  mors  nos  a 
malis,  non  a  bonis  abstraxisset." 

The  same  unphilosophical  guest,  who  had  asserted  that 
death  was  a  disadvantage,  and  whom  Cicero,  in  charity  to  his 
memory,  does  not  name,  is  doomed,  in  the  second  dialogue, 
De  Toterando  Dotore^  to  announce  the  still  more  untenable 
proposition,  that  pain  is  an  evil.  But  Cicero  demonstrated, 
that  its  sufferings  may  be  overcome,  not  by  remembrance  of 
the  silly  Epicurean  maxims,— -''Short  if  severe,  and  light  if 
long,"  but  by  fortitude  and  patience ;  and  he  accordingly  cen- 
sures those  philosophers,  who  have  represented  pain  in  too 
formidable  colours,  and  reproaches  those  poets,  who  have  de- 
scribed their  heroes  as  yielding  to  its  influence. 

In  the  third  book,  De  Mgritudine  Lenienda,  the  author 
treats  of  the  best  alleviations  of  sorrow.  To  foresee  calamities, 
and  be  prepared  for  them,  is  either  to  repel  their  assaults,  or 
to  mitigate  their  severity.  After  they  have  occurred,  we  ought 
to  remember,  that  grieving  is  a  folly  which  cannot  avail  us, 
and  that  misfortunes  are  not  peculiar  to  ourselves,  but  are  the 
common  lot  of  humanity.  The  sorrow  of  which  Cicero  here 
treats,  seems  chiefly  that  occasioned  by  deprivation  of  friends 
and  relatives,  to  which  the  recent  loss  of  his  daughter  TuUia, 

*  Juyenal,  I  think,  had  probably  this  pasflafce  of  the  TuMulan  Diq>ut«tioiui  in 
view,  in  the  noble  and  pathetic  lines  of  his  tenu  Satire— 

"  Provida  Pompeio  dedeiat  Campania  febrea,"  &c. 

Vol,  IL— 2  F 


342  CICERO. 

and  the  composition  of  his  treatise  De  Con$olatiane,  had  pio- 
bably  directed  his  attention. 

The  fourth  book  treats  De  Rdiquia  atdnd  PerturbatianUnu, 
including  all  those  passions  and  vexations,  which  the  author 
considers  as  diseases  of  the  soul.  These  he  classes  and  defines 
— pointing  out,  at  the  same  time,  the  remedy  or  relief  appro- 
priate to  each  disquietude.  In  the  fifth  book,  in  which  he 
attempts  to  prove  that  virtue  alone  is  sufficient  for  perfect 
felicity — Virtutetn  ad  beate  vivendum  se  ipsa  esse  conieniam 
—-he  coincides  more  completely  with  the  opinions  of  the 
Stoics,  than  in  his  work  De  FinibuSy  where  he  seems  to  as- 
sent, to  the  Peripatetic  doctrine,  <'  that  though  virtue  be  the 
chief  good,  the  perfection  of  the  other  qualities  of  nature  en-. 
ters  into  the  composition  of  supreme  happiness. 

In  these  Tusculan  Disputations,  which  treat  of  the  subjects 
most  important  and  subservient  to  the  happiness  of  life,  the 
whole  discourse  is  in  the  mouth  of  Tully  himself; — ^tfae  Audi- 
tor, whose  initial  letter  some  editors  have  whimsically  mis- 
taken for  that  of  Atticus,  being  a  mere  man  of  straw.  He  is 
set  up  to  announce  what  is  to  be  represented  as  an  untenable 
proposition :  but  after  this  duty  is  performed,  no  Engli^  hearer 
or  Welsh  uncle  could  have  listened  with  less  dissent  and  in- 
terruption. The  greUt  object  of  Cieero^s  continued  lectures,  is 
'by  fortifying  the  mind  with  practical-  and  philosophical  les- 
sons, adapted  to  the  circumstances  of  life,  to  elevate  us  above 
the  influence  of  all  its  passions  and  pains* 

The  first  conference,  which  is  intended  to  diminish  the 
dread  of  death,  is  the  best;  but  they  are  all  agreeable,  chiefly 
from  the  frequent  allusion  to  ancient  fable,  the  events  of  Greek 
and  Roman  history,  and  the  memorable  sayings  of  heroes  and 
sages.  There  is  something  in  the  very  names  of  such  men  as 
Plato  and  Epaminondas,  which  bestows  a  sanctity  and  fervour 
on  the  page.  The  references  also  to  the  ancient  Latin  poets, 
and  the  quotations  from  their  works,  particularly  the  tragic 
dramas,  give  a  beautiful  richiiess  to  the  whole  composition ; 
and  even  on  the  driest  topics,  the  mind  is  relieved  by  the  re- 
currence of  extracts  characteristic  of  the  vigour  of  the  Roman 
Melpomene,  who,  though  unfit,  as  in  Greece, 


(C 


To  wake  the  soul  by  tender  sttokes  of  art," 


long  trod  the  stage  with  dignity  and  elevation. 

Paradoxa. — This  tract  contains  a  defence  of  six  peculiar 
opinions  or  par£(doxes  of  the  Stoics,  somewhat  of  the  descrip- 
tion of  those  which  Cato  was  wont  to  promulgate  in  the  Se- 
nate.   These  are,  that  what  is  morally  fitting  {honestum)  is 


CICJERO.  243 

Alone  goody — that  the  virtuous  can  want  nothing  for  complete 
happiness — that  there  are  no  degrees  in  crimes  or  good  actions 
— that  every  fool  is  mad — that  the  wise  alone  are  wealthy — 
that  the  wise  man  alone  is  free,  and  that  every  fool  is  a  slave. 
These  absurd  and  quibbling  positions,  the  author  supports,  in 
a  manner  certainly  more  ingenious  than  philosophical.  The 
Paradoxay  indeed,  seem  to  have  been  written  as  a  sort  of  ex* 
ercise  of  rhetorical  wit,  rather  than  as  a  serious  disquisition  in 
philosophy;  and. each  paradox  is  personally  applied  or  di- 
rected against  an  individual.  There  is  no  precision  whatever 
in  the  definitions ;  the  author  plays  on  the  ambiguity  of  the 
words,  bonum  and  dif)e9,  and  his  arguments  frequently  dege- 
nerate into  particular  examples,  which  are  by  no  means  ade- 
quate to  support  his  general  proposition* 

De  JSfatura  Dearum. — Of  the  various  philosophical  works 
of  Cicero,  the  most  curious  perhaps,  and  important,  is  that  on 
the  Nature  of  the  Gods.  It  is  addressed  to  Brutus,  and  is  writ- 
ten in  dialogue.  This  form  of  composition,  besides  the  ad- 
vantages already  pointed  out,  is  peculiarly  fitted  for  subjects 
of  delicacy  and  danger,  where  the  author  dreads  to  expose  him- 
self to  reproach  or  persecution.  On  this  account  chiefly  it 
seems  to  have  been  adopted  by  the  disciples  of  Socrates, 
That  philosopher  had  fallen  a  victim  to  popular  fury, — to 
those  imputations  of  impiety  which  have  so  often  and  so  suc- 
cessfully been  repeated  againt  philosophers.  In  the  schools 
of  his  disciples,  a  double  doctrine  seems  to  have  b^en  adopted 
for  the  purpose  of  escaping  persecution,  and  Plato  probably 
considered  the  form  of  dialogue  as  best  calculated  to  secure 
him  from  the  imputations  of  his  enemies.  It  was  thus,  in 
later  times,  that  Galileo  endeavoured  to  shield  himself  from 
the  attacks  of  error  and  injustice,  and  imagined,  that  by  pre- 
senting his  c.onclusions  in  the  Platonic  manner,  he  would  shun 
the  malignant  vigilance  of  the  Court  of  Inquisition*. 

In  the  dialogue  De  JSTatura  Deorum,  the  author  presents 
the  doctrines  of  three  of  the  most  distinguished  sects  among 
the  ancients — the  Epicureans,  the  Stoics,  and  the  Academics 
— on  the  important  subject  of  the  Nature  of  the  Divine  Es- 
sence, and  of  Providence.  He  introduces  three  illustrious 
persons  of  his  country,  each  elucidating  the  tenets  of  the  sect 
that  he  preferred,  and  contending  for  them,  doubtless,  with 
the  chief  arguments  which  the  learning  or  talents  of  the  au- 
thor himself  could  supply.    Cicero  represents  himself  as  hav- 

*  Some  of  the  advantages  and  disadvantages  of  the  method  of  writing  in  dla^ 
logue,  are  stated  by  Mr  Hume,  in  the  introduction  to  his  Dialogues  eoneemmg 
Jfatural  lUligion,  (London,  1779, 8vo»)  a  woit  apparently  modeOed  on  Cicero^ 
Nature  of  flie  Gods. 


344  CICERO. 

ing  gone  to  the  house  of  C.  Cotta  the  Pontifex  Maximus,  whan 
he  found  sitting  in  his  study  with  C.  Velleius,  a  Senator,  who 
professed  the  principles  of  Epicurus,  and  Q.  Lucilius  Balbos. 
a  supporter  of  the  doctrines  of  the  Stoics. — ^'  As  soon  as  Cotta 
saw  me, '  You  are  come,'  says  he,  *  very  seasonably,  for  I  have 
a  dispute  with  Velleius  upon  an  iniportant  subject,  in  which, 
considering  the  nature  of  your  studies,  it  is  not  improper  for 
you  to  join.' — '  Indeed,'  said  I,  M  am  come  very  seasonablj, 
as  you  say,  for  here  are  three  chiefs  of  the  three  principal 
•ects  met  together.'  "  Cotta  himself  is  a  new  Academic,  aad 
he  proceeds  to  inform  Cicero  that  they  were  discoursing  on 
the  nature  of  the  gods,  a  topic  which  had  always  appeared  to 
him  very  obscure,  and  that  therefore  he  had  prevailed  on  Tel- 
leius  to  state  the  sentiments  of  Epicurus  upon  the  sabject. 
Velleius  is  requested  to  go  on  with  his  arguments ;  and  after 
recapitulating  what  he  had  already  said, ''  with  the  confidence 
peculiar  to  his  sect,  dreading  nothing  so  much  as  to  seem  to 
doubt  about  anything,  he  began,  as  if  be  had  just  then  descend- 
ed from  the  council  of  the  gods*." 

The  discourse  of  Velleius  consists,  in  a  considerable  degree, 
of  raillery  and  declamations  directed  against  the  doctrines  of 
different  sects,  of  which  he  enumerates  a  great  variety,  and 
which  supposes  in  Cicero  extensive  philosophical  eruditioo,or 
rather,  perhaps,  from  the  slight  manner  in  which  they  are 
passed  over,  that  he  had  taken  his  acccjunt  of  them  from5ome 
ancient  Diogenes  Laertius,  or  Stanleyf. — "  I  have  hitherto," 
says  Velleius,  "  rather  exposed  the  dreams  of  dotards  than  the 
opinions  of  philosophers ;  and  whoever  considers  how  rashly 

*Iii  Om  Englhh  extncti  fiwD  Cieero  De  JVbt,  Dear.  I  have  avuied fflyKlf  of 
a  Teiy  good  butanonymouf  translation,  printed  Lond.  1741,8vo. 

t  In  the  Herculanensia,  (p.  22.)  Sir  William  Drummond  contends,  at  consider- 
able length,  that  a  work  On  Piety  according  to  Epicurtis,  (Ut^t  E»yi^ti«  i**" 
Exttv^e?,)  of  which  a  fragment  has  been  discovered  at  Heiculaneum.  was  the  (Nth 
totype  of  a  considerable  part  of  the  discourse  of  VeUeius.  The  reader  irill  d^  > 
version  of  the  passaffes  in  which  a  resemblance  appears,  in  the  Quarierly  ^^^^ 
(No.  V.)  where  it  Is  also  remarked,  "  that  Sir  William  seems  to  us  to  havefaiW 
altogether  in  rendering  it  probable  that  Cicero  had  ever  seen  tins  importaBt  frag- 
ment, the  passages  in  which  there  is  any  resemblance,  relating,  without  eicepdoo* 
to  what  each  author  is  reporting  of  the  doctrines  of  certain  older  philosophetf,  >* 
•xpresaed  in  their  works ;  and  the  reports  are  not  by  any  means  so  precisely  «««* 
as  to  hiduce  us  to  suppose  that  Cicero  had  even  taken  the  veiy  justifiable  libertr'' 
saving  himself  some  little  trouble,  by  making  use  of  another  author's  ibatnci.  M 
Chrysippus,  and  from  Diogenes  the  Babylonian.**  Schiitz,  the  Gennao  editor  ot 
Cicero,  enumerates  some  works,  which  he  thinks  Cicero  had  read,  ao^  ^'^'i^ 


orioTSTOf,  non  ex  alioruro  tantum  testimoniis,  sed  ex  sua  ipsius  lectk)fle  ei  oo^ 
fliisse,  facile,  tot  locis  ubi  de  eo  agltur  inter  se  collati:),  intelligilui'."  (Cicer.  Opf^ 
Tom.  XV.  p.  27.)  Perhaps  the  treatise,  Uw  •Otf-JoTsTBf,  was  a  simibr  fro*  ^ 
that,  Ht^i  Hyrt/ititie, 


CICERO.  246 

and  inconsiderately  their  tenets  are  advanced,  must  entertain 
a  veneration  for  Epicurus,  and  rank  him  in  the  number  of 
those  beings  who  are  the  subject  of  this  dispute,  for  he  alone 
first  founded  the  existence  of  the  gods,  on  the  impression 
which  nature  herself  hath  made  on  the  minds  of  men/' 

Velleius  having  concluded  his  discourse,  (the  remainder  of 
which  can  now  have  little  interest  as  relating  to  the  form  of 
the  gods  and  their  apathy,)  Cotta,  after  some  compliments  to 
him,  enters  on  a  confutation  of  what  be  had  advanced ;  and, 
while  admitting  that  there  are  gods,  he  pronounces  the  reasons 
given  by  Velleius  for  their  existence  to  be  altogether  insuffi* 
cient.  He  then  proceeds  to  attack  the  other  positionis  of  Vel- 
leius, with  regard  to  the  form  of  the  gods,  and  their  exemption 
from  the  labours  of  creation  and  providence.  His  arguments 
against  Anthropomorphism  are  excellent ;  and  in  reply  to  the 
hypothesis  of  Epicurus  concerning  the  indolence  of  the  gods, 
he  inquires,  '*  What  reason  is  there  that  men  should  worship 
the  gods,  when  the  gods,  as  you  say,  not  only  do  not  regard 
men,  but  are  entirely  careless  of  everything,  and  absolutely  do 
nothing  ?  But  they  are,  you  say,  of  so  glorious  a  nature,  that 
a  wise  man  is  induced  by  their  excellence  to  adore  them.  Can 
there  be  any  glory  in  that  nature,  which  only  contemplates  its 
own  happiness,  and  neither  will  do,  nor  does,  nor  ever  did 
anything  ?  Besides,  what  piety  is  due  to  a  being  from  whom 
you  receive  nothing,  or  how  are  you  indebted  to  him  who  be- 
stows no  benefits 'J" 

When  Cotta  has  concluded  his  refutation  of  Velleius,  with 
which  the  first  book  closes,  Balbus  is  next  requested  to  give 
the  sentiments  of  the  Stoics,  on  the  subject  of  the  gods,  to 
which,  making  a.  slight  excuse,  he  consents.  His  first  argu- 
ment for  their  existence,  after  shortly  alluding  to  the  magnifi- 
cence of  the  world,  and  the  prevalence  of  the  doctrine,  is  '^  the 
frequent  appearance  of  the  gods  themselves.  In  the  war  with 
the  Latins,'^  he  continues,  <*  when  A.  Posthumius,  the  Dictator, 
attacked  Octavius  Mamilius,  the  Tusculan,  at  Regillus,  Cas- 
tor and  Pollux  were  seen  fighting  in  our  army  on  horseback, 
and  since  that  time  the  same  offspring  of  Tyndarus  gave  no- 
tice of  the  defeat  of  Perseus ;  for  P.  Vatienus,  grandfather  of 
the  present  youth  of  that  name,  coming  in  the  night  to  Rome, 
from  his  government  of  Reate,  two  young  men  on  white  horses 
appeared  to  him,  and  told  him  King  Perseus  was  that  day  taken 
prisoner.  This  news  he  carried  to  the  Senate,  who  imme- 
diately threw  him  into  prison,  for  speaking  inconsiderately  on 
a  state  affair ;  but  when  it  was  confirmed  by  letters  from  Paul- 
lus,  he  was  recompensed  by  the  Senate  with  land  and  exemp- 
tion.   The  voices  of  the  Fauns  have  been  often  heard,  and 


\ 


246  CICERO. 


deities  have  appeared  in  foroM  wof  visible,  that  he  who  dodbu 
must  be  hardened  in  stupidity  or  impiety." 

Balbus,  after  farther  arguing  for  the  existence  of  the  gods, 
from  events  consequent  on  auguries  and  auspices,  proceeds  to 
what  is  more  peculiarly  the  doctrine  of  the  Stoics.     He  re- 
marks,— ^*'  that  Cleanthes,  one  of  the  most  distinguished  phi- 
losophers of  that  sect,  imputes  the  idea  of  the  gods  implanted 
in  the  minds  of  men,  to  four  causes-r-The  first  is,  what  I  just 
now  mentioned,  a  pre-knowledge  of  future  things :  The  second 
is,  the  great  advantages  we  enjoy  from  the  temperature  of  the 
air,  the  fertility  of  the  earth,  and  the  abundance  of  various 
kinds  of  benefits  :  The  third  is,  the  terror  with  which  the  mind 
is   affected   by  thunder,   tempests,  snow,   hail,   devastation, 
pestilence,  earthquakes,  often  attended  with  hideous  noises, 
showers  of  stones,  and  rain  like  drops  of  blood.    His  fourth 
cause,"  continues  Balbus,  ''  and  that  the  strongest,  is  drawn 
from  the  regularity  of  the  motion,  and  revolution  of  the  hea- 
vens, the  variety,  and  beauty,  and  order  of  the  sun,  moon,  and 
stars;  the  appearance  only  of  which  is  sufficient  to  convince 
us  they  are  not  the  effects  of  chance ;  as  when  we  enter 
into  a  house,  a  school,  or  court,  and  observe  the  exact  order, 
discipline,  and  method  therein,  we  cannot  suppose  they  are  so 
regulated  without  a  cause,  but  must  conclude  there  is  some 
one  who  commands,  and  to  whom  obedience  is  paid ;  so  we 
have  much  greater  reason  to  think  that  such  wonderful  mo- 
tions, revolutions,  and  order  of  those  many  and  great  bodies, 
no  part  of  which  is  impaired  by  the  vast  infinity  of  age,  are 
governed  by  some  intelligent  being." 

This  argument  is  very  well  stated,  but  Balbus,  in  a  conside- 
rable degree,  weakens  its  effect,  by  proceeding  to  contend, 
that  the  world,  or  universe  itself,  (the  stoical  deity,)  and  iu 
most  distinguished  parts,  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  are  pos- 
sessed of  reason  and  wisdom.  This  he  founds  partly  on  a 
metaphysical  argument,  and  partly  on  the  regularity,  beauty, 
and  order  of  their  motions. 

Balbus,  after  various  other  remarks,  enters  on  the  topic  of 
the  creation  of  the  world,  and  its  government  by  the  provi- 
dence of  the  gods.  He  justly  observes,  that  nothing  can  be 
more  absurd  than  to  suppose  that  a  world,  so  beautifully  adorn- 
ed, could  be  formed  by  chance,  or  by  a  fortuitous  concourse 
of  atoms^.    ^  He  who  believes  this  possible,"  says  he,  ^  may 

*  In  bis  Dialogues  on  Natural  Religion,  Mr  Hume  putt  two  veiy  good  renaib 
into  the  mouth  ofone  of  his  characters.  Speaking  of  Cicero's  argument  Ibr  a  Deity, 
deduced  from  the  grandeur  and  magnificence  of  nature,  he  observes,  "  If  tfab  ai^gu- 
ment,  1  say,  had  any  force  in  former  ages,  how  much  greater  must  it  have  at  ptcseot, 
when  the  bounds  of  nature  are  so  infinitely  enlarged,  and  such  a  mikgnificent  scene  » 


CICERO.     .  247 

as  well  believe,  that  if  a  great  number  of  the  one^and-twenty 
letters,  composed  either  of  gold,  or  any  other  metal,  were 
thrown  on  the  ground,  they  would  fall  into  such  order  as  legi« 
bly  to  form  the  Annals  of  Ennius.    I  doubt  whether  fortune 
could  make  a  single  verse  of  them."    He  quotes  a  very  beau- 
tiful passage  from  a  now  lost  work  of  Aristotle,  in  which  that 
philosopher  urges  the  argument  that  may  be  deduced  from 
providential  design,  with  more  soundness  and  imagination  than 
are   usual  with  him.     Balbus  then  proceeds  to  display  the 
marks  of  deliberate  plan  in  the  universe,  beginning  with  as- 
tronomy     In  treating  of  the  constellations,  he  makes  great 
use  of  Cicero's  poetical  version  of  Aratus,  much  of  which  he 
is  supposed,  perhaps  with  little  probability,  or  modesty  in  the 
author,  to  have  by  heart ;  and,  accordingly,  we  are  favoured 
with  a  considerable  number  of  these  verses.     He  also  adduces 
manifold  proofs  of  design  and  sovereign  wisdom,  from  a  con- 
sideration of  plants,  land  animals,  fishes,  and  the  structure  of 
the  human  body ;  a  subject  on  which  Cicero  discovers  more 
anatomical  knowledge  than  one  should  have  expected.    Bal- 
bus also  contends  that  the  gods  not  only  provide  for  mankind 
universally,  but  for  individuals.     ^'  The  frequent  appearances 
of  the  gods,"  he  observes,  *'  demonstrate  their  regard  for  cities 
and  particular  men.    This,  indeed,  is  also  apparent  from  the 
foreknowledge  of  events,  which  we  receive  either  sleeping  or 
waking." 

Cicero  makes  Balbus,  in  the  conclusion  of  his  discourse,  ex- 
press but  little  confidence  in  his  own  arguments.*-"  This  is 
almost  the  whole,"  says  he,  "  that  has  occurred  to  my  mind, 
on  the  nature  of  the  gods,  and  that  I  thought  proper  to  ad- 
vance; Do  you,  Cotta,  if  T  may  advise,  defend  the  same  cause. 
Remember  that  in  Rome  you  keep  the  first  rank — remember 
you  are  Pontifex.  It  is  a  pernicious  and  impious  custom,  either 
seriously  or  seemingly  to  argue  against  the  gods." 

In  the  third  book  of  this  very  remarkable  work,  Cicero  ex- 
hibits Cotta  as  refuting  the  doctrines  of  Balbus.  "  But  before 
I  enter  On  the  subjeot,^'  says  Cotta,  "  I  have  a  word  to  say  con- 
cerning myself;  for  I  am  greatly  influenced  by  your  'authority, 
and  your  exhortation  at  the  conclusion  of  your  discourse,  to 
remember  I  was  Cotta,  and  Pontifex ;  by  which,  I  presume, 
you  intimated  that  I  should  defend  the  religion  and  ceremo- 

opened  to  ua  !"  P.  103. — Again,  in  mentioning  that  the  infidelity  of  Galen  was 
cured  by  the  study  of  anatomy,  (which  was  raucn  more  extended  by  him  than  it  had 
been  in  the  days  of  Cicero,)  he  says,  "  And  if  the  Infidelity  of  Galen,  even  when 
ttie^e  natural  sciences  were  stiU  im]>erfect,  could  not  withstand  such  striking  ap- 
pearances, to  what  pitch  of  pertinacious  obstinacy  must  a  phioeop^r  in  this  age  have 
attained,  who  can  now  doubt  of  a  Supreme  InteUigence  !**  P.  29f>-See  also  Lac- 
tantlus,  De  Opificio  Dei, 


248  CICERO. 

nies  which  we  received  from  our  ancestors :  Truly,  I  alwaj6 
have,  and  always  will  defend  them,  nor  shall  the  arguments, 
either  of  the  learned  or  unlearned,  ever  remove  the  opioioDs  1 
have  imbibed  concerning  the  worship  of  the  immortal  gods. 
In  matters  of  religion,  I  submit  to  the  rules  of  the  High  PriesU 
T.  Coruncanius,  r.  Sctpio,  and  P.  Scasvola.  These,  Baibus," 
continues  he,  '^are  my  sentiments,  both  as  a  priest  and  Cotta. 
Bat  you  must  bring  me  to  your  opinion  by  the  force  of  your 
reason ;  for  a  pliilosopher  should  prove  to  me  the  religioii  he 
would  have  me  embrace;  but  I  must  believe  without  proof  die 
religion  of  our  ancestors." 

The  Pontifex  thus  professing  to  believla  the  existence  of  the 
gods  merely  on  the  authority  of  his  ancestors,  proceeds  to  ridi- 
cule this  very  authority.  He  represents  the  appearances  of 
Castor  and  Pollux,  and  those  others  adduced  by  Balbu8,8sidle 
tales.  ''Do  you  take  these  for  fabulous  stories?"  saysBalbos. 
''Is  not  the  temple  built  by  Posthumius,  in  honour  of  Castor 
and  Pollux,  to  be  seen  in  the  Forum?  Is  not  the  decree  of 
the  Senate  concerning  Vatienus  still  subsisting  1  Ougiil  not 
such  authorities  to  move  you  ?" — "  You  oppose  me,"  replies 
Cotta,  "  with  stories ;  but  I  ask  reasons  of  you." 

A  chasm  here  follows  in  the  original,  in  which  Cotta  proba^ 
bly  stated  the  reasons  of  his  scepticism,  in  spite  of  the  acts  of 
the  Senate,  and  so  many  public  memorials  of  supernatural 
facts.     ''  You  believe,"  continues  Cotta,  "that  the  Decii^  ia 
devoting  themselves  to  death,  appeased  the  gods.  How  great, 
then,  was  the  iniquity  of  the  gods,  that  they  coold  not  be  ap- 
peased, but  at  the  price  of  such  noble  blood ! — As  to  the  voice 
of  the  Fauns,  I  never  heard  it ;  if  you  assure  me  you  hare,  1 
shall  believe  you ;  though  I  am  absolutely  ignorant  what  a 
Faun  is.  Truly,  Balbus,  you  have  not  yet  proved  the  existeoce 
of  the  gods.    I  believe  it,  indeed,  but  not  from  any  arguoi^^ 
of  the  Stoics.    Cleanthes,  you  said,  attributes  the  idea  that 
men  have  of  the  gods  to  four  cagses.    The  first  is  a  fore- 
knowledge of  future  events ;  the  second. — tempests  and  other 
shocks  of  nature  ;  the  third, — ^the  utility  end  plenty  of  things 
we  enjoy ;   the   fourth, — the   invariable   order  of  the  staff 
and  heavens.   Foreknowledge  I  have  already  answered.  With 
regard  to  tempests  in  the  air,  the  sea,  and  the  earth,  I  own,  thai 
many  people  are  affrighted  by  them,  and  imagine  that  the 
immortal  gods  are  the  authors  of  them.     But  the  question  is 
not,  whether  there  be  people  who. believe-there  are  gods,  but 
whether  there  are  gods  or  not.     As  to  the  two  other  causes  oi 
Cleanthes,  one  of  which  is  derived  from  the  plenty  we  enjoy^ 
the  other  from  the  invariable  order  of  the  seasons  and  heareD^* 


CICERO,  248 

I  shall  treat  on  them  when  I  answer  your  .discourse  concerning 
the  providence  of  the  gods." 

In  the  meantime,  Cotta  goes  on  to  refute  the  Stoical  notions 
with  regard  to  the  reason  and  understanding  attributed  tonhe 
«uii,  moon,  and  stars.    He  then  proceeds  to  controvert,  and 
occasionally  to  ridicule,  the  opinions  entertained  of  numerous 
heathen  gods ;  the  three  Jupiters,  and  other  deities,  and  sons 
of  deities.—"  You  call  Jupiter  and  Neptune  gods,"  says  Jie ; 
**  their  brother  Pluto,  then,  is  one ;  Charon,  also,  and  Cerberus, 
are  gods,  but  that  cannot  be  allowed.  Nor  can  Pluto  be  placed 
among  the  deities ;  how  then  can  his  brothers  ?"    Cotta  next 
ridicules  the  Stoics  for  the  delight  they  take  in  the  explication 
of  fables,  and  in  the  etymology  of  names ;  after  which  he  says, 
'^  Let  us  proceed  to  the  two  other  parts  of  our  dispute.     1st, 
Whether  there  is  a  Divine  Providence  that  governs  the  world? 
and,  lastly.  Whether  that  Providence  particularly  regaids  man- 
kind?    For  these  are   the  remaining  propositions  of  your 
discourse." 

There  follows  a  considerable  hiatus  in  the  original,  so  that 
we  are  deprived  of  all  the  arguments  of  Cotta  on  the  proposi- 
tion maintained  by  Balbus,  that  there  is  a  Divine  Providence 
which  governs  the  world.  At  the  end  of  this  chasm,  we  find 
him  quoting  long  passages  from  tragedies,  and  arguing 
against  the  advantages  of  reason,  from  the  ill  use  which  has 
been  made  of  it.  He  then  adduces  a  number  of  instances, 
drawn  fr*\m  history  and  observation,  of  fortunate  vice,  and  of 
wrecked  and  ruined  virtue,  in  order  to  overturn  the  doctrine  of 
particular  providence;  contending,  that  as  no  family  or  state 
can  be  supposed  to  be  formed  with  any  judgment  or  disci- 
pline, if  there  are  no  rewards  for  good  actions,  or  punishment 
for  bad,  so  we  cannot  believe  that  a  Divine  Providence  regu- 
lates the  world,  when  there  is  no  distinction  between  the  ho- 
nest and  the  wicked. 

'^  This,"  concludes  Cotta,  "  is  the  purport  of  what  I  had  to 
say  concerning  the  nature  of  the  gods,  not  with  a  design  to 
destroy  their  existence,  but  merely  to  show  what  an  obscure 
point  it  is,  and  with  what  difficulties  an  explanation  of  it  is 
attended."  Balbus  observing  that  Cotta  had  finished  his  dis- 
course, ''  You  have  been  very  severe,"  says  he,  '^  against  the 
being  of  a  Divine  Providence,  a  doctrine  established  by  the 
Stoics,  with  piety  and  wisdom ;  but,  as  it  grows  too  late,  I 
shall  defer  my  answer  to  another  day." — "  There  is  nothing," 
replied  Cotta,  ^^  I  desire  more  than  to  be  confuted." — *^  The 
conversation  ended  here,  and  we  parted.  Velleius  judsed  that 
the  arguments  of  Cotta  were  the  truest,  but  those  of  Balbus 
seemed  to  me  to  have  the  greater  probability." 
Vol.  II.— 2  G 


260  CICERO, 

It  seems  likely  that  this  profession  or  pretext,  that  the  dis- 
course is  left  unfinished,  may  (like  the  occasional  apologies 
of  Cotta)  be  introduced  to  save  appearances*.  It  is  evideDi, 
however,  that  Cicero  intended  to  add,  at  least,  new  preface 
to  the  two  latter  books  of  this  work,  probably  from  suspect- 
ing, as  he  went  on,  that  the  discourses  are  too  long  to  hare 
taken  place  in  one  day,  as  they  are  now  represented.  Baibm 
bays,  in  the  second  book,  ''  Velut  a  te  ipso,  hesterno  die  dic- 
tum estf ."  Fulvius  Ursinus  had  remarked  that  this  was  an 
inadvertence,  either  in  Cicero  or  a  transcriber,  as  the  dis- 
course is  continued  throughout  the  same  day.  That  it  was 
not  owing  to  a  transcriber,  or  to  any  inadvertence  in  Cicero, 
but  to  a  design  of  altering  the  introductions  to  the  second  aod 
third  books,  appears  from  a  passage  in  book  third,  where 
Cotta  says  to  Balbus,  '^  Omniaque,  quse  a  te  nudnuiertius 
dicta  8unt{."  Now,  it  is  extremely  unlikely  that  there  should 
have  been  two  such  instances  of  inadvertency  in  the  author, 
or  carelessness  in  the  copyist. 

The  work  on  the  Nature  of  the  Gods,  though  in  man? 
respects  a  most  valuable  production,  .and  a  convincin j^  proof 
of  the  extensive  learning  of  its  author,  gives  a  melancholy 
picture  of  the  state  of  his  mind.  Unfitted  to  bear  adTersity, 
and  borne  down  by  the  calamities  of  his  country,  and  the 
death  of  his  beloved  daughter,  f  misfortunes  of  which  be  often 
complains,)  Cicero  seems  to  nave  become  a  sceptic,  and 
occasionally  to  have  doubted  even  of  a  superintending  Provi- 
dence. Warburton  appears  to  be  right  in  supposing,  that 
Cicero  was  advanced  in  years  before  he  seriously  adopted  the 
sceptical  opinions  of  the  new  Academy.  ^*  This  farther  ap- 
pears," says  he,  after  some  remarks  on  this  head,  *^  from  a 
place  in  bis  Nature  of  the  Gods,  where  he  says,  that  his 
espousing  the  new  Academy  of  a  sudden,  was  a  thing  alto- 
gether unlocked  for^.    The  change,  then,  was  late,  and  after 

*  There  was  pabKshed,  BononitB,  1811,  M.  T.  CHeeroni9  de  ^oturA  Deanm 
Liber  partus :  e  pervetuato  Codite  MS.  Membranaeeo  nwu  primum  edidii  P. 
Seraphinu$  Ord.  Fr.  Min. — ^This  tract  was  republished,  (Oxonii,  1813,)  by  Mr 
Lunn,  who  says  in  a  prefatory  note,  that "  he  entertains  no  doubt,  from  tibe  opinioB 
of  several  of  his  friends^  of  this  production  being  a  literary  foiigery."  Of  this,  indeed, 
there  can  be  no  doubt,  as  appears  among  various  other  proon,  from  the  miouie 
account  of  the  Jews. — "  Sed  etiam  plures  adhibere  deos  vel  divos,  a  quibus  ipa 
regantur,  quos  nomine  Elohim  designare  soleant,  secundi  ordinis,"  &c.  (p.  12.>-> 
There  is  tome  humour  in  the  manner  in  which  the  Italian  editor,  in  a  prebce  writiea 
in  ^e  rude  style  of  a  simple  friar,  obtests  that  the  work  is  not  a  forgery. — **  Sed  ne 
quis  existimet,  me  ipsum  fecisse  hunc  librum,  testor,  detestor,  ohtestor,  et  contes- 
tor,  per  8.  Franciscum  Assissium,  me  talem  facers  noo  posse,  qui  saciia  incniDbeia 
cogor,  nee  pio£uus  possum,"  &c. 

t  C.  2d.  t  C.  7. 

§  Multis  etiam  aengi  mirabile  videri,  eam  nobis  potisdmum  probatam  esse  phflo- 
sophiam,  qu«  lucem  eriperet,  et  quasi  noctem  quandam  rebits  offuoderet,  desortequt 


CICERO.  S51 

the  ruin  of  the  republic,  when  Cicero  retired  from  business, 
aiid  had  leisure  in  his  recess  to  plan  and  execute  this  noble 
undertaking.     So  that  a  learned  critic  appears  to  have  been 
mistaken,  when  he  supposed  the  choice  of  the  new  Academy 
was  made  in  his  youth.     '  This  sect,'  says  he,  '  did  best  agree 
^ith  the  vast  genius,  and  ambitious  spirit,  of  young  Cicero*,* " 
It  appears  not,  however,  to  have  been,  as  Warburton  sup- 
poses, altogether  from  a  systematic  plan,  of  explaining  to  his 
countrymen  the  philosophy  of  the  Greeks,  that  Cicero  became 
a  sceptic;  but  partly  from  gloomy  views  of  nature  and  provi- 
dence.   It  seems  difficult  otherwise  to  account  for  the  cir- 
cumstance^ that  Cotta,  an  ancient  and  venerable  Consul,  the 
Paniifex  of  the  metropolis  of  the  world,  should  be  introduced 
as  contending,  even  against  an  Epicurean,  for  the  non-exis- 
tence of  the  gods.    Lord  Bolingbroke  has  justly  remarked, 
"  that  Cotta  disputes  so  vehemently,  and  his  arguments  extend 
so  far,  that  Tully  makes  his  own  brother  accuse  him  directly, 
and  himself  by  consequence  indirectly,  of  atheism. — '  Studio 
contra  Stoicos  disserendi  deos  mihi  videtur  funditus  tollere/ 
Now,  what  says  Tully  in  his  own  name  ?  He  tells  his  brother 
that  Cotta  disputes  in  that  manner,  rather  to  confute  the 
Stoics  than  to  destroy  the  religion  of  mankind. — 'Magisquam 
ut  hominum  deleat  religionem.'    But  Quintus  answers,  that 
is,  Tully  makes  him  answer,  he  was  not  the  bubble  of  an  arti- 
fice, employed  to  save  the  appearance  of  departing  from  the 
public   religious  institutions.     '  Ne   communi  jure   migrare 
videaturf .' "    Cotta,  indeed,  sees  so  far  in  his  attack  on  Pro^ 
vidence,  that  Lord  Bolingbroke,  who  is  not  himself  a  model 
of  orthodoxy,  takes  up  the  other  side  of  the  question  against 
the  Roman  Pontiff,  ajid  pleads  the  cause  of  Providence  with 
no  little  reason  and  eloquence.]; 

In  the  foregoing  analysis,  or  abridgment  of  the  work  on  the 
Nature  of  the  Gods,  it  will  have  been  remarked,  that  two  chasms 
occur  in  the  argument  of  Cotta.  Olivet  enters  into  some  discus- 
sion with  regard  to  the  latter  and  larger  chasm.  ^^I  cannot,^' 
says  he, ''  see  any  justice  in  the  accusation  against  the  primitive 
Christians,  of  having  torn  this  passage  out  of  all  the  MSS. 
What  appearance  is  there,  that  through  a  pious  motive  they 
should  have  erased  this  any  more  than  many  others  in  the 
same  book,  which  they  must  undoubtedly  have  looked  upon 

iiscipliiUB  et  jampridem  reticta  patrodnium  nee  opinatum  a  nobis  esse  maceptmii. 
— (D«  JVU*.  Deor.  Lib.  I.  c.  8.) 

*  WarbuitOD,  Dmne  L^atton,  Vol.  II.  p.  168.  £d.  1766.  Waibuiton  hMs 
alludes  to  Bentley— i2fmarA»  an  a  laU  Discourse  of  Free-thinking,  Part  I^. 
Rem.  58. 

tBolmghroke*8  Works,  Vol.  VIII.  p.  81.  ed.  Svo. 
Ibid,  p,  266, 278. 


I 


252  CICERO. 

as  no  less  pernicious  V^  Olivet  seems  inclined  to  suspect  tbe 
Pagans ;  but,  in  my  opinion,  the  chasms  in  the  discourse  ef 
Cottu,  if  not  accidental,  are  to  be  attributed  rather  to  Chris- 
tian than  pagan  zeal.  ArnolHUs,  indeed,  speaking  of  this 
work,  says,  That  many  were  of  opinion  that  it  ought  to  have 
been  destroyed  by  the  Roman  Senate,  as  the  Christian  £utb 
might  be  approved  by  it,  and  the  authority  of  antiquity  sub- 
verted*. There  is  no  evidence,  however,  that  any  such  de- 
struction or  mutilation  was  attempted  by  the  Pagans ;  and  we 
find  that  the  satire  directed  against  the  heathen  deities  has 
been  permitted  to  remain,  while  the  chasms  interv^ie  in  por* 
tions  of  the  work,  which  might  have  been  supposed  by  a  pious 
zealot,  to  bear,  in  some  measure,  against  the  Christian,  as  well 
as  the  Pagan  faith.  In  the  first  of  them,  the  Pontifex  begins, 
and  is  proceeding  to  contend,  that  in  spite  of  Acts  of  tbe 
Senate,  temples,  statues,  and  other  commemorations  of  mi- 
raculous circumstances,  all  such  prodigies  were  nothing  bat 
mere  fables,  however  solemnly  attested,  or  generally  believed. 
Now,  the  transcriber  might  fear,  lest  a  similar  inference  should 
be  drawn  by  the  sceptic,  to  that  which  has  in  fact  been  dedu- 
ced by  the  English  translator  of  this  work,  in  the  following 
passage  of  a  note  :^-"  Hence  we  see  what  little  credit  ought 
to  be  paid  to  facts,  said  to  be  done  out  of  the  ordinary  course 
of  nature.  These  miracles  are  well  attested:  They  were 
recorded  in  the  annals  of  a  great  people — believed  by  many 
learned  and  otherwise  sagacious  persons,  and  received  as 
religious  truths  by  the  popmace ;  but  the  testimonies  of  ancient 
records,  the  credulity  of  some  learned  men,  and  tbe  implicit 
faith  of  the  vulgar,  can  never  prove  that  to  have  been,  which 
is  impossible  in  the  nature  of  things  ever  to  be.'*  At  the 
beginning  of  the  other  and  larger  chasm,  Cotta  was  proceeding 
to  argue  against  the  proposition  of  the  Stoics,  that  there  is  a 
Divine  Providence  which  governs  the  world.  Now,  there  is 
a  considerable  analogy  between  the  system  of  the  ancient 
Stoics,  and  tbe  Christian  scheme  of  Providence,  both  in  the 
theoretical  doctrine,  and  in  the  practical  inference,  of  the  }ho- 
priety  of  a  cheerful  and  unqualified  submission  to  the  chain 
of  events — to  the  dispensations  of  nature  in  the  Stoical,  and 
of  God  in  the  purer  doctrine.  To  Christian  zeal,  therefore, 
rather  than  to  pagan  prudence,  we  mu$t  attribute  the  two 
chasms  which  now  intervene  in  the  discourse  of  Cotta. 

In  the  remarks  which  have  been  now  offered  on  this  work, 
De  Natura  Deorumi  I  trust  I  have  brought  no  unfounded  or 

*  Fuerint  qui  judicarent  oportere  statui  per  Senatom  ttt  aboleantiir  hec  scripla* 
quibus  religio  Christiana  comprdbetar,  et  vetustatis  oppiimatur  auctoritas. — ^Anw- 
biiu,  Mvernu  Oentes,  Lib.  III. 


CICERO.  253 

nncharitable  accusation  against  Cicero.  He  was  a  person,  at 
least  in  his  own  age  and  country,  of  unrivalled  talents  and 
learning — he  was  a  great,  and,  on  the  whole,  a  good  man — - 
but  his  mind  was  sensitive,  and  feeble  against  misfortune. 
There  are  seras,  and  monuments  perhaps  in  every  sera,  when 
we  are  ready  to  exclaim  with  Brutus,  *'That  virtue  is  an 
empty  name :"  And  the  doubts  and  darkness  of  such  a  mind 
as  that  of  Cicero,  enriched  with  all  the  powers  of  genius,  and 
all  the  treasures  of  philosophy,  afford  a  new  proof  of  the 
necessity  for  the  appearance  of  that  Divine  Messenger,  who 
was  then  on  the  eve  of  descending  upon  earth. 

De  IHvinaiione. — ^The  long  account  which  has  been  given 
of  the  dialogue  on  the  Nature  of  the  Gods,  renders  it  unne-^ 
cessary  to  say  much  on  the  work  De  ZHvinatione.  This  trea- 
tise may  be  considered,  in  some  measure,  as  a  supplement  to 
that  De  datura  Deorum.  The  religion  of  the  Romans  con- 
sisted  of  two  different  branches — the  worship  of  the  gods,  and 
the  observation  of  the  signs  by  which  their  will  was  supposed 
to  be  revealed.  Cicero  having  already  discussed  what  related 
to  the  nature  and  worship  of  the  gods,  a  treatise  on  Divination 
formed  a  natural  continuation  of  the  subject*.  In* bis  work 
on  this  topic,  which  was  one  almost  peculiar  to  the  Romans^ 
Cicero  professes  to  relate  the  substance  of  a  conversation  held 
at  Tusculum  with  his  brother,  in  which  Quintus,  on  the  prin- 
ciples- of  the  Stoics,  supported  the  credibility  of  divination, 
while  Cicero  himself  controverted  it.  The  dialogue  consists 
of  two  books,  the  first  of  which  comprehends  an  enumeration 
by  Quintusof  the  different  kinds  or  classes  of  divination,  with 
the  reasons  or  presumptions  in  their  favour.  The  second 
book  contains  a  refutation  by  Cicero  of  his  brother's  argu- 
ments. 

Quintus,  while  walking  with  his  brother  in  the  Lyceum  at 
TuHCulum,  begins  his  observations  by  stating,  that  he  had 
read  the  third  book  which  Cicero  had  lately  written,  on  the 
Mature  of  the  Gods,  in  which  Cotta  seemed  to  contend  for 
atheism,  but  had  by  no  means  been  able  to  refute  Balbus. 
lie  remarks,  at  the  same  time,  that  the  subject  of  divinatioi^ 
had  not  been  treated  of  m  these  books,  perhaps  in  order  that 
it  might  be  separately  discussed  more  fully,  and  that  he  would 
gladly,  if  his  brother  had  leisure  and  inclination,  state  his  own 
opinions  on  the  subject.  The  answer  of  Cicero  is  very 
noble. — "Ego  vero,   inquam,   Philosophise,  Quinte,  semper 

*  In  the  pre&ce  to  the  second  book  of  this  treatise,  De  Dioinaivme,  Cicero, 
^mimeratiDe  his  late  philosophical  compositioas,  savs,  "  Quibus  libiis  edith,  tres 
libri  perfect!  sunt  De  Jratw&  Deontm  *  *  que  ut  pfene  esaent  cumulateque  per- 
fecta,  De  DivifMtione  ingressi  sumus  his  libiis  scribere.-^(Z>e  Div»  lib.  II.  c.  I.) 


254  CICERO. 

Taco.  Hoc  auteiD  tempore,  quum  sit  nihil  aliod  quod  libenter 
agere  possim  multo  magis  aveo  audire  de  divinatione  quid 
sentias." 

Quintus,  after  observing  that  divinations  of  varioas  kinds 
have  been  common  among  all  people,  remarks,  and  afterwards 
frequently  repeats,  that  it  is  no  argument  against  different 
modes  of  divination,  that  we  cannot  explain  bow  or  why  cer- 
tain things  happen.  It  is  sufficient,  that  we  know  from  expe- 
rience and  history,  that  they  do  happen*.  He  cootends  that 
Cicero  himself  supports  the  doctrine  of  divination,  in  the  poem 
on  his  Consulship,  from  which  he  quotes  a  long  passage,  suffi- 
cient to  console  us  for  the  loss  of  that  work.  He  argues,  that 
although  events  may  not  always  succeed  as  predicted,  it  does 
not  follow  that  divination  is  not  an  art,  more  than  that  noedicine 
is  not  an  art,  because  cures  may  not  always  be  effected.  In 
the  course  of  this  book  we  have  a  complete  account  of  the 
state  contrivances  which  were  practised  by  the  Roman  govern- 
ment, to  instil  among  the  people  those  hopes  and  fears  where- 
by it  regulated  public  opinion,  in  which  view  it  has  been  justly 
termed  a  chapter  in  the  history  of  man.  The  great  charm, 
however,  of  the  first  book,  consists  in  the  number  of  histories 
adduced  by  Quintus,  in  proof  of  the  truth  of  different  kinds  of 
omens,  dreams,  portents,  and  divinations. — ^'^Negemus  omnia," 
says  he,  ^*  comburamus  annates."  He  states  various  circiun* 
stances  consistent  with  his  and  his  brother's  own  knowledge ; 
and,  among  others,  two  remarkable  dreams,  one  of  which  had 
occurred  to  Cicero,  and  one  to  himself..  He  asks  if  the  €rreek 
history  be  also  a  fable. — '^Num  etiam  Grsscorum  historia 
mentita  est  ?"  and,  in  short,  throughout  takes  the  following 
high  ground : — ^''Quid  est,  igitur,  cur  dubitandum  sit,  quin  sint 
ea,  quce  disputavi,  verissima?  Si  ratio  mecum  facit,  si  evenla, 
si  populi,  si  nationes,  si  Grsci,  si  barbari,  si  majores  etiam 
nostri,  si  summi  philosophi,  si  poetae,  et  sapiehtissimi  viri-  qui 
res  publicas  constituerunt,  qui  urbes  condiderunt ;  si  denique 
hoc  semper  ita  putatum  est:  an  dum  bestis  loquantur,  expecta- 
mus,  hominiun  consentiente  auctoritate,  contenti  non  sumusf "!" 

The  second  book  of  this  work  is  introduced  by  a  preface,  in 
which  Cicero  enumerates  the  philosophical  treatises  which  he 
had  lately  written.  He  then  proceeds  to  state,  that  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  discourse  of  Quintus,  which  was  held  while  they 
were  walking  in  the  Lyceum,  they  sat  down  in  the  library,  and 
he  began  to  reply  to  his  brother's  arguments.  His  commence- 
ment is  uncommonly  beautiful. — "Atque  ego;  Accurate  tu 

*  Hoc  sum  contentuB,  quod,  etiamii^  quomodo  quidque  fiat,  ignorem,  quid  6mI, 
Vitelligo. 
tC.4». 


CICERO.  255 

^piidem,  inquam,  Quinte,  et  Stoice  Stoicorutn  sententiam 
defendisti :  quodque  me   maxime  delectat,   piurimis  nostris 
exemplis  usus  es,  et  iis  quidein  claris  et  illusthbus.  Dicendum 
est  tnihi  igitur  ad  ea,  qu»  sunt  a  te  dicta,  sed  ita,  nibil  ut 
affirmeiD,  qusram  omnia,  dubitans  plerumque,  et  mihi  ipse 
diffidens*.."    It  is  unnecessary  to  give  any  summary  of  the 
arguments  of  Cicero  against  auguries,  auspices,  astrology,  lots, 
dreams,  and  every  species  of  omens  and  prodigies.     His  dis* 
course  is  a  masterpiece  of  reasoning;  and  if  sufficiently  studied 
during  the  dark  ages  of  Europe,  would  have  sufficed,  in  a  great 
degree,  to  have  prevented  or  dispelled  the  superstitious  gloom. 
Nothing  can  be  finer  than  the  concluding  chapter  on  the  evils 
of  superstition,  and  Cicero's  efforts  to  extirpate  it,  without 
injuring  religion.     The  whole  thread,  too,  of  his  argumenta- 
tive eloquence,  is  interwoven  and  strengtiiened  by  curious  and 
interesting  stories.     As  a  specimen  of  the  agreeable  manner 
in  which  these  are  introduced,  the  twenty-fourth  chapter  may 
be  cited  : — ^*'  Vetus  autem  illud  Catonis  admodum  scitum  est, 
qui  mirari  se  aiebat,  quod  non  rideret  haruspex,  haruspicem 
quum  vidisset.    Quota  enim  quaeque  res  evenit  praedicta  ab 
ipsis?     Aut  si  evenit  quippiam,  quid  aiferri  potest,  cur  non 
casu  id  evenerit?     Rex  Prusias,  quum  Annibali  apud  eum 
exsulanti  depugnari  placeret,  negabat  se  audere,  quod  exta 
prohiberent.     An  tu,  inquit,  carunculse  vitulinse  mavis,  quam 
imperatori  veteri,  credere 9  Quid?  Ipse  Caesar,  quum  a  summo 
haruspice  moneretur,  ne  in  Africam  ante  brumam  transmit- 
teret,  nonne  transmisit?    Quod  ni  fecisset,  uno  in  loco  omnes 
adversariorum  copise   convenissent.     Quid  ego  haruspicum 
responsa  commemorem,  (possum  equidem  innumerabilia,)  quae 
aut  nullos  habuerunt  exitus,  aut  contraries  9    Hoc  civili  bello, 
Dii  Immortales !     Quam  multa  luserunt — quae  nobis  in  Grae- 
ciam  Roma  responsa  haruspicum  missa  sunt?     Quae  dicta 
Pompeio?     Etenim  ille  admodum  extis  et  ostentis  movebatur. 
Non  lubet  commemorare,  nee  vero  necesse  est,  tibi  praesertim, 
qui  interfuisti.    Vides  tamen,  omnia  fere  contra,  ac  dicta  sunt, 
evenisse.''    One  great  charm  of  all  the  philosophical  works  of 
Cicero,  and  particularly  of  this  treatise,  consists  in  the  anec- 
dotes with  which  they  abound.  This  practice  of  intermingling 
histories,  might  have  been  partly  owing  to  Tully's  habits  as 
a  pleader — partly  to  the  works  having  been  composed  in  *^  nar- 
rative old  age.''   His  moral  conclusions  seem  thus  occasionally 
to  have  the  certainty  of  physical  experiments,  by  the  support 
which  they  receive  from  occurrences,  suggested  to  him  by 
bis  wide  experience ;  while,  at  the  same  time,-— 

•  C.8. 


856  CICERO. 

"  Bis  candid  style,  like  a  dean  stream  doth  slide* 
And  his  bright  fancy,  all  the  way. 
Doth  like  the  sun-shine  on  it  play*.'* 

DeFaio. — ^This  tract,  which  is  the  last  of  Cicero's  philoio- 
phical  works,  treats  of  a  subject  which  occupied  as  importaDt 
a  place  in  the  metaphysics  and  theology  of  the  ancients,  as 
free  will  and  necessity  have  filled  in  modem  speculation.  The 
dialogue  De  Fato  is  held  in  the  villa  of  Cicero,  called  the 
Puteolan  or  the  Academia,  which  was  situated  on  the  shore  of 
Bai»,  between  the  lake  Avernas  and  the  harbour  of  Puteoli. 
It  stood  in  the  curve  of  the  bay,  and  almost  on  the  beach,  to 
as  to  enioy  the  breezes  and  murmurs  of  the  sea.  The  house 
was  built  according  to  the  plan  of  the  Academy  at  Athens, 
being  adorned  with  a  portico  and  grove,  for  the  purposes  of 
philosophical  conferencef ;  and  with  a  gallery,  which  sur- 
rounded a  square  court  in  the  centre.  *^Twelve  or  ihiiieoi 
arches  of  the  Puteolan  villa,"  says  Mr  Kelsall,  '^are  still  seen 
on  the  side  next  the  vineyard,  and,  intermixed  as  they  are  with 
trees,  are  very  picturesque  seen  from  the  sea.  These  ruins 
are  about  one  mile  from  Pozzuolo,  and  have  always  been  styled 
VAcademia  di  Cicerone.  Pliny  is  very  circumstantial  in  the 
description  of  the  site,  *Ab  Avemo  lacu  Ptdeolae  tendeniiifu 
impoeita  lUtari.^  The  classical  traveller  will  not  forget  that  the 
Puteolan  villa  is  the  scene  of  some  of  the  orator's  philosophical 
works.  I  searched  in  vain  for  the  mineral  spring  commenio- 
rated  by  Laurea  TuUius,  in  the  well-known  complimentary 
verses  preserved  by  Pliny ;  for  it  was  defaced  by  the  convul- 
sions which  the  whole  of  this  tract  experienced  in  the  1 6th 
century,  so  poetically  described  in  Gray's  hexameters.'*  After 
the  death  of  Cicero,  the  villa  was  acquired  .by  Antistius  Vetus, 
who  repaired  and  improved  it.  It  was  subsequently  possessed 
by  the  Emperor  Hadrian,  who,  while  expiring  here|,  breathed 
out  the  celebrated  address  to  his  fleeting,  fluttering  soul,  on 
its  approaching  departure  for  those  cold  and  pallid  regions, 
that  must  have  formed  in  his  fancy  such  a  gloomy  contrast  to 
the  glowing  sunshine  and  animated  shore  which  he  left  with 
so  much  reluctance. 

The  dialogue  is  held  between  Cicero  and  Hirtins,  on  one 
of  the  many  occasions  on  which  they  met  to  consult  concern- 
ing the  situation  of  public  afiairs.    Hirtius  was  the  author  of 

^  Cowley.  t  Pl^-  ^^^'  ^ot.  Lib.  XXXI.  c.  2. 

t  At  least  so  says  Bfiddleton,  (Vol.  III.  p.  297,)  and  he  quotes  as  hit  uifliorify 

8partian*8  Life  of  Hadrian,  (c.  25.)  Spartian,  however,  onlv  tells,  that  he  was  bmiid 
at  Cicero's  villa  of  Puteoli — '*  Apud  ipsas  Bajas  periit,  iamuKpie  oauubos  sepolCui 
est  in  villa  Ciceroniana  Puteolis." 


CICERO.  257 

the  Commentaries  on  the  Civil  Wars,  and  perished  a  few 
months  afterwards,  at  the  battle  of  Modena,  in  the  moment  of 
-victory.  The  wonderful  events  which  had  recently  occurred, 
and  the  miserable  fate  of  so  many  of  the  greatest  and  most 
powerful  of  the  Romans,  naturally  introduced  a  conversation 
on  destiny.  We  have  now  neither  the  commencement  nor 
c^onclusion  of  the  dialogue ;  but  some  critics  have  supposed^ 
that  it  originally  consisted  of  two  books,  and  that  the  frag- 
ment we  at  present  possess  formed  part  of  the  second  book«— 
«ui  opinion  which  seems  justified  by  a  passage  in  the  seven<^ 
teenth  chapter  of  the  second  book,  where  the  first  conversation 
is  cited :  Others,  however,  refer  these  words  to  a  separate  and 
previous  work  on  Fate.  The  part  of  the  dialogue  now  extant, 
contains  a  refiitation  of  the  doctrine  of  Chrysippus  the  Stoic, 
which  was  that  of  fatalily.  '*  The  spot,"  says  Eustace,  **  the 
subject,  the  speakers,  both  fated  to  perish  in  so  short  a  time, 
during  the  contest  which  they  bpth  foresaw,  and  endeavoured 
in  vain  to  avert,  were  circumstances  which  give  a  peculiar  in* 
terest  to  this  dialogue,  and  increase  our  regret  that  it  has  not 
reached  us  in  a  less  mutilated  state*." 

I  have  now  enumerated  what  may  be  strictly  regarded  as  the 
philosophical  and  theological  writings  of  Cicero.  Some  of 
the  advantages  to  be  derived  firom  these  productions,  havd 
already  been  pointed  out  during  our  progress.  But  on  a  con- 
sideration of  the  whole,  it  is  manifest  that  the  chief  profit  ac- 
cruing firom  them,  is  the  satisfactory  evidence  which  they 
afford  of  the  little  reason  we  have  to  regret  the  loss  of  the 
writings  of  Zeno,  Cleanthes,  Chrysippus,  and  other  Greek  phi- 
losophers. The  intrinsic  value  of  these  works  of  Cicero,  con- 
sists chiefly  in  what  may  be  called  the  Roman  portion  of  them 
— in  the  anecdotes  of  distinguished  Romans,  and  of  the  customs 
and  opinions  of  that  sovereign  people. 

We  now  proceed  to  the  moral  writings  of  Cicero,  of  which 
the  most  -important  is  the  work  De  OfficUs.  The  ancient 
Romans  had  but  an  imperfect  notion  of  moral  obligations; 
their  virtues  were  more  stern  than  amiable,  and  their  ardent 
exclusive  patriotism  restricted  the  wide  claims  of  philanthropy, 
on  the  one  hand,  and  of  domestic  duties^  on  the  other.  Panae- 
tins,  a  Greek  philosopher,  who  resided  at  Rome,  in  the  time  of 
Scipio,  wrote  a  book  entitled  Jlep  Kadt)xovcog.  He  divided  hit 
subject  according  to  the  threefold  considerations  which  he 
conceived  should  operate  in  determining  our  resolutions  with 
regard  to  the  performance  of  moral  duties;  1.  Whether  the 
thing  itself  be  virtuous  or  shameful ;  2.  Whether  it  conduce  to 

*  ClMrieoi  Ztwr.  Yol.  II.  e.  11. 
Vol,  II.— 2  H 


258  CICERO. 

utility  and  the  enjoyment  of  life ;  3.  What  choice  is  to  be 
made  when  an  apparent  utility  seems  to  clash  with   Tirtue. 
Cicero  followed  nearly  the  same  arrangement.     In   the  first 
book  he  treats  of^  what  is  virtuous  in  itself,  and  shows  in  wlial 
manner  our  duties  are  founded  in  morality  and  virtue-^ — in  the 
right  perception  of  truth,  justice,  fortitude,  and  decoruoi; 
which  four  qualities  are  referred  to  as  the  constituent  parts  of 
virtue^  and  the  sources  from  which  all  our  duties  are  drawn. 
In  the  second  book,  the  author  enlarges  on  those  duties  which 
relate  to  utility,  the  improvement  of  life^  and  the  means  em- 
ployed for  the  attainment  of  wealth  and  power.     This  divl2^lan 
of  the  work  principally  regards  political  advancement,  and  the 
honourable  means  of  gaining  popularity,  as  generosity,  cour- 
tesy, and  eloquence-     Thus  far  Cicero  had,  in  all  probability, 
closely  followed  the  steps  of  Pana^tius^     Garve,  in  bis  com- 
mentary on  this  work"*,  remarks,  that  it  is  quite  clear,  when  he 
comes  to  the  more  subtle  and  philosophic  parts  of  his  subject, 
that  Cicero  translates  from  the  Greek,  and  that  be  has  not 
always  found  words  in  his  own  language  to  express  the  nicer 
distinctions  of  the  Greek  schools.     The  work  of  Panstius, 
however,  was  left  imperfect,  and  did  not  treat  of  the  third 
part  of  the  subject,  the  choice  and  distinction  to  be  made  when 
there  was  a  Jarring  or  inconsistency  between  virtue  and  uti- 
lity.    On  this  topic,  accordingly,  Cicero  was  left  to  his  own 
resources.     The  discussion,  of  course,  relates  only  ta  the  sub- 
ordinate duties,  as  the  true  and  undoubted  honestum  never 
can  be  put  in  competition  with  private  advantage,  or  be  vio- 
lated for  its  sake.     As  to  the  minor  duties,  the  great  maxim 
inculcated  is  that  nothing  should  be  accounted  useftil  or  pro- 
fitable but  what  is  strictly  virtuous,  and  that,  in  fact,  there 
ought  to  be  no  separation  of  the  principles  of  virtue  and  uti- 
lity.    Cicero  enters  into  some  discussion,  however,  and  aflfbrds 
some  rules  to  enable  us  to  form  a  just  estimate  of  both  in  cases 
of  doubt,  where  seeming' utility  comes  into  competition  with 
virtue.     Accordingly,  he  proposes  and  decides  a  good  many 
questions  in  casuistry,  in  order  to  fix  in  what  situations  one 
may  seek  private  gain  with  honour.     He  takes  his  examples 
from  Roman  history,  and  particularly  considers  the  case  of 
Regulus  in  the  obligation  of  his  oath,  and  the  advice  which  he 
gave  to  the  Roman  Senate.  The  author  disclaims  having  been 
indebted  to  any  preceding  writers  on  this  subject ;  but  it  ap- 
pears, from  what  he  afterwards  states,  that  the  sixth  book  of 
the  work  of  Hecato,  a  scholar  of  Pansetius,  was  full  of  ques- 

*  PhilosophUche  Jinmerkungen  zu  Cietro*$  Bwhem  von  den  Pftkkten^ 
Breslau,  1S18. 


CICERO.  259 

-tions  of  this  kind :  As,  for  example — If  something  must  be 
^lirown  into  the  sea  to  lighten  a  vessel  in  a  storm,  whether  one 
should  sacrifice  a  valuable  horse,  or  a  worthless  slave  9  Whe- 
ther, if,  during  a  shipwreck,  a  fool  has  got  hold  of  a  plank,  a 
W\se  man  ought  to  take  it  from  him,  if  he  be  able  9  If  one, 
Tinknovvingly,  receives  bad  money  for  his  goods,  may  he  pay  it 
away  to  a  third  hand,  after  he  is  aware  that  it  is  bad  1  Dio- 
genes, it  seems,  one  of  the  three  philosophic  ambassadors  who 
came  to  Rome  from  Athens,  in  the  end  of  the  sixth  century, 
maintained  the  affirmative  of  this  last  proposition. 

The  subject  being  too  extensive  for  dialogue,  (the  form  of 
his  other  philosophical  treatises,)  the  author  has  addressed 
the  work  De  Officiis  to  his  son,  and  has  represented  it  as  writ- 
ten for  his  instruction.  ''It  is,"  says  Kelsall,  "the  noblest 
present  ever  made  by  a  parent  to  a  child."  Cicero  declares, 
that  he  intended  to  treat  in  it  of  all  the  duties* ;  but  it  is  gene- 
rally considered  to  have  been  chiefly  drawn  up  as  a  manual 
of  political  morality,  and  as  a  guide  to  young  Romans  of  his 
son's  age  and  distinction,  which  might  enable  them  to  attain 
political  eminence,  and  to  tread  with  innocence  and  safety 
**  the  slippery  steeps  of  power.^* 

De  Senectute. 

"  O  Thou  aO  eloquent,  whose  mighty  mind 
Streams  from  the  depths  of  ages  on  manldnd, 
Streams  like  the  day — who  angel-iilce  hast  shed 
Ihy  full  effulgence  on  the  hoary  head ; 
Speaking  in  Uato's  venerable  voice — 
'  Look  up  and  faint  not — ^&tnt  not,  but  rejoice'—* 
From  thy  Elysium  guide  usf." 

The  treatise  De  SenecttUe  is  not  properly  a  dialogue,  but  ft 
continued  discourse,  delivered  by  Cato  the  Censor,  at  the  re- 
quest of  Scipio  and  Lseiius.  It  is,  however,  one  of  the  most 
interesting  pieces  of  the  kind  which  have  descended  to  us 
from  antiquity ;  and  no  reader  can  wonder  that  Cicero  expe- 
rienced such  pleasure  in  its  composition,  that  the  delightful 
employment,  not  only,  as  he  says,  made  him  forget  the  infir- 
mities of  old  age,  but  rendered  that  portion  of  existence 
agreeable.  In  consequence  of  the  period  of  life  to  which  Ci- 
cero had '  attained,  at  the  time  of  its  composition,  and  the 
circumstances  in  which  he  was  then  placed,  it  must,  indeed, 
have  been  penned  with  peculiar  interest  and  feeling.  It  was 
written  by  him  in  his  63d  year,  and  is  addressed  to  his  friend 
Atticus,  (who  reached  the  same  term  of  existence,)  with  a, 
view  of  rendering  to  both  the  Accumulating  burdens  of  age  as 

*  Lib.  I.  c.  89.  t  Rogers,  Human  Life* 


369  CICERO. 

light  as  possible.  In  order  to  give  his  preceptf  Ike  greater 
force,  he  represents  them  as  delivered  by  the  elder  Cato, 
(while  flourishing  in  the  eighty-fourth  year  of  a  vigorous  and 
useful  old  age,)  on  occasion  of  young  Scipio  and  Laelios  ex- 

Eressing  their  admiration  at  the  wonderful  ease  with  which 
e  still  bore  the  load  of  life.  This  affords  the  author  an  op- 
portunity of  entering  into  a  full  explanation  of  his  ideas  on 
the  subject  His  great  object  is  to  show  that  the  cloaing  pe- 
riod of  life  may  be  rendered,  not  only  tplerable,  but  comlbr- 
table,  by  internal  resources  of  happiness.  He  reduces  tb<»e 
causes  which  are  commonly  supposed  to  constitute  the  infe- 
licity of  advanced  age,  under  four  general  heads : — ^That  it 
incapacitates  from  mingling  in  the  affairs  of  the  world — that 
H  produces  infirmities  of  body — that  it  disqualifies  for  the  en- 
joyment of  sensual  gratifications — and  that  it  brings  us  to  the 
verge  of  death.  Some  of  these  supposed  disadvantages,  be 
maintains,  are  imaginary,  and  for  any  real  pleasures  of  which 
old  men  are  deprived,  others  more  refined  and  higher  may  be 
substituted.  The  whole  work  is  agreeably  diversified  and 
illustrated  by  examples  of  eminent  Roman  citizens,  who  had 
passed  a  respected  and  agreeable  evening  of  life.  Indeed,  so 
much  is  said  of  those  individuals  who  reached  a  bappj  old 
age,  that  it  m^y  rather  be  styled  a  Treatise  on  Old  Men,  than 
on  Old  Age.  On  the  last  point,  the  near  approach  of  death, 
it  is  argued,  conformably  to  the  first  book  of  the  Tusculan 
Questions,  that  if  death  extinguish  the  soul's  existence,  it  is 
utterly  to  be  disregarded,  but  much  to  be  desired,  if  it  con- 
vey her  to  a  happier  region.  The  apprehension  of  future 
punishment,  as  in  the  Tusculan  Disputations,  is  laid  entirely 
aside,  and  it  is  assumed  as  a  principle,  that,  after  death,  we 
eitiier  shall  not  be  miserable,  or  be  superlatively  happy.  In 
other  respects,  the  tract  De  Senectute  almost  seems  a  confu- 
tation of  the  first  book  of  the  Tusculan  Questions,  which  is 
chiefly  occupied  in  showing  the  wretchedness  of  lonff -protract- 
ed existence.  The  sentiments  put  into  the  mouth  of  CatOi 
are  acknowl^ged  by  Cicero  as  his  own;  but,  notwithstanding 
this,  and  also  a  more  elegant  and  polished  style  of  composi- 
tion than  could  be  expected  from  the  Censor,  many  characte- 
ristics of  his  life,  conversation,  and  manners,  are  brought 
before  us^-his  talk  is  a  little  boastful,  and  his  sternness,  though 
softened  down  by  old  age  into  an  agreeable  gossipping  gar- 
rulity, is  still  visible;  apd,  on  the  whole,  the  discourse  is  so 
ma'naged,  that  we  experience,  in  reading  it,  something  of  that 
complaisant  respect,  which  we  feel  in  intercourse  with  a  vene- 
rable old  nmn,  who  has  around  him  so  much  of  the  life  to 


CICERO-  261 

come,  as  to  be  purified  at  least  from  the  grosser  desires  of 
this  lower  world. 

It  has  been  remarked  as  extraordinary,  that,  amidst  the  anx- 
ious enumeration  of  the  comforts  of  age,  those  arising  from 
domestic  society  are  not  mentioned  by  Cicero;  but  his  favou- 
rite daughter  TuUia  was  now  no  more,  and  the  husband  of 
Terentia,  the  father  of  Marcus  Cicero,  and  the  father-in»iaw 
of  Ddlabella,  may  have  felt  something,  on  that  subject,  of 
which  he  was  willing  to  spare  himself  the  recollection.  But 
though  he  has  omitted  what  we  number  among  its  chief  con- 
solations, still  he  has  represented  advanced  age  under  too 
favourable  a  view.  He  denies,  for  instance,  that  the  memory 
is  impaired  by  it-*-asserting,  that  everything  continues  to  be 
remembered,  in  which  we  take  an  interest,  for  that  no  old 
man  ever  forgot  where  he  had  concealed  his  treasure.  He 
has,  besides,  only  treated  of  an  old  age  distinguished  by  deeds 
or  learning,  terminating  a  life  great  and  glorious  in  the  eyes 
of  men.  The  table  of  the  old  man  whom  he  describes,  is 
cheered  by  numerous  friends,  and  his  presence,  wherever  he 
appears,  is  hailed  by  clients  and  dependants.  All  his  exam- 
ples are  drawn  from  the  higher  and  better  walks  of  life.  In 
the  venerable  picture  of  the  Censor,  we  have  no  traces  of 
second  childhood,  or  of  the  slippered  pantaloon,  or  of  that 
melancholy  and  almost  frightful  representation,  in  the  tenth 
satire  of  Juvenal.  But  even  persons  of  the  station,  and  dig- 
nity, and  talents  of  Cato,  are,  in  old  age,  liable  to  weaknesses 
and  misfortunes,  with  which  the  pleasing  portrait,  that  Tully 
has  drawn,  is  in  no  way  disfigured  :-s^ 

*<  Id  life's  ia«t  scene,  what  produces  8uiprise»  / 

Fears  of  the  hrave,  and  follies  ofthe  wise  ! 
From  Marlborough's  eyes  the  tears  of  dotage  flow, 
^d  Swift  expires  a  driveUer  and  a  show." 

« 

The  treatise  De  Senectute  has  been  versified  by  Denham, 
under  the  title  of  Cato  Mqjor.  The  subject  of  the  evils  of 
old  age  is  divided,  as  by  Cicero,'into  four  parts.  '*I  can  nei- 
ther," says  he,  in  his  preface, ''  call  this  piece  Tully's  nor  mjF 
own,  being  much  altered  from  the  original,  not  only  by  the 
change  of  the  style,  but  by  addition  and  subtraction."  In 
fact,  the  fine  sentiments  are  Cicero's — the  doggerel  English 
verse,  into  which  he  has  converted  Cicero's  classical  prose, 
his  own.  The  fourth  part,  on  the  approach  of  death,  is  that 
which  is  best  versified. 

This  tract  is  also  the  model  of  the  dialogue  Spurinnat  or 
ihe  Comforts  cf  Old  Agt^  by  Sir  Thomas  Bernard.  Hough, 
Bishop  of  Worcester,  who  is  in  his  ninetieth  year  at  the  date 


202  CICERO. 

of  the  conference,  supposed  to  be  held  in  1739,  is  the  CbId 
of  the  dialogue.  The  other  interlocutors  are,  Gibson,  Bishop 
of  London,  and  Mr  Lyttleton,  subsequently  Lord  Lyttleton. 
After  considering,  in  the  same  manner  as  Cicero,  the  disad- 
vantages of  old  age,  the  English  author  proceeds  to  treat  of 
its  advantages,  and  the  best  mode  of  increasing  its  comforts. 
Many  ideas  and  arguments  are  derived  from  Cicero;  but 
among  the  consolations  of  advanced  age,  the  promises  of  re- 
velation concerning  a  (iiture  state  of  happiness,  to  which  the 
Roman  was  a  stranger,  are  prominently  brought  forward,  and 
the  illustrations  are  chiefly  drawn  from  British,  instead  of 
Grecian  or  Roman  history. 

De  AmicU%d> — In  this,  as  in  all  his  other  dialogues,  Cicero 
has  most  judiciously  selected  the  persons  whom  he  introduce 
as  speakers.  They  were  men  of  eminence  in  the  state ;  and 
though  deceased,  the  Romans  had  such  a  just  veneration  for 
their  ancestors,  that  they  would  listen  with  the  utmost  interest 
even  to  the  supposed  conversation  of  the  ancient  heroes  or 
sages  of  their  country.  Such  illustrious  names  bestowed  ad- 
ditional dignity  on  what  was  delivered,  and  even  now  aflTect 
us  with  sentiments  of  veneration  far  superior  to  that  which  is 
felt  for  the  itinerant  sophists,  who,  with  the  exception  of  So- 
crates, are  the  chief  speakers  in  the  dialogues  of  Plato. 

The  memorable  and  hereditary  friendship  which  subsisted 
between  Laelius  and  the  younger  Scipio  Africanus,  rendered 
t)iem  the  most  suitable  characters  from  wKom  the  sentiments 
expressed  on  this  delightful  topic  could  be  supposed  *to  flow. 
Their  mutual  and  unshaken  attachment  threw  an  additional 
1  ustre  over  the  military  glory  of  the  one,  and  the  cooteoi* 
plative  wisdom  of  the  other.  ''Such/'  says  Cicero  in  the 
introduction  to  the  treatise  De  Republicd^  ''was  the  com- 
mon law  of  friendship  between  them,  that  Laelius  ador- 
ed Africanus  as  a  god,  on  account  of  his  transcendent 
military  fame;  and  that  Scipio,  when  they  were  at  home, 
revered  his  friend,  who  was  older  than  himself,  as  a  fa- 
ther*. The  kindred  soul  of  Cicero  appears  to  have  been 
deeply  struck  with  this  delightful  assemblage  of  all  the 
noblest  and  loveliest  qualities  of  our  nature.  The  friendship 
which  subsisted  betwe'^n  himself  and  Atticus  was  another 
beautiful  example  of  a  similar  kind :  And  the  dialogue 
De  ^fnicUiii  is  accordingly  addressed  with  peculiar  pro- 
priety to  Atticus,  who,  as  Cicero  tells  him  in  his  dedication, 
could  not  fail  to  discover  his  own  portrait  in  the  delineation  of 

*  "  Fiiit  enim  hoc  in  amicttia  quasi  quoddam  jus  inter  iUos,  at  mOitie,  propter 
eximiam  belli  gloriam,  Africanum  ut  deom  coleret  Laelius  ;  domi  vicinim  JLJefiin. 
qtt6d  etate  antecedebat,  observaret  in  parenti<i  loco  Scipio." 


CICERO.  263 

a  perfect  friend.  This  treatise  approaches  nearer  to  dialogue 
than  that  De  Senectuie.  for  there  is  a  story,  with  the  circum- 
stances of  time  and  place.  Fannius,  the  historian,  and  Mu- 
cins Scsevola,  the  Augur,  both  sons-in-law  of  Lselius,  paid  him 
a  visit  immediately  after  the  sudden  and  suspicious  death  of 
Scipio  Africanus.  The  recent  loss  which  Laelius  had  thus 
sustained,  leads  to  an  eulogy  on  the  inimitable  virtues  of  the 
departed  hero,  and  to  a  discussion  on  the  true  nature  of  that 
tie  by  which  they  had  been  so  long  connected.  Cicero,  while 
in  his  earliest  youth,  had  been  introduced  by  his  father  to 
Mucius  Scsevola;  and  hence,  among  other  interesting  mat- 
ters which  he  enjoyed  an  opportunity  of  hearing,  he  was  one 
day  present  while  Scsevola  related  the  substance  of  the  con- 
ference on  Friendship,  which  he  and  Fannius  had  held  with 
Lffilius  a  few  days  after  the  death  of  Scipio.  Many  of  the 
ideas  and  sentiments  which  the  mild  Laelius  then  uttered,  are 
declared  by  Sceevola  to  have  originally  flowed  from  Scipio, 
ivith  whom '  the  nature  and  laws  of  friendship  formed  a  fa- 
vourite topic  of  discourse.  This,  ^.erhaps,  is  not  entirely  a 
fiction,  or  merely  told  to  give  the  stamp  of  authenticity  to  the 
dialogue.  Some  such  conversation  was  probably  held  and  re- 
lated ;  and  I  doubt  not,  that  a  few  of  the  passages  in  this  cele- 
brated dialogue  reflect  the  sentiments  of  Lslius,  or  even  a( 
Africanus  himself. 

The  philosophical  works  of  Cicero,  which  have  been  hith- 
erto enumerated,  are  complete,  or  nearly  so.  But  it  is  well 
known  that  he  was  the  autl^or  of  many  fther  productions 
vtrhioh  have  now  been  entirely  lost,  or  of  which  only  fragments 
remain. 

Of  these,  the  most  important  was  the  Treatise  De  Repuh- 
lied,  which,  in  the  general  wreck  of  learning,  shared  the  fate 
of  the  institutions  it  was  intended  to  celebrate.  The  greater 
part  of  this  dialogue  having  disappeared  along  with  the  Ori- 
gines  of  Cato,  the  works  of  Varro,  and  the  History  of  Sallust, 
we  have  been  deprived  of  all  the  writings  which  would  have 
thrown  the  most  light  on  the  Roman  institutions,  manners^ 
and  government — of  everything,  in  short,  which  philosophi- 
cally traced  the  progress  of  Rome,  from  its  original  barbarism 
to  the  perfection  which  it  had  attained  in  the  age  of  the 
second  Scipio  Africanus. 

There  are  few  monuments  of  ancient  literature^  of  which 
the  disappearance  had  excited  more  regret,  than  that  of  the 
work  He  Republxca,  which  was  long  believed  to  have  been 
the  grand  repository  of  all  the  political  wisdom  of  the  an- 
cients. The  great  importance  of  the  subject — treated,  too, 
by  a  writer  at  once  distinguished  by  his  genius  and  former 


264  CICERO. 

official  dignity;  the  pride  and  predilection  with  which  the  la- 
thor  himself  speaks  of  it,  and  the  sublimity  and  beauty  of  the 
fragment  entitled  Sornnium  'ScipioniSf  preserved  from  it  by 
Macrobius,  all  concurred  to  exalt  this  treatise  in  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  learned,  and  to  exasperate  their  vexation  at  its  loss. 
The  fathers  of  the  church,  particularly  Lactantius,  had  afibrd- 
ed  some  insight  into  the  arguments  employed  in  it  on  di&- 
rent  topics ;  several  fragments  existed  in  the  works  of  the 
grammarians,  and  a  complete  copy  was  extant  as  late  as  the 
11th  century.  Since  that  time  the  literary  world  have  been 
flattered  at  diflferent  periods  with  hopes  of  its  discovery ;  bm 
it  is  only  within  the  last  few  years  that  such  a  portion  of  it  has 
been  recovered,  as  may  suffice,  in  a  considerable  degree,  to 
satisfy  curiosity,  though  not  perhaps  to  fulfil  expectation. 

It  is  well  known  to  many,  and  will  be  mentioned  more  folly 
in   the  Appendix^  that  owing  to  a  scarcity  of  papyrus  and 
parchment,  it  was  customary,  at  different  times,  to  erase  crfd, 
in  order  to  admit  new,  writing.    To  a  MS.  of  this  kind,  the 
name  of  Palimpsest  has^jeen  given — a  term  made  use  of  by 
Cicero  himself.     In  a  letter  to  the  lawyer  Trebatius,  who  had 
written  to  him  on  such  a  sheet,  Cicero  says,  '*  that  while  he 
must  praise  him  for  his  parsimony  in  employing  a  palimpsest, 
he  cannot  but  wonder  what  he  had  erased  to  scribble  such  a 
letter,  except  it  were  his  law  notes :  For  I  cannot  think,**  adds 
he,  "  that  you  would  efface  my  letter  to  substitute  your  own*." 
This  practice  became  very  common  in  the  middle  ages,  when 
both  the  papyrus  and  parchment  were  scarce,  and  when  the 
classics  were,  with  few  exceptions,  no  longer  the  objects  of 
interest.     Montfaucon  had  remarked,  that  these  obliterated 
MSS*  were  perhaps  more  numerous  than  those  which  had  been 
written  on  for  the  first  timef .     But  though  in  some  cases  the 
original  writing  was  still  visible  on  close  observation,  no  prac- 
tical use  was  made  of  such  inspection  till  Angelo  Mai  publish- 
ed some  fragments  recovered  from  palimpsest  MSS.  in  the 
Ambrosian  library,  of  which  he  was  keeper.     Encouraged  by 
his  success,  he  persevered  in  this  new  pursuit,  and  published 
at  intervals  fragments  of  considerable  value.     At  length,  be- 
ing called  to  Rome  as  a  recompense  for  his  learned  labours, 
Mai  prosecuted  in  the  Vatican  those  noble  researches  which 
he  had  coiamenced  at  Milan ;  and  it  is  to  him  we  now  owe  the 
discovery  and  publication  of  a  considerable  portion  of  Cicero 
De  Republican  which  had  been  expunged,  (it  is  supposed  in 

^  JSjinst,  Famil.  Lib.  VII.  ep.  18.  In  palimpsesto,  laudo  eqnidem  parsunoiiiaiB, 
sed  miror,  quid  in  ill!  chartu^  ftierit,  quod  delere  malueris  quam  h»c  non  scribere, 
aia  forte  tuas  formulas :  non  enim  puto  te  meaa  epist<Ua«  dtlm,  at  isp«U9  tatf. 

t  Mem.  de  VAeadem,  dea  tfuenptiom,  4re.  Tom.  YL 


CICERO.  265 

the  6th  century,)  and  crossed  by  a  new  writing,  which  con- 
tained a  commentary  by  St  Augustine  on  the  Psalms'*^. 

The  work  De  Republicd  was  begun  by  Cicero  in  the  month 
of  May,  in  the  year  699,  when  the  author  was'  in  the  fifty-se- 
cond year  of  his  age,  so  that,  of  all  his  philosophical  writings, 
it  was  at  least  the  earliest  commenced.  In  a  letter  to  his  bro- 
ther (^uintus,  he  tells  him  that  he  had  employed  himself  in  hia 
Cuman  and  Pompeian  villas,  in  writing  a  large  and  laborious 
political  work ;  that,  should  it  succeed  to  his  mind,  it  would 
be  well,  but,  if  not,  he  would  cast  it  into  that  sea  which  was  in 
view  when  he  wrote  it;  and,  as  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  be 
idle,  commence  some  other  undertakingf .  He  had  proceeded, 
however,  but  a  little  way,  when  he  repeatedly  changed  the 
whole  plan  of  the  work ;  and  it  is  curious  to  perceive,  that  an 
author  of  so  perfect  a  genius  as  Cicero,  had  similar  advices 
from  friends,  and  the  same  discouragement,  and  doubts,  and 
irresolution,  which  agitate  inferior  writers. 

When  he  had  finished  the  first  and  second  books,  they  were 
read  to  .some  of  hid  friends  at  his  Tusculan  villa.  Sallust, 
who  was. one  of  the  company  present,  advised  him  to  change 
his  plan,  and  to  treat  the  subject  in  his  own  person — alleging 
that  the  introduction  of  those  ancient  philosophers  and  states- 
men, to  whom  Cicero  had  assigned  parts  in  the  dialogue, 
instead  of  adding  gravily,  gave  a  fictitious  air  to  the  argument, 
which  would  have  greater  weight  if  delivered  from  Cicero 
himself,  as  bemg  the  work,  not  of  a  sophist  or  contemplative 
theorist,  but  of  a  consular  senator  and  statesman,  conversant 
in  the  greatest  affairs,  and  v^riting  only  what  his  owi^  expe- 
rience had  taught  him  to  be  true.  These  reasons  seemed  to 
Cicero  very  plausible,  and  for  some  time  made  him  think  of 
altering  his  plan,  especially  since,  by  placing  the  scene  of  the 
dialogue  so  far  back,  he  had  precluded  himself  from  touching 
on  those  important  revolutions  in  the  Republic,  which  were 
later  than  the  period  to  which  he  had  confined  himself.  But 
afler  some  deliberation,  feeling  reluctant  to  throw  away  the 

*  Mai  publidied  the  De  JRepublieSt  at  Rome,  with  a  prefiice,  giviiic  a  history  of 
his  discovery,  notes,  and  an  index  of  emendations.  It  was  reprinted  trom  this  edi- 
tion at  London,  without  change,  1823 ;  aiso  at  Paris,  1S28, .  with  the  notes  of  Mai, 
and  excerpts  from  his  preface ;  and  tura  Steinaeker  at  Leipsic,  1828.  To  diis  Ger- 
man edition  there  is  a  prefatory  episUe  by  Hermann,  which  I  was  disappointed  to 
find  contained  only  some  observations  on  a  sincle  passage  of  the  De  RepuMicAt 
with  regard  to  the  division  of  die  citizens  into  classes  bv1S[ervius  Tulliiis.  In  the 
same  year  an  excellent  French  translation  was  published  by  M.  Villemain,  accom- 
panied with  an  introductory  review  of  the  work  he  translates ;  as  also  notes  and  dis- 
sertations on  those  topics  of  Education,  Manners,  and  Religion^  which  he  suppose* 
to  have  formed  the  subjects  of  the  last  three  books  which  have  not  yet  been  re- 
covered 

t  Spitt.  ad  QuM.  Prat.  Lib.  II.  ep.  U. 

Vol.  II.— 2  I 


266  CICERO. 

two  books  which  were  already  finished,  and  with  which  he 
much  pleased,  he  resolved  to  adhere  to  his  original  plan*. 
And  as  he  had  preferred  it  from  the  first,  for  the  sake  (^ 
avoiding  ofience,  so  he  pursued  it  without  any  other  alteration 
than  that  he  now  limited  to  six  what  he  had  before  proposed 
to  extend  to  nine  books.  These  six  were  made  public  previ- 
ously to  his  departure  for  the  government  of  Cilicia.  While 
there,  he  received  the  epistolary  congratulations  of  his  friends 
on  their  successf,  and.in  his  answers  he  discloses  all  the  de- 
light of  a  gratified  and  successful  author|. 

Mai  discusses  atconsiderable  length  the  question.  To  whom 
the  treatise  De  Republicd  was  dedicated.  The  beginning  of 
the  proosmium  to  the  first  book,  which  mijzht  have  determined 
this  point,  is  lost ;  but  the  author  says,  "  Sisputatio  repetenda 
memoria  est,  quae  mihi,  tibique  quondam  adolesce$UulOi  est  a 
P.  Rutilio  Rufof  ZmymsB  cum  simul  essemus,  complures  dies 
exposita."  Cicero  was  at  Smyrna  in  the  twenty-nidth  year  of 
his  age,  and  it  is  evident  that  his  companion,  to  whom  this 
treatise  is  dedicated,  was  younger  than  himself,  as  he  says, 
*<  Mihi,  tibique  quondam  adokscentulo.^^  Atticus  was  two 
years  older  than  Cicero,  and  therefore  could  not  be  the  per- 
son. In  fact,  there  is  every  reason  to  suppose  that  the  trea- 
tise De  Republicd  was  dedicated  to  its  author's  younger  bro- 
ther Quintus,  who,  as  we  know  firom  the  prooemium  of  the 
last  book,  De  FinUms,  was  with  Cicero  at  Athens  during  the 
voyage,  in  the  course  of  which  he  touched  at  Smyrna — who 
probably  attended  him  to  Asia, — and  whose  age  suited  the 
expression  ''  mihi,  tibique  adolescentulo."  Add  to  this,  that 
Cicero,  when  he  mentions  to  his  brother,  (in  the  passage  of 
the  letter  above  referred  to,)  that  he  meant  to  alter  the  plan 
of  his  work,  says,  ^'  Nunc  loquar  ipse  tecumy  et  tamen  ilia  qas 
institueram  ad  te,  si  Romam  venero,  mittam^.^'  The  work  in 
its  first  concoction,  therefore,  was  addressed  to  Quintus,  and, 
as  the  author,  after  some  hesitation,  published  it  nearly  in  its 
original  form,  it  can  scarcely  be  doubted  that  it  was  still  de- 
dicated to  his  brother. 

The  first  book  De  Rqfmblicd,  which  was  one  of  tbo^e  read 
by  Cicero  to  Sallust  and  some  other  friends,  in  his  Tuscolan 
villa,  is,  as  already  mentioned,  imperfect  at  the  commence- 
ment. Not  much,  however,  seems  to  be  wanting,  and  a  pro- 
logue of  considerable  length  still  remains,  in  whiph  the  author 

*  Epist.  od  Quint.  Frai,  Lib.  III.  ep.  6  and  6. 

t  Csliua  ad  Cicerooem,  Epist,  Famil.  Lib.  YIU.  Ep^  1.  Tui  libri  poliUci  omiu- 
bus  vigent 

t  Spist  adJlttic,  Lib.  TI. 

§  Epi8t,  ad  Qucnf.  Frat.  Lib.  ID.  ep.  6. 


CICERO.  -  267 

(pleading,  perhaps,  his  own  cause)  combats  the  opinions  of 
philosophers,  who,  preferring  a  contemplative  to  an  active  life, 
blame  those  who  engage  in  public  affairs.  To  the  former  he 
opposes  the  example  of  many  wise  and  great  men,  and  answers 
those  objections  to  a  busy  political  life,  which  have  been  re* 
peatedly  urged  against  it.  This  prologue  contains  some  good 
reasoning,  and,  like  all  the  writings  of  its  illustrious  author, 
displays  a  noble  patriotic  feeling.  He  remarks,  that  he  had 
entered  into  this  discussion  as  introductory  to  a  book  concern- 
ing the  republic,  since  it  seemed  proper,  as  prefatory  to  such 
a  work,  to  combat  the  sentiments  of  those  who  deny  that  a 
philoscrpher  should  be  a  statesman.  ^*  As  to  the  work  itself,^' 
says  he,  addressing  (a9l  have  supposed)  his  brother,  '<  I  shall 
lay  down  nothing  new  or  peculiar  to  myself,  but  shall  repeat 
a  discussion  which  once  took  place  among  the  most  illustrious 
men  of  their  age,  and  the  wisest  of  our  state,  such  as  it  was 
related  to  myself,  and  to  you  when  a  youth,  by  P.  Rutilius 
Rufus,  when  we  were  with  him  some  days  at  Smyrna — in 
irvhich  discussion  nothing  of  importance  to  the  right  constitu- 
tion of  a  commonwealth,  appears  to  have  been  omitted." 

The  author  then  proceeds  to  mention,  that  during  the  con- 
sulship of  Tuditanus  and  Aquilius,  (as  he  had  heard  from  Ru- 
fus,) the  younger  Scipio  Africanus  determined  to  pass  the 
Latin  festivals  (Latinee  F^riae)  in  his  gardens,  where  some  of 
his  most  intimate  friends  had  promised  to  visit  him.  The  first 
of  these  who  makes  his  appearance  is  his  nephew,  Quintus 
Tubero,  a  person  devoted  to  the  Stoical  philosophy,  and  noted 
for  the  austerity  of  his  manners..  A  remark  which  Tubero 
makes  about  two  suns,  a  prodigy  which,  it  seems,  had  lately 
appeared  in  the  heavens,  leads  Scipio  to  praise  Socrates  for 
his  abandonment  of  physical  pursuits,  as  neither  very  useful 
to  man,  nor  capabje  of  being  thoroughly  investigated — a 
sentiment  (by  the  way)  which,  with  all  due  submission  to  the 
Greek  philosopher,  does  little  credit  to  his  sagacity,  as  phy- 
sical inquiries  have  been  not  only  highly  useful  to  mankind, 
but  are  almost  the  only  subjects  in  which  accurate  science  has 
been  attained.  Furius,  Philus,  and  Rutilius,  who  is  stated  to 
have  related  the  discussion  to  Cicero,  now  enter,  and,  at  last, 
comes  Lselius,  attended  by  his  friend,  Spurius  Mummius,  (bro- 
ther to  the  well-known  connoisseur  in  ^he  fine  arts  who  took 
Corinth,)  and  by  his  two  sons-in-law,  C.  Fannius  and  Q.  ScsB'- 
vola.  After  saluting  them,  Scipio,  as  it  was  now  winter,  takes 
them  to  a  sunny  spot,  in  a  meadow,  and  in  proceeding  thither 
the  party  is  joined  by  M.  Manilius. 

^'  In  this  choice  of  his  principal  speakers,  Cicero,"  as  has 
been  well  remarked,  "  was  extremely  judicious  and  happy.   It 


268  CICERO- 

was  necessary  that  the  persons  selected  should  have  been  dif- 
tinguished  both  as  statesmen  and  as  scholars,  in  order  thai  a 
philosophical  discussion  might  appear  consistent  with  their 
their  known  characters,  and  that  a  high  political  reputation 
might  give  authority  to  their  remarks  on  government.  Scipi* 
and  Lselius  united  both  these  requisites  in  a  remarkable  de- 
gree. They  were  among  the  earliest  of  the  Romans  who 
added  the  graces  of  Grecian  taste  and  learning  to  the  maolj 
virtues  of  their  own  ruder  country.  These  accomplishments 
had  refined  and  polished  their  characters,  without  at  all  i&- 
tracting  from  their  force  and  purity.  The  very  name  of  the 
Scipios,  the  duo  fidmina  beUi,  was  the  symbol  of  military 
talent,  patriotism,  and  magnanimity  :,JLsBlius  was  somewbt 
less  distinguished  in  active  life ;  but  enjoyed,  on  the  other 
hand,  a  still  higher  reputation  for  contemplative  wisddm^ 

After  the  party  had  been  all  seated,  the  subject  of  the  two 
suns  is  resumed;  and  Lselius,  while  he  remarks  that  they  had 
enough  to  occupy  attention  in  matters  more  at  haod,  adds, 
that  since  they  were  at  present  idle,  he  for  his  part,  bad  oo 
objection  to  hear  Philus,  who  was  fond  of  astronomical  pur- 
suits, on  the  subject.  Philus,  thus  encouraged,  proceeds  to 
give  an  account  of  a  "kind  of  Orrery,  which  had  been  formed 
by  Archimedes,  and  having  been  brought  to  Rome  by  Mar- 
cellus,  its  structure,  as  well  as  uses,  had  on  one  occasion,  when 
Philus  was  present,  been  explained  by  C.  Sulpicius  Callus. 
The  application  of  this  explanation  to  the  phaenomenon  of  the 
two  suns  is  lost,  as  a  hiatus  of  eight  pages  here  occurs  in  the 
palimpsest.  Probably,  the  solution  of  the  problem  would  not, 
if  extant,  make  a  great  figure  in  the  PhUosophical  Transffc- 
tions.    But  one  cannot  fail  to  admire  the  discursive  and  actire 

Senius  of  Cicero,  who  considered  all  knowledge  as  an  object 
eserving  ardent  pursuitf . 

*  The  above  quotation  is  from  the  XL.  Number  of  the  JVorthjimeriean  Bet^* 
July  1828.  It  IB  hichly  creditable  to  the  scholaKhip  of  our  TFanntlantic  breth/en. 
that  the  work  De  RepuhUcSi,  should  on  its  first  pubtication,  have  been  the  subject 
of  an  article  in  one  of  their  principal  literary  journals,  while,  as  far  as  1  know,  tbe 
reviews  of  this  ancient  land  of  colleges  and  universities,  have  passed  over,  io  tbsom 
silence,  the  most  important  classical  discovery*  since  the  age  of  the  Medici. 

t  I  do  not  know  that  this  distinguishing  feature  of  the  character  of  Cicero  bai 
been  anywhere  so  well  described  as  in  the  followuig  passage  of  M.  Villemaio.-  ^ 
which  he  has  introduced  in  this  respect  a  beautiful  comparis^on  between  Cicero  m 
the  most  illustrious  writer  of  h>8  own  nation.  Talking  of  the  digression  conoe^ 
the  Parhelion  and  Orrery,  he  admits  it  was  little  to  the  purpq^e,  but  he<ttl^  "^ 
on  se  d^fendre  d'un  mouvementjde  respect,  quand  on  songe  a  ce  beau  cancte^ 
curiosity  philosophique,  a  ce  gout  universe!  de  la  science  dont  fot  ^^^^.^^Pl?!| 
et  qui  au  milieu  d'une  vie  agit^e  par  tant  de  travaux,  et  dans  un  ^tat  de  ^^i^^jj^^ 
encore  d^nu^  de  secours,  lui  fit rechercber  avec  un  insatiable ardeur  tousles  mop" 
de  connoissances  nouvelles  ct  de  lumi^res  ?  ^ 

"  Cet  homme  qui  avait  si  laborieusement  m^dit^  I'art  de  T^loquence,  etl^^' 
quait  chaque  jour  dans  Ic  Fonun,  dans  le  senat,  dans  les  tribimaux;  ce  gwot*!^' 


CICERO.  269 

At  the  end  of  the  hiatus^  we  find  Soipio,  in  reference  to 
Gallus's  astronomical  knowledge,  which  had  been  celebrated 
by  Philus,  relating,  that  when  his  father,  Paulus  iEmiliua, 
commanded  in  Macedonia^  the  army  being  terrified  by  an 
eclipse.  Callus  had  calmed  their  fears  by.  explaining  the'  phse-^ 
nomenon — an  anecdote,  which,  with  another  similar  to  it  here 
toU  of  Pericles,  proves  the  value  of  physical  pursuits,  and  their 
intimate  connection  with  the  affairs  of  life.     Thi^i  inference 
seems  to  have  be^n  drawn  in  a  passage  which  i^  lost ;  and 
several  beautiful  sentiments  follow,  similar  to  some  of  those  in 
the  Somnium  Scipumis,  on  the  calm  exquisite  delights  of  me- 
ditation and  science,  and  on  the  littleness  of  all  earthly  things, 
when  compared  with   immortality  or  the  universe.     ^'Quid 
porro,"  says  Scipio,  in  the  most  elevated  tone  of  moral  and 
intellectual  grandeur — ''quid  porro  aut  prseclarum  putet  in 
rebus  humanis,  qui  hsec  deorum  regna  perspexerit  9  aut  diu- 
tumum,  qui  cognov^rit  quid  sit  seternum?  aut  gloriosum,  qui 
viderit  quam  parva  sit  terra,  primum  universa,^  deinde  ea  pars 
ejus  quam  homines  incolant,  quamque  nos  in  exigua  ejus  parte 
adfixi,  plurimis  ignotissimi  gentibus,Bperemus  tamen  nostrum 
nomen  volitare  et  vagari  latissime  ?     Agros,  vero,  et  sedificia, 
et  pecudes,  et  immensum  argenti  pondus  atque  auri,  qui  bona 
nee  putare  nee  appellare  soleat,  quod  earum  rernm  videatiir 
ei,  levis  fructus,  exiguus  usus,  incertus  dominatus,  sa;pe  etiam 
teterrimorum   hominum .  immehsa  possessio.     duam  est  hie 
fortunatus  putandus,  cui  soli  vere  liceat  omnia  non  Quiritium 
sed  sapientium  jure  pro  suis  vindicare !  nee  civili  nexo,  sed 
communi  lege  naturie,  quae  vetat  ullam  rem  esse  cujusquam 
nisi  ejus  qui  tractare  et  uti  sciat :  qui  imperia  consulatusque 

qui  meme  pendant  son  consulat  plaidait  encore  des  causes  privies*  au  milieu  d*une 
vie  toute  de  gloire,  d'agitations,  et  de  perils,  flans  ce  mouvement  d'tnqm^tudes  et 
d'afbires  attest^  par  cette  foule  de  lettres  si  admirables  et  si  rapidement  ecrites,  ^tu- 
diait  encore  toutce  que  dans  son  si^cle  il  ^talt  possible  de  savoir.  II  avaii  cultiv^ 
la  po^sie :  il  avait  approfondi  et  transport^  chez  lea  Remains  toutes  les  philosophies 
de  la  Gr^ce ;  il  cfaerchait  II  r^cueillir  les  notions  encore  imparfaites  des  sciences 
physiques.  I*fou8  vovons  meme  par.une  de  ses  lettres  qu*il  s*occupa  de-falre  un 
trait^  techpiane  de  geomphie,  a  pen  pr^s  comme  Voltaire  compUait  laborieuse- 
ment  un  abreg^  chronoTogique  de  Phistoire  d'AIlemagne.  Ces  deux  g^nies  ont  eu 
en  effet  ce  caractere  distinctif  de  m^Ier  auz  plus  brillans  tr^sors  de  Timagination  et 
de  gout,  I'ardeur  de  toutes  les  connoissances,  et  jcette  activity  intellectuelle  qui  ne 
g'arrete,  qi  ne  se  lasse  jamais. 

"  Sans  doute  il  y  avait  entre  eux  de  grands  dissemblances,  surtout  dans  cette 
vocation  pr^dominante  qui  entrainait  Kun  vers  T^loquence  et  Tautre  vers  la  po^sie ; 
sans  doute  aussi  la  diversity  des  temps  et  des  situations  mettait  plus  de  difierence 
encore  entre  Tauteur  Fran^ais  de  dix  huiti^me  si^cle,  et  le  Consul  de  la  republlque 
Romaine :  mais  cette  ardeur  de  tout  savoir,  ce  mouvement  de  la  pens^e  qui  s^appli- 
quait  i^galement  a  tout,  forme  un  trait  Eminent  qui  les  rapproche  ;  et  peutetre  le 
sentiment  confus  de  cette  v^rite  agissait  il  sur  Voltaire  dans  Tadmiration  si  vive- 
ment  sentie,  si  s^rieuse,  que  cet  esprit  cootempteur  de  tant  de  renomm^es  antiques 
expiima  to^joun  pour  le  g^nie  do  Cicdron." — P.  LXII. 


270  CICERO. 

nostros  in  nece^sariis  non  in  expetendis  rebus  muneris  fungeoli 
gratia  subeundos,  jion  prsemiorum  aut  gloriae  causa  adpetendos 
putet:  qui  denique  ut  Africanum  avum  meum  scribitCaic 
solitum  esse  dicere,  possit  idem  de  se  prsedicare,  nunquam  » 
plus  agere,  quam  nihil  ciun  ageret ;  nunquam  minus  solum 
esse,  quam  cum  solus  esset. 

'^duis  enim  putare  vere  potest  plus  egisse  Dionysium  tuin 
cum  omnia  moliendo  eripuerit  civibus  suis  libertatem,  quam 
ejus  civem  Archimedem,  cum  istam  ipsam  Sphserara,  nihil  cum 
qgere  videretur,  effecerit?  Quis  autem  non  magis  solos  es»; 
qui  in  foro  turbaque  quicum  conloqui  libeat  non  habeant,  quam 
qui  nullo  arbitro  vel  secum  ipsi  loquantur,  vel  quasi  doctissi- 
morum  hominum  in  concilio  adsint  cum  eorum  inventis  scrip- 
tisque  se  oblectent?  Quis  vero  divitiorem  quemquajn  putet, 
quam  eum  cui  nihil  desit,  quod  quidem  natura  desideret^aut 
potentiorem  quam  ilium,  qui  omnia  quae  expetat,  consequa^ 
tUT^  aut  beatiorem  quam  qui  sit  omni  perturbatione  ajikoi 
liberatus?" 

Laelius,  however,  is  no  way  moved  by  these  sonorous  a/jfl- 
ments ;  and  still  persists  in  affirming,  that  the  most  important 
of  ail  studies  are  those  which  relate  to  the  Rep%MiCy  and  that 
it  concerned  them  to  inquire,  not  why  two  suns  had  appeared 
in  heaven,  but  why,  in  the  present  circumstances,  (alloio^^'J 
the  projects  of  the  Gracchi,)  there  were  two  senates,  and 
almost  two  peoples.     In  this  state  of  things,  therefore,  ana 
since  they  had  now  leisure,  their  fittest  object  would  be  to 
learn  from  Scipio  what  he  deemed  the  best  condition  of  a 
commonwealth.  Scipio  complies  with  this  request,  and  bepns 
with  defining  a  republic ;  "  Est  igitur  respublica  res  populH- 
populus  autem  non  omnis  hominum'  ccetus-  quoquo  modo  con- 
gregatus,  sed  coetus  multitudjnis  juris  consensu."    In  en^^"?» 
on  the  nature  of  what  he  had  thus  defined,  he  remounU  to  we 
origin  of  society,  which  he  refers  entirely  to  that  social  spm 
which  is  one  of  the  principles  of  our  nature,  and  not  to  nos«" 
lity,  or  fear,  or  compact.     A  people,  when  united,  naay 
governed  by  cm,  by  sefoeral,  or  by  a  tmUtUudey  any  <>»« 
which  simple  forms  may  be  tolerable  if  well  administered,  ^ 
they  are  liable  to  corruptions  peculiar  to  themselves,  ^jj^^^ 
three  simple  forms,  Scipio  prefers  the  monarchical;  ^  ^^ 
this  choice  he  gives  his  reasons,  jvhich  are  somewhat  ©e  ^ 
physical  and  analogical.     But  though  he  more  ^PP*"?^^  |,e 
pure  regal  government  than  of  the  two  other  simpk  ^^^^^. 
thinks  that  none  of  them  are  good,  and  that  a  perfect  cob  ^.^ 
tion  must  be  compounded  of  the  three.     "Cluod  cm  i      ; 
tribus  primis  generibus  longe  prsestat,  mea  sententia,  '"^     ' 
regio  autem  ipsi  praestabit  id  quod  erit  aequatum  et  tefljp 


CICERO-  271 

turn  ex  tribuis  optimis  rerum  publicarum  modis.  Placet  enim 
esse  quiddam  in  re  publica  prsstans  et  regale;  esse  aliud 
auctoritate  principum  partum  ac  tributum ;  esse  quasdam  res 
servatas  judicio  voluntatique  multitudinis.  Hsec  constitutio 
primum  habet  aequalitatem  quamdam  magnam,  qua  carere 
diutius  vix  possant  liberi ;  deinde  firmitudinem." 

In  this  panegyric  on  a  mixed  constitution,  Cicero  has  taken 
his  idea  of  a  perfect  state  from  the  Roman  commonwealth — 
from  its  consuls,  senate,  and  popular  assemblies.  Accordingly, 
Scipio  proceeds  to  affirm,  that  of  all  constitutions  which  had 
ever  existed,  no  one,  either  as  to  the  distribution  of  its  parts 
or  discipline,  was  so  perfect  as  that  which  had  been  esta* 
blished  by  their  ancestors ;  tod  that,  therefore,  he  will  con- 
stantly have  his  eye  on  it  as  a  model  in  al)  that  he  means  to 
say  concerning  the  best  form  of  a  state. 

•This  explains  what  was  the  chief  scope  of  Cicero  in  his 
work  De  Rqimblica — an  eulogy  on  the  Roman  government, 
such  as  it  was,  or  he  supposed  it  to  have  been,  in  the  early 
ages  of  the  commonwealth.  In  the  time  of  Cicero,  when 
Rome  was  agitated  by  the  plots  of  Catiline,  and  factions  of 
Clodius,  with  the  proscriptions  of  Sylla  but  just  terminated, 
and  the  usurpation  of  Csssar  impending,  the  Roman  constitu- 
tion had  become  as  ideal  as  the  polity  of  Plato;  and  in  its 
best  times  had  never  reached  the  perfection  which-  Cicero 
attributes  to  it.  But  when  a  writer  is  disgusted  with  the  pre- 
sent, and  fearful  for  the  future,  he^  is  ever  ready  to  form  an 
Utopia  of  the  past*. 

In  the  second  book,  which,  like  the  first,  is  imperfect  at  the 
beginning,  (though  Mai  seems  to  think  that  only  a  few  words 
are  wanting,)  Scipio  records  a  saying  of  Cato  the  Censor,  that 
the  constitution  of  llome  was  superior  to  that  of  all  other 
states,  because  they  had  been  modelled  by  single  legislators, 
as  Crete  by  Minos,  and  Sparta  by  Lycursus,  whereas  the 
Roman  commonwealth  was  the  result  of  Uie  gradually  im- 
proved experience  and  wisdom  of  ages.  "  To  borrow,  there- 
fore," says  he,  "  i^  word  from  Cato,  I  shall  go  back  to  the  ori- 
gin of  the  Roman  state ;  and  show  it  in  its  birth,  childhood, 
youth,  and  maturity-^a  plan  which  seems  preferable  to  the 
delineation  of  an  imaginary  republic  like  that  of  Plato." 

Scipio  now  begins  with  Rottiulus,  whose  birth,  indeed,  he 
seems  to  treat  as  a  fable ;  but  in  the  whole  succeeding  deve- 
lopment of  the  Roman  history,  he,  or,  in  other  words,  Cicero, 
exercises  little  criticism,  and  indulges  in  no  scepticism.     He 

*  Ttiifl  first  book  occupied  in  the  palimpsest  211  pages.  Of  these,  72  are  want- 
ing ;  but  two  short  fragments  belon^ng  to  this  book  are  to  be  found  in  Lactantius 
and  Nonius,  ao  that  alK>at  a  third  ofthe  book  is  stiU  lost 


272  CICERO. 

adoiires  the  wisdom  with  which  Romulus  chose  the  site  of  his 
capital — not  placing  it  in  a  maritime  situation,  where  it  wouU 
have  been  exppsed  to  many  dangem  and  disadvantages,  bat 
on  a  navigable  river,  with  all  the  conveniences  of  the  sea.— 
^^  Qui  potuit  igitur  divinitus  et  utilitates  complecti  mariumas 
Romulus  et  vitia  vitare9  quam  quod  urbem  perenais  anmis 
et  aequabilis  let  in  mare  late  influentis  posuit  in  ripa,  quo 
posset  urbs  et  accipere  ex  mari  quo  egeret,  et  reddere  quo 
redundiiret :  eodemque  ut  flumine  res  ad  victum  cultuinque 
maxime  necessarias  non  solum  mari  absorberet  sed  etiam  ad- 
vectas  acciperet  ex  terra:  ut  mihi  jam  turn  divinasse  ille  videa- 
tur,  banc  urbem  sedem  aliquando  ut  domum  summo  esse  m- 
perio  praebituram :  nam  banc  rerum  tantaro  potentiam  dod 
ferme  facilius  alia  in  parte  Italias^ osita  urbs  tenere  potuisset/ 
— In  like  manner  he  praises  the  sagacity  of  the  succeeding 
rulers  of  the  Roman  state.  ''  Faithful  to  his  plan,"  says  M. 
Villemain,  "  of  referring  all  to  the  Roman  constitution,  and  of 
forming  rather  a  history  than  a  political  theory,  Cicero  pro- 
ceeds to  examine,  as  it  were  chronologically,  the  state  of 
Rome  at  the  different  epochs  of  its  duration,  beginaing  with 
its  kings.  This  plan,-  if  it  produced  any  new  light  on  a  retj 
dark  subject,  would  have  much  more  interest  for  us  than  ideas 
merely  speculative.  But  Cicero  scarcely  deviates  from  the 
common  traditions,  which  have  often  exercised  the  scepticism 
of  the  learned.  He  takes  the  Remain  history  nearly  as  we 
now  have  it,  and  his  reflections  seem  to  suppose  no  other  facts 
than  those  which  have  been  so  eloquently  recorded  by  Livy. 
But  although,  for  the  sake  of  illustration,  and  in  deference  to 
common  opinion,  he  argues  on  the  events  of  early  Remap  his- 
tory, as  delivered  by  vulgar  tradition,  it  is  evident  that,  in  his 
own  belief,  they  were  altogether  uncertain ;  and  if  any  nc* 
authority  on.  that  subject  were  wanting,  Cicero's  might  be 
added  in  favour  of  their  total  uncertainty ;  for  Lselius  thus  in- 
terrupts his  account  of  Ancus  Martins — ^^  Laudandus  etia© 
iste  rex — sed  obscura  est  historia  Romana  ;*'  and  Scipio  re- 
plies, "  Ita  est :  sed  temporum  illorum  tantfim  fere  regumillu*" 
trata'sunt  nomina." 

At  the  close  of  Scipio's  discourse,  which  is  a  perpeto^^ 
panegyric  on  the  successive  governments  of  Rome,  and,  with 
exception  of  the  above  passage,  an  uncritical  acquiescence  la 
its  common  history,  Tubero  remarks,  that  Cicero  had  rather 
praised  the  Roman  government,  than  examined  the  ^^^^] 
tion  of  commonwealths  in  general,  and  that  hitherto  he  hau 
not  explained  by  what  discipline,  manners,  and  laws,  a  stat^ 
is  to  be  constituted  or  preserved.  Scipio  replies,  that  this  is 
to  be  a  farther  subject  of  discussion;  and  he  seems  now  to 


CICERO.  273 

have  adopted  a  more  metaphysical  tone :  But  of  the  remainder 
of  the  book  only  a  few  fragments  exist ;  from  which,  however^ 
it  appears,  that  a  question  was  started,  how  far  the  exact  ob- 
servance of  justice  in  a  state  is  politic  or  necessary.  This 
discussion,  at  the  suggestion  of  Scipio,  is  suspended  till  the 
succeeding  day*. 

As  the  third  book  of  Cicero's  treatise  began  a  second  day's 
colloquy,  it  was  doubtless  furnished  with  a  procemium,  the 
greater  part  of  which  is  now  lost,  as  also  a  considerable  por- 
tion of  the  commencement  of  the  dialogue.  Towards  the 
conclusion  of  the  preceding  book,  Scipio  had  touched  on  the 
subject,  how  far  the  observance  of  justice  is  useful  to  a  state, 
and  Philus  had  proposed  that  this  topic  should  be  treated 
more  fully,  as  an  opinion  was  prevalent,  that  policy  occasion- 
ally required  injustice.  Previously  to  the  discovery  of  Mai, 
we  knew  from  St  Augustine,  De  Civiiaie  Dei,  that  in  the 
third  book  of  the  treatise  De  Rqmblicd^  Philus,  as  a  disputant, 
undertook  the  cause  of  injustice,  and  was  answered  by  Lselius. 
In  the  fragment  of  the  third  book,  Philus  excuses  himself  from 
becoming  (so  to  speak)  the  devil's  advocate ;  but  at  length 
agrees  to  offer,  not  his  own  arguments  on  the  subject,  but 
those  of  Carneades,  who,  some  years  before,  had  one  day 
pleaded  the  cause  of  justice  at  Rome,  and  next  day  over- 
turning his  own  arguments,  became  the  patron  of  injustice. 
Philus  accordingly  proceeds  to  contend,  that  if  justice  were 
something  real,  it  would  be  everywhere  the  same,  whereas,  in 
one  nation,  that  is  reckoned  equitable  and  holy,  which  in  an- 
other is  unjust  and  impious ;  and,  in  like  manner,  in  the  same 
city,  what  is  just  at  one  period,  becomes  unjust  at  another. 
In  the  palimpsest,  these  sophisins,  which  have  been  revived 
in  modern  times  by  Mandeville  and  others,  are  interrupted  by 
frequent  chasms  in  the  MS.  Lielius,  as  we  learn  from  St  Au- 
gustine, and  from  a  passage  in  Aulus  Gellius,  was  requested 
by  all  present  to  undertake  the  defence  of  justice ;  but  his 
discourse,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  sentences,  is  wholly 
wanting  in  the  palimpsest.  At  the  close  he  is  highly  compli- 
inented  by  Scipio,  but  a  large  hiatus  again  intervenes.  Afler 
this,  Scipio  is  found  contending,  that  wealth  and  power,  Phi- 
dian  statues,  or  the  most  magnificent  public  works,  do  not 
constitute  a  republic,  but  the  res  papfdi,  the  good  of  the  whole, 
and  not  of  any  single  governing  portion  of  the  state.  He  then 
concludes  with  affirming,  that  of  all  forms  of  government,  the 

*Mu  caDDot  exactly  state  how  much  of  the  second  book  ia  wanting  in  the 
palimpsest,  but  he  thinks  probably  a  third  part ;  enough  remains  of  it  to  console  the 
reader  for  &e  loss. 

Vol..  II.— 2  K 


274  aCERO. 

purely  democratic  is  the  worst,  and  next  to  that,  an  unmiittl 
aristocracy. 

Of  the  fourth  book  only  one  leaf  remains  in  the  palimpsest 
the  contents  of  which  seem  to  confirm  what  we  learo  (m 
other  sources,  that  it  treated  of  Education  and  Morals.  Itu 
particularly  to  be  regretted  that  this  book  has  disappeared. 
It  is  easy  to  supply  abstract  discussions  about  justice,  demo- 
cracy, and  power,  and,  if  they  be  not  supplied,  little  iojoryB 
sustained ;  but  the  loss  of  details  relating  to  manners  and  cus- 
toms, from  such  a  hand  as  that  of  Cicero,  is  irreparable.  The 
fifth  book  is  nearly  as  much  mutilated  as  the  fourth,  and  of 
the  sixth  not  a  fragment  remains  in  the  palimpsest,  so  ihat 
Mai's  discovery  has  added  nothing  to  the  beautiful  extract 
from  this  book,  entitled  the  Sonmium  Scipienis,  preserved  bj 
Macrobius.  The  conclusion  of  the  work  De  RiipMca^  had 
turned  on  immortality  of  fame  here,  and  eternity  of  existen^ 
elsewhere.  The  Somnium  Scipiania  is  intended  to  establi^ 
under  the  form  of  a  political  fiction,  the  sublime  dogma  of  the 
soul's  inunortality,  and  was  probably  introduced  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  work,  for  the  purpose  of  adding  the  hopes  aw 
fears  of  future  retribution  to  the  other  motives  to  yirtooos  ex- 
ertion. In  illustration  of  this  sublime  topic,  Scipio  relates 
that,  in  his  youth,  when  he  first  served  in  Africa,  be  visited  toe 
court  of  Massinissa,  the  steady  friend  of  the  Romans,  and  par- 
ticularly of  the  Cornelian  family.  During  the  feasts  and  c^ 
tertaiiunents  of  the  day,  the  conversation  turned  on  the  words 
and  actions  of  the  first  great  Scipio.  His  adopted  grandchild 
having  retired  to  rest,  the  shade  of  the  departed  hero  appctf- 
ed  to  him  in  sleep,  darkly  foretold  the  future  events  of  his  m 
and  encouraged  him  to  tread  in  the  paths  of  patriotism  ana 
true  glory,  by  announcing  the  reward  provided  in  Heawn  lor 
those  who  have  deserved  well  of  their  country.  , . 

I  have  thought  it  proper  to  give  this  minute  account  of  tne 
treatise  De  Republicd,  for  the  sake  of  those  who  may  not*'"'* 
had  an  opportunity  of  consulting  Mai's  publication,  and  wo^ 
may  be  curious  to  know  somewhat  of  the  value  and  ^^^f 
his  discovery.  On  the  whole,  I  suspect  that  the  t'^®*!*^'^.7AL 
appoint  those  whose  expectations  were  high,  especially  "^J 
thought  to  find  in  it  much  political  or  statisUcal  iDfo«?*rj; 
It  corresponds  little  to  the  idea  that  one  would  nat"'*'*^^.  u 
of  a  political  work  from  the  pen  of  Cicero— a  ^}^^^^ 
statesman,  always  courted  by  the  chiefs  of  political  pan^' 
and  at  one  tiihe  himself  at  the  head  of  the  government  oi 
country.  But,  on  reflection,  it  will  not  appear  «"^P"^"^lj|u| 
we  receive  from  this  work  so  little  insight  into  the  dou 
and  disputed  points  of  Roman  polity.    Those  questions,  w 


CICERO.  276 

regard  to  the  manner  in  which  the  Senate  was  filled  up— the 
force  of  degrees  of  the  people,  and  the  rank  of  the  different 
jurisdictions,  which  in  modern  times  have  formed  subjects  of 
discussion,  had  not  become  problems  in  the  time  of  Cicero. 
The  great  men  whom  he  introduces  in  ^conversation  together} 
understood  each  other  on  such  topics,  by  a  word  or  sugges- 
tion ;  and  I  am  satisfied  that  those  parts  of  the  treatise  De  Re- 
ptiblicd,  which  are  lost,  contained  as  little  that  could  contri- 
bute  to  the  solution  of  such  difficulties,  as  the  portions  that 
.  have  been  recovered. 

But  though  the  work  of  Cicero  will  disappoint  those  who 
expect  to  find  in  it  much  political  information,  still,  as  in  his 
other  productions,  every  page  exhibits  a  rich  and  glowing  mag- 
nificence of  style,  ever  subjected  to  the  controul  of  a  taste  the 
most  correct  and  pure.  It  contains,  like  all  his  writings,  some 
passages  of  excjuisite  beauty,  and  everywhere  breathes  an 
exalted  spirit  of  virtue  and  patriotism.  The  Latin  language, 
so  noble  in  itself,  and  dignified,  assumes  additional  majesty  in 
the  periods  of  the  Roman  Consul,  and  adds  an  inexpressible 
beauty  and  loftiness  to  the  natural  sublimity  of  his  sentiments. 
No  writings,  in  fact,  are  so  full  of  moral  and  intellectual  gran- 
deur as  those  of  Cicero,  none  are  more  calculated  to  elevate 
and  purify  our  nature — to  inculcate  the  tu  vero  enitere,  in 
the  path  of  knowledge  and  virtue,  and  to  excite  not  merely 
a  fond  desire,  or  idle  longins,  but  strenuous  efforts  after  im- 
mortality. Indeed,  the  whole  life  of  the  Father  of  his  Coun- 
try was  a  noble  fulfilment,  and  his  sublime  philosophic  works 
are  but  an  expansion  of  that  golden  precept,  tu  vero  enUeref 
enjoined  from  on  high,  to  his  great  descendant,  by  the  Spirit 
of  the  first  Africanus*. 

About  a  century  afler  the  revival  of  letters,  when  mankind 
had  at  length  despaired  of  any  farther  discovery  of  the  phi- 
losophic writings  of  Cicero,  the  learned  men  of  the  age  em- 
{ cloyed  themselves  in  collecting  the  scattered  fragments  of  his 
ost  works,  and  arranging  them  according  to  the  order  of  the 
books  from  which  they  had  been  extracted.  Sigonius  had 
thus  united  the  detached  fragments  of  the  work  De  ReptMic&y 
and  he  made  a  similar  attempt  to  repair  another  lost  treatise  oi 
Cicero,  entitled  De  CanaoUUione.  But  in  this  instance  he  not 
merely  collected  the  fragments,  but  connected  them  by  sen- 
tences of  his  own  oomposition.  The  work  De  Caneolaiiane 
was  written  by  Cicero  in  the  year  708,  on  occasion  of  the 
death  of  his  much-loved  Tullia,  with  the  design  of  relieving 
his  own  mind|  and  consecrating  to  all  posterity  the  virtues 

*  Somniium  Sey^iomt. 


276  CICERO. 

and  memory  of  his  daughter*.  In  this  treatiae,  he  set  outwilb 
the  paradoxical  propositions,  that  human  life  is  a  punishmeoU 
and  that  men*  are  brought  into  the  world  only  to  pay  the  for- 
feit of  their  sinsf .  Cicero  chiefly  followed  Crantor  the  Aca- 
demic |,  who  had  left  ti  celebrated  piece  on  the  same  topic ; 
but  he  inserted  whatever  pleased  him  in  any  other  author  wbo 
had  written  on  the  subject.  He  illustrated  his  precepts,  as  he 
proceeded,  by  examples  from  Roman  history,  of  eminent 
characters  who  had  borne  a  similar  loss  with  that  which  he 
had  himself  sustained,  or  other  severe  misfortunes,  with  re- 
markable constancy^, — dwelling  particularly  on  tlie  domestic 
calamities  of  Q.  Maximus,  who  buried  a  consular  son ;  of 
.£miiius  Paullus,  who  lost  two  sons  in  two  days  ;  and  of  M. 
Caio,  who  had  been  deprived  of  a  son,  who  was  Pr8etor-£lect||. 
Sigonius  pretended,  that  the  patched-up  treatise  De  CeMh 
UUianCj  which  he  gave  to  the  public,  was  the  lost  work  <^ 
Cicero,  of  which  he  had  discovered  a  MS.  The  imposture 
succeeded  for  a  considerable  time,  but  was  at  length  detected 
and  pointed  out  by  RiccobonilF. 

Cicero  also  wrote  a  treatise  in  two  books,  addressed  to 
Atticus,  on  the  subject  of  Glory,  which  was  the  predominaot 
and  most  conspicuous  passion  of  his  soul.  It  was  composed 
in  the  year  710,  while  sailing  along  the  delightful  coast  of  the 
Campagna,  on  his  voyage  to  Greece  >— 


<*  On  as  h6  moved  doag  the  level  shore* 
These  temples,  in  their  splendour  eminent 
Bfid  arcs,  and  ohelisks,  and  domes,  and  towers. 
Reflecting  haclL  the  radiance  of  the  west. 
Well  mij^t  he  dream  of  ox.ojiY*t  -" 

This  treatise  was  extant  in  the  14th  century.  A  copy  had 
been  presented  to  Petrarch,  from  his  vast  collection  of  books, 
by  Raymond  Soranzo,  a  Sicilian  lawyerf  f .  Petrarch  long  pre- 
served  this  precious  volume  with  great  care,  and  valued  it 
highly.  Unfortunately  a  man  called  Convenoli,  who  resided 
at  Avignon,  and  who  had  formerly  been  his  preceptor,  begged 
and  obtained  the  loan  of  it ;  and  having  afterwards  fallen  ioto 
indigent  circumstances,  pawned  it  for  the  relief  of  his  neces- 
sities, to  son^e  unknown. person,  from  whom  Petrarch  De?er 

*  Epist.  ad  Attic,  Lib.  XII.  £p.  14. 

t  Lactantius,  Dwin,  hut.  Lib.  IIL  c.  18.   Luendormn  scelerum  cansa  nasd  ho- 
mines. 

}  Plin.  HiMt,  JSTai,  Lib.  L  Prtf,  §  Z>e  Dwin,  Lib.  II.  c.  9. 

II  Tusc.  Disput.  Lib.  111.  c.  28. 

H  Scharfii,  Dissert,  de  vero  auetare  ConsoloHonii,  JkRiceU,  L^.  Okten,  1^- 

*t  Rogers'  Lines,  tmiiten  at  Pastum, 

tt  Petrarch,  Epist.  Her,  SenU,  Lib.  XV.  £p.  1. 


CICERO.  277 

could  regain  its  possession.    Two  copies,  however,  were  still 
extant  in  the  subsequent  century,  one  in  a  private  library  at 
Nuremburg,  and  another  in  that  of  a  Venetian  nobleman, 
Bernard  Giustiniapi,  who,  dying  in  1489,  bequeathed  his  books 
to  a  monastery  of  nuns,  to  whom  Petrus  Alcyonius  was  phy- 
sician.   Filelfo  was  accused,  though  on  no  good  foundation, 
of  having  burned  the  Nuremburg  copy,  after  inserting  pas- 
sages from  it  in  his  treatise  De  Contemptu  Mundi*,    But  the 
charge  of  destroying  the  original  MS.  left  by  Giustiniani  to  the 
nuns,  has  been  urged  against  Alcyonius  on  better  grounds, 
and  with  more  success.     Paulus  Manutius,  of  whose  printing- 
press  Alcyonius  had  been  at  one  time  corrector,  charged  him 
with  having  availed  himself  of  his  free  access  to  the  library  of 
the  nuns,  whose  physician  he  Was,  to  purloin  the  treatise  De 
Gloria^  and  with  having  destroyed  it,  to  conceal  his  plagia- 
risms, after  inserting  from  it  various  passages  in  his  dialogue 
De  ExUiaf.    The  assertion  of  Manutius  is  founded  only  on 
the  disappearance  of  the  MS., — ^the  opportunities  possessed 
by  Alcyonius  of  appropriating  it,  and  his  own  critical  opinion 
of  .the  dialogue  De  ExUiOf  in  which  he  conceives  that  there 
are  many  passages  composed  in  a  style  evincing  a  writer  of 
talents,  far  superior  to  those  of  its  nominal  author.     This  ac- 
cusation was  repeated  by  Paulus  Jovius  and  others]:.     Men- 
cken, in  the  preface  to  his  edition  of  the  dialogue  De  ExiliOf 
has  maintained  the  innocence  of  Alcyonius,  and  has  related 
a  conversation  which  he  had  with  Bentley  on  the  subject,  in 
the  course  of  which  that  great  scholar  declared,  that  he  found 
nothing  in  the  work  of  Alcyonius  which  could  convict  him  of 
the  imputed  plagiarism^.     He  has  been  defended  at  greater 
length  by  Tiraboschi^  on  the  strong  grounds  that  Giustiniani 
lived  after  the  invention  of  printing,  and  that  had  he  actually 
been  in  possession  of  Cicero's  treatise  De  Gloria^  he  would 
doubtless  have  published  it — that  it  is  not  said  to  what  monas- 
tery of  nuns  Giustiniani  bequeathed  this  precious  MS. — that 
the  charge  against  Alcyonius  was  not  advanced  till  after  his 
death,  although  his  dialogue  De  EsUio  was  first  printed  in 
1522,  and  he  survived  till  1527  ;  and,  finally,  that  so  great  a 
proportion  of  it  relates  to  modem  events,  that  there  are  not 
more  than  a  few  pages  which  could  possibly  have  been  pilfered 
fi^om  Cicero,  or  any  writer  of  his  age||.    M.  Bemardi,  in  a 

*  Vaifflas,  Vie  de  Louie  XL  Mencunana,  Tom.  II. 
M  Comment,  EpieL  JUL  AUie.  XV.  27.  t  Eulogia: 

Mencken,  Prof.  P.  Jilcyontde  ExiUo^  Lips.  1707. 

j  Tinboechi,  Stor.deU.  Letter,  hal.  Pvt.  III.  Ub.  III.  c.  4.  §  14 — Gingueii^ 
thinks  that  Tinboschi  has  completely  succeeded  in  jiutifyiDg  Alcyonius.  JSet. 
Xi7(er.<ri!a^T.yiI.p.254. 


278  eiCERO. 

dissertation  subjoined  to  a  work  above  mentioned.  He  la  Rt' 
publique^  has  revived  the  accusation,  at  least  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, by  quoting  various  passages  from  the  work  of  AlcyoDins, 
which  are  not  well  connected  with  the  others,  and  which,  be- 
ing of  a  superior  order  of  composition,  may  be  conjectured  to 
be  those  he  had  detached  from  the  treatises  of  Cicero.  On  the 
whole,  the  question  of  the  theft  and  plagiarism  of  AlcyoniiB 
still  remains  undecided,  and  will  probably  contiDue  so  till 
the  discovery  of  some  perfect  copy  of  the  tract  De  Gloria — an 
event  rather  to  be  earnestly  desired  than  reasonably  antici- 
pated. 

A  fourth  lost  work  of  Cicero,  is  his  Hortensiua  sioe  de  PU- 
losophia.     Besides  the  orator  after  whom  it  is  named,  Cato- 
lus,  Lucullus,  and  Cicero  himself,  were  speakers  in  the  dia- 
logue.    In  the  first  part,  where  Hortensius  discourses,  it  was 
intended  to  exalt  eloquence  above  philosophy.     To  his  argu- 
ments Cicero  replied,  showing  the  service  that    philosophy 
rendered  to  eloquence,  even  in  an  imperfect  state  of  the 
social  progress,  and  its  superior  use  in  an  improved  conditioa 
of  society,  in  which  there  should  be  no  wrong,  and  conse- 
quently no  tribunals  of  justice.    All  this  appears  from  the 
account  given  of  the  Hortensius  by  St  Augustine,  who  has 
also  quoted  from  it  many  beautiful  passages— -declaring,  at 
tlie  same  time,  that  it  was  the  perusal  of  this  work  wluch  first 
inspired  him  with  a  love  of  wisdom. — ^*^  Viluit  mihi  repente 
omnis  vana  spes,  et  immortalitatem .  sapientiie  concupiscebam 
eestu  cordis  incredibili*."    This  dialogue  continued  to  be 
preserved  for  a  long  period  after  the  time  of  St  Augustine, 
since  it  is  cited  as  extant  in  his  own  age  by  the  fiunous  Roger 
Baconf. 

It  was  not  till  after  the  sera  of  Augustus,  that  works  ori- 

tfmally  destined  for  the  public  assumed  the  name  and  form  of 
etters.  But  several  collections  of  epistles,  written,  duriog 
the  period  on  which  we  are  now  engaged,  to  relatives  or 
friends  in  private  confidence,  were  afterwards  extensively  cir- 
culated. Those  of  Cornelia,  the  daughter  of  the  elder  Scipio 
Africanus,  and  mother  of  the  Gracchi,  addressed  chiefly  to 
her  sons,  were  much  celebrated ;  but  the  most  ample  collec- 
tion now  extant,  is  that  of  the  Letters  of  Cicero. 

These  may  be  divided  into  four  parts, — I.  The  Epistobe 
Familiares,  or  Miscellaneous  Correspondence;  2.  Those  to 
Atticus ;  3.  To  his  brother  Quintus;  4.  To  Brutus. 
The  correspondence,  usually  entitled  Ad  Familiare^i  io- 

*  Cor^ess.  III.  4,  and  De  Vit.  Btata.  prooem. 

t  Tuostall,  ObservoHonM  on  the  EpiMtlee  between  Cieero  and  MrvtWt  p*  ^' 
Ed.  London^  1744. 


CICERO.  379 

eludes  a  period  of  about  twenty  years,  commencing  immedi- 
ately after  Cicero's  consulate,  and  ending  a  few  months  before 
his  death.  The  letters  which  this  collection  comprehends, 
are  so  extremely  miscellaneous,  that  it  is  impossible  even  to 
run  OYcr  their  contents.  Previous  to  the  battle  of  Pharsalia, 
it  chiefly  consists  of  epistles  concerning  the  distribution  of 
consular  provinces,  and  the  political  intrigues-  relating  to  that 
constantly  recurring  subject  of  contention, — recommendatory 
letters  sent  with  acquaintances  going  into  the  provinces*— de- 
tails to  absent  friends,  with  regard  to  the  state  of  patties  at 
Rome,  particularly  the  designs  of  Pompey  and  Caesar,  and  the 
factions  of  Milo  and  Clodius ;  and,  finally,  entertaining  anec- 
dotes concerning  the  most  popular  and  fashionable  amuse- 
ments of  the  Capital. 

Subsequently  to  the  battle  of  Pharsalia,  and  during  the 
supremacy  of  Ceesar,  the  letters  are  principally  addressed  to 
the  chiefs  of  the  Pompeian  party,  who  were  at  that  time  in 
banishment  for  their  adherence  to  the  same  cause  in  which 
Cicero  had  been  himself  engaged.  These  epistles  are  chiefly 
occupied  with  consolatory  reflections  on  the  adverse  circum- 
stances in  which  they  were  placed,  and  account^  of  his  own 
exertions  to  obtain  their  recall.  In  the  perusal  of  these  letters, 
it  is  painful  and  humiliating  to  observe  the  gratification  which 
Cicero  evidently  appears  to  have  received  at  this  period,  from 
the  attentions,  not  merely  of  Csesar,  but  of  his  creatures  and 
favourites,  as  Balbus,  Hirtius,  and  Pansa. 

After  the  assassination  of  Csesar,  the  correspondence  for  the 
most  part  relates  to  the  afiairs  of  the  Republic,  and  is  directed 
to  the  heads  of  the  con^iracy,  or  to  leading- men  in  the  state, 
as  Lepidus  and  Asinius  PoUio,  who  were  then  in  the  command 
of  armies,  and  whom  he  anxiously  exhorts  to  declare  for  the 
commonwealth,  and  stand  forward  in  opposition  to  Antony. 

There  are  a  good  many  letters  inserted  in  this  collection, 
addressed  to  Cicero  by  his  friends.  The  greatest  number  are 
from  his  old  client  Coelius,  who  appears  to  have  been  an  ad- 
mirable gossip.  They  are  written  to  Cicero,  during  his  absence 
from  Rome,  in  his  government  of  Cilicia,  and  give  him  news 
of  party  politics — ^intelligence  of  remarkable  cases  tried  in 
the  Forum — and  of  the  fashionable  scandal  of  the  day.  The 
great  object  of  Coelius  seems  to  have  been  to  obtain  in  return, 
the  dedication  of  one  of  Cicero's  works,  and  a  cargo  of  panthers 
from  Asia,  for  his  exhibition  of  games  to  the  Roman  people. 
Towards  the  conclusion,  there  are  a  good  many  letters  from 
generals,  who  were  at  the  head  of  armies  in  the  provinces  a~t 
the  death  of  Csesar,  and  continued  their  command  during  the 
war  which  the  Senate  waged  against  Antony.    All  of  them, 


280  CICERO- 

but  particularly  Asinius  Pollio,  and  Lepidus,  appear  to  have 
acted  with  consummate  treachery  and  dissimulation  towards 
Cicero  and  the  Senate.  On  the  whole,  though  the  JEpistola 
Faimiliares  were  private  letters,  and  though  some  private 
affairs  are  treated  of  in  them,  they  chiefly  relate  to  public 
concerns,  comprehending,  in  particular,  a  very  fall  history  of 
Cicero's  government  in  Cilicia,  the  civil  dissensions  of  Roooe, 
and  the  war  between  Pompey  and  Caesar.  Seldom,  however, 
do  they  display  any  flashes  of  that  eloquence  with  which  the 
orator  was  so  richly  endued ;  and  no  transaction,  however  im- 
portant, elevated  his  style  above  the  level  of  ordinary  con- 
versation. 

The  EpiatchB  od  Mticum^  are  also  of  great  service  for  the 
History  of  Rome.     "  Whoever,"  says  Cornelius  Nepos,  *'  reads 
these  letters  of  Cicero,  will  not  want  for  a  connected  historj 
of  the  times.     So  well  does  he  describe  the  views  of  the  lead- 
ing men,  the  faults  of  generals,  ,and  the  changes  of  parties  in 
the  state,  that  nothing  is  wanting  for  our  information ;  and 
such  was  his  sagacity,  we  are  almost  led  to  believe  that  it  was 
a  kind  of  divination ;  for  Cicero  not  only  foretold  what  after- 
wards happened  in  his  own  lifetime,  but,  like  a  prophet,  pre- 
dicted events  which  are  now  come  to  pass*."     Along  with 
this  knowledge,  we  obtain  more  insight  into  Cicero's  private 
character,  than  from  the  former  series  of  letters,  where  he  is 
often  disguised  in  the  political  mask  of  the  great  theatre  on 
which  he  acted,  and  where  many  of  his  defects  are  concealed 
under  the  graceful  folds  of  the  toga.    It  was  to  Atticos  that 
he  most  freely  unbosomed  his  thoughts — ^more  completely  than 
even  to  Tullia,  Terentia,  or  Tiro.     Hence,  while  be  evinces 
in  these  letters  much  affection  for  his  family^ardent  zeal  for 
the  interests  of  his  friends — ^strong  feelings  of  humanity  and 
justice — warm  gratitude  to  his  benefactors,  and  devoted  love 
to  his  country,  he  has  not  repressed  his  vanity,  or  concealed 
the  faults  of  a  mental  organization  too  susceptible  of  eveiy 
impression.     His  sensibility,  indeed,  was  such,  that  it  led  him 
tp  think  his  misfortunes  were  peculiarly  distinguished  from 
those  of  all  other  men,  and  that  neither  himself  n(>r  the  worki 
could  ever  sufliciently  deplore  them :  hence  the  querulous  and 
plaintive  tone  which  pervades  the  whole  correspondence,  and 
which,  in  the  letters  written  during  his  exile,  resembles  more 
the  wailings  of  the  Triatia  of  Ovid,  than  what  might  be  ex- 
pected from  the  flrst  statesman,  orator,  and  philosopher  of  the 
Roman  Republic.     In  every  page  of  them,  too,  we  see  traces 
of  his  inconsistencies  and  irresolution — ^his  political,  if  not  bis 

*  VU,  JJUici,  c.  19. 


CICERO.  281 

personal  timidity — his  rasb  confidence  in  prosperity,  his  alarm 
in  danger,  his  despondence  in  adversity — his  too  nice  jealou- 
sies and  delicate  suspicions — his  proneness  to  oiTence,  and  his 
unresisting  compliance  with  those  who  had  gained  him  by 
flattery,  and  hypocritical  professions  of  attachment  to  the 
commonwealth.     Atticus,  it  is  clear,  was  a  bad  adviser  for  his 
fame,  and  perhaps  for  his  ultimate  safety ;  and  to  him  may  be 
in    a  great  measure  attributed  that  compromising  conduct 
which  has  detracted  so  much  from  t^e  dignity  of  his  charac* 
ter.     "  You  succeeded,"  says  Cicero,  speaking  of  Csesar  and 
Pompey,  ''  in  pecsuading  me  to  keep  well  with  the  one,  be- 
cause he  had  rendered  me  services,  and  with  the  other,  because 
he  possessed  great  power^."    Again,  ^^  I  followed  your  advice 
so  punctually,  that  neither  of  them  had  a  favourite  beyond 
myself;"  and  after  the  war  had  actually  broken  out,  '<  I  take 
it  very  kind  that  you,  in  so  friendly  a  manner,  advise  me  to 
declare  as  little  as  possible  for  either  partyf ."    Such  fatal 
counsels,  it  is  evident,  accorded  too  well  with  his  own  inclina- 
tions, and  palliated,  perhaps,  to  himself  the  weaknesses  to 
to  which  he  gave  way.     These  weaknesses  of  Cicero  it  would, 
indeed,  be  in  vain  to  deny;  biii  hijt  fp.Alingfi are  little  to  be  en- 
vied who  can  think  of  them  without  regret,  or  speak  of  them 
without  indulgence. 

It  is  these  letters,  however,  which  have  handed  down  the 
remembrance  of  Atticus  to  posterity,  and  have  rendered  his 
name  almost  as  universally  known  as  that  of  his  illustrious 
correspondent.  "  Nomen  Attici  perire,"  says  Seneca,  "  Cice- 
ronis  EpistolsB  non  sinunt.  Nihil  illi  profuissent  gener  Agrippa, 
et  Tiberius  progener,  et  Drusus  Caesar  pronepos.  Inter  tarn 
magna  nomina  taceretur  nisi  Cicero  ilium  applicuisset." 

Perhaps  the  most  interesting  correspondence,  of  Cicero  is 
that  with  his  brother  Quintus,  who  was  some  years  younger 
than  the  orator.  He  attained  the  dignity  of  Praetor  in  693, 
and  afterwards  held  a  government  in  Asia  as  Pro-pretor  for 
four  years.  He  returned  to  Rome  at  the  moment  in  which  his 
brother  was  driven  into  exile ;  and  for  some  time  afterwards, 
was<!hief)y  employed  in  exerting  himself  to  obtain  his  recall. 
As  Cesar's  lieutenant,  he  served  with  credit  in  Gaul ;  but  es- 
poused the  republican  party  at  the  breaking  out  of  the  civil 
war.  He  was  pardoned,  however,  by  Csesar,  and  was  slain 
by  the  blood-thirsty  triumvirate  established  after  his  death. 
Quintus  was  a  man  of  warm  affections,  and  of  some  military 
talents,  but  of  impatient  and  irritable  temper.    The  orator 

•  Epist.  Lib.  VII.  Ep.  1.  t  Ibid.  Ep.  26. 

Vol.  IL— 3  L 


388  CICERO. 

had  evidently  a  high  opinion  of  hit  qoaltficatioaB,  and  he 
introduced  him  as  an  interlocutor  in  the  dialogues  Dt  Legibm 
and  De  Divinatiane. 

The  correspondence  with  Quintus  is  divided  into   three 
books.    The  first  letter  in  the  collection,  is  one  of  the  noblest 
productions  of  the  kind  which  has  ever  been  penned.     It  is 
addressed  to  Quintus  on  occasion  of  his  government  in  Asia 
being  prolonged  for  a  third  year.     Availing  himself  of  the 
rights  of  an  elder  brother,  as  well  as  of  the  authority  derived 
from  his  superior  dignity  and  talents,  Cicero  counsels  and  ex- 
horts his  brother  concerning  the  due  administration  of  his 
{H^ovince,  particularly  with  regard  to  the  choice  of  his  subosdi- 
nate  ofiicers,  and  the  degree  of  trust  to  be  reposed  in  them. 
Be  earnestly  reproves  him,  but  with  much  fraternal  tender- 
ness and  affection,  for  his  proneness  to  resentment ;  and  he 
concludes  with  a  beautiful  exhortation,  to  strive  in  all  respects 
to  merit  the  praise  of  his  contemporaries,  and  bequeath  to  pos- 
terity an  untainted  name.     The  second  letter  transmits  to 
Quintus  an  account  of  some  complaints  which  Cicero  had 
heard  in  Rome,  with  regard  to  his  brother's  conduct  in  the  ad- 
ministration of  bis  govarmnoni.     The  two  following  epistleSi 
which  conclude  the  first  book,  are  written  from  Thessalonica, 
in  the  commencement  of  his  exile.     The  first  of  these,  begin* 
ning,  *'  Mi  frater,  mi  frater,  mi  frater,"  written  in  a  md  state 
of  agitation  and  depression,  is  a  fine  specimen  of  eloquent  and 
pathetic  expostulation.    It  is  full  of  strong  and  almost  un- 
bounded expressions  of  attachment,  and  exhibits  much  of  that 
exaggeration,  both  in  sentiment  and  language,  in  which  Ci- 
cero indulged  so  frequently  in  his  orations. 

The  second  and  third  books  of  letters,  addressed  to  his  bn>* 
ther  in  Sardinia  and  Gaul,  give  an  interesting  account  of  the 
state  of  public  affairs  during  the  years  697,  698,  and  part  of 
699,  as  also  of  his  subsisting  domestic  relations  during  the 
same  period. 

Along  with  his  letters  to  Quintus,  there  is  usually  printed 
an  epistle  or  memoir,  which  Quintus  addressed  to  his  brother 
when  he  stood  candidate  for  the  consulship,  and  which  is  enti- 
tled De  PetUiane  Consulatus.  It  gives  advice  with  regard  to 
the  measures  he  should  pursue  to  attain  his  object,  particolarly 
inculcating  the  best  means  to  gain  private  friends,  and  acquire 
general  popularity.  But  though  professedly  drawn  up  merely 
for  the  use  of  his  brother,  it  appears  to  have  been  intended  by 
the  author  as  a  guide;  or  manual,  for  all  who  might  be  placed 
in  similar  circumstances.  It  is  written  with  considerable  ele- 
gance, and  perfect  purity  of  style,  and  forms  an  important 
document  for  the  history  of  the  Roman  republic,  as  it  afibids 


CICERa  283 

us  a  clearer  insight  than  we  can  derive  from  any  other  work 
now  extant,  into  the  intrigues  resorted  to  by  the  heads  of  par- 
ties to  gain  the  suflfrages  of  the  people. 

The  authenticity  of  the  Correspmdence  between  Cicero  and 
BruiuSy  has  formed  the  subject  of  a  literary  controversy,  per- 
haps the  most  celebrated  which  has  ever  occurred,  except  that 
concerning  the  Epistles  of  Phalaris. 

It  is  quite  ascertained,  that  a  correspondence  had  been  car- 
ried on^  between  Cicero  and  Brutus ;  and  a  collection  of  the 
letters  which  had  passed  between  them,  extending  to  not  less 
than  eight  books,  existed  for  several  ages  after  Cicero's  death. 
They  were  all  written,  during  the  period  which  elapsed  from 
the  assassination  of  Caesar  to  the  tragical  end  of  the  orator, 
which  comprehended  about  a  year  and  a  half;  and  it  appears 
from  the  fragments  of  them,  cited  by  Plutarch  and  the  granif- 
marians,  that  they  chiefly  related  to  the  memorable  political 
events  of  that  important  interval,  and  to  a  literary  controversy 
which  subsisted  between  Cicero  and  Brutus,  with  regard  to 
the  attributes  of  perfect  eloquence*. 

This  collection  is  mentioned,  and  passages  cited  from  it) 

by  Quintilian,  Plutarch,  and  even  Nonius  Marceliusf ,  who 

lived  about  the  year  400.     After  this,  all  trace  of  it  is  losl» 

till,  in  the  fourteenth  century,  we  find  some  of  the  disputed  let* 

ters  in  the.  possession  of  Petrarch;  and  it  has  been  conjectured 

that  Petrarch  himself  was  the  discoverer  of  themt.     Eighteen 

of  these  letters,  which  were  all  that  were  then  known,  were 

published  at  Rome  in  1470.  Many  years  afterwards,  five  more^ 

but  in  a  mutilated  state,  were  found  in  Germany,  and  these,  in 

all  subsequent  editions,  were  printed  alon^  with  the  original 

eighteen.  All  the  letters  relate  to  the  situation  of  public  afiairs 

after  the  death  of  Caesar.    They  contain  a  good  deal  of  recri* 

minaUpn  :  Brutus  blaming  Cicero  for  his  dangerous  elevation 

of  Octavius,  and  conferring  honours  on  him  too  profusely ; 

Cicero  censuring  Brutus  for  having  spared  the  life  of  Antony 

at  the  time  oS  the  conspiracy. 

Now  the  point  in  dispute  is.  If  these  twenty-three  letters  be 
parts  of  the  original  eight  books  of  the  genuine  correspon- 
dence of  Cicero  and  Brutus,  so  often  cited  by  Plutarch,  Quin- 
tilian, and  Nonius ;  or  if  they  be  the  forgery  of  some  monk  or 

*  A  few  uniaportaot  letten  whidi  had  jMiied  between  these  two  gieet  men, 
during  Cicero*!  proconsulship  in  Cilicia,  were  included  among  the  Epistolm  Fami* 
Uares,  and  are  of  undisputed  authentic!^.  It  does  not  seem  dear,  whether  they  ever 
fMmed  pait  of  the  great  collection  of  eight  books,  which  contained  Hm  subaequeBl 
oonemondence  between  Cicero  and  Brutus. 

t  llidd]eton*B  Prtf.  to  the  EputU»  of  CUero  and  Brutus,  p.  4,  London,  1749. 

%  TumUill,  ObHrvaHoHif^.  p.  27. 


284  CICERO. 

sophist,  during. the  dark  ages  which  elapsed  between  the  tioie 
of  Nonius  and  Petrarch. 

From  their  very  first  appearance,  the  eighteen  letters,  which 
had  come  into  the  possession  of  Petrarch,  passed  among  the 
learned  for  original  epistles  of  Cicero  and  Brutus;  and  the  fi?e 
discovered  in  Uermany,  though  doubted  for  a  while,  were  soon 
received  into  the  same  rank  with  the  others.    Erasmus  seems 
to  have  been  the  first  who  suspected  the  whole  to  be  the  de- 
clanuitory  composition  of  some  rhetorician  or  sophist.     They 
continued,  however,  to  be  cited  by  every  other  oonunentator, 
critic,  and  historian,  as  the  unquestionable  remains  of  the 
great  author  to  whom   they  were  ascribed.    Middleton,  in 
particular,  in  his  Life  of  Cicero,  freely  referred  to  them  as 
biographical  authorities,  along  with  the  Familiar  Epistles,  and 
those  to  Atticus. 

Matters  were  in  this  situation,  when  Tunstall,  in  1741,  ad- 
dressed a  Latin  Epistle  to  Middleton,  written  professedly  to 
introduce  a  proposal  for  a  new  edition  of  Cicerb's  letters  to 
Alticusy  and  his  brother  Quintus.  In  the  first  part  of  this 
epistle,  he  attempted  to  retrieve  the  original  readings  of  these 
authentic  treasures  of  Ciceronian  history,  and  asserted  their 

Senuine  sense  against  the  corruptions  or  false  interpretations  of 
lem,  which  had  led  to  many  erroneous  conclusions  io  Mid- 
dleton's  Life  of  Cicero.  In  the  second  part,  he  denies  the 
authenticity  of  the  whole  correspondence  betwen  Cicero  and 
Brutus,  which  he  allefl^es  is  the  production  of  some  sophist  or 
schpliast  of  the  middle  ages,  whvptvbably  wrote  them,  accord* 
ing  to  the  practice  of  those  days,  as  an  exercise  for  his  rheto- 
rical talents,  and  with  the  view  either  of  drawing  up  a  supf^ 
ment  to  the  Epistles  to  Atticus,  so  as  to  carry  on  the  bistoiy 
from  the  period  at  which  they  terminate,  or  to  vindicate 
Cicero's  character  from  the  imputation  of  rashness,  in  throwing 
too  much  power  into  the  hands  of  Octavius.  Tunstall  farther 
thinks,  that  the  leading  subject  of  these  letters  was  suggested 
to  the  sophist  by  a  'passage  in  Plutarch's  Life  of  Brutus, 
where  it  is  mentioned  that  Brutus  had  remonstrated  with 
Cicero,  and  complained  of  him  to  their  mutual  friend  At- 
ticus, for  the  court  he  paid  to  Octavius,  which  showed  that 
his  aim  was  not  to  procure  liberty  for  his  country,  but  a  kind 
master  to  himself. 

Middleton  soon  afterwards  published  an  English  transIatioD 
of  the  whole  correspondence  between  Brutus  and  Cicero,  with 
notes;  and,  in  a  prefatory  dissertation,  written  with  consider- 
able and  unprovoked  asperity,  he  attempted  to  vindicate  the 
authority  of  the  epistles,  and  to  answer  the  objections  of  Tun- 
stall.   His  adversary  replied  in  an  immense  English  work,  of 


CICERO.  286 

more  than  400  pa^es,  entitled,  "  Obserrations  on  the  present 
Collection  of  Epistles  between  Cicero  and  Brutus,  representing 
several  evident  marks  of  Forgery  in  those  Epistles,  in  answer 
to  the  late  pretences  of  Dr  Middleton :  1744." 

It  is  difficult  to  give  any  sketch  of  the  arffumentative  part 
of  this  famed  controversy,  as  the  merit  of  aH  such  discussiAi 
consists  in  the  extreme  accuracy  and  minut^iess  of  investiga- 
tion.    The  main  scope,  hoWever,  of  the  objections,  is  thus 
generally  exhibited  by  Tunstall  in  his  Latin  epistle.     He  de- 
clares, '^  that  as  he  came  fresh  from  the  perusal  of  Cicero's 
genuine  letters,  he  perceived  that  those  to  Brutus  wanted  the 
beaaty  and  copiousness  of  the  Ciceronian  diction — ^that  the 
epistles,  both  of  Brutus  and  Cicero,  were  drawn  in  the  same 
style  aiul  manner  of  colouring,  and  trimmed  up  with  so  much 
art  and  diligence,  that  they  seemed  to  proceed  rather  from 
scholastic  subtlety  and  neditation,  than  from  the  genuine  acts 
and  afikirs  of  life — ^that  when,  both  before  and  after  the  date 
of  the  letters  to  Atticus,  several  epistles  had  been  addressed 
from  Brutus  to  Cicero,  and  from  Cicero  to  Brutus,  it  was 
strange  that  those  which  preceded  the  letters  to  Atticus  should 
have  been  lost,  and  those  alone  remain  which  appear  to  have 
been  industriously  designed  for  an  epilogue  to  the  Epistles  to 
Atticu&-»that  such  reasons  induced  him  Co  suspect,  but  on 
looking  frirther  into  the  letters  themselves,- he  discovered  many 
absurdities  in  the  sense,  many  improprieties  in  the  language, 
many  remarkable  predictions  of  future  events^both  on  Brutus's 
side  and  Cicero's;  but  what  was  most  material,  a  great  number 
of  historical  facts,  not  only  quite  new,  but  wholly  altered,  and 
some  even  apparently  fiilse,  and  contradictory  to  the  genuine 
works  of  Cicero." 

Such  was  the  state  of  the  controversy,  as  it  stood  between 
Tunstall  and  Middleton.  In  1745,  the  year  after  Middleton 
had  published  his  translation  of  the  epistles,  Markland  engaged 
in  this  literary  contest,  and  came  forward  in  opposition  to  the 
authenticity  of  the  letters,  by  publishing  his  '^  Remarks  on  the 
Epistles  of  Cicero  to  Brutus,  and  of  ^Brutus  to  Cicero,  in  a 
Letter  to  a  Friend."  The  arguments  of  Tunstall  had  chiefly 
turned  on  historical  inconsistencies*— those  of  Markland  prin- 
cipally hinge  on  phrases  to  be  found  in  the  letters,  which  are 
not  Ciceronian,  or  even  of  pure  latinity. ' 

I  must  here  close  this  long  account  of  the  writings  of  Cicero 
—of  Cicero,  distinguished  as  the  Consul  of  the  republic— as 
the  father  and  saviour  of  his  country— *but  not  less  distinguish- 
ed as  the  orator,  philosopher,  and  moralist  of  Rome. — ^^  Salve 
primus  omnium  Parens  Patri®  appellatse, — primus  in  toga  tri- 
umphum  linguceque  lauream  mer^|^  et  facundise,  Latiarumque 


386  CICERO. 


Literanim  parens :  atqae  (ut  Dictator  CieBar,  hostis  qucmdan 
tuusy  de  te  scripsit,)  omnium  triumphorum  lauream  adepte  ma- 
jorem ;  quanto  plus  est,  ingenii  Romani  teiminoa  in  tanfum  ]wo- 
movisse,  quam  imperii**" 


In  the  former  volume  of  this  work,  I  had  traced  the  pro- 
ffresB  of  the  language  of  the  Romans,  and  treated  of  the  dif* 
terent  poets  by  whom  it  was  adorned  till  the  era  of  Augustas. 
I  had  chiefly  occasion,  in  the  course  of  that  part  of  my  inquiry, 
to  compare  the  poetical  productions  of  Rome  with  those  of 
Greece,  and  to  show  that  the  Latin  poetry  of  this  early  age, 
being  modelled  on  that  of  Athens  or  Alexandria,  had  acquired 
an  air  of  preparation  and  authorship,  and  appeared  to  ha?e 
been  written  to  obtain  the  cold  approbation  of  the  public,  or 
smiles  of  a  Patrician  patron,  while  the  native  lines  of  the 
Grecian  bards  seem  to  be  poured  fourth  like  the  Delphic  ora- 
cles, because  the  god  which  inspired  them  was  too  great  to  be 
contained  within  the  bosom.  In  the  prose  compositiona  of 
the  Romans,  which  have  been  considered  in  the  present  vo- 
lume, though  the  exetnplaria  Gr42ca  were  still  the  models  of 
style,  we  have  not  observed  the  same  servility  of  imitation. 
The  agricultural  writers  of  Latium  treated  of  a  subject  in  a 
great  measure  foreign  to  the  maritime  feelings  and  commercial 
occupations  of  the  Greeks;  while,  in  the  Latin  historians,  ora- 
tors, and  philosophers,  we  listen  to  a  tone  of  practical  utility, 
derived  from  the  familiar  acquaintance  which  their  authon 
etercised  with  the  affairs  of  life.  The  old  Latin  historians 
were  for  the  most  part  themselves  engaged  in  the  affairs  they 
related,  and  almost  everv  oration  of  Cicero  was  actually  deli- 
vered in  the  Senate  or  Forum.  Among  the  Romans,  philoso- 
phy was  not,  as  it  had  been  with  many  of  the  Greeks,  an 
academic  dream  or  speculation,  which  was  substituted  for  the 
realities  of  life.  In  Rome,  philosophic  inquiries  were  cJiiefly 
prosecuted  as  supplying  arguments  and  illustratioiis  to  the 
patron  for  his  conflicts  in  tlw  Forum,  and  as  guiding  the  citi- 
zen in  the  discharge  of  his  duties  to  the  commonwealth. 
Those  studies,  in  short,  alone  were  valued,  which,  as  it  is  beau- 
tifoUy  expressed  by  Cicero,  in  the  person  of  Lelius — '^Effi- 
ciant  ut  usui  civitati  simus:  id  enim  esse  pneclarissimam 
sapienti»  munus,  maximumque  virtutis  documentnm  puto." 


APPENDIX. 


«<  Some  felt  tlia  iO«nt  stroke  of  motildeaiig  ige. 
Some  hostile  fury,  some  religious  rage : 
B«rf)«iian  blindness,  Christian  zeal  conspire. 
And  Papal  piety,  and  Gothic  fire." 

PoPB's  Ejpiiae  to  didum^ 


APPENDIX 


I 


N  order  to  be  satisfied  as  to  the  authenticity  of  the  works  commonly  called  Clas- 
sical, it  is  important  to  ascertain  in  what  manner  they  were  given  to  the  public  by 
their  respective  author»-Tto  trace  how  they  were  preserved  during  the  long  night 
of  the  dark  ages — ^and  to  point  out  by  whom  their  perishing  remains  were  first  &• 
covered  at  the  return  of  light.  Nor  will  it  be  iminteresting  to  follow  up  this  sketch 
by  an  enumeration  of  the  principal  Editions  of  the  Classics  mentioned  in  the  pre- 
ceding pages,  and  of  the  best  Translations  of  them  which,  from  time  to  time,  have 
appeared  in  the  Italian,  French,  and  English  languages. 

The  manuscripts  of  the  Latin  Classics,  during  the  existence  of  the  Roman  re- 
public and  empire,  may  be  divided  into  what  have  been  called  notata  and  perscrip' 
ta.  The  former  were  those  written  by  the  author  himself,  or  his  teamed  slaves,  in 
contractions  or  signs  which  stood  for  syllables  and  words ;  the  latter,  those  which 
were  fully  transcribed  in  the  ordinary  characters  by  the  hbrariua^  who  was  employed 
by  the  bihUopohBy  or  booksellers,  to  prepare  the  productions  of  an  author  fbr  public 
sale. 

The  books  written  in  the  hand  of  the  authors  were  probably  not  very  legible,  at 
least  if  we  may  judge  of  others  by  Cicero.  His  brother  Quintus  had  complained 
that  he  could  not  read  his  letters,  and  Cicero  says  in  reply :  "  Scribis  te  meas  literas 
superiores  vix  legere  potuisse ;  hoc  facio  semper  ut  quicumque  calamus  in  manus 
meas  venerit,  eo  sic  utar  tamquam  bono*." 

But  the  works, — at  least  the  prose  works,— of  the  Romans  were  seldom  written 
out  in  the  hand  of  the  author,  and  were  generally  dictated  by  him  to  some  slave  or 
Ireedman  instructed  in  penmanship.  It  is  well  known  that  many  of  the  orations  of 
Cicero,  Cato,  and  their  great  ihetorical  contemporaries,  were  taken  down  by 
short-hand  writers  stationed  in  the  Senate  or  Fonim.  But  even  the  works  most 
carefully  prepared  in  the  ck>set  were  notaia,  in  a  similar  manner,  by  slaves  and 
freedmen.  There  was  no  part  of  his  learned  compositions  on  which  Cicero  took 
more  pains,  or  about  which  h»  thoughts  were  mor^  occupied!,  than  the  dedication 
of  the  Academiea  to  Varro,  and  even  this  he  dictated  to  his  slave  Spinthanis,  though 
he  did  so  slowly,  word  by  word,  and  not  in  whole  sentences  to  Tiro,  as  was  his 
practice  in  his  other  productions.  "  Male  mihi  sit,"  says  he  in  a  letter  to  Atticus, 
«<  si  umquam  quidquam  tarn  enitar.  Ergo  ne  Tironi  quidem  dictavi,  qui  totas  perio- 
chas  persequi  solet,  sed  Spintharo  syUabatim^." 

This  practice  of  authors  dictating  their  woHes  created  a  necessity,  or  at  least  a 
conveniency,  of  writing  with  rapidity,  and  of  employing  contractions,  or  conven- 
tional marks,  in  almost  every  word. 

Accordingly,  from  tfie  earliest  periods  of  Roman  literature,  words  were  contrac- 
ted, or  were  signified'  by  notes,  which  sometimes  stood  for  more  than  one  letter, 
sometimes  for  syllables,  and  at  other  times  for  whole  words.    Funccius,  who  main- 


*  Epist.  ad  quint,  Frat.  Lib.  II.  Ep.  15. 

t  J^t,  Ad,  Jlttie.  Lib.  XJii,  pasBtm.  ed.  Schut?..  X  Ibid.  Epitt.  25. 

-  Vol.  II.— 1 


4  APPENDIX. 

tains  thit  Adam  was  the  first  short-hand  writer*,  has  asserted,  with  more  trath^lhit 
the  Romans  contracted  their  words  from  the  remotest  ages  of  the  republic,  and  to  a 
greater  degree  than  any  other  ancient  nation.  Somelimes  the  abbreviatioiis  cofkas* 
ted  merely  in  writing  me  initial  letter  instead  of  the  whole  word.  Thus  P.  C.  stood 
for  Patres  Conscripti ;  C.  R.,  for  Civis  Romanus ;  S.  N.  L.,  for  Socii  Nomiiiiy  La- 
tini.  This  sort  of  contraction  being  employed  in  words  frequently  recnrriog,  and 
which  in  one  sense  might  be  termed  pubttc,  and  being  also  univernlly  recognized, 
would  rarely  produce  any  misapprehension  or  mistake.  But  frequently  the  abbre- 
viations were  much  more  complex,  and  the  leading  letters  of  words  in  le«s  commoa 
use  being  notata,  (he  contractions  became  of  much  more  difficult  and  dubious  in- 
terpretation. For  example,  Meit.  expressed  meminit ;  Actu.,  Acerbus  ;  Quit.^  que- 
rit;  Hor.y  Rhetor. 

For  the  sake,  however,  of  yet  greater  expedition  in  writing,  and  perhaps,  in  soioe 
few  instances  for  the  purpose  of  secrecy,  signs  or  marks,  which  could  l>e  currently 
made  with  one  dash  or  scratch  with  the  ttylus,  and  without  lifting  or  turning  ii, 
came  to  be  employed,  instead  of  those  letters  whidi  were  themselves  the  abbrevia- 
tions of  words.  Some  writers  have  supposed  that  these  signs  were  entirely  arbitra- 
ry f,  whikt  others  have,  with  more  probability,  maintained  that  their  forms  can  be 
resolved  or  analysed  into  the  figures,  or  parts  of  the  figures,  of  the  letters  cfaemselTQi 
which  they  were  intended  to  represent,  though  they  have  often  departed  far  froB 
the  shape  of  the  original  characters!.  Ennius  is  said  to  have  invented  1100  of 
these  signs^,  which  he  no  doubt  employed  in  his  multifarious  compositions.  Others 
came  into  gradual  use  in  the  manual  operation  of  writing  with  rapidity  to  dictatioa. 
Tiro,  the  favourite  freedman  of  Cicero,  greatly  increased  the  number,  and  brought 
this  sort  of  tachygraphy  to  its  greatest  perfection  among  the  Romans.  In  conse- 
quence of  this  fashion  of  authors  dictating  their  works,  expedition  came  to  be  con- 
sidered of  the  utmost  importance ;  it  was  regarded  as  the  chief  accomplishment  of 
an  amanuensis ;  and  he  alone  was  considered  as  perfect  in  his  art,  whose  pen  oouM 
equal  the  rapidity  of  utterailce : 

Hie  et  scriptor  erit  felix,  coi  litera  verbum  est, 
Quique  notis  linguam  superet,  cursumque  loquentis, 
Excipiens  longas  per  nova  compendia  voces||. 

These  lines  were  written  by  a  poet  of  the  age  of  Augustus,  and  it  appears  from  Btfar- 
tiallF,  Ausonius*t,  and  Prudentius,  that  this  system  of  dictation  by  the  author,  and 
rapid  notation  by  his  amanuensis,  continued  in  practice  during  the  later  ages  of  the 
empire. 

Such  was  the  mode  in  which  most  of  the  writings  of  the  ancients  came  originally 
firom  their  authors,  and  were  delivered  to  those  friends  who  were  desirous  to  possess 
copies,  or  to  the  booksellers  to  be  perscripta,  or  transcribed,  for  publication. 

There  exists  sufficient  proof  of  the  high  estimation  in  which  accurate  transcrip- 
tions of  the  works  of  their  own  writers  were  held  by  the  Romans.  The  cofrectness 
of  printing,  however,  could  not  be  expected.*  In  the  original  notation,  some  mis- 
takes might  probably  be  made  from  carelessness  of  pronunciation  in  the  author  who 
dictated,  and  haste  in  his  amanuensis ;  but  the  great  source  of  errors  in  MSS.  was 
the  blunders  made  by  the  (tfrrortus  in  copying  out  from  the  noted  exemplar.  There 
was  the  greatest  ambiguity  and  doubt  in  the  interpretation,  both  of  words  contzacted 
in  the  ordinary  character  and  in  the  artificial  signs.  Sometimes  the  same  word  was 
expressed  by  different  letters ;  thus  MR.  MT.  MTR.  all  expressed  Mater,  Some- 
times, on  the  other  hand,  the  same  set  of  letters  expressed  different  words ;  for  . 
instance,  ACT.  signified  Ador,  Auctoritaa,  and  Hactettus.  The  collocation  of  the 
letters  was  often  inverted  from  the  order  in  which  they  stood  in  the  word  when  fiiOy 
expressed ;  pnd  frequently  one  letter  had  not  merely  its  own  power,  but  that  of  several 


*  Ve  PuerUia  lAnff.  Lot,  c.  1.  §  10.    Adamum  scribendi  atque  »ignandi  mo* 
dum  pnemonstrasse  prtmitus  ratio  ipsa  persuadet 
t  Lennep,  De  THrone,  p.  7T.    Ed.  Amsteld.  1804. 
I  Kopp,  PcddBographia  Critiea,    Ed.  Manheim,  1817.    2  Tom.  4to. 
Q  Isidorus,  Originum,  Lib.  I.  c.  21.       ||  Manilius,  A$tronom.  Lib.  IV.  ▼.  197. 
f  Lib.  XIY.  Epig.  202.  *t  Epigr*  188. 


APPENDIX.  6 

otbers.  Thus  AMO.  signified  ammo^  because  M  had  there  not  only  Its  own  force, 
but,  as  Its  shape  in  some  measure  announces,  the  power  of  ni  also.  Matters  were 
stiU  worse,  when  not  only  abbreviations,  but  signs  had  been  resorted  to.  These 
were  variously  employed  by  different  writers,  ai^  were  also  differently  interpreted 
by  transcribers.  Some  of  these  signs  were  extremely  similar  in  form  :  it  was  scarce- 
ly possible  to  discriminate  the  sign  which  denoted  the  syllable  ah  from  that  which 
«xpre8sed  the  syllable  um ;  and  the  signs  of  the  syllables  is  and  it  were  neariy  un- 
distinguislvible ;  while  ad  and  at  were  precisely  the  same.  The  mark  which  ex- 
presied  the  word  iaH»,  being  a  little  more  sloped  or  inclined,  expressed  qualis/ 
and  the  difference  in  the  Tironian  signs  which  stood  for  the  complete  words  Jlger 
and  jfmtciM,  was  scarcely  perceptible*. 

The  ancient  Latin  writers  also  employed  a  number  of  marks  to  denote  the  accents 
of  words,  and  the  quantities  of  syllables.  The  oldest  writers,  as  Livius  Andronicus 
and  Naevius,  always  placed  two  vowels  when  a  syllable  was  to  be  pronounced  lonsf  • 
Attius,  the  great  tragic  author,  was  the  first  to  relinquish  this  usage ;  and  after  his 
time,  in  conformity  to  the  new  practice  which  he  had  adopted,  a  certain  mark  was 
placed  over  the  long  vowels.  When  this  custom  also  (which  is  stigmatised  by 
Quintilian  as  inepti89imu$X)  fell  into  disuse,  the  mark  was  frequently  misunder- 
stood, and  Funcdus  has  given  several  examples  of  corruptions  and  false  readings 
Xrom  the  mistake  of  transcriben,  who  supposed  that  it  was  intended  to  express  an  m^ 
an  n,  or  other  letiers&. 

In  addition  to  all  this,  little  attention  was  paid  to  the  separation  of  words  and 
sentences,  and  the  art  of  punctuation  was  but  imperfectly  understood. 

Finally,  and  above  all,  the  orthography  of  Latin  was  extremely  fluctuating  and 
uncertain.  We  have  seen,  in  an  early  part  of  this  work,  how  it  varied  in  the  time 
of  the  republic,  and  it,  in  &ct,  never  became  fixed.  Mai  talks  repeatedly,  in  his 
preface,  of  the  strange  inconsistencies  of  spelling  in  the  Codex,  which  contained 
Cicero*s  work  De  Republiea  ;  and  Cassiodorus,  who  of  all  his  contemporaries  cliiefly 
cultivated  literature  durina  the  reign  of  the  barbarians  in  Italy,  often  regrets  that  the 
ancient  Ron^ans  had  left  their  orthography  encumbered  with  the  utmost  difficulties. 
*<  Orthographia,"  says  he,  "  apud  Grecos  plerumque  sine  ambiguitate  probatur 
cxpressa ;  inter  Latinos  vero  sub  arduu  difficultate  relicta  monstratur ;  unde  etiam 
mode  studium  magntun  lectoiis  inquiret." 

In  consequence  of  this  dictation  to  short-hand,  and  this  uncertain  ortfaoeraphy, 
"we  find  that  the  corruption  of  ttie  classics  had  begun  at  a  very  eariy  period.  The 
ninth  Satire  of  LucUius  was  directed  against  the  ridiculous  blunders  of  transcribers, 
and  contained  rules  for  ereater  correctness.  Cicero,  in  his  letters  to  his  brother 
Quintus,  bitterly  compluns  of  the  errors  of  copyists, — "  De  Latinis  vero,  quo  me 
Tertam,  nescio ;  ita  mendose  et  scribuntur,  et  veneuntji."  Strabo  says,  that  in  his 
time  booksellers  employed  ignorant  transcribers,  who  neglected  to  compare  what 
they  wrote  with  the  exemplar ;  which,  he  adds,  has  occurred  in  many  works,  copied 
for  the  purpose  of  being  sold,  both  at  Rome  and  Alexandrialf.  Martial,  too,  thus 
cautions  his  reader  against  the  mistakes  occasioned  by  the  inaccuracy  and  haste  of 
ihe  venders  of  books,  and  the  transcribers  whom  they  employed : 

*<  Si  qua  videbuntur  chartis  tibi,  lector,  in  istis, 
Sive  obscura  nimis,  stve  Latina  parum ; 
^  Non  meus  est  error :  nocuit  Librarius  illis, 

Dum  properat  versus  annumeiare  tibi*f  .'* 

Aulas  Gellius  repeatedly  complains  of  the  inaccuracy  of  copies  in  his  time :  We 
learn  from  him,  that  the  writings  of  the  greatest  Classics  were  already  corrupted 
and  &Jsified,  not  only  by  the  casual  errors  of  copyists,  but  by  die  deliberate  per- 
versions of  critics,  who  boldly  altered  everything  that  was  too  elegant  or  poetical 
for  their  own  taste  and  understandingtf*  To  the  numerous  corruptions  in  the  text 
of  Sallust  he  particularly  refeistf* 


*  Kopp,  Pai4B0graphia  Critiea. 

t  Quintil.  Mst.  Orator.  Lib.  I.  c.  8.  %  ^^ 

§  Funccius,  De  Vvrili  JEtat,  JUng,  Lat  Pan  11.  c.  8.  §  9. 

n  EpUt.  ad  Quint.  Frat  Lib.  111.  Ep.  6. 

IT  Geograph.  Lib.  XIII.  *t  Lil>*  H.  Ep.  8. 

ft  J^ocL  Attic,  Lib.  II.  c.  14.  et  p<Uiim.  }t  ^^*  I^*  XX.  c.  6. 


6  APPENDIX. 

The  practice,  too,  of  abridging  larger  worict,  particulariy  hktoiie*,  and  exUiitfltt| 
from  them,  was  iojurious  to  the  preservatloii  oi  MSS.  This  practice,  occaaioaei 
by  the  scarcity  of  paper,  began  as  early  as  the  time  of  Brutus,  who  extracted  em 
from  the  measre  annals  of  his  coimtry.  These  excerpts  seldom  compeasated  f» 
the  originals,  but  made  them  be  neelected,  and  in  consequence  tfaey  were  lost. 

It  seems  also  probable,  that  the  destruction  of  the  treasures  of  ctessical  htenmie 
commenced  at  a  very  early  period.  Varro's  library,  which  was  the  moat  extensive 
piivate  collection  of  books  in  Italy,  was  ruined  and  dispersed  when  his  vitla  was 
occupied  by  Antony* ;  and  some  of  his  own 'treatises,  as  that  addressed  to  Potnpey 
on  the  duties  of  the  Consulship,  were  irretrievably  lost.  Previous  to  tikie  art  df 
printing,  books,  in  consequence  of  their  great  scarcity  and  value,  were  chkHy 
heaped  up  in  public  libraries.  Several  of  these  were  consumed  in  the  fiie,  by 
which  so  many  temples  were  burned  to  tlie  ground  in  the  reisn  of  Neroft  pulicQ- 
lariy  the  library  in  the  temple  of  Apollo,  on  the  Palatine  Hill,  which  was  feonded 
by  Augustus,  and  contained  all  the  Roman  poets  and  historians  previous  to  his  age. 
lliis  literary  establishment  having  been  restored  as  far  as  was  possible  by  DomitiaB, 
suffered  a  second  time  by  the  flames ;  and  the  extensive  library  of  the  Capitol  perish^ 
ed  in  a  6re  during  the  reign  of  Commodus^.  When  it  is  considered,  that  at  these 
periods  the  copies  of  Latin  works  were  few,  and  chiefly  confined  wldiin  die  waiDs 
of  Rome,  some  notion  may  be  formed  of  the  extent  of  the  loss  sustained  by  these 
successive  conflagrations. 

From  the  portentous  »ra  of  the  death  of  Pertinax,  the  brief  reign  of  each  suceeed- 
fang  emperor  ended  in  assassination,  civil  war,  and  revolution.  The  imperial  throne 
was  filled  by  soldiers  of  fortune,  who  came  like  shadows,  and  like  «(hadows  departed. 
Rome  at  length  ceased  to  be  the  fixed  and  habitual  residence  of  her  sovereigns,  who 
were  now  generally  employed  at  a  distance  in  the  field,  in  repelling  foreign  enemies, 
or  repressing  usurpere.  While  it  is  certain,  that  during  this  period  many  of  the  finest 
monuments  of  the  arts  were  destroyed,  and  some  of  the  most  splendid  woiks  of 
architecture  defaced,  it  can  hardly  be  supposed  that  the  fraO  texture  of  the  parch- 
ment, or  pamrrus,  should  have  resisted  the  stroke  of  sudden  ruin,  or  the  gradual 
Biouldering  ofneglect. 

But  the  chief  destruction  took  place  after  tiiie  removal  of  the  seat  of  empire  by 
Constantine.  The  loss  of  so  many  classical  works  subsequently  to  that  era,  has 
been  attributed  chiefly  to  the  irruption  of  the  northern  barbarians ;  but  it  was  fiiUy 
as  much  owing  to  the  blind  zeal  of  the  early  Christians.  Many  of  the  public  libia- 
ries  were  placed  in  temples,  and  hence  were  the  more  exposed  to  the  liuy  of  the 
proselytes  to  the  new  faith.  This  devastation  began  in  Italy  In  the  fourth  centuiy, 
before  the  barbarians  had  penetrated  to  the  heart  of  the  empire ;  and,  in  tlie  same 
century,  if  Sulplcius  Severus  may  be  credited.  Bishop  Martin  undertook  a  crusade 
against  the  temples  of  the  Gaul^§.  St  Augustine,  St  Jerome,  and  Lactantias, 
indeed,  knew  the  classics  well ;  but  they  considered  them  as  a  sort  of  foriaddoi 
fruit:  and  St  Jerome,  as  he  himself  informs  us,  was  whipped  by  an  angel  for 
perusing  Plautus  and  Cicero |).  The  following  or  fifth  centunr,  was  distingi^shed 
by  the  first  capture  of  Rome,  and  its  successive  devastations  by  Alaric,  Genseric, 
and  Attila.  In  the  latter  part  of  the  century,  Milan,  too,  was  plundered ;  wfaidi, 
next  to  Rome,  was  the  chief  repository  of  books  in  Italy. 

Monachism,  which,  in  its  first  institution,  particularly  in  die  east,  had  been  to 
destructive  of  literary  works,  became,  when  more  advanced  in  its  progress,  a  chief 
cause  of  their  preservation.  When  the  monks  were  at  length  united,  in  a  species 
of  <:ivil  union,  under  the  fixed  rules  of  St  Benedict,  in  the  beginning  of  the  sixth 
century,  the  institution  contributed,  if  not  to  tihe  diffusion  of  literature,  at  least  to 
the  preservation  of  literary  works.  There  was  no  prohibition  in  the  ordinaDces  of 
St  Benedict  against  the  reading  of  classical  writings,  as  in  diose  of  St  Isidore :  and 
the  consequence  was,  that  m^erever  any  abbot,  or  even  monk,  had  a  taste  lor 


•  J^oeL  Attie.  Lib.  III.  c.  10.  ' 
t  Tacit.  Jlnnal.  Lib.  XV.  c.  88—41. 

X  Joann.  Sarisberien^is,  De  JWig.  Cfuirial  Lib.  VIIL  c.  19.    Luisenius,  IH9$€rt. 
De  Bibliothecu  Veterum^  p.  297. 
6  Sulp.  Severus,  De  Martini  Vita,  c.  16. 
t  Efi»t.  XVlil.  Opera. 


APPENDIX.  7 

letters,  books  were  introdaced  into  the  convent.  We  have  a  remaikable  example 
of  this  in  the  instance  of  Cassiodorus,  whose  genius,  learning,  and  virtue,  shed  a 
lustre  on  one  of  the  darkest  periods  of  Italian  history.  After  his  pre-eminent  ser- 
vices as  minister  of  state  durine  the  reign  .of  Theodoiic,  and  regency  of  Amalasun- 
tha,  he  retired,  in  the  year  540,  whenlie  had  reached  the  age  of  seventy,  to  the 
monasteiy  of  Monte  Casino,  situated  in  a  most  delightful  spot,  near  the  place  of  his 
birth,  in  Calabria.  There  he  became  as  serviceable  to  literature  as  he  had  formerly 
been  to  the  state;  and  the  conveqt  to  which  he  betook  himself  deserves  to  be  first 
mentioned  in  any  ftiture  history  of  the  preservation  of  the  Classics.  Before  his 
entrance  into  it,  he  possessed  an  extensive  library,  with  which  he  enriched  the 
cloister* ;  and  subsequently  enlarged  it  by  a  collection  of  MSS.,  which  he  caused 
to  be  brought  to  him  from  various  quarters  of  Italy.  There  is  still  extant  his  order 
to  a  monk  to  procure  for  him  Albinus*  treatise  on  Music ;  which  shows,  that  his 
collection  was  not  entirely  confined  to  theological  treatises: 'while  his  work  De 
m/frtibu8  at  DUdpUnia  UberdHum  LUerarum^  is  an  ample  testimony  of  his  classical 
learning*  snd  of  &e  value  which  he  attached  to  it.  His  library  contained,  at  least, 
Cnnius,  Terence,  Lucretius,  Varro,  Cicero,  and  Sallustf.  Tlie  monks  of  his  con- 
vent were  excited  by  him  to  the  transcription  of  MSS. ;  and,  in  his  work  De 
Orthographia,  he  did  not  disdain  to  give  minute  directions  for  copying  with 
facility  and  correctness. 

Thus,  in  collecting  an  ample  library — ^in  diffusing  copies  of  ancient  MSS. — in 
verbal  instructions,  written  lectures,  and  the  composition  of  voluminous  works — ^he 
closed,  in  the  service  of  religion  and  leammg,  a  long  and  meritorious  life. 

The  example  of  Casdodorus  was  followed  in  other  convents.  About  half  a  centa- 
17  aAer  his  death,  Cohimbanus  founded  a  monastery  of  Benedictines  at  Bobbio,  a 
town  situated  among  the  northern  Apennines.  This  religious  society,  as  Tira- 
boBchi  informs  us,  was  remarkable,  not  only  for  the  sanctity  of  its  manners,  but  the 
cultivation  of  literature.  It  was  fortunate  that  receptacles  for  books  had  now  been 
thus  provided,  as  otherwise  the  treasures  of  classical  literature  in  Italy  would,  in  all 
tiketihood,  have  perished  during  the  wars  of  Belisarius,  and  Natses,  and  the  invasion 
-of  Totila.  It  is  in  the  age  of  Cassiodorus/— that  is,  the  beginning  and  middle  of  the 
sixth  century, — that  Tiraboschi  places  the  serious  and  systematic  commencement  of 
the  transcription  of  the  clas8ics|.  He  mentions  the  names  of  some  of  the  most 
eminent  copyists ;  but  a  fuller  list  had  been  previously  furnished  by  Fabricius§. 

In  Gregory  the  Great,  who  was  Pope  at  the  end  of  the  Bixth  and  beginning  of  the 
seventh  century,  literature,  according  to  popular  belief,  found  an  enemy  in  the  west, 
as  fatal  to  its  interests  as  the  Caliph  Omar  had  been  io  the  east.  This  pontiff  was 
accused  of  burning  a  classical  Kbrary,  and  also  some  valuable  works,  which  had  re- 
placed those  formerty  consumed  in  the  Palatine  library.  John  of  Salisbury  is  the 
sole  authority  for  this  charge ;  and  even  he,  who  lived  six  centuries  after  the  age  of 
Gregory,  only  mentions  it  as  a  tradition  and  report :  "  Fertur  Beatus  Gregorius 
blbliothecam  combussisse-gentilem,  quo  divins  paginal  gratior  asset  locus,  et  major 
auctoritas,  et  diligentia  studlosior|| ;"  and  again, "  Ut  traditur  a  majoribus,  incendio 
dedit  probate  lectionis  scripta,  Palatinus  quacunque  tenebat  ApolIolF.''  Cardan  in- 
forms us,  that  Gregory  also  caused  the  plays  of  Naevius,  Ennius,  and  Afranius,  to  be 
burned.  That  he  suppressed  the  works  of  Cicero,  rests  on  the  authority  of  a  pas- 
sage in  an  edict  published  by  Louis  XL,  dated  1473,  and  quoted  by  Lyron  in  his 
SwgularU^z  HistoriqueB*],  St  Antonius,who  was  Archbishop  of  Florence  in  the 
Middle  of  the  fifteenth  century,  is  cited  by  Vossius  as  the  most  ancient  author  who 
has  asserted  that  he  burned  the  decades  of  Livyft*  These  charges  have  been 
strenuously  supported  by  Brucker^t)  while  Tiraboschi,  on  the  other  hand,  has  en- 
deavoured to  vindicate  the  memory  of  the  pontiff  from  all  such  asper8ions§t*  Bayle 


*  Cassiodor.  Opera. 

t  Petit-Radel,  Recherehes  sur  les  Biblioih.  Aneiennes. 

%  Stor.  dell  Letter.  Ral  Part  1.  Lib.  I.  6  SibKotheca  Latin. 

11  De  JVW.  Cfw.  Lib.  Vlll.  c.  19.  t  Itfid.  Lib.  II.  c.  26. 

t  Tom.  r.  ft  J>e  HiatoricU  LatiniSf  Lib.  I.  c.  19. 

t  Hist.  Critic.  Philoaoph.  Tom.  III. 

t  Stor.  dell  Letterat.  Mai  Tom.  III.  Lib.  II.  c.  2. 


{ 


8  APPENDIX. 

has  adopted  a  pradent  neutmlity*.  Deodmaf  and  Ginffuen^},  the  most  TOccat 
authors  who  have  touched  en  the  subject,  teem  to  coiuider  the  question,  after  dl 
that  has  been  written  on  it,  as  stin  doubtfiU,  and  not  likely  to  receire  any  hatha 
elucidation.  It  appears  certain,  that  Gref^ory  disliked  classical,  or  profane  titervtoie, 
on  account  of  the  oracles,  idolatry,  and  ntes,  with  which  it  is  associated,  and  thit 
he  prohibited  its  study  by  the  clergy§ ; — whence  may,  peihaps,  have  oiicinAted 
the  reports  of  his  wilfully  destroying  the  then  surviving  libraries  and  books  ofRoaie. 
During  the  course  of  the  two  centuries  which  followed  the  death  of  Gregory,  Italy 
was  divided  between  the  Greeks  and  Lombards,  and  was  torn  by  spiritual  dissen' 
sions.  The  most  nunerous  and  barbarous  swarm  which  had  yet  crossed  the  Alps 
was  the  Lombards,  who  descended  on  Italy,  under  their  king,  Alboinus,  in  S€S,  in- 
mediately  after  the  death  of  Narses.  It  was  no  longer  a  tribe  or  anny  by  which  Italy 
was  invaded ;  but  a  whole  nation  of  old  men,  women,  and  children,  covered  its 
plains.  This  ignorant  and  ferocious  race  spread  themselves  from  the  Alps  to  Rome 
during  the  seventh  and  eighth  centuries.  And  although  Rome  itself  escaped  the 
'  Lombard  dominion,  the  horrors  of  a  perpetual  siege  can  alone  convey  an  ade^piate 
idea  of  its  distressed  situation.  The  feuds  of  the  Lombard  chiefs,  their  wars  with 
the  Greeks,  who  still  remained  masters  of  Rome,  and  at  length  with  the  Franks, 

iall  which  contests  were  marked  with  fire  and  massacre,)  made  a  desert  of  the 
'eninsular  garden j|.  Hitherto  the  superstitious  feelings  of  the  nortfaem  hordes 
had  inspired  them  with  some  degree  of  respect  for  the  sacerdotal  order  which  they 
found  established  in  Italy.  Reverence  for  the  person  of  the  priest  had  extended 
itself  to  (he  security  of  his  property,  and  while  tlie  palace  and  castle  were  wiapt  in 
flames,  the  convent  escaped  sacrilege.  But  the  Lombards  extended  their  fury 
to  objects  which  their  rude  predecessors  had  generally  respected;  and  leaming 
was  now  attacked  in  her  most  vulnerable  part.  Amid  the  general  destruction, 
the  monasteries  and  their  libraries  were  no  longer  spared ;  and  with  others,  tliat 
of  Monte  Casino,  one  of  the  most  valuable  and  extensive  in  Italy,  was  plundered 
^  the  Lombards^.  Some  books  preserved  in  the  sack  of  the  libraries  were  carried 
back  by  these  invaders  to  their  native  country,  and  a  few  were  saved  by  oKMiks, 

■  >f  r 


who  sought  refuge  in  other  kingdoms,  which  accounts  for  the  number  oi 
M SS.  subsequently  discovered  in  France  and  Germany*! • 

Amid  the  ruin  of  taste  and  letters  in  these  ages,  it  is  probable  that  but  lew  new 
copies  were  made  from  the  MSS.  then  extant.  Some  of  the  classics,  however, 
were  still  spared,  and  remained  in  the  monastic  libraries.  Anspert,  who  was  Abbot 
of  Beneventum,  in  the  eighth  century,  declares  that  he  had  never  studied  Homer, 
Cicero,  or  Virgil,  which  implies,  that  they  were  still  preserved,  and  accessible  to  his 
perusalff. 

The  division  of  Italy  between  the  Lombards  and  Greeks  continued  till  the  end  of 
the  eighth  century,  when  Chailemagne  put  an  end  to  the  kingdom  of  the  former,  and 
founded  bis  empire.  Whether  this  monarch  himself  had  any  pretensions  to  the 
character  of  a  scholar,  is  more  than  doubtful ;  but  whether  he  possessed  learning  or 
not,  he  was  a  generous  patron  of  those  who  did.  He  assembled  round  his  comt 
such  persons  as  were  most  distinguished  for  talents  and  erudition ;  he  estabhsbed 
schools  and  pensioned  scholars ;  and  he  founded  also  aspe(;ie8  of  Academy,  of  which 
Alcuin  was  tiie  head,  and  in  which  every  one  adopted  a  scriptural  or  classic  appella- 
tion. This  tended  to  multiply  the  MSS.  of  the  classics,  and  many  of  them  found  a 
place  in  the  imperial  library  mentioned  by  Egiuhard.  Charlemagne  also  estaUished 
the  monastery  of  Fulda,  and,  in  consequence,  copies  of  these  MSS.  found  their  way 
to  Germany  in  the  beginning  of  the  ninth  century!  t*  The  more  recent  Latin  writers, 
as  Boethius,  Macrobius,  and  Capella,  were  chiedy  popular  in  his  age ;  but  Virgil. 


*  Diet.  Histor.  Art.  Gregoire. 
t  Vieende  della  Letteratura^  Lib.  I.  c.  8. 
i  Hist.  Litter.  d'Ralie,  Tom.  I.  c.  2. 

\  Bayle,  Diction.  Histor.  Art.  Gregoire.  Rem.  M.     Gibbon's  DtcUnt  and 
Fall  of  the  Bom.  Emp.  c.  45. 

H  Munitori,  AntiquitateB  Italia  Med.  JEvi.  Tom.  111.  p.  86$.  ed.  Mikui,  1741. 
t  Tiraboschi,  Star.  dell.  Leiterat  lidl.  Tom.  III. Lib.  II.  •f  Ibid. 

tt  Petit-Radel,  Recherthes  sur  les  Biblioth.  Jlncienne8,p.  53. 
it  Eichhom,  Litterargeschichte,  ed.  Gotting.  1612. 


APPENDIX.  9 

Cicero,  and  Livy,  were  not  unknown.  Alcuin's  poetical  account  of  the  library  at 
Vork,  founded  by  Archbi!»hop  Egbert,  and  of  which  he  had  been  the  first  librarian, 
aflfords  us  some  notion  of  the  usual  contents  of  the  libraries  at  that  time.— 

"  lUic  invenles  yeterum  vestifpa  patnim ; 
Qulcquid  habet  pro  se  Latio  Roman  us  in  orbe, 
Graecia  vel  quicquid  transmisit  clara  Latinis.*' 


»» 


Then,  after  enumen^ting  the  works  of  all  the  Fathers  which  had  a  place  in  the 
library,  he  proceeds  with  his  catalogue.^*- 

"  Historici  veteres,  Pompeius,  Plinius,  ipse 
Acer  Aristoteles  rhetor,  atque  Tullius  ingens ; 
Quid  quoque  Sedulius,  vel  quid  canit  ipse  Juvencus, 
Alcuinus,  et  Clemens  Prosper,  Paulinus  orator  j 
Quid  Fortunatus  vel  quid  Lactantius  edunt. 
Que  Maro  Virgilius,  Statins,  Lu^nus  et  auctor, 
Artis  grammatical  vel  quid  scripsere  magistri.*' 


T> 


But  though  there  were  libraries  in  other  countries,  Italy  always  contained  the  great- 
est number  of  classical  MSS.  In  the  ninth  century,  Lupus,  who  was  educated  at 
Fulda,  and  afterwards  became  Abbot  of  Ferrieres,  a  monastery  in  the  Orleanois,  re- 
quested Pope  Benedict  III.  to  send  him  Cicero  de  Oratore  and  Quintilian,  of 
both  of  which  he  possessed  parts,  but  had  neither  of  them  complete* ;  and  in  another 
letter  he  begs  from  Italy  a  copy  of  Suetoniusf.  The  series  of  his  letters  gives  us  a 
favourable  impression  of  the  state  of  profane  literature  in  his  time.  In  his  very  first 
letter  to  Einhart,  who  had  been  his  preceptor,  he  quotes  Horace  and  the  Tusculan 
Questions.  Vir^l  is  repeatedly  cited  in  the  course  of  his  epistles,  and  the  lines  of 
Catullus  are  familiarly  referred  to  as  authorities  for  the  proper  quantities  of  syllables. 
Lupus  did  not  confine  his  cai^e  to  the  mere  transcription  of  MSS.  He  bestowed 
much  pains  on  the  rectification  of  the  texts,  as  is  evinced  by  his  letter  to  Ansbald, 
Abbot  of  Prum,  where  he  acknowledges  having  received  from  him  a  copy  of  the 
epistles  of  Cicero,  which  would  enable  him  to  correct  the  MSS.  of  them  which  he 
himself  po88essed|. 

It  was  a  rule  in  convents,  that  those  who  embraced  the  monasteric  life  should 
employ  some  hours  each  day  in  manual  labour ;  but  as  all  were  not  fit  for  those  oc- 
cupations which  require  much  corporeal  exertion,  many  of  tlie  monks  fulfilled  their 
tasks  by  copying  MSS.  Transcription  thus  became  a  favourite  exercise  in  the  ninth 
century,  and  was  much  encouraged  by  the  Abbots^.  In  every  great  convent  tliere 
was  an  apartment  called  the  Scriptorium,  in  which  writers  were  employed  in  tran- 
scribing such  books  as  were  deemed  proper  for  the  library.  The  heads  of  monaste- 
ries borrowed  their  classics  from  each  other,  and,  having  copied,  returned  them  ||. — 
By  this  means,  books  were  wonderfully  multiplied.  Libraries  became  the  constant 
appendages  of  cloisters,  and  in  Italy  existed  nowhere  else.  We  do  not  hear,  during 
this  period,  of  either  royal  or  private  libraries.  There  was  little  information  among 
the  priests  or  parochial  clergy,  and  almost  every  man  of  learning  was  a  member  of 
a  convent.  , 

But  while  MSS.  thus  increased  in  the  monasteries,  there  were,  at  the  same  time, 
durine  this  century,  many  counteracting  causes,  which  rendered  them  more  scarce 
than  uey  would  otherwise  have  been.  During  the  Norman  invasion,  the  convents 
were  the  chief  objects  of  plunder.  From  the  time,  too,  of  the  conquest  of  Alexan- 
dria by  the  Saracens,  in  the  seventh  century,  when  the  Egyptian  papyrus  almost 
ceased  to  be  imported  into  Europe,  till  the  close  of  the  tenth,  when  the  art  of  making 
paper  from  cotton  rags  seems  to  have  been  introduced,  there  were  no  materials  for 
writing  except  parchment,  a  substance  too  expensive  to  be  readily  spared  for  mere 
purposes  of  literatmelT.    The  scarcity  of  paper,  too,  not  only  prevented  the  increase 


*  Lupi,  Epist.  103.  dated  856.  t  Ibid.  Ep.  91 . 

i  Epist.  69. 

\  Ginguene,  Bist,  LUt.  d*Ilalie,  Tom.  I.  p.  63. 

tl  Ziegel,  Hi»t.  Ret  XAier.  Tom.  I.  Hist.  Liter,  de  la  France,  Tom.  IV. 

f  Halkun'B  8tate  of  Europe  during  the  Mddle  Ages,  Vol.  III.  p.  832,  2ded. 


10  APPENDIX. 

of  clttMical  MSS.,  but  occasioned  the  loss  of  soma  which  were  then  in  exbtenee, 
fiom  the  diaracten  having  been  deleted,  in  order  to  make  way  for  a  more  fovouiito 
production.  The  monkish  scribes  were  accustomed  to  peel  offtbe  BUilace  of  parch- 
ment MSS.,  or  to  obliterate  the  ink  by  a  chemical  process,  (or  the  purpose  of  6ttiiiK 
them  to  receive  the  works  of  some  Christian  author :  so  that,  by  a  singular  and  iafiu 
metamorphosis,  a  classic  was  frequently  translated  mto  a  vapid  homily  or  monastic 
legend.  That  many  valuable  works  of  antiquity  perished  in  this  way,  is  evinced  by 
the  number  of  MSS.  which  have  been  discovered,  evidently  written  on  erased  pardi- 
ments.  Thus  the  fragmenU  of  Cicero's  Oiations,  lately  found  in  the'  Ambronao 
library,  had  l>een  partly  obliterated,  to  make  room  for  the  works  of  SeduUua*  and  the 
Acts  of  the  Council  of  Chalcedon ;  and  Cicero's  treatise  de  Republiea  had  been 
efiaced,  in  order  to  receive  a  commentary  of  St  Augustine  on  the  Psalms. 

The  tenth  century  has  generally  been  accounted  the  age  of  deepest  daiicness  in 
the  west  of  Europe.  During  its  course,  Italy  was  united  by  Otho  1.  with  the 
German  empire,  and  was  torn  by  civil  dissensions.  Muratori  gives  a  delaikd 
account  of  the  plundering  of  Italian  convents,  which  was  the  consequence  of  these 
commotions,  and  of  the  irruptioi#of  the  Huns  in  S99*.  Still,  however,  Italy  con- 
tinued to  be  the  great  depository  of  classical  MSS. ;  and  in  that  country  they  were 
occasionally  sought  with  the  utmost  avidity.  Gerbert,  who  became  Pope  in  the 
last  year  oi  the  tenth  century,  by  name  of  Silvester  II.,  spared  neither  pains  nor 
expense  in  procuring  transcriptions  of  MSS.  This  extraordinary  man,  impelled  by 
a  thirst  of  science,  had  left  his  home  and  country  at  an  early  period  of  life  :  He  had 
visited  various  nations  of  Europe,  but  it  was  in  Spain,  then  partly  subject  to  die 
Arabs,  that  he  had  chiefly  obtained  an  opportunity  of  gratifying  his  matheraatical 
talent,  and  desire  of  general  information.  Being  no  less  ready  to  commimicatB 
than  eager  to  acquire  learning,  he  founded  a  school  on  hu  return  to  Italy,  and 

K^atly  increased  Uie  library  at  Bobbio,  in  Lombardy,  to  the  abbacy  of  whicii  he 
d  been  promoted.  While  Archbishop  of  Rheims,  in  Fiance,  that  kingdom 
experienced  the  effects  of  his  enlightened  zeal.  During  his  papacy,  obtained  for 
him  by  his  pupil  Otho  111.,  he  persevered  in  his  love  of  learning.  In  hb  generosty 
to  scholars,  and  his  expenditure  of  wealth  for  the  employment  of  copyists,  as  well 
as  for  exploring  the  repositories  in  which  the  mouldering  relics  of  andent  leeming 
were  yet  to  be  found,  we  trace  a  liberaliUr,  bordering  on  profusion. — ^"Nosti,*^  says 
be,  in  one  of  his  epistles  to  the  monk  Ralnaldo,  "  quanto  studio  Hbronmi  exem- 

Slaria  undique  conquiram ;  nosti  quot  scriptores  in  uibibus,  aut  in  agris  Italic  passim 
abeantur.  Age  ergo,  et  te  solo  conscio,  ex  tuis  sumptibus  &c  ut  mihi  scribantnr 
Manilius  de  Astronomiii,  et  Victorinus.  Spondee  tibi,  et  certum  teneo  x]ood, 
quicquid  erogaveris,  cumulatim  remittamf."  Having  by  this  means  exhausted 
Italy,  Silvester  directed  his  researches  to  countries  beyond  the  Alps,  as  we  p^eeive 
from  his  letter  to  Egbert,  Abbot  of  Tours. — "Cui  rei  preparande  bibtiothecam 
assidue  compare ;  et  sicut  Rome  dudum,  et  in  aliis  partibus  Italic,  in  Geananii 
quoque,  et  Belgica,  scriptores  auctoruraque  exemplaria  muUitudine  nununorum 
redemi ;  adjutus  benevolentia  et  studio  amiconun  comprovinciaUum :  sic  identidem 
apud  vos  per  vos  fieri  sinite  ut  exorem.  Quos  scribi  veliraus,  in  fine  epismlB 
designabimus^."  This  list,  however,  is  not  printed  in  any  of  the  editions  of  Ger- 
bert's  Letters,  which  I  have  had  an  opportunity  of  consulting. 

^  It  thus  appears  that  there  were  zealous  researches  for  the  classics,  and  soccesaful 
discoveries  of  tlicm,  lone  before  the  age  of  Poggio,  or  even  of  Petrarch  ;  but  so 
little  intercourse  existed  among  different  countries,  and  the  moulra  had  so  little 
acquaintance  with  the  treasures  of  their  own  libraries,  that  a  classical  author  might 
be  considered  as  lost  fai  Italy,  though  familiar  to  a  few  learned  men,  and  still 
lurking  in  many  of  the  convents. 

Gerbert,  previous  to  his  elevation  to  the  Pontificate,  had,  as  already  mentioned, 
been  Abbot  of  Bobbio  ;  and  the  catalogue  which  Muratori  has  given  of  the  library 
in  that  convent,  may  be  taken  as  an  example  of  the  description  and  extent  of  the 
classical  treasures  contained  in  the  best  monastic  libraries  of  tiie  tenth  centniy. 
While  the  collection,  no  doubt,  chiefly  consists  of  the  works  of  the  saints  and 
lathers,  we  find  Persius,  Valerius  Flaccus,  and  Juvenal,  contained  in  one  volunie. 


*  JtnnoH  d*Jialia,  Ad.  Ann.  899,  &c. 

t  Ejn$t.  130.  X  -Biw'-  44. 


APPENDIX.  11 

There  aie  also  enmnerated  in  the  list  Cicero's  Topica,  and  bis  Catflinaiian  orations, 
!Martial,  parts  of  Au^onius  and  Pliny,  the  first  book  of  Lucretins,  four  books  of 
Ciaudian,  the  same  number  of  Lucan,  and  two  of  Ovid*.  The  monastery  of  Mont« 
Casmo,  mrhieb  was  the  retreat,  as  we  have  seen,  of  Cassiodorus,  was  distinguished 
about  tfie  same  period  for  its  classical  library. — "  The  monks  of  Casino,  in  Italy,*' 
observes  Warton,  "  were  distinguished  before  the  year  1000,  not  only  for  their 
knowledge  of  the  scienees,  but  their  attention  to  polite  learning,  and  an  acquaint- 
dnce  with  the  classics.  Their  learned  Abbot,  Desiderius,  collected  the  best  of  the 
Roman  writers.  This  fraternity  not  only  composed  learned  treatises  on  music> 
lo^c,  astronomy,  and  the  Vitruvian  architecture,  but  likewise  employed  a  portion 
of  their  time  in  transcribing  Tacitus,  Jomandes,  Ovid's  Fasti,  Cicero,  Seneca, 
Donatus  the  grammarian,  Virgil,  Theocritus,  and  Homer." 

During  the  eleventh  century,  the  Benedictin&s  having  exeited  scandal  by  their 
opulence  and  luvtiry,  the  Carthusian'  and  Cistertian  ocdere  attracted  notice  and 
admiration,  by  a  self-denying  austerity ;  but  tbey  valued  themselves  not  less  than 
tiie  Benedictines,  on  the  elegance  oi  their  classical  transcriptions;  and  al>out  the 
same  period,  translations  from  the  Classics  into  the  lAngiui  9olgare,  first  com* 
menced  in  Italy. 

At  the  end  of  the  eleventh  century,  the  Crusades  began ;  and  during  the  whole 
course  of  the  twelfth  century,  they  occupied  the  public  mind,  to  the  exclusion  of 
almost  every  other  object  or  pursuit.  Schools  and  convents  were  affected  with  this 
religious- and  military  mania:  All  sedentary  occupations  were  suspended,  and  a 
mark  of  reproach  was  affixed  to  every  undertaking  which  did  not  promote  the 
contagion  of  the  times. 

About  the  middle  of  the. thirteenth  century,  and  af^er  the  death  of  the  Emperor 
Frederic  11.,  Italy  was  for  the  first  time  divided  info  a  number  of  petty  sover- 
eignties, unconnected  by  anysjrstem  of  general  union,  except  the  nominal  allegiance 
still  due  to  the  Emperor.  This  separation,  while  it  excited  rivalry  in  arms,  also 
created  some  degree  of  emulation  in  learning.  Many  Universities  were  establisfaed 
for  the  study  of  theology  and  the  exercise  of  scholastic  disputation ;  and  though  the 
classics  were  not  publicly  difiused,  they  existed  within  the  walls  of  the  convent, 
and  were  well  known  to  the  learned  men  of  the  period.  Brunette  Latini,  the 
teacher  of  Dante,  and  author  of  the  Tesofo,  translated  info  Italian  several  of 
Cicero's  orations,  some  parts  of  his  rhetorical  works,  and  considerable  portions  of 
Sallustt.  Dante,  in  his  Amoroso  Contrito,  familiarly  quotes  Livy,  Virgil,  and 
Cicero  de  Offieiis  .•  and  Mehus  mentions  various  translations  of  Seneca,  Ovid,  and 
Virgil,  which  had  been  executed  in  the  age  of  Dante,  and  which  he  had  seen  in 
MSS.  in  the  different  libraries  of  |talyt. 

It  was  Petrarch,  how.ever,  who,  in  u)e  fourteenth  century,  led  the  way  in  draw- 
ing forth  the  classics  from  the  dungeons  where  they  had  been  hitherto  immured, 
and  holding  up  their  light  and  glory  to  the  eyes  of  men.  While  enjoying  the  reputa- 
tion of  having  perfected  the  most  melodious  and  poetical  language  of  £urope,  Pe- 
trarch has  acquired  a  still  higher  title  to  fame,  by  his  successful  exertions  in  rousing 
his  country  from  a  slumber  of  ignorance  which  threatened  to  be  eternal.  In  his  ear- 
liest youth,  instead  of  the  dry  and  dismal  works  which  at  that  time  formed  the  gen- 
eral reading,  be  applied  himself  to  the  reading  of  Virgil  and  Cicero ;  and  when  lie 
first  commenced  his  epistolary  correspondence,  he  strongly  expressed  his  wish  that 
their  fame  should  prevail  over  the  auAority  of  Aristotle  and  his  commentators ;  and 
declared  his  belief  of  the  high  advantages  the  worid  would  enjoy  if  the  monkish  philo- 
sophy should  give  place  to  classical  literature.  Petrarch,  as  is  evinced  by  his  letters, 
was  the  most  assiduous  recovererand  restorer  of  ancient  MSS.  that  had  yet  existed. 
He  was  an  enthusiast  in  this  as  he  was  in  every  thing  else  that  merited  enthusiasm 
— love,  friendship,  glory,  patriotism,  and  religion.  He  never  passed  an  old  con- 
Tent  without  searchmg  its  library,  or  knew  of  a  friend  travelling  into  those  quartan 


*  ^ntiquitates  HaHa  Med.  JBvi,  Tom.  III.  p.  818.  The  most  yaluable  books 
of  the  Bobbian  collection  were  transferred,  in  the  seventeenth  century,  by  the  Car- 
dinal Bonomeo,  to  the  Ambrosian  library  at  Milan ;  and  it  is  from  the  Bobbian  Pa- 
limpsesti  there  discovered,  that  Mai  has  recently  edited  his  fiagments  of  oiations  of 
Cieero,  and  plays  of  Plautus. 

f  Mehus,  VUa  Ambrom  CamMuien$i^  p.  157.  ed.  Florent.  1769, 

i  md,  p.  183. 

Vol.  IL— 2 


J  2  APPENDIX. 

where  he  mipposed  books  to  be  concealed,  without  entreaties  to  proeare 
daasical  MS.  It  is  evident  that  he  came  just  in  time  to  preserve  from  total 
many  of  the  mouldering  remains  of  classical  antiquity,  and  to  excite  among  his 
trymen  a  desire  for  the  preservation  of  those  treasures  when  its  gratification  was  on 
the  very  eve  of  being  rendered  for  ever  impracticable.  He  had  seen,  in  his  yomfa, 
several  of  Cicero's  now  lost  treatises,  and  Varro's  great  woric  Rervm  Darinantm  ef 
Humanarum^,  which  has  forever  disappeared  from  the  world ;  and  it  Is  probalile 
that  had  not  some  one,  endued  with  his  ardent  love  of  letters,  and  iDde&tigahle  re- 
search, arisen,  many  similar  works  which  we  now  enjoy,  would  soon  have  sunk  into 
a  like  oblivion. 

About  the  same  period,  Boccaccio  also  collected  several  Latin  MSS.,  and  copied 
such  as  he  could  not  purchase.  He  transcribed  so  many  of  the  Latin  poets,  or^ton^ 
and  historians,  that  it  would  appear  surprising  had  a  copyist  by  profea«on  perlbrmed 
80  much.  In  a  journey  to  Monte  Casino,  a  place  generaUy  considered  as  remarka- 
bly rich  in  MSS.,  he  was  both  astonished  and  afflicted  to  find  the  library  exiled  frna 
the  monastery  into  a  bam,  which  was  accessible  ozily  by  a  ladder.  He  opened 
ny  of  the  books,  and  found  much  of  the  writing  enaced  by  damp.  His  grief 
redoubled  when  the  monks  told  him,  that  when  they  wanted  money,  they 
an  ancient  writing,  wrote  psalters  and  legends  on  the  parchment,  and  sold  the  new 
MSS.  to  women  and  childrenf. 

But  though,  in  the  fourteenth  century,  copies  of  the  classics  were  multiplied  and 
rendered  more  accessible  to  the  worid,  and  though  a  few  were  made  by  such  hands 
as  those  of  Petnurch  and  Boccaccio,  the  transcriptions  in  general  were  much  less 
accurate  than  those  of  a  former  period.    The  Latin  tongue,  which  had  reeeived 
Biore  stability  than  could  otherwise  have  been  expected,  from  having  been  conseerated 
in  the  service  of  the  church,  had  now  at  length  become  a  dead  language,  and  many 
of  the  transcribers  did  not  understand  what  they  wrote.    Still  more  mistakes  than 
those  produced  by  ignorance,  were  occasioned  by  the  presumption  of  pretenders  to 
learning,  who  were  often  tempted  to  alter  the  text,  in  order  to  accommodate  the 
sense  to  their  own  slender  capacity  and  defective  taste.     Whilst  a  remedy  has  been 
readily  found  for  the  gross  oversight  or  neglect  of  the  ignorant  and  idle,  in  substitii^ 
ting  one  letter  for  another,  or  inserting  a  word  without  meaning,  errors  afliscting  the 
sense  of  the  author,  which  were  thus  introduced,  have  been  of  the  worst  specif 
and  have  chiefly  contributed  to  compose  that  mass  of  various  readings,  on  which 
the  sagacity  of  modem  scholars  has  been  so  copiously  exercised.     In  a  passage  of 
Coluccio  Salutati*8  treatise  De  Fato^  published  by  the  Abbe  Mehus,  tlM  various 
modes  in  which  MSS.  were  depraved  by  copyists  are  fully  pointed  out|.     To  such 
extent  had  these  cormptions  proceeded,  that  Petrarch,  Udking  of  the  MSS.  of  his 
own  time,  and  those  immediately  preceding  it,  asks,  <*  Quis  scnptorum  inseitiae  rae- 
debitur,  inertieque  comimpenti  omnia  ac  miscenti  ?    Non  quero  jam  aut  queror 
Orthographiam,  quae  jam  dudum  interiit ;  qualitercunque  utinam  scriberent  quod  jn* 
bentur.    An  si  redeat  Cicero  aut  Livius,  ante  omnes  PUnius  Secundus,  sua  scripts 
reli^entes  intelligent  ?**    So  sensible  was  Coluccio  Salutati  of  the  injurv  which  had 
been  done  to  letters  by  the  ignorance  or  negligence  of  transcribers,  that  he  proposed, 
as  a  check  to  the  evil,  that  public  libraries"  should  be  every  where  formed,  the  su- 
perintendence of  which  should  be  given  to  men  of  learning,  who  might  carefolly 
collate  the  MSS.  intrasted  to  them,  and  ascertain  the  most  correct  readings^.    To 
this  labour,  and  to  the  detection  of  counterfeit  worics,  of  which  many,  finom  various 
motives,  now  began  to  be  circulated,  Coluccio  devoted  a  considerable  portion  of  his 
own  time  and  studies.    His  plan  for  the  institution  of  public  libraries  did  not  suc- 
ceed ;  but  he  amassed  a  private  one,  which,  in  that  age,  was  second  only  to  the 
library  of  Petrarch.    A  considerable  classical  library,  thou^  consisting  chiefly  of  the 
later  classics,  particularly  Seneca,  Macrobius,  Apuieius,  and  Suetonius,  was  amassed 
hy  Tedaldo  de  Casa,  whose  books,  with  many  remarks  and  emendations  in  hb  own 
luind,  were  inspected  by  the  Abb^  Mehus  in  the  library  of  Santa-Croce  at  Florencejj. 
The  path  which  had  been  opened  up  by  Petrarch,  Boccaccio,  and  Coluccio  Sal- 
utati, in  the  fourteenth  century,  was  followed  out  in  the  ensuing  centuiy  with  won* 
detful  assiduity  and  success  by  Poggio  Bracciolini,  Filelfo,  and  Ambrosio  Ti^ver- 


•  Petrarc.  Epist.  ad  M.  Varranem. 

t  Mill's  TraveU  of  Theodore  Dueai,  Vol.  I.  p.  28. 

I  VUa  ^mbrom  Camuldulensis,  p.  290.       §  Jlnd,  p.  291.      ||  IMd,  p.  SSS. 


APPENDIX.  13 

ri,  Abbott  of  Camaldoli,  under  the  guidance  and  protection  of  the  Medicean  Fam- 
3y  and  Niccolo  Niccoli. 

Of  all  the  learned  men  of  his  time,  Pogrgio  seems  to  have  devoted  himself  with 
the  jBT^eatest  industry  to  the  search  for  classical  MSS.  No  difficulties  in  travelling, 
or  indifference  in  the  beads  of  convents  to  his  literary  inquiries,  could  damp  his  zed. 
Hi^  ardour  and  exertions  were  fortunately  crowned  with  most  complete  success. 
The  number  of  MSS.  discovered  by  him  in  different  parts  of  Europe,  during  the 
^ace  of  nearly  fifty  years,  will  remain  a  lasting  proof  of  his  unceasing  perseverance^ 
and  of  his  sagacity  in  these  pursuits.  Having  spent  his  youth  in  travelling  through 
different  countries,  he  at  length  settled  at  Rome,  where  he  continued  as  secretary, 
in  the  service  of  eight  successive  Pontiffs.  In  this  capacity  he,  in  the  year  1414,  ac- 
companied Pope  John  XXlII.  to  the  Council  of  Constance,  which  was  opened  in 
that  year.  While  residing  at  Constance,  he  made  several  expeditions,  most  inter- 
esting to  letters,  in  intervals  of  relaxation  during  the  prosecutions  of  Jean  Hus  and 
Jerome  of  Prague,  of  which  he  had  the  official  charge  His  chief  excursion  Was  to 
the  monastery  of  St  Gal,  about  twenty  miles  distance  from  Constance,  where  his 
hiformation  led  him  to  expect  that  he  might  find  some  MSS.  of  the  ancient  Ro- 
man writers*.  The  earliest  Abbots,  and  many  of  the  first  monks  of  St  Gal,  had 
been  originally  transferred  to  that  monastery  from  the  literary  estabtishment  founded 
by  Charlemagne  at  Fulda.  Werembert  and  Helperic,  who  were  sent  to  St  Gal 
from  Fulda  in  the  mnth  century,  introduced  in  their  new  residence  a  strong  taste  for 
letters,  and  the  practice  of  transcribing  the  classics,  in  examining  the  HUtoire  LU" 
ieraire  de  la  France,  by  the  Benedictine<«,  we  find  that  no  monastery  in  the  middle 
ages  produced  so  many  distinguished  scholars  as  St  Gal.  In  this  celebrated  con- 
vent, which,  (as  Tenhove  expresses  it)  had  been  so  long  the  Dormitory  of  the  Muses, 
Poggio  discovered  some  of  the  most  valuable  classics, — not,  however,  in  the  library 
of  the  cloister,  but  covered  with  dust  and  filth,  and  rotting  at  the  bottom  of  a  dungeon, 
where,  according  to  his  own  account,  no  criminal  condemned  to  death  would  have 
been  thrownf.  This  evinces  that  whatever  care  may  at  one  time  have  been  taken 
of  classical  MSS.  by  the  monks,  they  had  subsequently  been  shamefiiiW  neglected. 

The  services  rendered  to  literature  by  Ambrosio  of  Camaldoli  were  in&rior  only  to 
those  of  Pog^o.  Ambrosio  was  bom  at  Forii  in  1886,  and  was  a  disciple  of  Eman- 
uel Cbrysoloras.  At. the  age  of  fourteen,  he  entered  into  the  convent  of  Camaldoli 
at  Florence,  and  thirty  years  afterwards  became  the  Superior  of  his  order.  In  the  kind ' 
conciliatory  disposition  of  Ambrosio,  manifested  by  his  maintaining  an  uninterrupted 
friendship  with  Niccolo  Niccoli,  Poggio,  and  Filelfo,  and  by  moderating  the  quar- 
rels of  these  irascible  Literati — in  his  zeal  for  the  sacred  interests,  discipline,  and 
purity  of  his  convent,  to  which  his  own  moral  conduct  afforded  a  spotless  example 
— and,  finally,  in  his  enthusiastic  love  of  letters,  in  which  he  was  second  only  to 
Petrarch,  we  behold  the  brightest  specimen  of  the  monastic  character,  of  which  the 
memory  has  descended  to  us  from  die  middle  ages.  Though  chiefly  confined  with- 
in the  limits  of  a  cloister,  Ambrosio  had  perhaps  the  best  pretensions  of  any  man  of 
his  age,  to  the  character  of  a  polite  achoJar.  The  whole  of  the  early  part  of  his  life, 
and  the  leisure  of  its  close,  were  employed  in  collecting  ancient  MSS.  from  every 
quarter  where  they  could  be  procured,  and  in  maintaining  a  constant  correspondence 
with  the  most  distinguished  men  of  his  age.  His  letters  which  have  been  published 
in  1759,  at  Florence,  with  a  long  preface  and  life  by  the  Abb^  Mehus,  contain  the 
fullest  information  that  can  be  any  where  found  with  regard'  to  the  recovery  of  an- 
dent  classical  MSS.  and  the  state  of  literature  at  Florence  in  the  fifteenth  century. 

It  would  appear  from  these  Epistles,  that  though  the  monks  had  been  certainly  io- 
strumental  in  preserving  the  precious  relics  of  classical  antiquity,  their  avarice  and 
bigotry  now  rather  obstructed  the  prosecution  of  the  researches  undertaken  for  the 
purpose  of  bringing  them  to  light.  It  was  their  interest  to  keep  these  treasures  to 
themselves,  because  it  was  a  maxim  of  their  policy  to  impede  the  diffiislon  of 
knowledge,  and  because  the  transcription  of  MSS.  was  to  them  a  source  of  conside- 
rable emolument.  Hence  they  often  threw  obstacles  in  the  way  of  the  inquiries  of 
the  learned,  who  were  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  various  artifices,  in  order  to  diaw 
classical  MSS.  from  the  recesses  of  the  cloister^ . 


**  Roseoe^s  I^e  of  Lorenzo  de  Mediei,  c.  1.  f  Epist.  Lib.  V. 

t  Moxboff,  Polyhistor,  Lib.  L  c.  7.    Lomeienis,  De  BibUothecitt  c.  9.  §  2. 


14  APPENDIX. 

Hie  exertions  of  Pogipo  and  Ambrosio,  however,  were  itirtiihted  ud  aided  ^ 
the  iiitiiiiticent  patronage  of  many  opulent  individuals  of  that  period,  who  sfiared  m 
expetise  in  reim bunding  and  rewarding  thofie  who  had  made  surcesafol  reseairchef 
after  the«e  favourite  objects  of  pursuit.  "  To  such  an  enthusiasm,"  says  Thabo>«rhi« 
*<  was  this  desire  canied,  that  long  journeys  were  undertaken,  treMorea  were  levied, 
and  enmities  were  excited,  for  the  sake  of  an  ancient  MS. ;  and  the  discoveiy  of  t 
book  wa<  regarded  as  almost  equi\'alent  to  the  conquest  of  a  kingdom." 

The  most  zealous  promoters  of  these  researches,  and  most  eager  collacton  cf 
HSS  during  the  fifteenth  century,  were  the  Cardinal  Uraini,  Piccolo  Niocoli  aod 
the  Family  of  Medici. 

Niccolo  Niccoli,  who  was  an  humble  citizen  of  Florence,  devoted  his  whole 
time  and  fortune  to  the  acquisition  of  ancient  MSS.  In  this  pursuit  be  had  been 
eminently  successful,  having  collected  together  800  volumes,  of  which  a  greet  pro* 
portion  contained  Roman  authors.  Poggio,  in  his  funeral  oration  of  Niccolo,  beaa 
'ample  testimony  to  bis  liberality  and  zeal,  and  attributes  the  successful  discovery  of 
■o  many  clasi^ical  MSS.  to  the  encouragement  which  he  had  afforded.  *■  Quod  au- 
tern,"  says  he,  **  egreiriam  laudem  meretur,  summam  operaro,  curamqoe  adhiboit 
id  pervestigandos  auctores,  qui  culpa  temporum  perierant.  Qua  in  re  vere  po<^<um 
dicere,  omnes  libros  fere,  qui  noviter  tum  ab  aliis  reperti  sunt,  tum  a  me  ipso,  qui  m- 
tcgrum  Quintilianum,  Ciceronis  nostri  orationes,  Silium  Italicum,  MiarceUiDum. 
Lucretii  partem,  multosque  praeterea  e  Germanorum  Gallorumque  ergasCuiis  o)ea 
diligentia  eripui,  atque  in  lucem  extuli,  Nicholai  suasu,  impulsu,  cohortatione,  et 
pene  verborum  molestia  esse  Latinis  Uteris  restitutes*.*'  Several  of  diese  da^^cal 
works  Niccolo  copied  with  his  own  hand,  and  with  great  accuracy,  after  he  had  re- 
ceived tbemf.  The  MSS.  in  his  hand-writing  were  long  known  and  distinguished 
by  the  beauty  and  distinctness  of  the  characters.  Nor  did  he  content  ilimaelf  with 
mere  tran*4r!iption :  He  diligently  employed  himself  in  correcting  the  errocs  of  the 
MSS.  which  were  transmitted  to  him,  and  arranging  the  text  in  its  proper  order. 
'*  Quum  eos  auctores,"  says  Mehus,  **  ex  vetustissimis  codicibus  exscriberet,  qui 
0UO  potissimum  consilio,  aliomm  vero  opera  invent!  sunt,  non  solum  mendts,  ouibus 
ob««iti  erant,  expurgavit,  sed  etiam  distinxit,  capitibusque  locupletant|."  Sucli  was 
the  judgment  of  Niccolo.  in  this  species  of  emendation,  that  PolitiaD  alwayv  placed 
the  utmost  reliance  on  his  MS.  copies§ ;  and,  indeed,  from  a  complimentary  poem 
addressed  to  him  in  his  own  time,  it  would  seem  Uiat  he  had  carefully  collated 
differrat  MSS.  of  the  same  work,  before  he  transcribed  his  own  copy — 

<*  file  hos  errores,  una  exemplaribus  actis 
Pluribus  ante  oculos,  ne  postera  oberret  et  etas, 
Corrigit." 

Previous  to  the  time  of  Niccolo,  the  only  libraries  of  any  extent  or  value  in  Italy, 
were  those  of  Petrarch,  Coluccio  Salutati,  and  Boccaccio.  Hie  books  which  had 
belonged  to  Petrarch  and  Coluccio,  were  sold  or  dispersed  after  the  decease  of  their 
illustrious  possessors.  Boccaccio's  library  had  been  bequeathed  by  him  to  a  rcii* 
gious  order,  the  Hermits  of  St  Augustine ;  and  this  library  was  repaired  and  ar- 
ranged  by  Niccolo,  for  the  use  of  the  convent,  and  a  proper  hail  built  for  its  reception|| . 
Niccolo  was  likewise  the  first  person  in  modem  times  who  conceived  the  idea  of 
forming  a  public  library.  Previous  to  his  death,  which  happened  in  1437,  he  direct- 
ed that  his  books  should  be  devoted  to  the  use  of  the  public ;  and  for  this  purpose  he 
appointed  sixteen  curators,  among  whom  was  Cosmo  de  Medici.  Alter  his  demise, 
it  appeared  that  he  was  greatly  in  debt,  and  that  his  liberal  intentions  were  Gkely  to 
be  frustrated  by  the  insolvency  of  his  circunistances.  Cosmo  therefore  offered  to  his 
associates,  that  if  they  would  resign  to  him  tlie  exclusive  right  of  the  disposal  of  the 
books,  he  would  himself  discharge  all  the  debts  of  Niccolo,  to  which  propoeal  they 
readily  acceded.  Having  thus  obtained  the  sole  direction  of  the  MSS.,  he  deposited 
them  for  public  use  in  the  Domin^an  Monastery  of  St  Marco,  at  Florence,  which  he 
had  himself  erected  at  an  enormous  expen«<c1T.  This  library,  for  some  time  cele- 
brated under  the  name  of  the  Bibliotheca  Mardana^  or  library  of  St  Majc» 


*  Ap.  Mehus,  Pref.  ad  Epist.  •^mhros.  CamaldtUensU,  p.  88.  ed.  Florent  1759. 
t  Ibid.  p.  31.  X  Ibid.  p.  &0.  §  Ibid.  p.  4i.  H  Ibid.  p.  81. 

If  Roflcoe's  Ijife  of  Lorenxo  de  Medici,  c.  1. 


APPENDIX.  15 

•fnttf^  and  e«tftlo^|iied  by  Tomma^o  da  Sarzana  Calandrino,  at  tkat  tube  a  poor 
but  a^aious  acholar  m  the  lower  orders-  of  the  clci|;y,  and  afterwards  Pope,  by  the 
name  of  Nicholas  V.  The  building  which  contained  the  books  of  Niccolo  having 
been  destroyed  by  an  earthquake  in  1464,  Cosmo  rebuilt  it  on  such  a  plan,  as  to  ad- 
mit a  more  extensive  collection.  After  this  it  was  enriched  by  private  donations 
from  citizens  of  Florence,  who,  catching  the  spirit  of  the  reigning  family,  vied  widi 
each  other  in  the  extent  and  value  of  their  gifts*. 

H'  hen  Cosmo,  having  finally  triumphed  over  his  enemies,  was  recalled  from  banish- 
ment, and  became  the  tirst  citizen  of  Florence,  **  which  he  governed  without  arms  or 
a  title,"  he  employed  his  immense  wealth  in  the  encouragement  of  learned  men, 
and  in  coUectias,  under  his  own  roof,  the  remains  of  the  ancient  Greek  and  Roman 
writers.  His  nches,  and  extensive  mercantile  intercourse  with  different  parts  of 
Europe  and  Asia,  enabled  him  to  gratify  a  passion  of  this  kind  beyond  any  other  in- 
dividual. He  gave  injunctions  to  all  his  friends  and  correspondents,  to  search  for 
and  procure  ancient  MSS.,  in  every  language,  and  on  every  subject.  From  these 
beginnings  arose  the  celebrated  library  of  the  Medici,  which,  in  the  time  of  Cosmo, 
was  particulariy  distinguished  for  MSS.  of  Xatin  classics — ^possessing,  in  particular, 
full  and  accurate  copies  of  Virgil,  Cicero,  Seneca,  Ovid,  and  Tibullusf.  This  col* 
lection,  afler  the  death  of  its  founder,  was  farther  enriched  by  the  attention  of  his 
descendants,  particularly  his  grandson,  Lorenzo,  under  whom  it  acquired  the  name 
of  the  Medicean- Lauren  tian  Library.    "  If  there  was  any  pup«uit,"  says  the  biogra- 

f^ber  of  Lorenzo,"  in  which  he  engaged  more  ardently,  and  persevered  more  diligent- 
y,  than  the  rest,  it  was  in  that  of  enlarging  his  collections  of  books  and  antiquities. 
His  emissaries  were  dispersed  through  every  part  of  the  globe,  for  the  purpose  of 
icollecting  books,  and  he  spared  no  expen^ie  in  procuring,  for  the  learned,  the  ma- 
terials necessary  for  the  prosecution  of  their  studies^."  In  the  execution  of  his 
noble  design,  he  was  assisted  by  Ermolao  Barbaro,  and  Paulo  Cortesi ;  but  his  prin- 
cipal coadjutor  was  Politian,  to  whom  he  committed  the  caie  and  arrangement  of 
bis  collection,  and  who  made  excursions,  at  intervals,  through  Italy,  to  discover 
and  purchase  such  remains  of  antiquity  as  suited  the  purposes  of  his  patron.  An 
ample  treasure  of  books  was  expected,  during  his  last  illness,  under  die  care  of 
Lascaris.  When  the  vital  spark  was  nearly  extinguished,  he  called  Politian  to  his 
side,  and  grasping  his  hand,  told  him  he  could  have  wished  to  have  lived  to  see  the 
library  completed^. 

After  the  death  of  Lorenzo,  some  of  the  volumes  were  dispersed,  wlien  Charles 
VIII.  of  France  invaded  Italy;  and,  on  the  expulsion  of  the  Medici  family  from 
Florence,  in  1496,  the  remaining  volumes  of  the  Laurentian  collection  were  united 
with  die  books  in  the  library  of  St  Mark. 

It  being  the  great  object  of  Lorenzo  to  diffuse  the  spirit  of  literature  as  extensively 
as  possible,  he  permitted  the  Duke  of  Urbino,  who  particularly  ditJtinguished  him- 
eeli  as  a  patron  of  learning,  to  copy  such  of  his  MSS.  as  he  wished  to  possess. 
The  families,  too,  of  Viscond  at  Milan,  of  Este  at  Ferrara,  and  Gonzaga  at  Mantua, 
excited  by  die  glorious  example  set  before  them,  emulated  the  Medici  in  their  patron- 
age of  classical  literature,  and  formation  of  learned  establishments.  "  The  division 
of  Italy,"  says  Mr  Mills,"  into' many  independent  principalities,  was  a  circumstance 
bighly  &vourab1e  to  the  nourishing  and  expanding  learning.  Every  city  had  a 
Mecenas  soveroign.  The  princes  of  Italy  rivalled  each  other  in  literary  patronage 
as  much  as  in  poudcal  power,  and  changes  of  dominion  did  not  aflect  letters||." 
Eight  Popes,  in  succession,  employed  Poggio  as  their  secretary,  which  greatly  aided 
the  promodon  of  literature*  and  the  collecting  of  MSS.  at  Kome.  The  last  Pon- 
tiff he  served  was  Nicholas  V.,  who,  before  his  elevation,  as  we  have  seen,  had  ar- 
ranged the  library  of  St  Mark  at  Florence.  From  his  youdi  he  had  shown  the  most 
wonderful  avidity  for  copies  of  ancient  MSS.,  and  an  extraordinary  turn  for  elegant 


•  Mehus,  Prrf.  p.  67. 

t  Avogradi,  De  Magmfieenti&  Coami  Medices,  Lib.  11. 
"  O  mira  in  tectis  bibliotheca  tuis ! 
Nunc  legis  altisoni  sparshn  pia  scripta  Maronis, 
Nunc  ea  quie  Cicero—: — "  &c. 
Roscoe,  Itfe  of  Lorenzo,  c.  7.  '  §  PoUt.  Epist,  Lib.  IV.  £p.  2. 

lYoDeU  of  neod,  Ducca,  c.  1. 


i 


16  APPENDIX. 

uid  accurftte  transcription,  with  his  own  hand.  By  the  diligence  and  k«niiB| 
which  be  exhibited  in  the  schools  of  Bologna,  he  secured  the  piit>onage  of  mtmof 
literary  characters.  Attached  to  the  family  of  Cardinal  Albeigaii,  he  accompanied 
him  in  several  embas.4ies,  and  seldom  returned  without  bringing  back  with  him 
copies  of  such  ancient  works  as  had  been  previously  unknown  in  Italy.  Hie  titks 
of  some  of  these  are  mentioned  by  his  biographer,  who  adds,  that  there  was  do  La- 
tin author,  with  whose  writings  he  was  unacquainted.  This  enabled  him  to  be 
nseful  in  the  arrangement  of  many  libraries  formed  at  this  period*.  His  promotioa 
to  the  Pontifical  chair,  in  1447,  was,  in  the  circumstances  of  the  times,  peculiarly 
auspicious  to  the  cause  of  letters.  With  the  assistance  of  Poggio,  he  founded  the 
library  of  the  Vatican.  The  scanty  collection  of  his  predeoessors  bad  been  neariy 
dissipated  or  destroyed,  by  frequent  removals  from  Rome  to  Avisnon :  But  NIcImh 
las  more  than  repaired  these  losses ;  and  before  his  death,  had  collected  upwards  of 
60Q0  volumes  of  Greek  and  Roman  authors — and  the  Vatican  l>eing  afterwards  m- 
creased  by  Sixtus  IV.  and  Leo  X.  became,  l>oth  in  extent  and  value,  tfie  first  libiaiy 
in  the  world. 

It  is  with  Poggio,  that  the  studies  peculiar  to  the  commentator  may  be  considered 
as  having  commenced,  at  least  so  far  as  regards  the  Latin  classics.  Poggio  fived 
'from  1380  to  1459.  He  was  succeeded  towards  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  ceotuiy, 
and  during  the  whole  course  of  the  sixteenth,  by  a  long  series  of  Italian  commenta- 
tors, among  whom  the  highest  rank  may  be  justly  assigned  to  Politian. — (Bom, 
1454 — died,  1494.)  To  him  the  worid  has  been  chiefly  indebted  for  coctccCidiis 
and  elucidations  of  the  texts  of  Roman  authors,  which,  from  a  variety  of  causes, 
were,  when  first  discovered,  either  corrupt,  or  neariy  illegible.  In  the  ezerdse  of 
his  critical  talents,  Politian  did  not  confine  himself  to  any  one  precise  method,  but 
adopted  such  as  he  conceived  best  suited  his  purpose— on  some  occasions  only  com- 
paring different  copies,  diligently  marking  the  variations,  rejecting  spurious  readings, 
and  substituting  the  true.  In  other  cases  he  proceeded  farther,  adding  sehoUa  imd 
notes,  illustrative  of  the  text,  either  from  his  own  conjecture,  or  the  authority  of 
preceding  writ^^rs.  To  the  name  of  Politian,  I  may  add  those  of  his  biner  rival 
and  contemporary,  Geonnus  Merula,  (bom,  1420 — died,  1494);  Aldus Manutius, 
(1447 — 1516)  ;  his  son  PauUus ;  Landini,  author  of  the  Disputationes  Csmaldu- 
lenses,  (1424—1504);  Philippus  Beroaldus,  (145^—1505);  Petras  Victorius, 
(1498—1585);  Robortellus,  (1516—1567).  Most  of  these  commentatois  were 
entirely  verbal  critics ;  but  this  was  by  far  the  most  useful  species  of  criticism  which 
could  be  employed  at  the  period  in  which  they  lived.  We  have  already  seen,  that 
in  the  time  of  Petrarch,  classical  manuscripts  had  been  very  inaccurately  tian- 
scribed  ;  and,  therefore,  the  first  great  duty  of  a  commentator,  was  to  amend  and 
purify  the  text.  Criticisms  on  the  general  merits  of  the  author,  or  the  l>eauties  of 
particular  passages,  and  even  expositions  of  the  full  import  of  his  meaning,  deduced 
from  antiquities,  mythology,  history,  or  geography,  were  very  secondary  consldera- 
tioos.  Nor,  indeed,  was  Knowledge  far  enou^  advanced  at  the  time,  to  supply 
such  illustrations.  Grammar,  and  verbal  criticism,  formed  the  porch  by  which  it 
was  necessary  to  enter  that  temple  of  sublimity  and  beauty  which  had  been  reared 
by  the  ancients ;  and  without  this  access,  philosophy  would  never  have  enlightened 
letters,  or  letters  ornamented  philosophy.  "  1  cannot,  indeed,  but  think,"  says  Mr 
Payne  Knight,  in  his  Analytical  Essay  on  the  Greek  Alphabet,  "  that  the  judgment 
of  the  public,  on  the  respective  merits  of  tlie  different  classes  of  critics,  is  peculiarly 
partial  and  unjust.  Those  among  them  who  assume  the  office  of  pointiiiK  out  the 
beauties,  and  detecting  the  faults,  of  literary  composition,  are  placed  with  the  orator 
and  historian,  in  the  highest  ranks,  whilst  those  who  undertake  tiie  more  laborious 
task  of  washing  away  the  rust  and  canker  of  time,  and  bringing  back  those  forms 
and  colours,  which  are  the  objects  of  criticism,  to  their  original  purity  and  brightness, 
are  degraded  with  the  index-maker  and  antiquaiy  among  the  pioneers  of  literature, 
whose  business  it  is  to  clear  the  way  for  those  who  are  capable  of  more  splendid 
and  honourable  enterprizes.  Nevertheless,  if  we  examine  the  effects  produced  by 
those  two  classes  of  critics,  we  shall  find  that  the  first  have  been  of  no  use  what- 
ever, and  that  the  last  have  rendered  the  most  important  services  to  mankind.  AO 
persons  of  taste  and  understanding  know,  from  their  ovm  feelings,  when  to  approve 
and  disapprove,  and  therefore  stand  in  no  need  of  instructions  from  the  critic.    Bot 


*  Berrington,  IdUrary  IB$U  of  the  MddU  Jgti,  Book  YI. 


APPENDIX.  17 

« 

whatever  may  be  the  taate  or  discernment  of  a  reader,  or  the  genius  and  ability  of  a 
writer*  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  can  appear  wliile  the  text  remains  deformed  by 
the  corruptions  of  blundering  transcribers,  and  obscured  by  the  glosses  of  ignorant 
srammarians.  It  is  then  that  tho  aid  of  the  verbal  critic  is  required  ;  and  thouf^ 
me  minute  labour  in  dissecting  syllables  and  analysing  letters  may  appear  contemp- 
tible in  its  operation,  it  will  be  found  important  in  its  effect"  It  is  to  those  early 
critics,  then,  who  washed  away  the  rust  and  canker  of  time,  and  broug|ht  back  those 
forms  and  colours  which  are  the  subject  of  criticism,  that  classical  literature  has  been 
chiefly  indebted.  The  newly  discovered  art  of  printine,  which  was  itself  the  off- 
spring of  the  general  ardour  for  literary  improvement,  and  of  the  daily  esperience  of 
cQfficuIties  encountered  in  prosecuting  classical  stupes,  contributed,  in  an  eminent 
degree,  to  encourage  this  species  of  useful  criticism.  At  the  instigation  of  Lorenzo, 
and  other  patrons  of  learning  in  Italy,  many  scholars  in  that  country  were  induced 
to  bestow  their  attention  on  the  collation  and  correction  of  the  MSS.  of  ancient 
authors,  in  order  that  they  might  be  submitted  to  the  press  with  the  greatest  possible 
accuracy,  and-in  their  original  purity.  Nor  was  it  a  slight  inducement  to  the  indus- 
trious scholar,  that  his  commentaries  were  no  longer  to  be  hid  in  the  recesses  of  a 
few  vast  libraries,  but  were  to  be  now  placed  in  the  view  of  mankind,  and  enshrined, 
as  it  were,  for  ever  in  the  immortal  page  of  the  poet  or  historian  whose  woriu  he 
had  preserved  or  elucidated. 

With  Fulvius  Ursinus,  who  died  in  the  year  1600,  the  first  school  of  Italian  com- 
mentators may  be  considered  as  terminating.  In  the  following  century,  classical 
industry  was  chiefly  directed  to  translation ;  and  in  the  eighteenth  century,  the 
Jist  of  eminent  commentators  was  increased  only  by  the  name  of  Vulpius,  who  in- 
troduced a  new  style  in  classical  criticism,  by  an  amusing  collection  ox  verses,  both 
in  ancient  and  modem  poets,  which  were  parallel  to  passages  in  his  author,  not 
merely  in  some  words,  but  in  the  poetical  idea. 

The  career  which  had  so  eloriously  commenced  in  Italy  in  the  end  of  the  fif- 
teenth century,  was  soon  followed  in  France  and  Germany.  Julius  Scaliger,  a 
native  of  Verona,  had  been  naturalized  in  France,  and  he  settled  there  in  the  com- 
mencement of  the  sixteenth  century.  In  that  country  classical  studies  were  intro- 
duced, under  the  patronage  of  Francis  I.,  and  were  prosecuted  in  his  own  and  the 
six  following  reigns,  by  a  long  succession  of  illustrious  scholars,  among  whom  Tume- 
bus  (1512—1565),  Lambrinus  (1526—1572%  the  family  of  the  Stephenses,  who  ri- 
valledtheManutii  ofItaly,Muretus  (1526-^1585),  Causaubon  (1559— 1614),  Joseph 
Scaliger  (1540— 1609),  and  Salmasius  ( 1588—1653),  distinguished  themselves  by  the 
illustration  of  the  Latin  classics,  and  the  more  difficult  elucidation  of  those  studies 
which  assist  and  promote  a  full  intelligence  of  their  meaning  and  beauties.  Our  geogra- 
phical and  historical  knowledge  of  the  ancient  worid,  was  advanced  by  Charles  Ste- 
phens— ^its  chronology  was  ascertained  by  Scaliger,  and  the  whole  circle  of  antiquities 
was  extended  by  Si£nasiu8.  After  the  middle  of  the  seventh  century,  a  new  taste  in 
tiie  illustration  of  classical  literature  sprung  up  in  France— a  lighter  manner  and  more 
philosophic  spirit  being  then  introduced.  The  celebrated  controversy  on  the  com- 
parative merit  of  the  ancients  and  modems,  aided  a  more  popular  elucidation  of  the 
classics ;  and  as  the  preceptors  of  the  royal  family  were  on  tne  side  of  the  ancients, 
they  promoted  the  famed  Delphin  edition,  which  commenced  under  the  auspices  of 
the  Duke  De  Montausier,  and  was  carried  on  by  a  body  of  leamed  Jesuits,  under  the 
superintendence  of  Bossuet  and  Huetius.  Elegance  and  taste  we're  required  for  the 
instmction  of  a  young  French  Prince ;  and  accordingly,  instead  of  profound  philo- 
logical learning,  or  the  assiduous  collation  of  MSS.,  light  notes  wen-^  appended,  ex- 
planatory of  the  mythological  and  historical  allusions  contained  in  the  works  of  the 
author,  as  also  remarks  on  his  most  prominent  defects  and  excellencies. 

Joseph  Scaliger  and  Salmasius,  who  were  French  Protestants,  found  shelter  for 
their  heretical  principles,  and  liberal  reward  for  iheir  learning,  in  the  Univeraity  of 
Leyden ;  and  with  Douza  (1545—1604),  and  Justus  Lipsius  (1547 — 1606),  became 
the  fathers  and  foundera  of  classical  knowledge  in  the  Netherlands.  As  ^e  inhab- 
itants of  that  |erritory  spoke  and  wrote  a  language  which  was  but  ill  adapted  for 
the  expression  of  original  thought,  their  whole  force  of  mind  was  directed  to  ■ 
throwing  their  humorous  and  grand  conceptions  on  canvass,  ox  to  the  elucidation 
of  the  writings  of  those  who  had  been  gifled  with  a  more  propitious  tongue. 
These  studies  and  researches  were  continued  by  Heinsius  (1682 — 1656),  Gerard 
and  Isaac  Vossius  (1577-1689),  and  Gronovius  (1611—1671).  At  this  period 
Schrevelius  (1615-— 1664)  commenced  the  publication  of  the  dassics,  cum  JVbft's 


18  APPENDIX. 

Fiariorum :  ud  in  the  end  of  Che  teventeeDth  centuiy,  his  emnple  wat  feBwicd 
by  tome  of  the  most  dietinguished  editors.  The  merit  of  these  editioDs  wmm  Toy 
dttferent,  and  has  been  yariously  estimated.  MorhoflT,  while  he  does  jiMtioe  lo  the 
editorial  works  of  Gronovius  and  other  learned  men,  in  which  parts  of  tlie  coomdcb- 
taries  of  predecessors,  Judiciously  extracted,  were  given  at  full  length,  has  indulged 
himnelf  in  an  invective  against  other  vaxioT^Uh  editions,  in  which  eveiythmg  was 
mutilated  and  incorrect.  **  Sane  ne  comparand^  quidem  ill!"  (the  editioiis  of 
Aldus)  "sunt  ineptB  Variorum  editiones;  quam  nuper  pestem  bonis  auctoitbm 
Bibliopole  Batavi  inducere  coeperunt,  reclamantibus  frustra  viris  doctis*.**  In  the 
course  of  the  eighteenth  centuiy,  the  Burmans  (1668 — 1778),  Oudendorp  (160C 
1761 ),  and  Havercamp  (1684 — 1742),  continued  to  support  Uie  honour  of  a  scbeel, 
which  as  yet  had  no  parallel  in  certainty,  copiousness,  and  depth  of  illustratioii. 

In  Germany,  the  school  which  had  been  established  by  Charlemagne  at  FoMi, 
and  that  at  IHiderbom,  long  flourished  under  the  superintendence  of  Meinweik. 
The  author  of  the  Life  of  that  scholar,  speaking  of  these  establishments,  eay^  **  Ibt 
▼iguit  Horatius,  magnus  atque  Virrilius,  Crispus  et  Sajlustius,  et  Urbanus  Siatiiis.** 
Ihiring  the  ninth  century,  Rabin  Maur,  a  scholar  of  Alcuin,  and  head  of  the  cathedral 
school  at  Fulda,  became  a  celebrated  teacher;  and  pro&ne  litei«tQ-e  was  not 
neglected  by  him  amid  the  importance  of  his  sacred  lessons.  Classical  learning, 
however,  was  first  thoroughly  awakened  in  Germany,  by  the  scholars  of  Thomas 
A'Kempis,  in  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century.  A  number  of  German  youths,  who 
were  associated  in  a  species  of  literary  fraternity,  travelled  into  Italy,  at  the  time 
when  the  search  for  classical  MSS.  in  that  country  was  most  eagerly  prosecuted. 
Rudolph  Agricola,  afterwards  Profeiisor  of  Philosophy  at  Worms,  was  one  of  tibe  rnoit 
distinguished  of  these  scholars.  Living  immediately  after  the  Invention  of  printing, 
and  at  a  time  when  that  art  had  not  yet  entirely  superseded  the  tnuiscriptkNi  of 
MSS.,  he  possessed  an  extensive  collection  of  these,  as  well  as  of  the  works  which 
had  just  issued  resplendent  from  ttie  press.  Both  were  illustrated  by  him  with 
various  readings  on  the  margin ;  and  we  perceive  from  the  letters  of  Erasmus  tbe 
value  which  even  he  attached  to  these  notes,  and  the  use  which  he  made  of  the 
variations.  Rudolph  was  succeeded  by  Herman  von  Busche,,who  lectured  on  the 
classics  at  Leipsic.  He  had  in  his  possession  a  number  of  the  Latin  claasics ;  but 
it  b  evident  from  his  letters  that  some,  as  for  instance  Silius  ItaHcua,  were  still 
inaccessible  to  him,  or  could  only  be  procured  with  great  difficulty.  The  German 
scholars  did  not  bring  so  many  MSS.  to  light,  or  multiply  copies  of  them,  so  much 
as  the  Italians,  because,  in  fact,  their  country  was  less  richly  stored  than  Italy  with 
the  treasures  bequeathed  to  us  by  antiquity;  but  they  exercised  equal  critical 
acuteness  in  amending  the  errors  of  the  MSS.  which  they  possessed.  Tile  six- 
teenth century  was  the  age  which  produced  in  Germany  the  moet  valoable  and 
numerous  commentaries  on  tbe  Latin  classics.  That  country,  in  common  with  the 
Netherlands,  was  enlightened,  during  tiiis  period,  by  die  erudition  of  EranniB 
(1467 — lftS6).  In  the  same  and  succeeding  age,  Camerarius  (1600 — 1574), 
Taubmann  (1066—1618),  Acidalius  (1667—1696),  and  Gruterus  (1660— H»27)« 
enriched  the  worid  with  some  of  the  best  editions  of  Ae  classics  which  had  hith- 
erto appeared.  Towards  the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century,  dasaical  litentwe 
had  for  some  time  rather  declined  in  Germany — polemical  theolo^  and  reiigioos 
wars  having  at  this  period  exhausted  and  engrossed  the  attention  of  her  uni- 
versities. But  it  was  revived  again  about  the  middle  of  die  eii^teendi  by  J. 
Math.  Gesner  (1691— 1761),  and  Emesti  (1707—1781),  who  created  an  epo^ 
in  Germany  for  the  study  of  the  ancient  authors.  These  two  scholars  .our- 
passed  all  their  predecessors  in  taste,  in  a  philosophical  spirit,  and  in  a  wide 
acquaintance  with  the  subsidiary  branches  of  erudition :  They  made  an  advan- 
tageous use  of  their  critical  knowledge  of  the  languages ;  they  looked  at  once  to  the 
words  and  to  the  subject  of  the  ancient  writers,  established  and  applied  the  rales  of 
a  legitimate  interpretation,  and  carefiilly  analysed  the  meaning  as  well  as  the  form 
of  the  expression.  Their  task  was  extended  from  words  to  things ;  and  what  has 
been  called  iEsdietic  annotations,  were  combined  with  philological  diseosAon. 
<^.Non  volui,"  savs  Gesner;  in  the  Preface  to  his  edition  of  Claudum,  **  comnienta- 
rios  icribere,  collectos  uqdique,  aut  locos  communes:   Non  volui  dftctiooem poetv, 


•  PolyhUtar.  Ub.  IV.  c.  10. 


APPENDIX.  19 

coocestis'kKoniin  poetaram  formulis  fllustrare ;  sed  cum  fllud  volui  efficere  poeta  ut 
Inteuigatur,  turn  judido  meo  juvare  volui  junioram  judicium,  quid  pulclvum,  atque 
decens,  et  summorom  poetaram  simile  putarem  ostendeodo,  et  contra,  ea,  ubi  erras^ 
ilium  a  Datura,  a  magnis  exempUs,  a  decoro  arbitrarer,  cum  fide  indicando."  J. 
Emesti  considers  Gesner  as  unquestionably  the  first  who  introduced  what  he  terms 
the  iEsthetic  mode  of  criticism*.  But  the  honour  of  beine  the  founder  of  this  new 
school,  has  perhaps,  with  more  justice,  been  assigned  by  oSiers  to  Heynef  (1729 — 
1811).  "  From  the  middle  of  last  centuiy,"  it  is  remarked,  in  a  late  biographical 
sketcn  of  Heyne,  **  several  intelligent  philologers  of  Germany  displayed  a  more  re- 
fined and  philosophic  method  in  their  treatment  of  the  different  branches  of  classi- 
cal learning,  who,  without  neglecting  either  the  grammatical  investigation  of  the 
language,  or  the  critical  constitution  of  the  text,  no  longer  regarded  a  Greek  or  Ro- 
man writer  as  a  subject  for  the  mere  grammarian  and  critic ;  but,  considering  the 
study  of  the  ancients  as  a  school  for  thought,  for  feeling,  and  for  taste,  initiated  ua 
into  the  great  mystery  of  reading  every  thme  in  the  same  spirit  in  which  it  had  ori- 
ginally  been  written.  They  demonstrated,  ooth  by  doctrine  and  example,  in  what 
manner  it  was  necessary  for  us  to  enter  into  the  thoughts  of  the  writer,  to  pitch  our- 
selves in  unison  with  his  peculiar  tone  of  conception  and  expression,  and  to  investi- 
gate the  circumstances  by  which  his  mind  was  affected — the  motives  by  which  he 
was  animated — and  the  influences  which  co-operated  in  giving  the  intensity  and 
<:haracter  of  his  feelings.  At  the  head  of  this  school  stands  Heyne ;  and  it  must  be 
admitted,  that  nothing  has  contributed  so  decisively  to  maintain  or  promote  the 
study  of  classical  literature,  as  the  combination  which  he  has  effected  of  philosophy 
with  erudition,  both  in  his  commentaries  on  ancient  authors,  and  those  works  in 
which  he  has  Qlustrated  various  points  of  antiquity,  or  discussed  fhe  habit  of  think- 
ing and  spirit  of  the  ancient  world.**  From  the  time  of  Heyne,  almost  the  whole 
grand  inheritance  of  Roman  literature  has  been  cultivated  by  commentators,  who 
fiave  raised  the  Germans  to  undisputed  pre-eminence  among  the  nations  of  Europe, 
for  profound  classical  learning,  and  all  the  deHgfatfol  resear^es  connected  with  lite- 
rary history.  I  have  only  space  to  mention  the  names  of  Zeunius  (1736 — 1788), 
Jani  (1743—1790),  Wemsdorff'(  1728— 1793) ;  and  among  those  who  still  survive, 
Haries  (bom  1738),  Schiitz  (1747),  Schneider  (1751),  Wolf  (1757),  Beck, 
(1757),  Doering  (1759),  Mitscheriich  (1760),  Wetzel  (1762),  Georenz  (1765), 
£ichstadt  ^1771),  Hermann  (1772). 

While  dassicid  literature  and  topography  were  so  highlv  cultivated  abroad,  Eng- 
land, at  the  revival  of  literature,  remained  greatly  behind  ner  continental  neighbours 
in  the  elucidation  and  publication  of  the  precious  remains  of  ancient  learning.  It  ap- 
pears from  Ames*  Typographical  Antiquities,  that  the  press  of  our  celebrat^  ancient 
printers,  as  Caxton^  Wynkin  de  Worde,  and  Pynson,  was  rarely  employed  in  giving 
accuracy  or  embellishment  to  the  works  of  the  classics ;  and,  indeed,  so  late  as  the 
middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  only  Terence  and  Cicero's  Offices  had  been  pub- 
lished in  this  countiy,  in  their  original  tongue.  Matters  had  by  no  means  improved 
in  the  seventeenth  century.    Eveljrn,  who  ha^  paid  great  attention  to  the  subject, 

f'ves  the  following  account  of  the  state  of  classical  typography  and  editorship  in 
ngland,  in  a  letter  to  the  Lord  (Chancellor  Clarendon,  dated  November  1666 : 
**  Our  booksellers,*'  says  he, "  folk>w  their  own  judgment  in  printing  the  ancient  au- 
thors, according  to  such  text  as  they  found  extant  when  first  they  entered  their 
(u>py;  whereas,  out  of  the  MSS.  collated  by  the  industry  of  later  critics,  those  au- 
thors are  exceedingly  improved.  For  instance,  about  t)>irty  years  since,  Justin  was 
corrected  by  Isaac  Vossius,  in  many  hundreds  of  places,  most  material  to  sense  and 
elegancy,  and  has  since  been  frequentiy  reprinted  in  Holland,  after  the  purer  copy; 
but  with  us  stifl  according  to  the  old  reading.    The  like  has  Florus,  Seneca's  Tra- 

fedies,  and  near  all  the  rest,  which  have,  in  the  meantime,  been  castigated  abroad 
y  several  learned  bands,  which,  besides  tiiat  it  makes  ours  to  be  rejected,  and  dis- 
honours our  nation,  so  does  it  no  little  detriment  to  learning,  and  to  the  treasure  of 
tike  nation  in  proportion*  The  cause  ef  tius  is  principally  tne  stationer  driving  aa 
hard  and  cruel  a  bargain  with  the  printer  as  he  can,  and  the  printer  taking  up  any 
jonatterer  in  the  tongues,  to  be  the  less  loser ;  an  exactness  in  this  no  ways  import* 


^  De  Liixurie  Vetemm  Poet  Lot. 

t  Eichhom,  LUterargeschkhiepTcm*  III.  p.  669. 

Vol.  IL— 3 


20  APPENDIX. 

log  the  stipulmlioD,  by  which  means  errors  repeat  and  multiply  ia  every  editieaT 
Since  the  period  in  which  this  letter  is  dated,  Bentley,  who  bears  the  greatest  name 
in  England  as  a  critic,  however  acute  and  ingenious,  did  mote  by  hia  Mbshins  alten* 
lions  to  injure  than  amend  the  teit,  at  least  of  the  Latin  authors  on  whom  he  com- 
mented.  He  substituted  what  he  thought  best  for  what  he  actually  found;  aitd 
•uch  was  hU  deficiency  in  taste,  tiiat  what  he  thought  best  (ay  is  eiinced  by  to 
changes  on  the  text  of  Lucretius),  was  finequent^  destructive  of  tlie  poetical  idea, 
and  almost  of  the  sense  of  his  author. 

I  have  thought  it  right,  before  entering  into  detail  concerning  the  C9dicet  and 
editions  of  the  works  of  the  eaily  classics  mentioned  in  the  text,  biiefly  to  reniDd 
the  reader  of  the  general  circumstances  connected  with  the  loss  and  recovenr  ftf 
the  classical  MSS.  of  Rome,  and  to  recall  to  his  recoUection  d»e  names  of  a  few 
of  the  most  celebrated  commentators  in  Italv,  France,  HoHaod,  and  Gennaoj. 
This  will  render  the  following  Appendix,  in  which  there  must  be  constant  lefereoce 
to  the  discovery  of  MSS.  and  Ae  labours  of  commentators,  aoiKewhat  moie  d»- 
tiaet  and  per^cuous  than  I  could  otherwise  make  it. 


LIVIUS  ANDRONICCS.  NiEVIUS. 

The  fragments  of  these  old  writers  are  so  inconsiderable,  that  no  one  has  tfaeagiit 
of  editing  them  separately.  They  are  therefore  to  be  found  only  in  the  general  rol- 
lecti&ns  of  the  whole  Latin  poets ;  as  Maittaires  Opera  et  F^ragmenta  Feterm 
Potiarum  Xottnonim,  London,  1713.  2  Tom.  fo.,  (to  some  copies  of  wbicb  a 
new  title-page  has  been  printed,  bearing  the  date.  Hag.  Comit.  1721 ;)  or  in  tlie  col- 
lections of  the  Latin  tragic  poets,  a^  Delrio^s  Syntai^ui  TYagetdia  Latmmt  Pan^i 
1620,  and  Scriveiius  CalUcUmea  Veterum  2Vi^on»m,  Li^.  fiat  liOO.  it  b 
otherwise  with 

ENNIUS, 

of  whose  writings,  as  we  hare  seen,  more  copious  fragments  remain  than  fiem  dMK 
of  his  predecessors.    The  whole  works  of  Uiis  poet  were  extant  in  the  time  of  Caf- 
fliodorus;  but  no  copy  of  them  has  since  appeared.    The  fragments,  however, 
found  in  Cicero,  Macrobius,  and  the  old  grammarians,  are  so  coniddeiable,  diat  (b«K 
luuve  been  frequently  collected  together,  and  largely  commented  on.    They  weie 
first  printed  in  Stephen's  Frof^mtnta  Veterum  Poetarum  Latmantm,  but  ^^ 
any  proper  conneetien  or  criticism.    Ludovicus  Vivos  had  intended  to  collect  and 
arrange  them,  as  we  are  informed  in  one  of  his  notes  to  St  Augustine,  Ik  Ctn* 
fate  Dei :  But  this  task  he  did  not  live  to  accomplish  f.    The  first  peisoD  iHio 
arranged  these  scattered  fragments,  united  diom  together,  and  classed  dieD  ^^ 
the  books  to  which  they  belonged,  was  Hier.  CoGimna.    He  adopted  die  orttw- 
napby  which,  from  a  study  of  the  ancient  Roman  monuments  and  iufcriptioQS,  M 
found  to  be  that  of  the  Ladn  language  in  the  age  of  Ennius.    He  likewise  *dd^U 
commentary,  and  prefixed  a  life  of  the  poet*    The  edition  which  he  bad  dnis  foj? 
prepared,  was  first  published  at  Naples  in  1590,  four  years  after  his  death,  by  ■* 
0on  Joannes  Columna}-    This  EdUio  Prineeps  of  Ennius  is  veiy  lare,  but  if  f 
reprinted  under  the  care  of  Pr.  Hesselius  at  Amsterdam  in  1707. '  To  die  oiieinu 
commentary  of  Cohirona  there  are  added  the  annotations  on  Ennius  which  1^ 
been  inserted  in  Delrio  and  Scriveritis'  collection  of  die  Latin  tragic  pset^,*  aod 
HesseRus  himself  supplied  a  very  complete  hidex   yerbomm.     The  anc^ 
authors,  who  quote  lines  from  Ennius,  sometimes  mention  the  book  of  the  .^M^> 
or  the  name  of  the  tragedy  to  which  they  belonged,  but  sometimes  this  iafonDaflon 
is  omitted.    The  arrangement,  therefore,  of  the  verses  of  tlie  latter  deseiipti« 
(which  are  marked  with  an  asterisk  in  (^olumna's  edition),  aod  indeed  the  |h<^ 
collocation  of  the  whole,  is  in  a  great  measure  eoiyectural.    Accordii^f  ^^  '^ 


*  Evelyn's  Memoir$  and  Correwp.  Vol.  U.  p.  178^  Seond  ed. 
t  Morhoff,  Polyhiator.  Lib.  IV.  c.  IL 
4  Tbuanos,  BUU  Ub.  LX,XXIV. 


J 


APPENDIX.  tl 

iSkat  the  order  of  tiie  lines  in  the  edition  of  Paulus  Morula  I0  veiy  difierent  from 
that  adopted  by  Coiumna.  Hie  materially  for  Morula's  edition,  which  coinprehendft 
only  the  AwnaU  of  Knnius,  had  already  been  collected  and  prepared  at  the  time 
when  Columna's  was  first  given  to  the  world.  Morula,  however,  conceived  that 
while  the  great  object  of  Uolumna  had  been  to  compare  and  contrast  the  lines  of 
£nniu5  With  those  of  other  heroic  poets,  he  himself  had  been  more  happy  in  the 
arrangement  of  the  verses,  and  the  restoradon  of  the  ancient  orthography,  which  ie 
much  more  antiquated  in  the  edition  of  Morula  than  in  that  of  CoTumna.  He  had 
alM>  discovered  so'me  fragments  of  the  AnnaU^  unknown  to  Coiumna,  in  the  MS. 
of  a  work  of  L.  Calp.  Plso,  a  writer  of  the  a^  of  Trajan,  entitled  De  ContinentiA 
Veierum  Poetarumy  and  preserved  in  the  hbrary  of  St  Victor  at  Paris.  In  these 
circumstances.  Morula  was  not  deterred  by  the  appearance  of  the  edition  of  Co- 
iumna, from  proceeding  with  his  own,  which  at  length  came  forth  at  Leyden  in  tho 
2 ear  1596.  The  same  sort  of  discrepance  which  exists  between  Coiumna  and 
Eerula's  arrangement  of  the  Annals,  appears  in  the  collocation  of  the  IVagic  Fragm 
ment»  adopted  by  Coiumna,  and  that  which  has  been  preferred  by  Delno,  in  us 
Syniagma  TVagadia  IxUina, 

H.  Planck  published  at  Gottingen,  in  1807,  the  fragments  of  Ennius's  tragedy  of 
Medea,  These  comprehend  all  the  verses  belonging  to  this  drama,  collected  by 
Coiumna,  and  some  newly  extncted  by  the  editor  from  old  grammarians.  The 
whole  are  compared  with  the  parallel  passages  in  the  Medea  of  Euripides.  Two 
dissertations  are  prefixed ;  one  on  the  Origin  and  Nature  of  Tragedy  among  the 
Roinana;  and  the  other,  on  the  qnestion,  whether  Ennius  wrote  two  tragedies,  or 
only  a  single  tragedy,  entitled  Medea.  A  commentary  is  also  supplied,  In  which, 
M  Fuhrmann  remarks,  one  finds  many  things,  but  not  much : — *^  Man  findet  in 
demselben  imiita.  aber  nicht  muUum*** 

Some  fine  passages  of  the  fragmenti  of  Ennius  have  been  filled  up,  and  the  old 
readings  corrected,  by  the  recent  discovery  of  the  work  De  RepuhlieS^  of  Cicero, 
who  is  always  quoting  from  the  ancient  poets.  Thus  the  passage  in  the  Annals, 
where  the  Roman  people  are  described  as  lamenting  the  death  of  Romulus,  standf 
thus  in  Colomna's  edition  :— 


"  O  Remote,  Romole,  die  6 
Quatem  to  patrie  custodem  dii  genuerunt, 
Tu  produxisti  nos  intra  luminis  eras, 
O  pater,  6  genitor,  6  sanguen  diis  oriundum." 

Hiia  fragment  may  be  now  supplied,  and  the  verses  arranged  and  coneeled,  from 
Am  quotation  in  the  first  book  Jie  HejmbUeA — 

**  Pectora  pie  tenet  desiderium ;  simul  inter 
Sese  sic  memorant — ^O  Romule,  Romule  die^ 
Qualem  to  patria  custodem  di  genuerunt, 
O  pater,  0  genitor,  0  sanguen  dis  oriundum ! 
Tu  produxisti  nos  intra  luminis  eras.*' 


*> 


The  fragments  of  the  Annals  of  Ennius,  as  tiie  text  is  arranged  by  Mendn,  have 
been  trandated  into  Italian  by  Bernardo  Philippini,  and  published  at  Rome  in  1069, 
along  with  hia  PoMte.    I  know  of  no  other  translations  of  these  fragments. 


PLAUTU8. 

Hiere  can  be  no  doubt  Htmt  even  the  oldest  MS8.  of  Phutus  Were  earty  comipt- 
ed  by  transcribers,  and  varied  essentisJly  from  each  other.  Varro,  in  his  book  De 
AnaUfgia,  ascribes  some  phrase  of  which  he  did  not  approve,  in  the  Trueuienius, 
to  the  negligence  of  copyists.  The  Latin  comedies,  written  in  the  age  of  Plaotus, 
were  designed  to  be  represented  on  the  stsge,  and  not  to  be  read  at  home.    It  it 


*  Bimdinich  der  CtotmeA,  LUtenOm,  T.  lU.  ^  81. 


2i  APPENDIX. 

therefore,  probable,  that,  during  the  rei^  of  the  Republic  at  least,  thero  were  fev 
copies  of  Plaulus't  plays,  except  those  delivered  to  the  actors.    The  divnas  were 

Snerally  purchased  by  the  JSdUes,  (or  the  purpose  of  amusiof^  the  people  durinc 
e  celebntion  of  certain  festivals.  As  soon  as  me  poet* s  agieement  was  eoneliidei 
with  the  i£dile,he  lost  his' right  of  property  in  the  play,  and  frequently  all  cooceni 
fa  its  success.  It  seems  probable,  therefore,  that  even  during  the  life  of  iba 
author,  these  magistiates,  or  censors  employed  by  them,  altered  &e  verses  at  tfack 
ovm  discretion,  or  sent  the  comedy  for  alteration  to  the  author :  But  there  is  am 
doubt  that,  after  hb  death,  the  actors  changed  and  modelled  the  piece  aeeording  to 
their  own  fancy,  or  the  prevailing  taste  of  the  public,  just  as  Cibber  and  Gamdk 
wrought  on  the  plays  of  Shakspeare.  Hence  new  prologues,  adapted  to  cIkub- 
stances,  were  prefixed — whole  verses  were  suppressed,  and  lines  propeilT  beioag- 
ine  to  one  play,  were  often  transferred  to  another.  This  corruption  af  MSS.  is 
sufficiently  evinced  1]^  the  circumstance,  that  the  most  ancient  grammartaBs  fce- 

auently  cite  verses  as  from  a  play  of  Plautus,  which  can  now  noloneer  be  (band  in 
le  drama  quoted.  Thus,  a  line  cited  by  Festus  and  Servius,  from  me  Miie9t  does 
not  appear  in  any  MSS.  or  ancient  edition  of  that  comedy,  though,  in  the  BMie 
recent  impressions,  it  has  been  inserted  in  what  was  Judged  to  be  its  proper  piaee*. 
Farther — Plautus,  and  indeed  the  old  Latin  writers  in  general,  were  much  cuiiupted 
by  transcribers  in  the  middle  ages,  who  were  not  fully  acquainted  with  the  varia- 
tions which  had  taken  place  in  the  language,  and  to  whom  the  Latin  of  the  age  of 
Conntantine  was  more  fruniliar  than  that  of  the  Scipios.  They  were  oliea 
puz7lc(l  and  confrised  by  finding  a  letter,  as  c,  for  example,  inttodoced  into  a  wtad 
which  they  had  been  accustomed  to  spell  with  a  g,  and  they  not  uafreqoently  wese 
totally  ignorant  of  the  import  or  signification  of  ancient  words.  In  a  fragment  of 
Turpilius,  a  character  in  one  of  the  comedies  says,  "  Qui  mea  verba  venatur  pestis 
arcedat ;"  now,  the  transcriber  being  ignorant  of  the  verb  orcedot,  wioCe  arw  €tdai^ 
which  converts  the  passage  into  nonsensef* 

The  comedies  of  Plautus  are  frequently  cited  by  writers  of  the  fourteentfi  eentnry, 
particularly  by  Petrarch,  who  mentions  the  amusement  which  he  had  derived  from 
the  CatinaX.  Previous,  however,  to  the  time  of  Pogno,  only  eight  of  them  were 
known,  and  we  consequently  find  that  the  old  MSS.  m  the  fourteenth  centmy  jmt 
contain  eight  comedie^.  By  means,  however,  of  Nicolas  of  Treves,  whom  IHig- 
gio  had  employed  to  search  the  monasteries  of  Germany,  twelve  more  were  disco- 
vered. The  plays  thus  brought  to  light  were  the  BaecmdeB,  ^Men^cAmi,  Afotlel- 
iariayMUe$  Olorionu,  Mercator,  PseudoluB,  PontiJUB,  Persa,  Rudens,  Stiekus^ 
Trinummua,  TVuculenhu.  As  soon  as  Pogdo  heard  of  this  valuable  uid  impor- 
tant discovery,  he  urged  the  Cardinal  Ursim  to  despatch  a  special  messenger,  ia 
order  to  convey  the  treasure  in  safety  to  Rome.  His  instances,  however,  were  net 
attended  to,  and  the  MSS.  of  the  comedies  did  not  arrive  till  two  years  afterwards, 
in  the  year  1428,  under  the  chaige  of  Nicolas  of  Treves  himselflf.  They  were  anzed 
by  the  Cardinal  immediately  after  they  had  been  brought  to  Italy.  This  proceeding 
Poggio  highly  resented  ;  and  having  in  vain  solicited  their  restoration,  he  accused 
Ursini  of  attempting  to  make  it  be  believed  that  Plautus  had  been  recovered  by  his 
exertions,  and  at  his  own  expenselT.  At  length,  by  the  intervention  of  Loroizo, 
tiie  brother  of  Cosmo  de  Medici,  the  Cardinal  was  persuaded  to  intrust  the  predois 
volume  to  Niccolo  Niccoli,  who  got  it  carefully  transcribed.  Niccolo,  however* 
detained  it  at  Florence  long  after  the  copy  from  it  had  been  made ;  and  we  find  his 
friend  Ambrosio  of  Camaldoli  using  the  roost  earnest  entreaties  on  the  part  of  the 
Cat'Unal  for  its  restitution. — f*  Cardinalis  Ursinus  Plautum  suum  recipere  eu^.  Non 
video  quam  ob  causam,  Plautum  illi  restituere  non  debeas,  quern  olitn  tnnseripsisti. 
Oro,  ut  amicissimo  homini  geiutur  mos^f."  The  original  MS.  was  at  length  re- 
stored to  the  Cardinal,  after  whose  death  it  fell  into  the  possession  of  Loruno  de 
Medici,  and  thus  came  to  form  a  part  of  the  Medicean  library.    The  copy  taken  by 


*  Osannus,  AnaUcta  Critiea,  c.  8.  f  ^^'  <^  Plautum,  ed.  Larabiai. 

I  EpiaL  FamU,  Lib.  V. 

$  Bandini,  Catalog,  Cod,  Lot.  Bibkotheea  Medieea-'Laurentiagutt  Ton.  IL 
p.  243,  &c. 

II  Mehus,  Pre/,  ad  Epitt  Amhros.  Camdldul,  p.  41.  T  IMd. 
«t  Jimlnroi.  Camaldul.  EpUU  Lib.  VUL  £p.  81. 


\ 


APPENDIX.  23 

Niccolo  NieeoH  was  traDsferred,  on  his  decease,  along  with  his  other  books,  to  the 
convent  of  St  Mark. 

From  a  transcript  of  this  copy,  which  contained  the  twelve  newly-recovered 
plays,  and  from  MSS.  of  the  otner  eight  eofaediea,  which  were  more  common  and 
current,  Georgius  Morula,  the  disciple  of  Filelfo,  and  one  of  the  g^reatest  Latm  scholars 
of  the  age,  formed  the  first  edition  of  the  plays  of  Plautus,  which  was  printed  by  J. 
de  Colonia  and  Yindelin  de  Spira,  at  Venice,  1472,  folio,  and  reprinted  in  1482  at 
Trevisa.     It  would  appear  that  Morula  had  not  enjoyed  direct  access  to  the  original 
MS.  brought  from  Germany,  or  to  the  copy  deposited  in  the  Marcian  library ;  for 
be  says,  in  his  dedication  to  the  Bishop  of  Pavia,  <*  that  there  was  but  one  MS.  of 
Plauius,  from  which,  as  an  archetype,  all  the  copies  which  could  be  procured  were 
derived  ;  and  if,  by  any  means,"  he  continues,  "  I  could  have  laid  my  hands  on  it,  the 
Baedades,  MosteUaria,  MeruBchmi,  Miles,  and  Mereator,  might  have  been  ren- 
dered more  correct ;  for  the  copies  of  these  comedies,  taken  from  the  orional  MS., 
had  been  much  corrupted  in  successive  transcriptions ;  but  the  copies  I  nave  pro- 
cured of  the  last  seven  comedies  have  not  been  so  much  tampered  with  by  the  cri- 
tics, and  therefore  will  be  found  more  accurate."    Morula  then  compares  his  toll,  in 
amending  the  coirupt  text,  to  the  labours  of  Hercules.  His  edition  has  usually  been 
accounted  the  ediiio  prineeps  of  Plautus ;  but  I  think  it  is  clear,  that  at  least  eight 
of  the  comedies  had  been  printed  previously :  Harles  informs  us,  that  Morelli,  in 
one  of  his  letters,  had  thus  written  to  him :— «<  There  is  an  edition  of  Plautus  which 
I  think  equally  ancient  with  the  Venetian  one  of  1472;  it  is  sine  uUd  not&,  and 
bas  neither  numerals,  signatures,  nor  catch-woids.     It  contains  the  following 
play*?:  AmphUryo,  Jlsinaria,  AtUulana,  CapHoit  Cureulio,  Casina,  CisteUaria, 
JEpidieus*."    Now,  it  wiU  be  remarked,  that  these  were  the  eight  comedies  current 
in  Italy  before  the  important  discovery  of  the  remaining  twelve,  made  by  Nicholas 
of  Treves,  in  Germany;  and  the  presumption  is,  that  they  were  printed  previous  to 
the  date  of  the  edition  of  Morula,  because  by  that  time  the  newly-recovered  com- 
edies havmg  got  into  circulation,  it  is  not  likely  that  any  editor  would  have  given  to 
the  world  an  unperfect  edition  of  only  eight  comedies,  when  the  whole  dramas  were 
accessible,  and  had  excited  so  much  interest  in  the  mind  of  the  public. 

Eusebius  Scutarius,  a  scholar  of  Morula,  look  charge  of  an  edition,  which  was 
amended  from  that  of  hia  master,  and  was  printed  in  1490,  Milan,  folio,  and  reprin- 
ted at  Venice  1495. 

In  1499,  an  edition  was  brought  out  at  Venice,  by  the  united  labour  of  Petrus 
Valla,  and  Bernard  Saracenus.  To  tiiese,  succeeded  the  edition  of  Jo.  Bapt.  Pius, 
at  Milan,  1600,  with  a  preface  by  PhiUip  Beroald.  Taubman  says,  that  "omnes 
■editiones  mangonum  manus  esse  passas  ex  quo  Saracenus  et  Pius  regnum  et  tyian- 
Didera  in  literw  habuere."  In  the  Strasburg  impression,  1608,  the  text  of  Scutari 
has  been  followed,  and  about  the  same  time  there  were  several  reprints  of  the  edi- 
tions of  Valla  and  Pius. 

The  edition  of  Charpentier,  in  1518,  was  prepared  from  a  collation  of  different 
editions,  as  the  editor  had  no  MSS. ;  .but  the  editions  of  Pius  and  Saracenus  were 
chiefly  employed.  Charpentier  has  prefixed  arguments,  and  has  divided  the  lines 
better  than  any  of  his  predecessors ;  and  he  has  also  arranged  the  scenes,  particu- 
larly those  of  the  Mostellaria,  to  greater  advantage. 

Few  Latin  classics  have  been  more  corrupted  man  Plautus,  by  those  who  wished 
to  amend  his  text.  In  all  the  editions  which  had  hitherto  appeared,  the  perversions 
were  chiefly  occasioned  by  the  anxiety  of  the  editors  to  bend  his  tines  to  the  sup- 
posed laws  of  metre.  Nic.  Angelius,  who  superintended  an  edition  printed  by  the 
Giunta  at  Florence,  1614,  was  the  first  who  observed  that  the  corruptions  had  arisen 
from  a  desire  "  ad  implendos  pedum  numeros."  He  accordingly  uirew  out,  in  his 
edition,  all  the  words  which  had  been  unauthorixedly  inserted  to  fill  up  the  verses. 
From  some  MSS.  which  had  not  hitherto  been  consulted,  he  added  several  pro- 
logues to  the  plays ;  and  al$to  the  commencement  of  the  first  act  of  the  Bacchides, 
which  Lascaris,  in  one  of  his  letters  to  Cardinal  Bembo,  says  he  had  himself  found 
at  Messina,  in  Sicily.  These,  however,  though  they  have  been  inserted  into  all 
subsequent  editions  of  Plautu.<9,  are  evidently  written  by  a  more  modem  hand  than 
&at  of  Plautus.    Two  editions  were  superintended  and  printed  by  the  Manutii, 


^  Harles,  Buppkment.  ad  JVot  lAUtaX,  Bom,  Tcm,  II.  p.  4SS. 


24  APPENDIX- 

15U  tad  Ifttt;  thfttin  1522,  (bougb  prepared  by  F.  Am&uamt  from  m  MS. 
rected  in  tbe  hand  of  the  elder  Aldus  and  Erasmus,  is  not  highly  haloed*.  Tve 
editions,  by  ^.  Stephens,  1629  and  1680,  were  formed  on  the  edition  of  tbe  Giimti, 
with  the  correction  of  a  few  errors.  These  were  followed  by  many  editions  in  Italy, 
Fnnce,  and  Germany,  some  of  which  were  merely  reimpiesaions,  but  othen  weie 
accompanied  with  new  and  leanoed  commentaries. 

To  no  one,  however,  has  Plautus  been  so  much  indebted  as  to  Camerarius,  whose 
teal  and  diiieence  were  such,  that  there  was  iwrarcely  a  verse  of  Plautus  which  did 
not  leceive  from  him  some  emendation.  In  1686,  there  had  appeared  at  Ma^elnii^ 
aix  comedies  r^ulularia,  Oc^fm,  MiU$  GlarionUt  Mefunhmi,  MosieUaruiy  TH- 
nummus,)  whicb  he  had  revised  and  commented  on,  but  which  were  published 
from  hii)  MS.  without  his  knowledge  or  authority.  Tbe  privilege  of  the  first  com- 
plete edition  printed  under  his  own  direction,  is  dated  in  1588. 

The  text  and  annotations  of  Cametarius  now  served  as  the  basis  for  moat  of  fht 
■uhsequent  editions.    The  Plantin  editions,  of  which  Sambucus  was  the  editor, 
which  were  printed  at  Antwerp  1666,  and  Basil  1668,  contain  the  notes  and 
tions  of  Camerarlus,  with  about  300  verses  more  than  any  preceding  impteseaon. 

Lambinus,  in  pveparins  the  Paris  edition,  1677,  collated  a  number  of  MSS.  and 
amassed  many  passages  torn  the  ancient  mmmarians.  He  only  lived,  howevn*,  t» 
complete  thirteen  of  the  comedies ;  but  hb  colleague,  Helias,  put  the  fimriunc:  hand 
to  the  work,  and  added  an  index,  after  vrhich  it  came  forth  with  a  pre&tocy  &dlca- 
tlon  by  Lambinus's  son.  On  this  edition,  (in  which  great  critical  learning  and 
sagacity,  especially  in  the  discovery  of  double  entendret,  were  exhibited,)  the  sob- 
sequent  impressions,  Leyden,  1681t,  Geneva,  1681,  and  Paris  1687,  were  chiefly 
formed. 

Lambinus,  in  preparing  his  edition,  had  chiefly  trusted  to  his  own  ingenuity  and 
learning.    Taubman,  the  next  editor  of  Plautus  of  any  note,  compiled  tl^  commea- 
tarie«  of  others.    The  text  of  Camerarius  was  principally  employed  by  him,  hot  he 
collated  It  with  two  MSS.  in  the  Palatine  library,  which  had  once  belonged  to  Ca- 
merariu* ;  and  he  received  the  valuable  assistance  of  Giuteius,  who  was  at  that 
time  keeper  of  the  library  at  Heidelberg.    Newly -discovered  fiagmenis— -the  va- 
rious opinions  of  ancient  and  modem  wnters  concerning  Plautus — a  copious  mdex 
verborum — a  preface — a  dedication  to  the  triumvirs  of  Uterature  of  the  day,  Joseph 
Scaliger,  Justus  Lipsius,  and  Casaubon — in  short,  every  species  of  Kteraiy  apparatni 
accompanied  the  edition  of  Taubman,  which  first  appeared  at  Franldbrt  in  1606.  It 
was  very  inaccurately  printed,  however ;  so  incorrectly  indeed,  that  the  editor,  in  a  let- 
ter addressed  to  Jungerman,in  September  1606,  acknowledges  that  he  was  ariiamed 
of  it.    Phifip  Parens,  who  had  lone  been  pursuing  similar  studies  with  those  of  Taub- 
man, embraced  the  opportunity,  afibrded  by  the  inaccuracy  of  this  edition,  of  pobBjIi- 
ing  in  Frankfort,  in  1610,  a  Plautus,which  was  professedly  the  rival  of  that  which  had 
been  produced  by  the  united  eAbrts  of  Taubman  and  Gruterus,  and  which  lad  not 
only  disappointed  the  expectations  of  flie  public,  but  of  Ae  learned  editors  them- 
selves.   Their  feelings  on  this  subject,  and  the  appotihon  Phmitis  edited  fay 
Parens,  stimulated  Taubman  to  give  an  amended  edition  of  his  former  one.    Tbii 
second  impression,  which  is  much  more  accurate  than  the  first,  was  printed  at  Witten- 
berg in  1612,  and  was  accompanied  with  the  dissertation  of  Cameraitus  De  JF^Mu 
Plautonitii,  and  that  of  Jul.  Scaliger,  De  VertUnu  ComieU.    Taubman  died  the 
year  after  the  appearance  of  this  edition :  Its  lame,  however,  survived  him,  and  not 
only  retrieved  his  character,  which  had  been  somewhat  sullied  by  the  bad  ink  and 
dirty  paper  of  the  former  edition,  but  completely  ecKpsed  the  clas^cal  reputation  of 
Pareus.     Envious  of  the  renown  of  his  rivals,  that  scholar  obtained  an  opportunity  of 
inspecting  the  MSS.  which  had  been  collated  by  Taubman  and  Grutetos.    These 
he  now  compared  more  minutely  than  his  predecessors  had  done,  and  publiabsd  the 
Aiuts  of  Ms  labour  at  Neustadt,  in  1617.    This  was  considered  as  derogftting  frosi 


*  Renouard,  Hut.  de  rhnprim.  des  Alde9,  Tom.  I  p.  162. 

t  Muretus,  in  a  letter  dated  about  this  time,  ( 1581,)  and  addressed  to  his  fiieod 
PauUus  Sacratus,  mentions,  in  the  strongest  terms  of  regret  and  resentment,  tint  t 
Plautus,  on  the  correction  and  emendation  of  which  he  had  bestowed  die  labour 
and  study  of  twenty-five  years  of  his  Jife,  had  been  stolen  from  him  by  SOflkO  pcosa 
whom  he  admitted  to  his  hbniy.    fj^^.  Lib.  Ul.  £p.  28.)  . 


APPENDIX.  26 

tl^e  accuracy  and  critical  ingenuity  of  Gruterus,  and  insulting  to  the  nianM  of  Tsub- 
snan. — **  Hinc  jurgium,  tumultus  Onitero  et  Pareo."    Giutenis  attacked  Pareus  in 
a  little  tract,  entitled  Asini  Cumam  fiatereubu  e  Plauio  elecUs  eleetus  per  £«•• 
ttUhium  Sehwarxiumpuerttm,  1619,  and  was  answered  by  Pareus  not  less  bitterly, 
in  hiit  Pravoeaiio  ad  Senatutn  Crilicmn  advenus  pertonatos   PareomasHtog. 
From  tbis  ttme  Pareus  and  Gruterus  continued  to  print  successive  editions  of  Plau- 
tus,  in  emulation  and  odium  of  eacb  other.    Gruterus  printed  one  at  Wittenberg  in 
1621,  with  a  prefatoiy  iuvective  against  Pareus,  and  with  the  EupMmim  amieomm 
in  PUnUum  Qruteri.  Pareus  then  attempted  to  surpass  his  rival,  by  comprehending 
in  his  edition  a  collection  of  literary  miscellanies — as  Bulleogerus*  description 
of  Greek  and  Roman  theatres.    At  length  Pareus  got  the  better  of  his  obstinate 
opponent,  in   the  only  way  in    which  that  was  possible — ^by  surviving  him ; 
he   then  enjoyed  an  opportunity  of  publishing,  unmolested,  his  last  edition  of 
Plautus,  printed  at  Frankfort,  1^1,  containing  a  Dissertation  on  the  Life  and 
VTritings  of  Plautus ;  the  Eulogies  pronounced  on  him ;  Remarics  on  his  Versifica- 
tion ;  a  diatribe  de  joeia  et  aaUbus  PUtutinia  ;  an  exhibition  of  his  imitations  from 
the  Greek  Poets ;  and,  finally,  the  Euphemia  of  Learned  Friends.     Being  now  re- 
lieved of  all  apprehensions  from  the  animadversions  of  Gruterus,  he  boldly  termed  his 
edition**  Ab^olutisfdmam,  perfectbsimam,  omnibusque  vlrtutibus  suis  omatissimam.*' 
I  have  now  brotight  the  history  of  this  notable  controversy  to  a  conclusion. 
During  its  subsistence,  various  other  editions  of  Plautus  had  been  published — that 
of  Isaac  Pontanus,  Amsterdam,  1620,  from  a  MS.  in  his  own  possession — that  of 
Nic.  Heinsius,  Leyden,  1636,  and  that  of  Buxhomius,  1645,  who  had  the  advantage 
of  consulting  a  copy  of  Plautus,  enriched  with  MS.  notes,  in  the  handwriting  of 
Joseph  Scaliger. 

Gronovius  at  length  published  tfie  edition  usually  called  the  Variorum.  Bent- 
ley,  in  his  critical  emendations  on  Menander,  speaks  with  great  contempt  of  the  notes- 
which  Gronovius  had  compiled.  The  first  Variorum  edition  was  printed  at  Leyden 
in  1664,  the  second  in  1669,  and  the  third,  which  is  accounted  the  best,  at  Am- 
sterdam, 1684. 

The  Delphin  edition  was  neariy  coeval  with  these  Variorum  editions,  having  been 
printed  at  Paris,  1679.  It  was  edited  under  care  of  Jacques  TCBuvre  or  Operarius, 
but  id  not  accounted  one  of  the  best  of  the  class  to  which  it  belongs.  The  text 
was  principally  formed  on  the  last  edition  of  Gruterus,  and  the  notes  of  Taubman 
were  chiefly  employed.  The  Prolegomena  on  the  Life  and  Writings  of  Plautus, 
is  derived  irom  various  sources,  and  is  very  copious.  None  of  the  old  commenta- 
tors could  publish  an  edition  of  Plautus,  without  indulging  in  a  dissertation  De  Ob" 
seanis.  In  every  Delphin  edition  of  the  classics  we  are  informed,  that  eonauUum 
est  pudori  Serenuaimi  Delpfntd ;  but  this  has  been  managed  in  various  wajrs. 
Sometimes  the  oflensive  lines  afe  allowed  to  remain,  but  the  interpretatio  is 
omitted,  and  in  its  place  star  lights  are  hung  out  alongside  of  the  passage :  but  in 
tile  Delphin  Plautus  they  are  concentrated  in  one  focus,  "  in  gratiamt*'  as  it  is 
expressed,  *^  provecHoria  atatia"  at  the  end  of  the  volume,  under  the  imposing 
tiUe  *<  PijiUTi  Obsccbic A :" 

**  And  there  we  have  them  all  at  one  full  swoop ; 

Instead  of  being  scattered  through  the  pages. 
They  stand  forth  manshalled  in  a  handsome  troop. 

To  meet  the  ingenuous  youth  of  future  ages. 
Till  some  less  rigid  editor  shall  stoop 

To  call  them  back  into  their  separate  cages ; 
Instead  of  standing  staring  all  together. 
Like  garden  gods,  and  not  so  decent  either*." 


What  is  termed  the  Emesti  edition  of  Plautus,  and  which  is  commonly  accounted 
the  best  of  that  poet,  was  printed  at  Leipsic,  1760.  It  was  chiefly  prepared  by 
Aug.  Otho,  but  Emesti  wrote  the  prefiuse,  containing  a  full  account  of  the  previous 
editions  of  Pteutns. 

The  two  editions  by  <he  Vulpii  were  printed  at  Padua,  1725  and  1764. 

The  text  of  the  second  Bipontine  edition,  1788,  was  corrected  by  Brunck.    The 


*2>on  Juan. 


26  APPENDIX. 

ptaa  of  the  Bipontioe  editfoni  of  the  Latin  classics  is  well  known.  Here  ae 
scarcely  any  annotations  or  commentary  subjoined ;  but  the  text  is  carefully  cor- 
rected, and  an  account  of  previous  editions  is  prefixed. 

In  the  late  edition  by  Schmieder  (Gottingen,  1804),  the  text  of  GroDovius  has 
been  principally  followed ;  but  the  editor  has  also  added  some  conjectural  emeoda^ 
tions  of  his  own.  The  commentary  appears  to  have  been  got  up  in  considerable 
haste.  The  preliminary  notices  concerning  the  Life  and  Writings  of  Plautns,  and 
the  previous  editions  of  his  works,  are  veiy  orief  and  unsatis&ctofy.  There  Is  yet  a 
more  recent  German  edition  by  Bothe,  which  has  been  published  in  volumea  fWm 
time  to  time  at  Berlin.  Two  MSS.  never  before  consulted,  and  which  the  editor 
believes  to  be  of  the  eleventh  or  twelfth  century,  were  collated  by  him.  His  prin- 
cipal aim  in  this  new  edition  is  to  restore  the  lines  of  Plautus  to  their  proper  metrical 
arrransement. 

Wiu  a  similar  view  of  restoring  the  proper  measure  to  die  verses,  various  editioni 
of  single  plays  of  Plautus  have,  within  these  few  years,  been  printed  in  Germany. 
Of  this  sort  is  the  edition  of  the  TVinummus,  by  Heimann  (Leipsic,  1800),  and  of 
the  AHle$  (Weimar,  1804),  by  Danz,  who  has  made  some  veiy  bold  alteratioos  on 
the  text  of  his  author. 

Italy  having  been  the  country  in  which  learning  first  revived, — in  which  the 
H8S.  of  the  Classics  were  first  discovered,  and  the  first  editions  of  them  printed, — 
it  was  naturally  to  be  expected,  that,  of  all  the  modem  tongues  of  Europe,  the 
classics  should  have  been  earliest  translated  into  the  Italian  language.  Accordingly 
we  find,  that  the  most  celebrated  and  popular  of  them  appeared  in  the  UnguA 
Volgare,  prerious  to  the  year  1600*. 

With  regard  to  Plautus,  Maflei  mentions,  as  the  first  translation  of  the  jSn^M' 
tryon,  a  work  in  ottava  rinuiy  printed  without  a  date.  This  work  was  longbdieved 
to  be  a  production  of  Boccacciof,  but  it  was  in  fact  written  by  Ghigo  Bnmelleschi, 
an  author  of  equal  or  superior  antiquity,  and  whose  initials  were  mistaken  for  those 
of  Giovanni  Boccaccio.  Though  spoken  of  by  Maffei  as  a  dramatic  version^  It  is  in 
ftct  a  tale  or  novel  founded  on  the  comedy  of  Plautus,  and  was  called  Geta  e  Btr- 
riaf.  Pandolfo  Colknuccio  was  the  first  who  translated  the  JSmphitrvon  in  its  pro- 
per dramatic  form,  and  terza  rima.  He  was  in  the  service  of  Hercules,  first  Didce 
of  Ferrara,  who  made  this  version  be  represented,  in  January,  1487,  in  the  splendid 
theatre  which  he  had  recently  built,  and  on  occasion  of  the  nuptials  of  his  daughter 
Lucretia.  The  Meneehmi,  partly  translated  in  ottiwa  and  partly  in  terza  rmia,  was 
the  first  piece  ever  acted  on  that  theatre.  The  Este  family  were  great  promoCeis 
of  these  versions ;  which,  though  not  printed  till  the  sixteenth  centuiy,  were  far 
the  most  part  made  and  represented  before  the  close  of  the  fifteenth.  Tbe  dra- 
matic taste  of  Duke  Hercules  descended  to  his  son  Alphonso,  by  whose  command 
Cello  Calca^ino  translated  the  MUea  Ohrio$us.  Paitoni  enumerates  four  difle- 
rent  translations  of  the  Jinnaria,  in  the  course  'of  the  sixteenth  centuiy,  one  of 
which  was  acted  in  the  monastery  of  St  Stephen's,  at  Venice. 

There  were  also  a  few  versions  of  particular  plays  in  the  course  of  the  eigkieettth 
century  ;  but  Paitoni,  whose  work  was  printed  in  1767,  mentions  no  complete  Itafian 
translation  of  Plautus,  nor  any  version  whatever  of  the  TVticuUntus^  or  TViummi 
mtts.  The  first  version  of  all  the  comedies  was  that  of  Nic.  Eug.  Aigelio,  whidi  ww 
accompanied  by  die  Latin  text,  and  was  printed  at  Naples,  1783,  in  10  volumes  flvo. 

The  subject  of  translation  was  eariy  attended  to  in  France,  In  the  year  1640,  a 
woik  containing  rules  for  it  was  published  by  Steph.  Dolet,  which  was  soon  fol- 
lowed by  similar  productions ;  and,  in  the  ensuing  century,  its  principles  became  a 
great  topic  of  controversy  among  critics  and  scholars.  Plautus,  however,  was  not 
one  of  the  classics  earliest  rendered.  Though  Terence  had  been  repeatedly  trans- 
lated while  the  language  was  ahnost  in  a  state  of  barbarism,  Phmtus  did  not  mear 
in  a  French  nrb,  till  clothed  m  it  by  the  Abb^  Marolles,  at  the  solicitation  of  FVne- 
Here,  in  1658.  The  Abb^,  being  more  anxious  to  write  numy  than  sood  books, 
eompleted  his  task  in  a  few  months,  and  wrote  as  the  sheets  were  throwing  ofil 
His  translation  b  dedicated  to  the  King,  Louis  XIV.,  and  is  accompanied  by  the 
Latin  text.    We  shall  find,  as  we  proceed,  that  almost  all  the  L^tin  autfaon  of  ttm 


•  Maflei,  TradvHori  naUani,  p.  8.  Ed.  Venez.  1720.  f  Ibid.  70. 

X  Paitoni,  BibUoteea  degU  avtor.  Lot.  VolgarUxati,  Toio.  IIL  p.  118. 


APPENDIX.  «7 

period  were  tnmslated  into  French  by  the  indefiitigable  Abb^  de  MaroHes.  He  was 
unfortunately  possessed  of  the  opulence  and  leisure  which  Providence  had  denied 
to  Plaulus,  Tere«jce,  and  Catullus ;  and  the  leisure  he  enjoyed  was  chiefly  devoted 
to  translation.  *' Translation,"  says  DMsraeli,  "was  the  mania  of  the  Ab.b^  de 
MaroUes ;  sometimes  two  or  three  classical  victims  in  a  season  were  dragged  into 
bis  slaughter-house.  The  notion  he  entertained  of  bis  translations  was  tteir.clote* 
ness;  he  was  not  aware  of  his  own  spiritless  style,  and  he  imagined  that  poetry 
only  consisted  in  the  thoughts,  and  not  in  the  grace  and  harmony  of  verse*.'' 

De  Coste's  translation  oFthe  Captwif  in  prose,  1716,  has  been  already  mentioned. 
This  author  was  not  in  the  same  hunv  as  Marolles,  for  he  kept  his  version  ten 
years  before  he  printed  it.  He  has  prefixed  a  Dissertation,  in  which  he  maintains^ 
that  Plautus,  in  this  comedy,  has  rigidly  observed  the  draniatic  unities  of  tune  and 
place. 

Had.  Dacier  has  tivQslated  the  Jimphitryon,  Ruden^,  and  Epidietu.  Her  ver- 
sion, which  is  accompanied  by  the  Latin  text,  and  is  dedicated  to  Colbert,  was  first 
printed  1683.  An  exanunation  of  the  defects  and  beauties  of  these  comedies,  par- 
ticularly in  respect  of  the  dramatic  unities,  is  prefixed,  and  remarics  by  no  means 
deficient  in  learning  are  subjoined.  Some  changes  from  the  printed  Latin  editions 
are  made  in  the  arrangement  of  the  scenes.  In  her  dissertation  on  the  Epidieu$, 
which  was  a  favourite  play  of  Plautus  himself.  Mad.  Dacier  attempts  to  justify  this 
preference  of  the  poet,  and  wishes  indeed  to  persuade  us,  that  it  is  a  faultless  pro- 
duction. Goujet  remarks  that  one  is  not  very  forcibly  struck  with  all  the  various 
beauties  which  she  enumerates  in  perusing  tue  original,  and  still  less  sensible  of 
tbem  in  reading  her  translation. 

M.  de  Limiers,  who  published  a  version  of  the  ^hole  plays  of  Plautus  in  1719» 
bas  not  rendered  anew  those  which  had  been  translated  by  Mad.  Dacier  and  by  De 
Coste,  but  has  inserted  their  versions  in  his  woiic.  These  are  greatly  better  thaik 
&e  odiers,  which  are  translated  by  Limiers  himself.  All  of  them  are  in  prose,  ex- 
cept the  8tiehu8  and  lYinummuB,  which  the  author 'has  turned  into  verse,  in 
order  to  give  a  specimen  of  his  poetic  talents.  In  the  versifications,  he  has 
placed  himself  under  the  needless  restraint  of  rendering  each  Latin  tine  by  only  one 
in  French,  so  that  there  should  not  be  a  verse  mpre  in  me  translation  than  the  ongi- 
Bal ;  the  consequence  of  which  is,  that  the  whole  is  constrained  and  obscure.  £X' 
eminations  and  analyses  of  each  piece,  expositions  o(  the  plots,  with  notices  of  Plau- 
tus* imitations  of  the  ancient  writers,  and  those  of  the  modems  after  him,  are  inserted 
in  this  work. 

in  the  same  year  in  which  Limiers  published  his  version,  Gueudeville  brought  out 
a  translation  of  Plautus.  It  is  a  very  free  one ;  and  Goujet  says,  it  is  "  Plaute  tra* 
vest],  plutot  que  traduit."  He  attempts  to  make  iiis  origmal  more  burlesque  by  ex- 
aggerations; and  by  singular  hyperbolical  expressions;  the  obsecma  are  a  good 
deal  enhanced ;  and  he  has  at  the  end  formed  a  sort  of  table,  or  index,  of  the  obscene 
passages,  referring  to  their  proper  page,  which  may  thus  be  found  without  perusing 
any  other  part  of  the  drama.  The  professed  object  of  the  table  is,  that  the  reader 
may  pass  them  over  if  he  choose. 

A  contemporary  journal,  comparing  the  two  translations,  observes, — <<  11  fllemble 
que  M.  Limiers  s'attache  davantage  a  son  original,  et  qu'il  en  fait  mieux  sentirle 
veritable  carect^re ;  et  que  le  Sieur  Gueudeville  est  plus  hadin,  plus  vif,  plus  bouf- 
Ibnf."    Fabricius  passes  on  them  nearly  the  same  judgment  J. 

The  EfigHsh  were  early  acquainted  with  the  plays  of  Plautus.  It  appears  from 
Holinshed,  that  in  the  eleventh  year  of  Kins  Henry  VIII. — that  is,  in  1520— « 
comedy  of  Plautus  was  played  before  the  Kingf  .  We  are  informed  by  Miss  Aikin, 
in4ier  Memoirs  of  the  Court  of  Elizabeth^  that  when  that  Queen  visited  Cambridge 
in  1664,  she  went  on  a  Sunday  morning  to  King's  Chapel,  to  hear  a  Latin  sermon, 
ad  elerum  ;  "  and  in  the  evening,  the  body  of  this*  solemn  edifice  being  converted 
Snto  a  temporary  theatre,  she  was  there  gratified  with  a  representation  of  tiie  Atkf 
hiUma  of  Plautus||."  It  has  been  mentioned  in  the  text,  that,  in  1696,  there  ap- 
peared a  translation  of  the  MeruBcHmi  of  Plautus,  by  W.  W.^lnitials  which  have 


*  CuriosiHeB  of  IMeratwre^yol.  I.  New  series. 

\  Journal  Historique*  Amsterdam,  1719.  i  Bib.  Laf.  Lib.  I.  c.  1.  §'t. 

Prtf.  to  Johnson  and  Steevens'  Shakmeitre,  p.  96.  8d  Ed. 

Vol.  I.  p.  870. 

V<WL.  II 4 


} 


28  APPENDIX. 

mieftfly  been  topposed  to  ttand  for  WUliam  Waner,  author  of  AOnan*B  JBngiaad. 
In  1694,  Echard  published  a  prose  translation  of  the  three  comedies  which  had  beea 
■elected  by  Mad.  Dacier — ^the  Amphitryon,  Epidicus,  and  Rvdeiu.  It  is  obvious, 
however,  that  he  has  more  frequently  translated  from  the  French,  than  finom  h» 
original  author.  His  style,  besides,  is  coarse  aiSd  inelegant ;  and,  while  he  aims  at 
being  familiar,  he  is  commonly  low  and  vulgar.  Some  passages  of  the  jSn^hiiryem 
he  has  transUted  in  the  coarsest  dialogue  of  the  streets :— -"  By  the  macldns,  I  be- 
lieve Phcebus  has  been  playing  the  rckkI  fellow,  and's  asleep  too !  I*U  be  hanged  i 
he  ben't  in  for't,  and  has  took  a  litUe  too  much  of  the  creature."  in  every  pate, 
also,  we  find  the  most  incongruous  jumble  of  ancient  and  of  modem  manners,  lie 
talks  of  the  Lord  Chief  JusUce  of  Athens,  of  bridewell,  and  aldermen ;  and  mike^ 
his  heathen  characters  swear  British  and  Christian  oaths,  such  as,  *'  By  die  Laid 
Harry ! — ^*Fore  George ! — 'Tisas  true  as  the  Gospel !" 

In  the  year  1746,  Thomas'Cooke,  the  well-known  translator  o£  Hesiod,  pubiulied 
proposals  for  a  complete  translation  of  Plautus,but  he  printed  only  the  JbmAiby9H, 
Dr  Johnson  has  told,  that  Cooke  lived  twenty  years  on  ih^  traislation  of  Plautns, 
Sot  which  he  was  always  taking  in  subscriptions*. 

In  imitation  of  Colman,  who,  in  his  Terence,  had  introduced  a  new  and  eiegant 
mode  of  translation  in  familiar  blank  verte,  Mr  Thornton,  in  1667,  published  a  ver- 
aion  of  seven  of  the  plays  after  the  same  maimer, — b^mpAitryon,  MUcm  Gioriotiut^ 
Captivij  TVintHTifNiis,  Mereaior,  Aulularia,  Budens.  Of  these,  the  translacion  of 
the  Mercator  was  furnished  by  Cohnan,  and  that  of  the  Copttrt  by  Mr  Warner. 
Thornton  intended  to  have  translated  the  remaining  diirteen,  but  was  prevented  by 
death.  The  work,  however,  was  continued  by  Mr.  Warner,  who  had  translaCed  the 
Capiiffi.  To  both  versions,  there  were  subjoined  remarks,  chiefly  collected  from  die 
best  commentators,  and  from  tbe  notes  of  the  French  translators  of  Plautue. 


T£RENCE. 

The  MSS.  of  Terence  which  were  coeval  with  the  age  of  the  author,  or  diortly 
posterior  to  it,  were  corrupted  from' the  same  cause  as  the  MSS.  of  Plautus.  Varro 
says,  that,  in  his  time,  the  copies  of  Terence  then  existing  were  extremely  corrupt 
He  is,  however,  one  of  the  classics  whose  works  cannot  property  be  said  to  have 
been  discovered  at  the  revival  of  literature,  as,  in  fact,  his  comedies  never  were  lost. 
They  were  commented  on,  during  tfie  later  ages  of  the  empire,  by  i£mllius  Aqper, 
Valerius  Probus,  Martins  Salutaris,  Flavius  Caper,  and  Helenius  Aero ;  and  towaida 
tlie  end  of  the  fifth  century,  Rufinus  wrote  a  diatribe  on  the  metres  of  Terence. 
Sulpicius  Apollinaris,  a  grammarian  of  the  second  century,  composed  arguments  to 
the  plays,  and  uEUus  Donatus  commented  on  them  in  the  fourth  century.  The  per- 
son styling  himself  Calllopius,  revised  and  amended,  in  the  eighth  century,  a  MS. 
which  was  long  preserved  in  the  Vatican.  Eugraphius  commented  on  Terence, 
again,  in  the  tenth,  and  Calpuniius  in  the  middle  or  the  fifteenth  century.  Guini- 
forte  delivered  lectures  on  Terence  at  Novarra  in  1430,  and  Filelfo  at  Florence  about 
the  siime  period f.  Petrarch,  too,  when  Leontius  PUatus,  disgusted  with  Italy,  re- 
turned to  hU  native  country,  gave  him  a  copy  of  Terence  as  his  travelling  com- 
panion,— a  foolish  present,  as  Petrarch  adds,  for  there  is  no  resemblance  between 
the  most  gloomy  of  all  the  Greeks,  and  the  most  lively  of  the  Africans.  As  Petruch 
at  this  time  seems  to  have  cordiaJly  disliked  Leontius,  it  is  not  probable  that  the 
copy  of  Terence  he  gave  him  was  very  scarce.  All  this  shows,  that  the  six  plajrs  of 
Terence  were  not  merely  extant,  but  very  common  in  Italy,  during  the  daric  a^es. 
One  of  the  oldest  MSS.  of  Terence,  and  that  which  was  probably  used  in  the  ear- 
liest printed  editions,  was  preserved  in  the  Vatican  library :  Fabricius  has  described 
it  as  written  by  Hrodogarius  in  the  time  of  Charlemagne,  and  as  revised  by  CaUio- 
pius^.  Another  MS.  of  Jerence  in  the  Vatican  library,  is  one  which,  in  the  six- 
teenth century,  had  fallen  into  the  possession  of  Cardinal  Bembo.  It  had  been 
revised  by  PoIitian§,  who  wrote  on  it,  in  his  own  hand,  that  he  had  never  seen  one 


\ 


*  BosweU's  Tkfur  to  the  Hebrides, 

t  Ginguen^  Hist.  LU.  d^JtaUe,  Tom.  II.  p.  290. 

X  Bib,  Lot,  Lib.  I.  c.  8.  §  4.  .  §  PoUt.  Spist. 


APPENDIX.  29 

more  andont :— *<  Ego,  Angeku  PoHUamis,  homo  yetostatis  minime  ineariosus, 
nulkim  me  vidisse,  ad  banc  diem,  codicem  vetuatiorem  iateor.'*  Its  age,  when 
Fabiicius  wrote,  in  1698,  was,  as  that  author  testifies, -more  than  a  thousand  years, 
'Which  places  its  transcription  at  the  latest  in  698.  In  this  MS.  there  is  a  division  of 
verses  which  is  not  employed  in  that  above  mentioned,  wiitten  by  Hrodogarius. 
PoUtian  corrected  from  it,  with  his  own  hand,  a  copy  which  was  in  the  Laurentian 
libraiy,  and  collated  with  it  another,  which  subsequently  belonged  to  Petrus  Victo- 
rius.  Ailer  the  death  of  Cardinal  Bembo,  this  ancient  MS.  came  into  the  possession 
of  Fulvius  Ursinus,  and  was  by  him  bequeathed  to  the  Vatican  library*. 

There  is  much  uncertainty  with  re^d  to  the  EdUio  Prineepa  of  Terence,  and, 
indeed,  with  regard  to  most  of  the  editions  of  his  works  which  appeared  during  the 
lifteenUi  century.  That  printed  by  Mentelin  at  Strasburg,  without  date,  but  sup- 
posed to  be  1468,  seems  now  to  be  considered  as  having  the  best  claims  to  priorityt> 
The  Terence  printed  by  Pynson  in  1497,  was,  I  believe,  t])e  first  Latin  classic  pub- 
lished in  this  countiy.  The  earliest  editions  of  Terence  are  without  any  separation 
of  verses,  the  division  of  them  having  been  first  introduced  in  the  edition  of  1487* 
according  to  the  arrangement  made  by  PoKtian  from  Cardinal  Bembo's  copy./ 
Westerhovius,  in  the  prolegomena  to  his  edition,  1726,  enumerates  ^oot  fewer  thaii 
248  editions  of  Terence  previous  to  his  time.  Though  the  presses  of  the  Aldi 
(1517—21),  the  Stephenses  (1629—52,  &c.),  and  the  Elzevirs  (1635),  were  suc- 
cessively employed  in  these  editions,  the  text  of  Terence  does  not  seem  to  have 
engaged  the  attention  of  any  of  the  most  eminent  scholars  or  critics  of  the  sixteenth 
and  seventeenth  centuries,  with  the  exception  of  Muretus.  The  edition  of  Faernus» 
(Florence,  1565,)  for  which  various  valuable  MSS.  were  collated,  became  the 
foundation  of  almost  all  subsequent  impressions,  particularly  that  of  Westerhovius, 
which  is  usually  accounted  the  best  edition  of  Terence.  It  is  nevertheless  declared, 
by  Mr  Dibdin,  '*  to  be  more  admirable  for  elaborate  care  and  research,  than  the 
exhibition  of  any  critical  niceties  in  the  constnic^on  of  the  text,  or  the  illustration 
of  difficult  passages."  It  contains  the  Commentaries  of  Donatus,  Calpumius,  and 
Eugraphitis,  and  there  are  prefixed  the  Life  of  Terence,  attributed  to  Suetonius,-— 
a  dissertation  of  D.  Heinsius,  Ad  HoratH  de  Plauto  et  TWerUio /u(iiefum,'-£van- 
thius,  De  Traffadi&  et  Conuedi&y — and  a  treatise,  compiled  by  the  editor  from  the 
best  authorities,  concerning  the  scenic  representations  of  the  Romans. 

Bentfey's  first  edition  of  Tercace  was  printed  at  Cambridge  in  the  same  year 
with  that  of  Westerhovius.  One  of  Bentley's  great  objects  was  the  reformation  of 
the  metres  of  Terence,  concerning  which  he  prefixed  a  learned  dissertation.  The 
boldness  of  his  altetations  on  the  text,  which  were  in  a  peat  measure  calculated  to 
serve  this  purpose,  drew  down  on  him,  in  his  own  age,  tne  appellation  of  **  slashing 
Bentley,"  and  repeated  castigation  from  subsequent  editors. 

Of  ttie  more  recent  editions,  that  of  Zeunius  (Leipsic,  1774)  is  deservedly  ac- 
counted the  best  in  point  of  cr(pcal  excellence.  There  are,  however,  three  German 
editions  still  more  recent;  that  by  Schmeider,  (Halle,  1794,)  by  Bothe,  (Magde- 
burg, 1806,)  and  by  Periet,  (Leipsic,  1821 ;)  which  last  is  chiefly  remarkable  for  its 
great  number  of  typographical  errors — about  as  numerous  as  those  in  one  of  the  old 
English  Pecarl  Bibles. 

• 

The  plays  of  Terence  being  much  less  numerous  than  those  of  Plautus,  transla* 
tions  of  the  whole  of  them  appeared  at  an  earlier  period,  both  in  Italian  and  French. 
The  iifst  complete  HaUan  translation  of  Terence  was  in  prose.  It  is  dedicated  to 
Benedetto  Curtio,  by  a  person  calling  himself  Borgofranco ;  but  from  the  ambiguity 
of  some  expressions  in  this  dedication,  there  has  been  a  dispute,  whether  be  be 
the  author,  or  only  the  editor  of  the  version — Fontanini  supporting  the  former,  and 
Apostplo  Zeno  the  latter  proposition^.  It  wa9  first  printed  at  Venice,  1533 ;  and 
Paitoni  enumerates  six  subsequent  editions  of  it  in  the  course  of  the  sixteenth 
century.  The  next  versioii  was  that  of  Giovanni  Fabrini,  which,  as  we  learn  by 
the  title,  is  rendered  word  for  word  from  the  original ;  it  was  printed  at  Venice, 


*  Banduu,  Catalog.  Sib.  Med.  Laurent,  p.  264.    Hawkin's  inquiry  into  Lat. 
Poet.  p.  200. 
t  Dibdin,  BihUotheca  Speneeriana,  Tom.  II. 
i  Minerva,  o  GionuU.  de  Letter.  d'ltaL 


8«  APPENDIX. 


1548.    A  third  prose  truMbtion,  puUuhed  at  Rome,  191B,  u  dedieetod  to  Urn 

Cardinal  Borghese  by  the  printer  Zanetti,  who  mentions,  that  it  was  the  work  oC 
an  unknown  author,  which  had  fidten  accidentally  into  his  hands :  FoQtaniid«  bow- 
ever,  and  Apost  Zeno,  have  long  since  discovered,  that  the  author  was  called 
Ciistoforo  Rosario.    Cresdmbeni  speaks  favourably  of  a  version  by  the  MarchioD- 
ess  of  Malespini.    Andthei  lady,  Luisa  Bersalli,  had  translated  in  •erai'  Bciait^, 
and  printed  separately,  some  of  the  plays  of  Terence :  These  she  collected,  «nd« 
having  completed  the  remainder,  published  them  together  at  Venice,  in  178S.     !■ 
1786,  a  splendid  edition  of  a  poetical  translation  of  Terence,  and  accompuiied  bjf 
tike  Latin,  was  printed  at  Urhino,  with  figures  ofthe  actors,  tidren  from  e  MS.  pie- 
aerved  in  the  Vatican.    It  is  written  in  eerso  sctotto,  eicept  die  prologaee,  which 
are  in  efrst  tdrucciolu    The  author,  who  was  Nioholas  Fortiguerra,  and  who  dwi 
hefore  his  veraion  was  printed,  says,  that  the  comedies  are  nunc  pnmmm  BaUa9 
verninu  rtdditm*  ;  but  in  this  he  had  not  been  sufficiently  informcSl,  as  hie  t( 
was  preceded  by  that  of  Luisa  Bergalli,  and  by  many  separate  translatioDs  of 
Individual  play.    A  translation  of  two  of  Terence's  plays,  the  Andria  and    ~ 
ehui,  into  verti  $druceu>Ut  by  Giustiano  de  Candia,  was  printed  by  Paultus 
lius  in  1544t.    Three  of  Terence's  plays,  the  Andria,  Etmuekut,  and  fieotrfeia- 
HmofumenoM,  were  subsequently  translated  in  verti  BdrucdoU,  by  the  Abb^ 
BeUaviti,  and  published  at  Bassan  in  1768. 

It  is  not  certain  who  was  die  author  of  the  firet  French  translation  of  Terence,  or 
even  at  what  period  he  existed.  Du  Verdier  and  Fabricius  say,  he  vras  Octavlen 
de  Saint  Gelais,  Bishop  of  Angouleme,  who  lived  in  the  reign  of  Charles  VIU, 
Hiis,  however,  is  doubtful,  since  Pierre  Grosnet,  a  French  poet,  contemporary  mStk 
the  Bishop,  while  mentioning  the  other  classics  which  he  bad  translated,  says 
nothing  of  any  yersion  of  Terence  by  him,  but  expressly  mentiotis  one  by  GiUieB 
CybUe— 

'*  Maistie  Gilles  nomm^  CybUe, 
n  s'est  montr^  tres-fort  habile : 
'  Car  il  a  tout  traduit  Thereoce 
Ou  il  y  a  tnainte  sentence^." 

The  autHor,  whoever  he  may  be,  mentions,  that  the  translation  was  made  by  order 
of  the  King ;  but  he  does  not  specify  by  vrfaich  of  the  French  monarchs  tibe  com- 
mand was  eiven.  His  work  was  firet  printed,  but  without  date,  by  Anthony  Va- 
rard,  so  well  known  as  the  printer  of  some  of  the  earliest  romances  of  chivalry ;  and 
as  Verard  died  in  1520,  it  must  have  been  printed  before  that  date6.  It  is  in  one 
Tolume  folio,  ornamented  widi  figures  in  wo<^-cut8,  and  is  entitled,  Le  Grdmi 
Therence  en  Frangoi$,  tant  en  rime  qu*en  prose,  aoecques  le  Laim.  As  tins 
title  imports,  there  is  both  a  prose  and  verse  translation ;  and  the  Latin  text  is  like- 
wise given.*  it  is  difficult  to  say  which  of  the  translations  is  wocst;  that  in  vetse, 
which  is  in  lines  of  eight  syllables,  is  sometimes  almost  unintelligible,  and  the  vaxte- 
tion  of  masculine  and  feminine  rhjrmes,  is  scarcely  ever  attended  to. 

The  translation,  printed  1583,  with  the  Latin  text,  and  of  which  the  author  it 
likewise  unknown,  is  little  superior  to  that  by  which  it  was  preceded.  Beauchamp, 
in  his  RecherchcB  aw  lee  T%eatre»  de  France,  mentions  two  other  tran^tions  of 
the  sixteenth  century— one  in  1566,  the  other  in  1584.  The  fint  by  Jean  Bomber, 
is  in  prose — ^tiie  second  is  in  rhyme,  and  is  translated  verse  for  verse.  Mad.  Dader 
includes  all  the  versions  of  the  sixteenth  century  in  one  general  censure,  only  ex-* 
eeptine  that  of  the  Eunuch  by  Baif,  printed  167S,  m  \da  Jeux  po&iquee.  It  is  in 
fines  of  eight  and  ten  syllables,  and  was  undertaken  by  order  of^.  Queen  Catharine, 
mother  of  Charles  IX.  Mad.  Dacier  pronounces  it  to  be  a  good  translation,  except 
•that,  in  about  twenty  passages,  tiie  sense  of  the  original  author  lias  been  mistdccn. 
Jt  is  remarked  by  Goijet»  in  his  BibUotiieque  FrangaiBe,  that  if  Mad.  Dacier  had 


*  ArgeTati,  BibKoteea  de  Vol^arixtAtwi,  Tom.  IV.  p.  44.. 
t  Renouard,  Htsf.  de  Vhnpnm,  de$  Aides,  Tom.  I. 

iDe  la  lottange  des  bons  faetetirs  en  JRime. 
Sulzer,  Theorie  der  Sehanen  ^Fissenseh.  Terenz. 


APPENDIX.     ^  31 

« 

'been  aeonahited  with  the-  Jindrian,  by  Bonaventure  dte  Penien,  printed  in  1637, 
she  woiud  have  made  an  exception  in  favour  of  it  also.  Bonaventure  was  the  valet 
of  Margaret,  Queen  of  Navarre,  and  after  her  death  the  editor  of  her  tales,  and  him- 
self die  au^r  of  a  collection  in  a  similar  taste.  He  wrote  at  a  time  when  the 
French  language  was  at  its  higliest  perfection,  being  purified  torn  the  coarseness 
"which  appeared  in  the  romances  of  cbivaliy,  and  yet  retaining  that  energy  and  sim- 
plicityv  which  it  in  a  great  measure  lost,  soon  after  the  accession  of  the  Bourbons. 
Tliis  version  was  one  of  Bonaventure's  first  productions,  as,  in  the  ^via  aux  LeC' 
tewrst  he  says,  **  Que  c'etait  son  apprentissage :"  he  intended  to  have  translated 
the  whole  plays  of  Terence,  but  was  prevented  by  his  tragical  death.  The  same 
comedy  chosen  by  Bonaventure  des  Perrieis,  was  translate  into  prose  by  Charles 
Stephens,  brother  of  the  celebrated  printers. 

The  Abb^  MaroUes  has  succeeded  no  better  in  hb  translation  of  Terence,  than 
in  that  of  Plautus.  We  recognize  in  it  the  same  heaviness — the  same  want  of  ele- 
sance  and  fidelity  to  the  original.  Chapelain  remarks,  **  Que  ce  traducteur  etoit 
rAntipode  du  bon  sens,  et  qu*il  s^eloignoit  partout  de  I'tntelligence  des  auteurs  qui 
avoient  le  malheur  de  passer  par  ses  mains.'*  His  translation  appeared  in  1659,  in 
two  volumes  8vo,  accompanied  by  remarks,  in  the  same  taste  as  those  with  which 
he  had  loaded  his  Plautus.  * 

About  tills  period,  the  Gentlemen  of  the  Port-Royal,  in  France,  paid  considerable 
attenrion  to  the  education  of  youth,  and  to  the  cultivation  of  classical  learning.  M. 
de  Sacy,  a  distinguished  member  of  that  religious  association,  and  well  known  in  his 
day  as  the  author  of  the  Heures  de  Port'Eoyal,  translated  into  pirose  the  Andria, 
Adelptd,  and  Pharmio*.  This  version,  which  he  printed  in  1647,  under  the  as- 
sumed name  of  M.  de  Saint-Aubin,  is  much  praised  in  the  Pamaase  Reformat  and 
the  Jugemens  des  S^vans,  There  were  many  subsequent  editions  of  it,  and  some 
even  after  the  appearance  of  the  translation  by  Mad.  Oader.  The  version  of  the 
other  three  comedies,  by  the  Sieur  de  Martignac,  was  intended,  and'annoiipced  as 
a  supplement,  or  continuation  of  the  work  oiM .  de  Sacy. 

It  stitl  remains  for  me  to  mention  the  translation  of  Terence  by  Mad.  Dacier. 
This  lady  was  advised  against  the  undertaking  by  her  friends,  but  she  was  deter- 
mined to  perseveref.  She  rose  at  five  o'cIock  every  morning,  during  a  whole  win- 
ter, in  the  course  of  which  she  completed  four  comedies ;  but  having  perused  them 
at  the  end  of  some  months,  she  thought  them  too  much  laboured  and  deficient  in 
ease.  She  therefore  threw  them  into  the  fire,  and,  with  more  moderation,  recom- 
menced her  labour,  which  she  at  length  completed,  with  satisfaction  to  herself  and 
the  public.  Her  translation  was  printed  in  1688,  S  vols.  12mo,  accompanied  with 
the  Latin  text,  a  preface,  a  life  of  the  poet,  and  remarks  on  each  of  his 
pieces.  She  has  not  entered,  as  in  her  translations  of  Plautus,  into  a  partictdar  ez- 
aniination  of  every  scene,  but  has  contented  herself  witti  some  general  observations. 
This  lady. has  also  made  considerable  changes  as  to  the  commencement  and  termina- 
tion of  the  scenes  and  acts ;  and  her  conjectures  dn  these  points  are  said  to  have 
been  afterwards  confirmed  by  an  authoritative  ^d  excellent  MS.,  discovered  in  the 
Sibliotheque  de  jRoi|.  The  first  edition  was  improved  on,  in  one  subsequently 
printed  at  Rotterdam  in  1717,  which  was  also  ornamented  with  figures  firom  two 
MSS.  There  is  yet  a  more  recent  translation  by.  Le  Monnier,  1771,  which  is  now 
accounted  the  best. 

The  first  translation  which  appeared  in  this  country,  and  which  is  entitled 
«  Terence  in  Englysh,"  is  without  date,  but  is  supposed  to  have  been  printed  in 
1520.  It  was  followed  by  Bernard's  translation,  1598 — HooIe's,.1670->Echard's, 
1694 — and  Dr  Patrick's,  1745.  All  these  prose  versions-are  flat  and  obsolete,  and 
in  many  places  un&ithful  to  their  oiigina].  At  length  Colman  published  a  transla* 
tlon  in  fiuniliar  blank  verse,  in  which  he  has  succeeded  extremely  well.  He  has 
seldom  mistaken  the  sense  of  his  author,  and  has  frequently  attained  to  his  polished 
ease  of  style  and  manner.  The  notes,  which  have  been  Judiciously  selected  from 
former  commentatois,  with  some  obctfgrvations  of  his  own,  form  a  valuable  part  of  the 
worJK. 


*  BaiDet,  Jagemena  dee  agaeans.  f  «^<*n*  de  2Veoot£r,  1721. 

t  Geujet  W.  Fran.  Tom.  IV.  p.  488» 


32  APPENDIX. 


•      LUCILIUS. 

F.  Douza  WZM  the  first  who  collected  the  fragmentB  of  this  tatin^c  poet,  and 
formed  them  into  a  eento.  Havins  shewH  bis  MS.  and  notes  to  Joseph  Scalieer,  be 
wait  encouraged  to  print  fliem,  and  an  edition  accordingly  came  forth  at  Lejraeo,  in 
1697.  It  soon,  however,  became  very  scarce.  A  single  copy  of  it  was  accid^nta^ 
discovered  by  Vulpius,  in  one  of  the  principal  public  uoraries  of  Italy ;  but,  owing  Co 
the  place  which  it  had  occupied,  it  had  been  so  destroyed  by  constant  eaves-drop* 
pine  from  the  roof  of  the  house,  that  when  he  laid  his  hands  on  it,  it  was  ecare^ 
legible.  Having  restored,  however,  and  amended  the  text  as  far  as  posuUe,  be  le- 
piinted  it  at  Padua  in  1735. 


LUCRETIUS. 

The  work  of  Lucretius,  like  the  iCneid  of  Virsil,  had  not  received  the  fini^un^ 
hand  of  its  author,  at  the  period  of  his  death.  The  tradition  that  Cicero  revised  it, 
and  gave  it  to  the  public,  does  not  rest  on  any  authority  more  ancient  than  chat  of 
Eusebius ;  and,  had  the  story  been  true,  it  would  probably  have  been  meDtiooed  in 
some  part  of  Cicero's  voluminous  writings,  or  tiiose  of  the  eariy  critics.  Eichstadt* , 
while  he  denies  the  revisal  by  Cicero,  is  of  opinion  that  it  had  been  corrected  by  socne 
critic  or  grammarian ;  and  that  thus  two  MSS.,  differing  in  many  respects  from  each 
other,  had  descended  to  posterity — the  one  as  it  came  fh>m  the  hand  of  the  poec, 
and  the  other  as  amended  by  the  reviser.  This  he  attempts  to  prove  from  the 
great  inequality  of  the  language — ^now  obsolete  and  rugged — ^now  pofished  and 
refined-^which  difTercnce  can  only,  he  thinks,  be  accounted  for^  from  the 
original  and  corrected  copies  having  been  mixed  together  in  some  of  those 
middle-a^  transcriptions,  on  which  the  first  printed  editions  were  formed.  Hie  oM 
grammarians,  too,  he  alleges,  frequently  quote  verses  of  Lucretius,  which  no  loogper 
compose  parts  of  his  poem,  and  which  therefore  must  have  been  altogether  omitted 
by  the  corrector ;  and,  finally,  the  readings  in  the  different  MSS.  are  so  widely  dif- 
ferent, that  it  is  incredible  that  the  variations  could  have  proceeded  from  the  tran- 
scribers or  interpolators,  and  could  have  been  occasioned  only  by  the  author  or  re- 
viter  of  the  poem. 

But  though  not  completely  polished  by  the  author,  there  is  no  ground  for  the 
conjecture,  that  the  poem  ever  consisted  of  more  than  the  present  six  books— ^n 
opinion  which  seems  to  have  originated  in  an  orthographical  error,  and  which  b 
contradictory  to  the  very  words  of  the  poet  himself.f 

The  work  of  Lucretius  does  not  appear  to  have  been  popular  at  Rome,  and  die 
MSS.  of  it  were  probably  not  very  numerous  in  the  latter  ages  of  the  empire,  his 
quoted  by  Raban  Maur,  Abbot  of'^Fulda,  in  his  book  De  CThieersol,  which  was  writ- 
ten in  the  ninth  century.  The  copies  of  it,  however,  seem  to  have  totally  disappeared, 
previous  to  the  revival  of  Hterature ;  but  at  length  Poggio  Bracdolini,  while  attend- 
ing the  Council  of  Constance,  whither  he  repaired  in  1414,  discovered  a  MS.  in 
the  monastery  of  St  Gal,  about  twenty  miles  from  that  city§.  It  is  from  the  fol- 
lowing lines,  in  a  Latin  elegy,  by  Cristoforo  Landini,  on  the  death  of  this  celebrated 
ornament  of  his  age,  that  we  learn  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  the  first  of  philoso- 
phic poems.    Landini,  recording  the  discoveries  of  his  friend,  exclaims — 

*'  lUius  manu,  nobis,  doctissime  rhetor. 

Integer  in  Latium,  Qumtiiiane,  redis ; 
£t  te.  Lucre ti,  longo  post  tempore,  tandem 

Civibus  et  Patrie  reddit  habere  tuse' 


» 


Posgio  sent  the  newly-discovered  treasure  to  Niccolo  NiccoU,  who  kept  the  ori- 
ginal MS.  fourteen  years.    Poggio  earnestly  demanded  it  back,  and  at  leng;di  ob- 


•  De  Vit,  et  Cartn.  Lneret.  Prdif, 

t  See  Good's  Lueretiu$,  Pref.  p.  99.    Eichstadt,  De  Pit.  ^c,  Lucret.  p.  65. 

t  Lib.  XV.  c.  2.  §  Barbari,  EpUL  I.  ad  Pogghtm. 


APPENDIX.  33 

tained  it ;  biit  befote  it  was  restored,  Niccoli  made  firom  it,  with  his  own  hand,  a 
tranacript,  which  \a  still  extant  in  the  Laurentian  libraiy*. 

The  edition  published  at  Verona,  1486,  which  is  not  a  very  correct  one,  was  long 
accounted  the  EdUio  Princeps  of  Lucretius.  A  more  ancient  impression,  however, 
printed  at  Brescia,  1473,  has  recently  become  known  to  Mbliographeis.  It  was 
edited  by  Ferrandus  from  a  single  MS.  copy,  which  was  the  only  one  he  could 
procure.  But  though  he  had  not  the  advantage  «f  collating  different  MSS.,  the 
edition  is  still  considered  valuable,  for  its  accuracy  and  exceUent  readings.  There 
au«,  I  believe,  only  three  copies  of  it  now  extant,  two  of  which  are  at  present  in 
England,  l^he  text  of  Lucretius  was  much  corrupted  in  the  subsequent  editions  of 
the  fifleenth  century,  and  even  in  that  of  Aldus,  published  at  Venice  in  1500,  of 
vrhich  Avancius  .was  the  editor,  and  which  was  the  first  Latin  classic  printed  by 
Aldus t*  This  was  partly  occasioned  by  the  second  edition  of  1486  beine  unfortu- 
nately chosen  as  the  basis  of  all  of  them,  instead  of  the  prior  and  prefeiable  edition, 
printed  at  Brescia.  In  a  few,  but  very  few  readings,  Uie  second  edition  has  im^ 
proved  on  the  first,  as,  for  example,  in  the  beautiful  description  of  the  helplessness' 
af  a  new-bom  infant — 

"  Navita,  nudus  humi  jacet  in&ns,  indigui  omni 
Vitatt  auxilio,"— — 

where  the  Bresdan  edition  reads  wdigntis,  instead  oiindigus.  And  again,  in  the 
fifth  book— 

"  Nee  poterat  quenquam  placidi  pelkicia  ponti, 
Subdola  ptUictrt  in  fiaudem,  ridentibus  undis,** 

where  the  Bresdan  edition  reads  poUiceret  instead  of  peUieere,  which  seems  to  be 
wrong.  At  lenetfa  Baptists  Pius,  by  aid  of  some  emendations  of  his  preceptor, 
Philippus  Beroaldus,  to  which  he  had  access,  and  by  a  laborious  collation  of  MSS., 
succeeded  in  a  great  measure  in  restoring  the  depraved  text  of  his  author  to  its 
original  purity.  His  edition,  printed  at  Bologna  in  1611,  and  the  two  Aldine 
editions,  pubUshed  in  1515,  under  the  superintendence  of  Nevagero,  who  was  a 
much  better  editor  than  Avancius,  continued  to  be  regarded  as  those  of  highest  autho- 
rity til)  1563,  when  Lambinus  printed  at  Paris  an  edition,  prepared  from  9ie  collation 
of  five  original  MSS.,  and  all  the  previous  editions  of  any  note,  except  the  first 
and  second,  which  seem  to  have  been  unknown  to  him.  The  text,  as  he  boasts  in 
the  pre&ce,  was  corrected  in  800  different  places,  and  was  accompanied  by  a  very 
ample  commentary.  ,  Lambinus  was  succeeded  by  Gifanius,  who  was  more  a 
grammarian  than  an  acute  or  tastefiil  critic.  He  amassed  together,  withopt  dis- 
crimination, the  notes  and  conjectures  on  Lucretius,  of  idl  the  scholars  of  ftus  own 
and  the  preceding  aee.  Douza,  in  a  set  of  satirical  verses,  accused  him  of  having 
appropriated  and  published  in  his  edition,  without  acknowledgment,  some  writings 
of  L.  Fruterius,  which  had  been  committed  to  him  on  death-bed,  in  order  to  be 
printed.  His  chief  merit  lies  in  what  relates  to  grammatical  interpretation,  and  the 
explanation  of  andent  customs,  and  in  a  more  ample  collection  of  parallel  passages 
than  had  hitherto  been  made.  The  editions  of  D.  Pareus,  (Frankfort,  1681,)  and 
of  Nardius,  (Florence,  1647,)  were  not  better  than  tiiat  of  Gifanius ;  and  the  Dolphin 
edition  of  Lucretius,  by  M.  Le  Fay,  has  long  beenlcnown  as  the  very  worst  of  tike 
class  to  which  it  belongs.  "  Note  ejus,"  says  Fabricius,  "  plenae  .sunt  pudendis 
hatludnationibus."  Indeed,  so  much  ashamed  of  it  were  his  colleagues,  and  those 
who  directed  this  great  undertaking  of  the  Delphin  dassics,  that  they  attempted^ 
though  unsuccessmlly,  to  suppress  it. 

Nearly  a  century  and  a  half  had  elapsed,  from  the  first  publication  of  the  edition 
of  Lambinus,  without  a  tolerable  new  impression  of  Lucretius  being  offered  to  the 
public,  when  Creech,  better  known  as  the  translator  of  Lucretius,  printed,  in  1695,  a 
LaUn  edition  of  the  poet,  to  whose  elucidation  he  had  devoted  his  life.  His  study 
ef  the  Epicurean  system,  and  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  works  of  Gassendi, 


*  Mehus,  Praf.  ad  Ejrist,  Atnbroi,  Camaldul.  p.  88. 
\  R^nouard,  ^nnaks  de  rjmprimene  des  Mdta,  Ten.  I. 


I 


34  APPENDIX. 

ftiBy  qualified  him  for  iSoie  phOoiophie  UhiftiatioD  of  his  favourite  author.  On  Hi* 
whole,  however,  Havercamp's  editioo,  Leydea,  1726,  is  the  best  which  has  yet  m^ 
peared  of  Lucrettiu.  It  was  prepared  from  the  collation  of  twenty-five  MSS  ,  as 
well  as  of  the  most  ancient  editions,  and  contained  not  only  die  whole  annolatMma 
of  Creech  and  Lambinus,  but  also  some  notes  of  Isaac  Voasius,  whidi  had  noc  pce- 
'Vidiisly  been  printed.  The  prefaces  of  the  most  important  editioas  are  prefizieA; 
and  the  only  nult  which  has  been  found  with  it  is,  that  in  his  new  readings  the  • 
tor  has  sometimes  injured  die  harmony  of  tfie  verification.  Lucretius  certainly 
not  be  considered  as  one  of  the  classics  who  have  been  most  fortunate  in  their  < 
tors  and  conunentators.  In  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  he  biled  to 
obtain  the  care  of  the  most  pre-eminent  critics  of  the  age,  and  was  thus  left  to  ifae 
conjectures  of  second-rate  scholars.  It  was  his  lot  to  be  assigned  to  the  moot  igno- 
rant and  barbarous  of  the  Delphin  editors ;  and  his  catastrophe  has  beea  compieietf 
by  faliiog  into  the  hands  of  Wakefield,  whose  edition  is  one  of  (he  most  iiyiitficioaa 
and  tasteless  that  overissued  from  the  press.  In  preparing  this  vrorit,  whidi  is  dedi- 
cated to  Mr  Fox,  the  editor  had  the  use  of  several  MSS.  in  tlie  Univerai^  e€Camr 
bridge  and  the  British  Museum ;  and  also  some  MS.  notes  of  Bentley,  found  in  a 
copy  of  a  printed  edition,  which  originally  belonaed  to  Dr  Mead.  In  his  piefiuce. 
he  expresses  himself  with  much  asperity  against  Mr  Cumberiand,  for  widihoft^iiK 
from  mm  some  other  MS.  notes  of  Bentiey,  which  were  in  his  possessioo.  It  would 
have  been  fortunate  for  him  if  he  had  never  seen  any  of  Bentley's  annotatkms,  since 
many  of  his  worst  readings  are  derived  from  that  source.  By  an  assiduous  pemsal  of 
JdSS.  and  the  old  editions,  he  has  restored  as  much  of  tlie  aircient  Latin  ottbqgnphy, 
as  renders  the  perusal  of  the  poet  irksome,  though,  by  his  own  confeasion,  he  Ins  not  n 
this  been  uniform  and  consistent ;  and  he-has  most  laboriously  amassed,  particiihilj 
firom  Virgil,  a  multitude  of  supposed  pandlel  passages,  many  of  which  have  little 
resemblance  to  the  lines  with  which  they-  are  compved.  The  long  Latin  poem,  ad- 
dressed to  Fox,  lamenting  the  horrors  of  war,  does  not  compensate  for  the  vety 
brief  and  unsatisfactoiy  notices,  as  to  every  thing  that  regards  the  life  and  wriliDgs 
of  the  poet,  and  the  previous  editions  of  his  works.  The  comroentaiy  is  dull,  be- 
yond the  proverbial  dulness  of  commentaries ;  and  wherever  there  was  a  disputed  oc 
doubtfril  reading,  that  one  is  generally  selected*  which  is  most  tame  and  unnean- 
ing — ^most  grating  to  the  es^r,  and  most  foreign,  both  to  the  spirit  of  the  poet,  and  of 
poetry  in  general.  I  shall  just  select  one  instance  from  each  book,  as  an  example  of 
the  manner  in  which  the  finest  lines  have  been  utterly  destroyed  by  the  alteiafion  of 
a  single  word,  or  even  letter,  and  I  shall  choose  such  passages  as  are  fiunifiar  to  eveiy 
one.  in  bis  magnificent  eulogy  of  Epicurus,  in  the  mat  Iraok,  Lucretius,  in  adrniz^ 
tion  of  the  enlightened  boldness  of  that  philosopher,  described  htm  as  one— 

**  Quern  neque  fama  Deum,  nee  folmina,  nee  minitanti 
Murmure  compressit  c<Blum." 

The  expression  Fama  De6m  implies,  that  Epicurus  could  not  be  reatraioed  by  that 
imposing  character,  with  which  deep-rooted  prejudice,  and  fiie  authority  of  foble, 
had  invested  the  gods  of  Olympus — a  thought  highly  poetical,  and  at  the  same  tisse 
panesyrical  of  the  mighty  mind  which  had  disregarded  all  this  superstitious  reoown. 
But  Wakefield,  by  the  alteration  of  a  single  letter,  atrips  ttie  passage  both  of  its 
sense  and  poetry---he  reads, 

• 

*'  Quern  neqaefdna  DeCLm,  nee  fuhnina,  nee  minitanti/* 

which  imports  that  the  determined  mind  of  Epicurus  could  not  be  controlled  by  the 
temples  of  the  gods,  which,  if  it  has  any  meaning  at  all,  is  one  moot  filgid  and 
puerile.  This  innovation,  which  the  editor  calls,  in  the  note,  egregiam  emendgH/h 
nem,  is  not  supported,  as  fiir  as  he  informs  us,  by  the  authority  of  any  ancient  MS. 
or  edition  whatever,  but  it  was  so  written  on  the  margin  of  the  copy  of  Locretias, 
which  had  belonged  to  Bentley,  where  it  was  placeo,  as  Wakefield  admits,  nvtif 
aseripta  ^t  indrfen$a.  In  file  second  book,  Lucretius  i?aintainin|r  limt  abwaca  ef 
splendour  is  no  diminution  of  happineas,  aaya, 


APPENDIX.  38 

**  Si  wan  aurea  font  juvenum  siinulacrft  per  edes,  &e. 

*  «  •  *  •  . 

Nee  cithane  reboant  laqueata  aurataque  tecta." 

Bat  Wakefield,  instead  of  teeta,  reads  templa,  and  justifies  his  reading,  not  <m  the 
authority  of  any  ancient  MSS.,  but  by  showing  that  iempla  is  used  for  tecta  by 
some  authors^  and  applied  to  private  dwellings!  The  third  book  commences  very 
spiritedly  with  an  eulogy  of  Epicurus : 

"  £  tenebris  tantis  tarn  clarum  extollere  lumen 
Qui  primus  potuisti,  illustrans  commoda  vitae, 
Te  s^quor,  O  Graiee  gentis  decus !" 

This'sudden  and  beautiiid  apostrophe  is  weakened  and  destroyed  by  a  change  to 

'*  0  tenebris  tantis  tam  clarum  extollere  lumen." 

The  lines  are  rendered  worse  by  the  interjection  being  duis  twice  repeated  in  th6 
course  of  three  verses.  In  the  fourth  book,  Lucretius,  alluding  to  the  merits  of  hjm 
own  work,  says, 

"  Deinde,  quod  obacura  de  le  tam  lucida  pango 
Carmina,  Museo  contingens  concta  lepore." 

Here  the  word  pango  presents  us  with  the  image  of  the  poet  at  his  lyre,  pouring 
forth  his  mellifluous  verses,  and  it  has  besides,  in  its  sound,  something  of  the  twang 
of  a  musical  instrument.*  Wakefield,  however,  has  changed  the  word  into  pando, 
which  reminds  us  only  of  transcription  and  publication.  Lucretius,  in  book  fifth, 
assigns  as  the  reason  why  mankind  supposed  that  the  abode  of  the  gods  was  in  heaven, 

"  Per  coelum  volvi  quia  noz  et  luna  videtur» 
Lima,  dies,  et  nox,  et  noctis  dgna  serena  /*' 

This  last  word  Wakefield  has  changed  into  sepera,  which  greatty  impairs  the  beauty 
of  the  line.  JVhcHs  tigna  $erena,  are  the  stan  and  planets ;  but  if  instead  of  these 
be  substituted  the  ngna  aeverot  tiie  passage  becomes  tautological,  for  the  s^gna 
tevera  are  introduced  immediately  afterwards  in  the  line  ' 

"Nocitivageque  (aces  coeli  flammeque  volantes.'* 

I  have  only  selected  passages  where  Wakefield  has  departed  firom  the  usual 
readings,  without  support  fiom  any  ancient  edition  or  authoritative  MS.  whatever. 
the  i^tances  where,  in  a  variation  of  the  MSS.  and^ editions,  he  lias  chosen  tiie 
worse  reading,  are  innumerable. 

The  first  edition  of  Wakefield's  Lticretius  was  printed  at  London  in  1796;  the 
second  at  Glasgow,  1818,  which  is  rendered  more  valuable  than  the  first,  by  a  run- 
ning coUation  m  the  last  volume  of  the  readings  ef  the  £diHo  PrincepB,  printed  at 
Brescia;  that  of  Verona,  1486— Venice  1496— the  Aldine  edition,  1600 — and  the 
Bipontine,  1782,  which  places  in  a  very  striiring  point  of  view  the  siq»eriority  of  the 
JEdUio  Prineep9  over  those  by  wtiich  it  was  immediately  succeeded.  At  tiie  end  of 
this  edition,  there  are  published  some  MS.  notes  and  emendations,  taken  from 
Bentiey's  own  copy  of  Faber's  edition  of  Lucretius,  in  the  libraiy  of  the  British 
Museum.  They  are  not  of  much  consequence,  and  though  a  iew  of  them  are 
doubtless-  improvements  on  Faber's  text,  yet,  taken  as  a  whole,  they  would  injure 
the  lines  of  the  poet,  should  they  be  unfortunately  adopted  in  subsequent  editions. 

Eichstadt,in  his  recent  impression,  published  at  Leipsic,has  chiefly  followed  ths 
text  of  Wakefield,  but  has  occasionally  deviated  £rom  it  when  he  thought  the  inno- 
vations too  bold.  He  had  the  advantage  of  consulting  tiie  Editio  Prineq^a,  which 
no  modern  editor  enjoyed.  He  has  prefixed  Wakefield's  prefaces,  and  a  long  die* 
sertation  of  ^s  own,  on  the  Life  and  Poetical  Writings  ot  Lucretius,  in  which  he 
scaicely  does  justice  to  the  poetical  cenius  of  his  auuior.  The  first  volume,  con- 
taining the  text  and  a  very  copious  veroal  index,  was  printed  at  Leipdc  in  1801.  It 
is  intended  tiiat  the  second  volume  diould  comprise  die  commentary,  but  it  has  not 
yet  been  puUished. 

Vol-  IL— 5 


36  APPENDIX. 

There  is  hardly  any  po«t  more  difficult  to  Imiriate  happily  (faan  Lucretiw.  In  thr 
abstruse  and  jejune  philosophical  discussions  which  occupy  so  large  a  propottioii  d 
the  poem,  it  is  hardly  possible,  without  a  sacrifice  of  perspicuity,  to  retain  tbe  har- 
mony of  versification ;  and,  in  the  ornamental  passages,  the  diction  is  so  smple, 
pure,  and  melodious,  diat  it  is  an  enterprize  of  no  small  difficulty  to  tzanslate  with 
fidelity  and  elegance. 

In  consequence,  perhaps,  of  the  freedom  of  his  philosophical,  and  a  misrepreseDta- 
tion  oi  his  moral  tenets,  Lucretius  was  longer  of  being  rendered  into  the  ItaHan  Ian- 
ffoage  tfian  almost  any  other  classic.  It  was  near  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  ceotmy, 
before  any  version  was  executed,  when  a  translation  into  verso  sdoUo^  was  anderti- 
ken  by  Afarchetti,  Professor  of  Mathematics  add  Philosophy  in  the  Umversity  of  PSss. 
Marchetti  has  evidently  translated  from  the  edition  of  Lambinus — the  best  vHuch  had 
at  that  time  appeared.  His  version,  however,  though  completed  in  tbe  seventeeaih 
century,  was  not  published  till  1717,  three  years  after  his  death,  when  it  was  primed, 
with  the  date  of  London,  under  the  care  of  a  person  styling  himself  Andooo  Rde, 
with  a  prefiitory  dedication  to  the  great  Prince  Eugene,  in  which  tlie  editor  terns 
it,  "hi  piu  grande,  e  la  pii^  bella  poetic*. opera  che  nel  passato  secolo  naeoesBe  ad 
accrescertf  un  nuovo  lume  di  gloria  ad  Itaha.'*  Public  opinion,  both  in  Italy  and 
other  countiies,  has  confirmed  that  of  the  editor,  and  it  is  universaDy  admitted,  that 
the  translator  has  succeeded  in  faithfully  preserving  the  spirit  and  meani%  of  die 
Latin  original,  without  forfeiting  any  of  the  beatfties  of  the  Italian  language.  It  has 
been  said,  that  such  was  the  freedom  and  freshness  of  this  performance,  that  imieas 
previou4ly  informed  as  to  the  fact,  no  one  could  distinguish  whether  tibe  Latin  or 
Italian  Lucretius  was  the  original.  Graziana,  himself  a  celebrated  poet,  who  bad 
perused  it  in  MS«,  thus  justly  characterizes  its  merits,  in  a  letter  addressed  to  the 
author.:—**  you  have  translated  this  poem  with  great  felicity  and  ease ;  unfolding  its 
sublime  and  scientific  materials  in  a  delicate  style  and  elegant  manner;  and,  what 
Is  still  more  to  be  admired,  your  diction  seldom  runs  into  a  lengthened  paraphiase, 
and  never  without  tibe  greatest  Judgment.'*  The  perusal  of  this  admiiable  transb- 
lion  was  forbidden  by  the  inquisition,  but  the  prohibition  did  not  prev^t  a  subse- 
quent impression  of  it  firom  being  printed  at  Lausanne,  in  1761.  This  editioiiy  wiiich 
i  in  two  volumes,  contains  an  Italian  translation  of  PoKgnac's  Anti-LocietiQs,  by 
F.  Maria  Ricci.  The  editor,  Deregnl,  indeed  declares  that  he  would  not  have 
ventured  to  publish  any  translation  of  Lucretius,  however  excellent,  unleas  accom- 
panied by  this  powerful  antidote.  There  are  prefixed  to  this  edition  historical  and 
critical  notices  ;  as  also  the  preface,  and  the  Protetta  del  TradvUtore,  which  had 
been  inserted  in  the  first  edUion. 

Most  of  the  French  translations  of  Lucretius  are  in  prose.  Of  all  so^s  of  poetiy , 
that  called  didactic,  which  consists  in  the  detail  of  a  regular  system,  or  in  ratioosl 
precepts,  which  flow  from  each  other  in  a  connected  traih  of  Uiougfaty  sufiers  least 
by  being  transfused  into  prose.  Almost  every  didactic  poet,  however,  enriches  his 
work  wUh  such  ornaments  as  spring  out  of  his  subject,  though  not  strictly  attached 
to  it;  but  in  no  didactic  poem  are  these  passages  so  numerous  and  ao  cfaaimlDg  as 
in  that  of  Lucretius ;  and,  accordingly,  in  a  prose  translation,  while  all  that  is  syste- 
matic or  preceptive  may  be  rendered  wi^  propriety,  all  that  belongs  to  embellisli- 
ment,  and  which  forms  the  principal  grace  of  tlie  original,  appears  impertinent  and 
misplaced.  The  earliest  translation  of  Lucretius  into  the  French  hungnage,  was  by 
Guillaume  des  Auteb,  about  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century.^  The  Abbe 
Marolles,  already  mentioned  as  the  translator  of  Plautus  and  Terence,  tinned  Lu- 
cretius into  French  prose :  Of  Uiis  version  there  were  two  editions,  the  first  of 
which  was  printed  in  1650.  It  was  addressed  to  Christina,  Queen  of  Sweden ;  and« 
as  the  author  had  been  very  liberal  to  this  princess  in  compliment,  he  hoped  she 
would  be  equally  liberal  in  reward  ;  but  he  was  much  deceived,  and  of  thb  disip- 
pointment  be  bitteriy  complains  in  his  Memoirs.  Of  this  translation,  Gov^t 
remarks,  that  one  is  constantly  obliged  to  have  recoutse  to  the  Latin  text,  in  order 
to  comprehend  its  meaning*.  It  was  a  good  deal  amended,  however,  in  die  seeood 
edition,  1659,  under  circumstances  of  which  the  author  introduces  an  account  in 
the  list  of  bis  works  subjoined  to  his  translation  of  Virgil.  Gassendi,  who  liad  pro- 
foundly studied  the  system  of  Epicurus  and  Lucretius,  having  procured  a  copy  of  Ma- 


•  Biblioth.  Franc,  Tom.  V. 


APPENDIX.  37 

toB09*  firft  edition,  he  sent  a  few  days  before  his  death  for  Ihe  author,  and  pointed  out 
to  faiiB,  with  his  own  hand,  those  pawagee  in  which  he  thought  hie  translation  defec- 
tive, and  also  supplied  him  with  a  number  of  notes  in  ilhistration  of  the  poet.    The 
Abbe  was  thus  provided  with  ample  materials  for  the  improvement  of  his  work,  and 
so  pleased  was  be  with  his  second  edition,  that  he  got  a  pn^bition  against  reprint- 
ing the  first  introduced  into  the  PrvoUige  of  the  second.    He  inserted  in  U  a 
XhteouTB  ApologeHque,  defending  the  tmnslating  and  reading  of  Lucretius,  and 
prefixed  a  dedication  to  M.  Lamoifnoo,  President  of  the  Parhament,  whom  he  now 
substituted  for  Queen  Christina.    Moliere  having  seen  the  first  edition  of  MaroUes' 
pro««  translation,  was  thereby  induced  to  render  Lucretius  into  French  verse.    His 
original  intention  was  to  have  versified  the  whole  poem,  but  he  afterwards  confined 
bis  rhymes  to  the  more  decorative  parts,  anddeiivered  the  rest  in  plain  prose.  As  he 
proceeded  with  his  version,  he  uniformly  rehearsed  it  both  to  Chapelle  and  Rohaut, 
who  joindy  testified  their  approbation  qfthe  performance.    But  it  was  destined  to 
perish  when  brought  very  near  its  completion.    A  valet  of  the  translator,  who  had 
charge  of  his  dress-wi(^,  beins  in  want  of  paper  to  put  it  into  curi,  laid  hold  of  a 
loose  sheet  of  the  version,  wnich  was  immediately  rent  to  pieces,  and  thrown  into 
the  fire  as  soon  as  it  bad  performed  its  ofi^ce.    Moliere  was  one  of  the  most  Inita- 
ble  of  the  gentuirriiabiU  vatum,  and  the -accident  was  too  provoking  to  be  endu- 
led.    He  resolved  never  to  translate  another  line,  and  threw  the  whole  remainder 
-of  his  version  into  the  flames,  which  had  thus  consumed  a  part  of  it*.    This 
abortive  attempt  of  Moliere  incited  the  Abb^  MaroUes  to  render  the  whole  of  Lu- 
oretius  into  verse.    He  completed  this  task  in  less  tiian  four  months,  and  published 
the  fruits  li  his  labour  in  1677.  .  Rapidity  of  execution,  however*  is  the  only  merit 
of  wliich  he  has  to  boast.    His  translation  is  barshi  flat,  and  inverted ;  and  it  is 
also  very  difiuse :  The  poem  of  Lucretius  consists  of  .7889  lines,  and  the  version  of 
not  less  than  I2838t. 
.  Lucretius  was  subsequently  translated  into  prose  by  the  Baron  des  Coutures.  His 
version,  printed  at  Paris  16S5,  is  somewhat  better  in  point  of  style  than  those  of 
MaroUes,  but  is  not  more  faithful  to  the  originad,  being  extremely  paraphrastic.    A 
Life  of  Lucretius,  drawn  up  from  the  materials  furnished  by  Hubert,  Gi&nius,  Lam- 
binus,  and  other  commentators,  is  prefixed,  and  to  every  book  Is  appended  a  small 
body  of  notes,  which  shew  that  the  author  was  better  acquainted  with  his  subject 
than  BiaroUes.    StUl,  however,  the  poem  of « Lucretius  was  not  much  known  in 
France  during  the  seventeenth  century,  either  in  the  original  or  translated  form. 
Chaulieu,  one  of  the  most  elegant  and  polished  poets  of  that  age,  was  so  little  ac- 
quainted with  the  moral  lessons  which  it  inculcated,  as  to  write  the  foUowlng 
lines  :•«- 


— — "  Epicure  et  Lucreee 
M'ont  appris  que  la  Sagesse 
Vent  qu*au  sortir  d'un  repas, 
Ou  des  bras  de  sa  maitresse. 
Content  Ton  aiUe  la  has." 

r 

At  length  La  Grange  translated  Lucretius  in  1708,  and  Le  Blanc  de  GuiUet  in 
1788.  Brunet  speaks  highly  of  the  vereion  of  La  Grange,  which  he  seems  to  think 
is  the  best  in  the  French  language,  and  he  says  that  of  Le  Blanc  de  GuiUet  is  ptu 
redkerehe,  Mr  Good,  in  mentioning  the  various  translations  of  Lucretius,  does  not 
allude  to  tiie  production  of  La  Grange,  but  speaks  highly  of  the  version  of  Le  Blanc 
de  GuOlet.  He  is  sometimes,  he  admits,  incorrect,  and  stiU  more  frequently  ob- 
scure: **  On  the  whole,  however,*'  he  continues,  "it  is  a  work  of  great  merit,  and 
lanks  second  amid  the  translations  of  Lucretius,  which  have  yet  appeared  in  any 
natidn :"  Of  course,  it  ranges  immediately  next  to  that  of  Marchetti.  This  version 
is  accompanied  with  the  I^tin  text  in  ahemate  pages.    It  is  decorated  with  plates^ 


*  Good's  LuereHiu,  Preface. 

t  See  Gonjet,  Bibketheque  France,  Tom.  V.  p.  18.  Fabricius,  however, 
says,  that  he  does  not  know  who  was  the  auflior  of  this  verse  translation,  and  Mr 
Good,  in  the  pre&ce  to  his  Lucretius,  attributes  it  to  one  James  Langlois,  who,  he 
•ays,  translated  not  from  the  origiiial  Latin*  but  from  MaioDes*  proee  venion. 


88  APPENDIX. 

flliBtrated  hf  notei,  tad  introduced  by  ■  comprabeMhre 
which  contains  a  biography  of  the  originid  antnor,  drawn  up  from 
Creecb«  and  also  some  general  observations  on  the  Epicurean  philosophy 
The  first  attempt  to  transfer  the  poem  of  Lucretius  into  the  EngUak 
was  made  by  Evelyn,  the  celebrated  author  of  die  Sifhm*.    It  was  one  c€  him  cadl- 
est  productions,  having  been  printed- in  1666.    It  was  accompanied  by  an  aypcnrfa 
of  notes,  which  show  considefabfte  acqusintanee  with  his  subfeet,  and  tbnre  axe  pre- 
fixed to  it  complimentary  letters  or  verses  by  Waller,  Fanriiaw,  Sir  Riefaaid  Brawn, 
and  Christopher  Wasse.    Evelyn  commenced  his  arduous  task  witfa  great  endiusi' 
MBtttt  a  due  admiration  of  his  original,  and  anxious  desire  to  do  it  fiiU  josiice.    On 
actual  trial,  however,  he  became  conscious  of  his  own  inab|Hty  to  pradiice,  as  he 
expresses  it,  **  any  traduction  to  equal  the  elegaiicv  of  the  orisinal ;"  and  he  aecoT' 
dingly  closed  his  labours  with  the  first  book.    To  ihis  resolution,  tlae  ntg%st 
manner  in  which  his  spedinen  of  the  translation  wis  printed,  contributed,  as  he 
alleges,  in  no  small  degree.    Prefixed  to  the  copy  in  the  libraiy  at  Wotfton,  is  this 
note  in  his  own  handwriting:  **  Never  was  book  so  abomioably  misimed  by  Ihe 
printer;  never  copy  so  negngently  surveyed,  by  one  who  undertook  to  look  over 
the  proof-sheets  with  aU  exactness  and  care,  namely,  Dr  Triplet,  well  lmowni»rliis 
ability,  and  who  pretended  to  oblice  me  in  my  absence,  and  so  readily  ofibrad  himr 
aelf.    Iliis  good  I  received  by  it,  mat  publishing  it  vainly^  Its  ill  success  at  the  prinr 
tor's  discouraged  me  with  troubling  the  worid  witti  the  rest*."    Has  pretended  d»> 
gust,  however,  at  the  typography  of  his  Lucretius,  was  probably  a  pietext.    It  is 
more  likelv  that  he  was  deterred  from  the  lardier  execution  4ifh»  TersioBveitlierby 
its  want  of  success,  or  by  the  hints  which  he  received  from  some  of  his  BMnds  con- 
cerning the  moral  and  religious  danger  of  his  undertaking.    "  For  yovD'  LueraliaS," 
•ays  Jeremy  Taykur,  in  a  letter  to  hfan,  dated  16th  April,  1666,  "  I  perceive  you  have 
•uflered  the  Importunity  of  your  too  kind  friends  to  prevail  with  3^00.    I  vrffl  not 
ny  to  you  that  your  L^crotius  is  as  &r  distant  from  the  severity  of  a  Chiislian  as 
the  fair  Ediiopian  was  firom  the  duty  of  Bishop  HeKodorus ;  for  indeed  It  is  nothing 
but  what  may  become  the  labours  of  a  Christian  gentleman,  tiiose  things  only 
•bated  which  our  evil  age  needs  not:  for  which  also  I  hope  you  either  have,  bj 
notes,  or  will  by  prefiMO,  prepare  a  sufficient  aiUidote ;  but  sfaioe  you  are  mmtgtd 
in  it,  do  not  neslect  to  adorn  it,  and  take  what  care  of  it  it  can  require  or  need  ;  for 
tibat  neglect  will  be  a  reproof  of  your  Own  act,  and  look  as  if  you  did  it  witih  an  unanlis* 
fied  mind ;  and  ten  you  may  make  that  to  be  wholly  asin,  fiom  whidb,  only  by  pcu- 
dence  and  charity,  you  could  before  be  advised  to  abstain.    But,  rir,  if  you  will  give 
me  leave,  I  will  impose  such  a  penance  upon  yon,  for  your  publication  of  Luoetnis, 
as  shall  neither  displease  God  nor  you ;  and  .since  you  are  busy  in  these  things  which 
may  minister  directly  to  learning,  and  indirectly  to  error,  or  the  confidences  of  men, 
who,  of  themsdves,  are  apt  enough  to  hide  their  vices  io  irreligion,  I  know  you 
will  be  willing,  and  will  suffer  to  be  entreated,  to  employ  the  same  pen  in  Ae  g^n- 
fication  of  G<Mi,  and  die  ministries  of  eucharistand  prayert*" 

In  1682,  Creedi,  who  was  deterred  by  no  such  religious  scruples,  nuhlislied  hH 
translation  of  the  whole  poem  of  Lucretius.  As  a  scholar,  he  was  emmentiy  quali- 
fied for  the  arduous  imdertaking  in  which  he  had  engaged :  but  he  wrote  with  sueh 
haste,  that  his  production  eyery  where  betrays  the  inaccuracies  of  an  autbor  who  ac- 

Snesces  in  the  first  suggestions  of  his  mind,  and  who  is  more  desfaoos  of  fimdung, 
an  ambitious  of  finiriiiDg  well.  Besides,  he  is  at  all  times  rather  anxioQs  to  eom- 
vwnicate  Uie  simple  meenin|^  of  his  original,  than  to  exhibit  any  portion  of  tlie  or- 
fiamental  ^;arb  in  which  it  is  arrayed.  Hence»  though  geneially  lalihjul  to  his 
author,  he  is  almost  everywhere  deficient  in  one  of  the  most  striking  charectetistics 
<tf  the  Romas  poet«*grandeur  and  felicity  of  expression.  He  is  often  tame,  piesalc, 
and  even  doggerel;  and  be  sometimes  discovers  the  conceits  of «  vitiated  taste,  in 
the  most  direct  opposition  to  the  simple  chamcter  and  majestic  genhis  of  his  Roman 
otiginaL  Pope  said, "  that  Creech  had  greatly  hurt  his  translation  of  LucieCiai,  by 
imitating  Cowley,  and  bringing  in  turns  even  mto  some  of  the  most  grand  parts^." 
It  is  also  remarked  by  Dr  Drake, « that  in  this  yersion  the  couplet  has  led  in  afaaost 


•  Evelyn's  Memoirs,  Tom.  I. 

t  Evelyn's  Memoirs  and  Correspondence,  Vol.  U.  p.  102, 2d  edit. 

I  Spenoe*8J!lnecdotes,p,lQ^, 


APPENDIX.  39 

evwy  page  to  the  most  ridiculouB  rodimdanciM.  A  want  of  tute,  however,  in  the 
selection  of  language,  is  as  consplenous  in  Creech  as  a  deficiency  of  alciU  and  ad- 
dress in  the  management  of  his  versification*."  The  ample  notes  with  which  the 
translation  is  accompanied,  are  chiefly  extracted  from  the  woika  of  Gassendi.  A 
number  of  commendatory  poems  are  prefixed,  and  amoi^  others  one  from' Evelyn, 
in  which  he  acknowledges,  that  Creech  had  succeeded  in  the  glorious  enterprise 
in  which  he  himself  had  failed.  Dnrden  was  also  much -pleased  wiA  Creeches  trans- 
Jatioa,  but  this  did  not  hinder  him  from  versifying  some  of  the  higheE  and  more  om^ 
mental  passages,  to  which  Creech  had  hardly  done  justice,  as  those  at  the  beginning 
of  the  first  and  Ibcond  books,  the  concluding  pan  Of  the  third  book,  against  the 
fear  of  death,  and  of  the  fourth  concerning  the  nature  of  love.  On  these  fine  pas- 
sages Diyden  bestowed  the  ease,  the  vigour,  and  harmony  of  his  muse ;  but  though 
executed  with  his  accustomed  spirit,  his  translations  want  the  majestic  solemn  co* 
iouiing  of  Lucredus,  and  are  somewhat  licentious  and  paraphrastic.  For  dus,  how- 
ever, he  accounts  in  his  Poetical  Miscellanies,  in  mentioninff  his  translations  in 
comparison  with  the  version  of  Creech.  **  The  ways  of  ourtranslatton,"  he  observes, 
**  are  veiy  different-— he  follows  Lucretius  more  closely  than  I  have  done,  which 
became  an  interpreter  to  the  whole  poem.  I  take  more  Uberty,  because  it  best  suited 
with  my  design,  which  was  to  make  him  as  {^leasing  as  I  could.  He  had  been  too 
voluminous  luud  he  used  my  method  in  so  long  a  work,  and  I  had  certainly  taken  hie, 
had  I  made  it  my  business  to  translate  the  whole." 

The  translations  by  Creech  and  Oivden  are  both  in  ihyme.  That  of  Mr  Good, 
printed  in  1805,  is  in  blank  verae,  and  it  may  well  be  doiirt>ted  if  this  preference  was 
conducive  to  the  successfid  exeeution  of  his  puipose.  The  translation  is  accom* 
panied  with  the  original  text  of  Lucretius,  printed  from  Wakefield's  edition,  and 
very  full  notes  are  subjoined,  containing  passages  exhibiting  imitations  of  Lucre- 
tiuB  by  succeeding  poetd.  The  pre£B»e  includes  notices  of  precedine  editions  of 
his  author,  and  the  explanation  of  his  own  plan.  Then  foUow  a  Life  of  Luciet4us» 
and  an  Appendix  to  the  Life,  comprehending  an  analysu  and  defence  of  the  system 
of  Epicurus,  with  a  compaiative  sketch  of  most  other  phflosopfaicahtheories,  both 
ancient  and  modem. 

The  translation  of  Mr  Good  was  succeeded,  hi  1818,  by  that  of  Dr  Bosl^.^hich 
is  in  rhyme,  and  is  introduced  by  enormous  prolegomena  on  the  Life  and  uemus  of 
Lucretius,  and  the  Philosophy  and  Morals  of  feds  Poem. 


CATULLUS. 

The  M8S.  of  CatuHus  were  de&ced  and  imperfect,  as  far  back  as  the  time  of 
Aulus  Gelliust,  who  Uved  in  the  reigns  of  .Adrian  and  the  Antonines ;  and  there  were 
varia  Uctiones  in  his  age,  as  well  as  in  the  fifteenth  century.  There  was  a  MS.  of 
Catullus  extant  at  Verona  in  the  tenth  century  which  was  perused  by  the  Bishop 
Raterius,  who  came  fiom  beyond  the  Alps,  and  who  refers  to  it  in  his  Discourses  as 
a  work  he  h^  never  seen  tUJ  his  arrival  at  Verona.  Another  was  possessed  in  the 
fourteenth  century  by  Pastrengo,  a  Veronese  gentleman,  and  a  friend  of  Petrarcht, 
who  quotes  it  twice  in  his  wont  De  OriginiMis;  but  these  and  all  other  MS3.  had 
entirely  disappeared  amid  the  confusions  with  which  Italy  was  at  that  time  agitated, 
and  Catullus  may,  therefoie,  be  eonsidered  as  one  of  the  classics  brought  to  lichtat 
the  revival  of  literature.  The  MS.  containi^  the  poems  of  Catullus  was  not  found 
in  Italy,  but  in  one  of  the  monasteries  of  Ficance  or  Germany,  (Scaliger  says  of 
France,)  in  the^sourse  of  the  fifteentti  centuiy,  and  according  to  Maifei,  in  1425^. 
All  that  we  know  cobceminjp;  its  discovery  is  contained  in  a  barbarous  Latin  epi- 
gram, written  by  Guarinus  of  Verona^  who  chose  to  give  his  Information  on  the  sub- 
ject in  an  almost  unintelligible  riddle.  It  was  prefixed  to  an  edition  of  Catullus, 
printed  in  Italy  1472,  where  it  is  entitled  HexHckum  Guarini  Veroneneia  OrtUorii 
Clmiss.  in  UbeUum  V,  CatulU  ejus  eoneivie ; 


*  Literary  How$,  No.  II.  t  '^oet.  AitU.  Lib.  VII.  c.  20. 

X  Mafiei»  Verona  lUuitrata,  Part  II.  p.  4.         §  Ibid.  Part  II.  p.  6. 


40  APPENDIX. 


*'  Ad  Patium  Tenio  longis  de  finibiis  ezul : 
Caua4  mei  reditib  compatriota  fuit. 

Scilicet  a  calamis  txibuit  cui  Franda  nomen, 
Qudque  notat  turbe  pnetereimtia  iter. 

Quo  licet  ingenio  vestnim  celebrate  Catulhim 
Quovia  m£  modip  daiisa  papyrus  ent.' 


»> 


The  first  line  ezpbina  that  the  MS.  wa^  brought  to  Italy  from  beyond  the  Aipm,  and 
the  second  that  it  was  fUscoyered  by  a  couatryman  of  CatuUus,  Chat  b,  by  a  citiiei 
of  Verona.  The  thiid  line  contains  the  grand  conundmm.  ■  Sdiie  critics  faAve  sop- 
poaed  that  it  points  oat  the  name  of  a  monastery  where  the  MS.  was  djscoveied; 
others,  that  it  designates  the  name  of  the  person  who  found  it  I  iffisoing  is  of  das 
last  opinion ;  and,  according  to  his  interpretation,  the  line  implies*  that  it  was  ds- 
covered  by  tome  one  whose  name  is  the  French  word  for  quills  or  pens,  that  is, 
fhimes.  The  name  nearest  this  is  Plumatius,  on  which  foundation  l-^— ^"g  attri- 
butes the  discovery  of  Catullus  to  Bemardinus  Plumatius,  a  great  scholar  mod  p^« 
aician  of  Verona,  who  flourished  during  the  last  half  of  the  fifitoenth  centuiy*.  TUs 
conjecture  of  Leiuing  was  better  founded  than  he  himself  seems  to  have  beoi  aware, 
as  the  second  syllable  in  the  name  Plumatius  is  not- remote  from  the  Fseudk  vob 
hater,  which,  in  one  sense,  as  the  epigram-expresses  it — 

'*  Notat  turbe  pretereuntis  iter." 

Lucius  Pignorius,  who  thinks  that  these  fines  were  hot  written  by  Guarinus  of 
Verona,  but  that  the  MS.  was  discovered  by  him,  also  conjectures  that  it  was  found 
in  a  bam,  since  it  is  said  in  the  last  line,  that  it  was  concealed  tub  madio,  and 
bushels  are  nowhere  but  in  bamsf.  This  is  taking  the  line  in  its  moet  Kienl  sig- 
nification, but  the  expression  probably  was  meant  only  as  proverbiaL 

The  wretched  situation  in  which  this  MS.  was  found,  and  the  cireumstance  of 
its  being  th^  only  one  of  any  antiquity  extant,  sufficiently  accounts  for  the  numeroas 
and  evident  corruptions  of  the  text  of  CatuUus,  and  for  the  editions  of  that  poet 
presenting  a  greater  number  of  various  and  contradictory  readings  than  tfaooe  of 
almost  any  other  classie. 

After  tibiis  MS.  was  brought  to  Italy,  it  fell  into  the  hands  of  Guarinus  of  Verona, 
who  took  much  pains  in  correcting  it,  and  it  was  further  amended  by  his  son  Bap- 
tists Guarinus,  as  a  third  pei^son  of  the  family,  Alexander  Guarinus,  informs  us,  in 
<he  procemium  to  his  edition  of  Catullus,  1521,  addressed  to  Alphonso,  third 
Duke  of  Ferrara.  Biq>tista  Guarinus,  as  Alexander  fiirtiier  mentions  in  his  prwi' 
mttim,  published  an  edition  of  CatuUus  from  the  MS.  which  he  bad  taken 
so  much  pains  to  correct,  but  without  any  commentary.  This  editioD,  however, 
has  now  entirely  disappeared ;  1^  that  of  1472,  printed  by  Spira,  at  Venice,  in 
which  Cattdlus  is  united  with  TibuUus  and  Propertius,  Is  accounted  the  E^tw 
Prineeps,  The  different  editions  in  which  these  poets  have  appealed  conioined, 
wiU  be  more  conveniently  enumerated  hereafter :  both  in  tibeta,  and  in  the  impres- 
sions of  Catullus  printed  separately,  the  editors  had  departed  widely  from  die  cor- 
rected text  of  Baptista  Guarinus.  Accordiru^ly,  Alexander  Guarinus,  in  1621, 
printed  an  edition  of  Catullus,  with  the  view  ofrestoring  the  genuine  rqidingrof  his 
fiither  and  grandfather,  who  had  wrought  on  the  ancient  MS.  which  was  Ae  proto- 
type of  aU  the  others.  It  would  appear,  however,  that  the  erroneous  readings  bad 
become  inveterate.  Maffei,  in  his  Verona  IttustrcUaXt  points  out  the  absurd  and 
unauthorised  alterations  of  Vossius  and  Scafiger  on  the  pure  readings  of  the  Guarioi. 

Muretus  took  charge  of  an  edition  of  CatuUus,  which  was  printed  by  the  younger 
Aldus  Manutius  in  1568.  This  production  is  not  accounted  such  as  ought  be 
expected  from  the  consummate  critic  and  scholar  by  whom  it  was  prepared.  Isaac 
Vossius  had  commented  on  CatuUus ;  but  his  annotations  lay  concealed  for  many 
years  after  his  death,  tUl  they  were  at  length  brought  to  li^t  by  his  amanuenos 
Beverland,  who,  by  means  of  this  valuable  acquisition,  was  enabled  to  prepare  the 
best  edition  which  had  yet  appeared  of  Catullus,  and  which  was  first  printed  in 
London  in  1684.  His  commentary  was  on  <every  point  profoundly  learned.— 
**  Poetam,"  says  Harles,  **  commentario  eruditissimo,  ita  tamen  ut  inverecondia  Oli 
interdum  baud  cederet,  iUustravit"    Vulpius  pubUshed  a  yet  better  edition  it 


SamnUUehe  Scltriften,  Tom.  I.        f  Symbol  EpUt,  XVI.       t  Part  IL  p.  6. 


APPENDIX.  41 

Padua,  in  1T87,  in  die  preparation  of  wUcta  he  made  great  use  of  the  Editio  iVtn* 
cepa.     In  the  notes,  he  has  introduced  a  new  and  most  agreeable  species  of  com- 
mentary,— ^Lllustiatiiig  his  author  by  parallel  passages  from  the  ancient  and  modem 
poets,  particularly  the  Italian ;  not  such  parallel  passages  aa  Wakefield  has  amassed, 
"where  the  words  .^i  or  atque  occur  in  both,  but  where  there  is  an  obvious  imitation 
or  renemblance  in  the  thought  or  image.    He  has  also  prefixed  a  diatribe  J)e  MttrU 
CatuUianis,  in  the  year  1788,  a  curious  fraud  was  practised  with  reganl  to  Catullus. 
Carradini  de  AUio,  a  scholar  of  some  note,  published  at  Venice  an  edition,  which  he 
pretended  to  have  printed  from  an  ancient  MS.  accidentally  discovered  by  him  in  a 
pottery,  without  a  cover  or  title-page,  and  all  besmeared  with  filth.    It  was  dedi- 
cated to  the  Elector  of  Bavaria ;  and  though  one  of  tiie  most  impudent  cheats  of  the 
sort  tiiat  had  been  practised  since  the  time  of  Sigonius  and  Annius  Viterbienais,  it 
imposed  on  many  learned  men.    The  credit  it  obtained,  introduced  new  disorden 
Into  the  text  of  Catullus ;  and  when  the  fraud  was  at  length  detected,  the  contriver 
of  it  only  laughed  at  the  temporary  auceess  of  his  imposture. 

Doei  ing,  in  early  life,  liad  printed  an  edition  of  the  principal  poem  of  Catullus, 
the  Hipithalaniium  of  Peleua  and  Thetit.  Encouraged  by  the  success  of  this  pub- 
lication, he  subsequently  prepared  a  complete  ediuon  of  Catullus,  which  came 

forth  at  Leipsic  in  1788. 

•  '  > 

The  Epithalamitun  of  PeUm  and  Thetis,  the  chief  production  of  Catullus,  was 
translated  into  ItaUan  by  Ludovico  Dolce,  and  printed  in  1538,  at  the  end  of  a 
small  volume  of  miscellanepus  works  dedicated  to  Titian.    In  the  colophon  it  is 
said,  '*  II  fine  dell*  epitalamio  tradotto  per  M.  Led.  Ddce,  in  verso  sciolto."    This 
£pithalamium  was  also  tmnslated  in  the  eighteenth  century,  into  Ottava  Bima,  by 
Parisotti,  with  a  long  preface,  in  which  he  maintains  that  the  ottava,  or  terzd  rtma, 
is  better  adapted  for  the  translation  of  the  Latin  classic?  than  eersi  sdolii.    Gin- 
guen^,  in  the  preface  to  his  French  translation  of  this  Epithalamium,  mentions  three 
other  Italian  versions  of  the  last  century,  those  of  Neruci,  Torelli,  and  the  Count 
d'Ayano,  all  of  which,  he  says,  possess  considerable  merit.    He  also  informs  us,  that 
Antonio  Contl  had  commenced  a  translation  of  this  poem,  which  was  found  incom- 
plete at  his.death ;  but  it  was  accompanied  by  many  valuable  criticisms  and  annota- 
tions,^ which  have  been  much  employed  in  a  Memoir  inserted  in  the  transactions  of 
the  French  Academy,  by  M.  D'Amaud,  whose  plagiarisms  from  the  Italian  author 
have  been  panted  out  at  full  long^  by  M.  Ginguen^,  in  his  preface.    Conti  com- 
pleted a  translation  of  the  Coma  Berenices  in  versi  seioUi,  accompanied  by  an  ex- 
planation of  the  subject,  and  learned  notes,  which  was  printed  along  with  his  works 
at  Venice,  in  1739.    The  Cotna  Berenices  was  also  translated  in  terza  rima  by  the 
Neapolitan  Saverio  Mattel,  and  by  Paenini  in  versi  sdruceioU.    At  leneth,  in 
1808,  M.  Ugo  Foscolo,  now  well  known  in  this  country  as  the  author  of  the  Letters 
of  Jacopo  Ortis  printed  at  Milan  a  translation  of  this  elegy,  in  blank  verse,  under 
the  title  of  La  Chioma  di  Berenice,  poenui  di  CaUimaeo,  tradotto  da  Valeria  Co- 
tuilo,  volgarizeato  edillustrato  da  Ugo  Foscolo.    The  version  is  preceded  by  four 
dissertations ;  the  text  is  accompanied  with  notes,  and  followed  by  fourteen  con- 
siderazioni,  as  they  are  caUed,  m  which  the  author  severely  censures  and  satirizes 
the  pedantic  cooomentators  and  philologers  of  his  country.    Mr  Hobhouse,  in  bia 
Illustrations  of  Cfnlde  Harold*,  says,  that  the  whole  lucubration,  extending  to 
nearly  800  pages  of  large  octavo,  is  a  grave  and  continued  irony  on  the  verbal  cri- 
ticisms of  commentators.    "  Some  of  the  learned,"  he  continues,  "  fell  mto  the 
snare,  and  Foscolo,  who  had  issued  only  a  few  copies,  now  added  a  Farewell  to  his 
readers,  in  which  he  repays  their  praises,  by  exposing  tiie  mysteries  and  abuses  of 
the  philoloeical  art.    Those  whom  he  had  deceived  must  have  been  not  a  little 
ifritated  to  find  that  his  frequent  citations  were  invented  for  the  occasion,  and  that 
his  commentary  had  been  purposely  sprinkled  with  many  of  the  srossest  faults." 

The  whole  works  of  Catullus  Were  fint  translated  into  ItaSan  by  the  Abbot 
Francis  Maria' Biacca  of  Parma,  who  concealed  his  real  designation,  according  to 
the  affected  fashion  of  the  times,  imder  the  appellation  of  Parmindo  Ibichense, 
Pastor  Arcade.  The  Abbot  died  in  1785,  and  his  version  was  printed  at  Milan 
after  his  death,  in  1740,  in  the  twenty-first  volume  of  the  General  Collection  of 


*  P.  477. 


42  APPENDIX. 

Italian  TianslatioiM  from  (he  Andeat  Latin  Poets,  llie  most  i 
is  that  of  Pucdni,  printed  at  Pisa  in  1806.  It  is  very  deficient  in  point  of  sfiirit ; 
and  the  last  EncUsh  tianslator  of  CatuHui  observes,  **  tbti  H  is  duefiy  remsrfcabie 
for  the  squeamisnness  with  which  it  omits  all  warmth  in  the  love  TOraes,  wliile  it 
unblusliiogly  retains  some  of  the  most  disgusting  passages."         • 

The  French  liave  at  all  times  dealt  much  in  prase  translations  of  the  daasics. 
These  did  not  suit  very  well  for  tlie  epic  poems,  or  even  comedies  or  the  Roibmh  ; 
and  were  totally  abhonent  from  the  lyrical  or  epicrammatic'prodaetions  of  CaliilhB. 
A  great  deal  of  the  beauty  of  every  poem  consists  in  the  melody  of  its  nnmbeis. 
But  there  are  certain  species  of  poetry,  of  which  tlie  cM^  merit  lies  in  the  sweet- 
ness and  harmony  of  versification.  A  boldness  of  figures,  too — a  Imnuwnce  of 
imagerr—- a  frequent  use  of  metaphors— e  quickness  of  transition— «  freedom  of 
digiession,  which  are  allowable  in  every  sort  of  poetry,  are  to  many  species  of  It 
essential.  But  these  are  quite  unsoitaMe  to  the  character  of  prose,  and  when  mea 
In  a  prose  translation,  they  appear  preposterous  and  out  of  place,  bedaose  they  are 
never  found  in  any  original  prose  composition.  Now,  the  l)eftutiss  of  CatoDos  aie 
precisely  of  that  nature,  of  which  it  is  impossible  to  convey  the  smallest  ides*  in  a 
prose  translation.  Many  of  his  poems  are  of  a  lyric  description,  in  whi<^  a  greater 
degree  of  irregularity  of  thought,  and  a  more  unrestrained  exuberanee  of  frncy,  are 
permitted  than  in  any  otlier  kind  of  composition.  To  attempt,  therefore,  a  kansia- 
tion  of  a  lyric  poem  into  prose,  is  the  most  at>surd  of  all  undertakings  ;  for  those  very 
characters  of  the  original,  which  are  essential  to  it,  and  wliich  constitute  its  highest 
beauty,  if  transferred  to  a  prose  translation,  liecome  tmpardonable  blemishes.  What 
could  be  more  ridiculous  than  a  French  prose  translation  of  the  wild  dithyimmbtcs  of 
Atis,  or  the  fervent  tfnd  almost  phrenzied  love  verses  to  Lesbia  ?  It  is  Dom  poetry 
that  the  elegies  of  Catullus  derive  almost  all  -their  tenderness — his  amoiotts  verses 
all  their  delicacy,  playfulness,  or  voloptuoumess — and  his  epigrams  all  their  stiitf . 

That  indefatigable  translator  of  the  Latin  poets,  the  Abbe  Marolles,  was  the  mt 
person  who  tratdueed  Catullus  in  French.  He  was  an  author,  of  all  othius,  the  wont 
qualified  to  succeed  in  the  task  which  he  had  undertaken,  as  his  heavy  and  leaden 
pen  was  lU  adapted  to  express  the  elegant  light  fftaees  of  his  origina].  His  prose 
translation  was  printed  in  1658.  It  was  succeeded,  in  1676,  by  one  in  veiae,  also 
by  Marolles,  but  of  which  only  thirty  copies  were  Ihrown  off  and  d*atribated  auMog 
the  translator's  friends  La  ChapeUe  (not  the  author  of  the  Voyage)  translated 
most  of  the  poems  of  Catullus,  and  inserted  them  in  his  HUtoire  Gt^ante,  entitled 
the  Amauri  de  CahUU,  printed  in  1680,  which  relates,  in  the  style  of  an  amatoiy 
prose  romance,  the  adventures  and  intrigues  of  CatuQus,  liis  friends,  and  iiiistniasci. 
The  next  translation,  though  not  of  the  whole  of  his  pieces,  is  by  M.  Pesay,  printed 
1771,  who  misses  no  opportunity  of  ridiculing  Marolles  and  his  work.  It  bin  prose, 
as  Is  also  a  more  recent  Frendi  translation  by  M.  Noel,  Paris,  1806.  The  fust 
volume  of  Noel's  work  contains  the  DUcoutm  PreUamnaire  on  ibe  Life,  Poeby, 
Editions,  and  Trandations  of  Catullus ;'  and  the  version  itself,  which  is  accompanied 
with  the  Latin  text.  The  second  volume  comprises  a  very  large  body  of  notes^ 
chiefly  exhibiting  the  imitatioos  of  Catullus  by  French  poets.  Bnmet  mentions  a 
translation  stiH  more  recent,  bv  M.  Mollevaut,  which  is  fan  verse,  and  proves  that 
more  justice  may  be  done  to  Catullus  In  riiyme  than  prose. 

An  English  translation  of  CatuUus,  usiully  ascribed  to  Or  Nott,  was  pubfished 
anonymou^y  in  17115,  accompanied  with  some  valuable  annotations.  He  was  die 
fint  to  give;  as  he  himself  says,  the  whole  of  Catullus,  without  reserve*  and  in  some 
way  or  other,  to  translate  all  his  indecencies.  This  version  adheres  veiy  dosely  ts 
the  ori|;inal,  and  has  the  merit  of  being  simple  and  literal,  but  it  is  meagre  and  inde- 

Snt:  It  is  defective  in  ease  and  freedom,  and  but  seldom  presents  us  with  anv  of 
ose  graces  of  poetry,  and  indeed  almost  unattainable  felicities  of  diction,  mch 
characterixe  the  orifipnal.  While  writing  this,  the  poetical  translation  by  Mr  Lamb 
has  come  to  my  hands.  It  is  also  furnished  vrith  a  long  pre&ce  and  notes,  which 
appear  to  be  tasteful  and  amusing.  The  chief  objections  to  the  translation  are  quiie 
the  reverse  of  those  which  have  been  stated  to  the  version  by  which  it  was  pre- 
ceded— it  seems  defective  in  point  of  fideliw,  and  is  too  difluse  and  redundant  No 
author  suffers  so  much  by  beioff  diluted  as  datuQus,  and  he  can  only  be  given  witk 
effect  by  a  brevity  as  condensed  andnt^uanf  as  his  own.  Indeed,  me  tlmughts  sod 
language  of  Catulhis  throw  more  difficulties  in  the  way  of  a  tramlator,  than  those  of 
ahnost  any  other  classic  author.  His  peculiaritifii  of  feeling— his  idiomatic  defieades 


APPENDIX.  43 

of  style— tfiat  light  inefiable  ^ce— that  elegant  esse  and  spirit,  with  which  he  was 
more  richly  endued  than  almost  any  other  poet,  can  hardly  pass  through  the  hands 
of  a  translator  without  being  in  some  degree  suUied  or  alloyed. 


LABERIUS— PUBLICS  SYRUS. 

The  only  fragtnent  of  any  length  or  importance  which  we  possess  of  Laberiu8» 
has  been  saved  by  Macrobius,  in  his  Satvamalia.  The  fragments  of  Publius  Syrus 
were  chiefly  preserved  by  Seneca  and  Au.  G^iud,  and  the  scattered  maxims  which 
they  bad  recorded,  were  collected  in  various  MSS.  of  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth 
centuries.  They  were  first  printed  together,,  under  the  superintendence  of  Erasmus, 
in  1502,  as  revised  and  corrected  from  a  MS.  in  the  University  of  Cambridge.  Fa- 
bricius  published  some  additional  maxims,  which  had  not  previously  been'  printed, 
in  1550.  Stephens  edited  them  at  the  end  of  his  Fragments  irom  the  Greek  and 
Latin  Comic  Poets,  1664;  and  Bentley  published  them  along  with  Terence  and  the 
Fables  of  Phedrus,  at  Cambridge,  in  1726.  An  improved  edition,  which  had  been 
prepared  by  Grater,  was  printed  under  the  superintendence  of  Havercamp,  from 
a  MS.  after  his  death.  The  most  complete  edition,  however,  which  has  yet 
appeared,  is  that  published  by  Orellius,  at  l.eipsic,  1822.  It  contains  879  maxims, 
arranged  In'  alphabetical  order,  from  which,  at  least  as  the  editor  asserts,  all  Aose 
whicn  are  spurious  have  been  leiected,  and  several  that  are  genuine  added.  A 
Greek  Vernon  of  the  maxims,  by  Jos.  Scaliger,  is  given  by  him  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  page,  and  be  has  appended  a  long  commentary,  in  which  he  has  quoted  all ' 
the  maxims  of  preceding  or  subsequent  authors,  who  have  expressed  sentiments 
similar  to  those  of  PubHus  Syrus. 

The  sentences  were  translated  into  EngUsh  from  the  edition  of  Erasmus,  under 
the  following  title :  "  Proverbs  or  Adagies,  with  newe  Additions,  gathered  out  of  the 
Chiliades  of  Erasmus,  by  Richavd  Tavemer.  Hereunto  be  also  added,  Mimi  Pub* 
liani.  Imprinted  at  London,  in  Fletstrete,  at  the  sicne  of  the  Whyte  Harte.  Own 
primlegio  ad  imprimendwH  solum,**  On  the  back  of  the  title  is  *'  the  Prologe  <if 
the  author,  apologizing  for  hb  slender  capacide ;"  and  concludipg,  "  yet  my  harte 
is  not  to  be  blamed."  It  contains  sixtv-four  leaves,  the  last  blank.  On  the  last 
printed  page  are  the  *'  Faultes  escaped  in  printyuge,"  which  are  seven  in  number. 
Beneath  is  the  colophon,  **  Imprinted  at  London  by  Richarde  Bankes,  at  the  Whyte 
Harte,- 1589."  This  book  was  frequently  reprinted.  James  Elphinston,  long  known 
to  the  public  by  his  unsuccessful  attempt  to  introduce  a  new  and  uniform  mode  of 
spelling  into  the  English  language,  translated,  in  1794,  *<  The  Sentencious  Poets— 
Publius  dhe  Syrrian — Laberius  dhe  Roman  Knight,  &c.  anainged  a^d  translated 
into  conespondent  Inglish  Mexzure*." 


II 


CATO— VARRO. 

It  appears  from  Aulus  Gelllus,  that,  even  in  his  time,  the  works  of  Cato  had  be- 
gun to  be  corrupted  by  the  ignorance  of  transcril>en.  As  mentioned  in  the  text, 
his  book  on  Agriculture,  the  .only  one  of  his  numerous  writings  which  survives,  has 
come  down  to  us  in  a  very  imperfect  and  mutilated  state.  A  MS.  of  Cato,  but  very 
faulty  and  incomplete,  was  in  possession  of  Niccolo  NiccoH  ;-snd  a  letter  fh>m  him  is 
extant,  requesting  one  of  his  correspondents,  called  Michelotius,  to  borrow  for  him 
a  very  ancient  copy  from  the  Bishop  Aretino,  in  order  that  his  own  might  l>e  ren- 
dered more  perfectf.  Most  of  the  editions  we  now  have,  follow  a  MS.  which  is 
said  to  have  been  discovered  at  Paris  by  the  architect  Fra  Giocondo  of  Verona,  and 
was  brought  by  him  to  Italy.  Varro's  treatise  on  Agriculture  was  first  discovered 
by  Candi£,  as  he  himself  announces  in  a  letter  to  Niccolo  NiGColi^. 


*  Bruggemann,  View  of  the  EngUeh  EdUiorUp  TVamlaHofu,  4rc.  ofihe  jSncierU 
LaUnJiuth^rs. 
t  Mehus,  Prmf,  p.  60.  X  Spi^t,  M  AmbrcHum  CamM,  Ep.  89. 

Vol.  IL— 6 


44  APPENDIX. 

The  agricuUxml  woHps  of  Cato  and  Varro  have  cenerally  been  priftled  to^etter, 
and  also  along  with  those  of  Columella  and  Puladius,  uader  the  title  of 
MutHfa  ScripUn'e$.    There  m  do  ancient  MS.  known,  in  which  all  the  JU ' 
tica  8enptort9  are  collected  together.    They  were  first  combined  in  the 
Priiicept,  edited  by  Georgius  Meniia,  and  printed  at  Venice,  in  1470.     The  next 
edition,  superintended  by  Bruschius,  and  printed  in  1482,  has  almost  entirely-  die- 
appeared.    In  many  passages,  its  readings  were  difierent  from  those  of  »B  o&er 
editions,  as  appears  from  the  annotations  communicated  from  Rome,  by  Ponteden 
to  Gesner,  while  he  was  preparing  his  celebrated  edition*.    PhiUppos 
corrected  a  good  many  faults  and  errors  which  had  crept  into  the  Editia 
His  emendations  were  made  use  of  in  the  edition  of  Bolosna,  1494,  by 
Hector.    Gesner  has  assiduously  collated  that  edition  wim  the  Editio 
and  he  informs  us,  that  it  contained  many  important  corrections.    Though 
hi  some  respects,  he  considers  all  the  editions  previous  to  that  of  Aldus,  aa  beku^iBr 
to  the  same  class  or  family.    The  Aldine  edition,  printed  lftl4,  was  superintendei 
by  Fre  Giocondo  of  Verona,  who,  having  procured  at  Paris  some  MSS.  not  pietlouBiy 
consulted,  introduced  from  them  many  t»ew  readings,  and  filled  up  several  chnmigin 
the  text,  particularly  the  fifty-seventh  chapterf.    This  edition,  however,  is  not  highly 
esteemed ;  "  Sequitur,"  says  Fabricius,  "  novi  nee  optimi  generis  editio  Aldina:'' 
And  Schneider,  the  most  recent  editor  of  the  Rei  Ruttie^  iScr^tores,  affione  lha& 
Qiocondo  corrupted  and  perverted  almost  .every  passage  which  he  changed.  Nidio* 
las  Angelius  took  charge  of  the  edition  pubUsned  b^  the  Giunta  at  Florance,  in 
1515.      His  new  readings  are  ingenious;  but  many  of  them  are  quite  unaudiaiiied 
and  conjectural.    The  Aldine  continued  to  form  the  basis  of  all  subsequent  editiosw, 
till  the  time  of  Petius  Victorius,  who  was  so  groat  a  restorer  and  amender  ef  tlie  Rei 
Ruttiea  Seriptores,  that  he  is  called  their  JE»eulapiU8  by  Gesner,  and  SotpHiaim^ 
by  Fabricius.    Victorius  had  got  access  to  a  set  of  MSS.  which  PoUfian  hid  col« 
lated  with  the  Editio  Prineep9,     The  most  ancient  and  important  of  these  MSS., 
containing  Cato,  and  almost  the  whole  of  Varro,  was  found  by  Vietorins  in  the 
library  of  St  Mark ;  another  in  French  characters  was  in  tiie  Medicean  fibmy ;  and 
a  third  had  belonged  to  Franciscus  Barbarus,  and  was  transcribed  by  han  from  aa 
excellent  exemplar  at  Padua}.    But  though  Victorias  had  te  advanta^  of  eon- 
suiting  these  MSS.,  it  does  not  appear  that  he  possessed  the  collation  by  die  able 
hand  of  Politian ;  because  that  was  inserted,  notm  the  MSS.,  but  in  his  own  printed 
copy  of  the  Ediiio  Prirueps  ;  and  Gesner  shows  at  great  length  that  Petras  Victo- 
rius had  never  consulted  any  copy  whatever  of  the  Editio  Princept^.     Vi^oiias 
first  employed  his  learning  and  critical  talents  on  Vano.    Some  time  aftetwawis, 
Giovanni  della  Case  being  sent  by  the  Pope  on  some  public  aflaiis  to  Florence, 
where  Victorius  at  that  time  resided,  brought  Urn  a  message  from  the  Cardinal  Mar^ 
eellus  Cervinus,  requesting  that  he  diould  exect  on  Cato  some  part  of  that  difigenee 
which  he  had  formerly  employed  on  Varro.    Victorius  soon  comfdeted  the  task  a»> 
signed  him.    He  also  resumed  Varro,  and  attentively  revised  his  former  lafoonn  on 
that  author  II .    At  last  he  determined  to  collate  whatever  MSS.  of  the  Rustic  wrilas 
he  could  procure.     Those  above-mentioned,  as  having  been  inspeeted  by  PoiitiiD, 
were  the  great  sources  whence  he  derived  new  and  various  readings. 

It  is  not  known  that  Victorius  printed  any  edition  containing  the  text  of  the  Rei 
Ruitica  Seriptortn  m  Italy.  His  letter  to  Cervinus  speaks  as  if  he  was  just  about 
to  edite  them ;  but  whether  he  did  so  is  uncertain.  "  Quartam  dassem,"  says 
Harles,  "  constituit  Victorius,  sospitator  horum  scriptorum :  qui  quidem  num  pd- 
mum  in  Italia  recensitos  dederit  eos  cum  Gesnero  et  Emesti  ignorolf."  As  fir  as 
now  appears,  bis  corrections  and  emendations  were  first  prmted  in  the  edition  of 
Leyden,  1541,  where  the  authors  it  contains,  are  said  in  the  title  to  be  JSeslsliffiper 
Petrum  J^toriumyadveterumexemplariumfidem^atUBi$Uesrit^  fiUscast^- 
tions  were  printed  in  the  year  following,  but  without  the  text  of  the  authors,  at 
Florence.  The  Leyden  edition  was  reprinted  at  Paris,  in  1543,  by  Robert  Ste|diras, 
and  was  followed  by  the  edition  of  Hier.  Comroellinus,  1595. 


*  Gesner,  Prof,  f  See  Maffei,  Verona  iZlifsfrata,  Part  U.  lib.  HI. 

'  Prof.  Pet.  Victor,  in  expUeationes,  tuar.  Castig.  in  Cat.  &e. 
^  Prof.  p.  20.  II  Epiet.  M  Mwretl,  Ccrmnum. 

%  Jhtroduet,  in  JVotit,  LUt.  Rom. 


I 


APPENDIX.  45 

At  length  Gegaec  undertook  a  complete  edition  of  the  Bei  JRu8He€B  Seriptores, 
under  circumstances  <tf  wiuch  he  has  given  us  some  account  ip  his  preface.  The 
eminent  bookseller,  Fritschius,  had  formed  a  plan  of  printing  these  authors ;  and  to 
aid  in  this  obiect,  he  had  employed  Schoettgenius,  a  young,  but  even  then  a  dis- 
tiDguiahed  scholar.  A  digest  of  the  best  commentators,  and  a  collection  of  various 
leadings,  were  accordingly  prepared  by  him.  The  undertaking,  however,  was  then 
defeited,  in  expectation  of  the  arrival  of  MSS.  from  Italy;  and  Schoettsenius  was 
meanwhile  called  to  a  distance  to  some  other  employment,  leaving  the  fruits  of  his 
labour  in  (he  hands  of  Fritscfaius.  In  1726,  that  bookseller  came  to  Gesner,  and  in- 
formed him,  that  Pofitian^  collations,  written  on  his  copy  of  the  EdUio  Prmeepti, 
bad  at  lengUi  reached  him,  as  also  some  valuable  observations  on  the  rustic  writers, 
communicated  from  Italy  by  Pontedera  and  FacdOlati.  Fritschius  requested  tiiat 
Ctesner  should  now  arrange  the  whole  materials  which  had  been  compiled.  Se- 
lections  from  the  commentaries,  and  the  various  readings  previous  to  the  time  of 
Tictorius,  were  prepared  to  his  hand;  but  he  commenced  an  assiduous  study  of 
eveiy  tiling  that  wis  valuable  in  more  recent  editions.  At  length  his  ponderous 
edition  came  out  with  a  pre&ce,  giving  a  fuU  detail  of  the  labours  of  others  and  his 
own,  and  with  tibe  prefaces  to  the  most  celebrated  preceding  editions.  Some  oY  the 
notes  had  t>een  previously  printed,  as  those  of  Meumius,  Sc^iger,  and  Fulvius  Ursi- 
nu0— others,  as  those  of  Schoettgenius,  Pontedera,  and  Gesner  himself,  had  never 
yet  seen  the  light.  Though  Graner  never  names  Pontedera  without  duly  styling 
him  Clarissimus  Pontedera,  that  scholar  was  by  no  means  pleased  wjth  the  result  of 
Gesner's  edition,  and  attacked  it  with  much  asperity,  in  his  great  woric,  Antiquita' 
turn  Riutiearwn,  Gesner's  first  edition  was  printed  at  Leipsic,  17S6.  Emesti 
took  charge  of  the  publication  of  the  second  edition ;  and,  in  addition  to  the  disser- 
tation  of  Ausonios  Popma,  De  hutnunento  Fundi,  which  formed  an  appendix  to 
tiie  first,  he  has  inserted  Segner's  description  and  explanation  of  the  aviary  of 
Varro. 

The  most  recent  edition  of  the  8enptore9  Rei  Ruitiem,  is  that  of  Schneider,  who 
conceives  that  he  has  peifected  the  edition  of  Gesner,  by  havins  collated  the  an- 
ient edition  of  Bruscbius,  and  the  first  Aldine  edition,  neither  of  which  had  been 
consulted  W  his  predecessor. 

Besides  forming  parts  of  eveiy  collection  of  the  Rei  RusHea  Scriptorea,  the 
agricultural  treatises  of  Cato  and  Varro  have  been  repeatedly  printed  by  tnemselves, 
and  apart  from  those  of  Columella  and  Palladius.  Ausonius  Popma,  in  his  separate 
edition  of  Oato,  1690,  has  chiefly,  and  without  much  acknowledgment,  employed 
some  valuable  annotations  and  remarks  contained  in  the  Adversaria  of  Tumebus. 
This  edition  was  accompanied  by  some  otiier  fragmenti  of  Cato.  These,  however, 
were  of  small  importance ;  and  tiie  principal  pait  of  the  publication  being  the  work 
on  Agriculture,  its  sale  was  much  impeded  by  Commellinus'  full  edition  of  the  agri- 
cultural, writers,  published  five  years  afterwards.  Raphellengius,  however,  reprint- 
ed itiin  1598,  with  a  new  titie;  and  with  the  addition  of  ue  notes  of  Meursius. 
Popma  again  revised  his  labours,  and  published  an  improved  edition  in  1620.  Yar- 
rows treatise,  De  Re  Rusiie&y  was  published  aJone  in  1545)  and  with  his  other  writ- 
ings, by  Stephens,  in  1569.  Ausonius  Popma  also  edited  it  in  1601,  appropriating, 
according  to  his  custom,  the  notes  and  observations  of  others. 

Cato's  work  JDt  Re  RustieA,  has  been  translated  into  Italian  by  Pagani,  whose 
version  was  printed  at  Venice,  1792 ;  and  into  French  by  Saboureux,' Paris,  1775. 
I  am  not  aware  of  any  full  English  translation  of  Cato,  but  numerous  extracts  are 
made  from  it  in  Dickson's  Husbandry  of  the  Ancients, 

Italy  has  produced  more  translafions  of  the  Latin  writers  than  any  other  country ; 
and  one  would  culturally  suppose,  that  the  asricultural  writings  of  those  who  had 
cultivated  the  same  soil  as  themselves,  would  be  peculiarly  interesting  to  the  Ita- 
lians. I  do  not  knowj  however,  of  any  version  of  Varro  in  their  language.  There 
is  an  EngUsh  translation,  by.  the  Rev.  Mr  Owen,  printed  at  Oxford  In  1800.  In 
his  preface,  the  author  says, — "  Having  collated  many  copies  of  this  work  of  tiie 
Roman  writer  in  my  possession,  and  the  variations  being  very  numerous,  I  found  it 
no  easy  task  to  make  a  translation  of  his  treatise  on  agriculture.  To  render  any 
common  Arabic  author  into  English,  would  have  been  a  labour  less  difficult  to  me 
some  years  ago,  than  it  has  been  to  translate  this  part  of  the  woriu  of  this  celebiated 
writer.'* 


46  APPENDIX. 


SALLUST. 

Thif  hifltoiun  was  criticized  in  a  woik  of  Adntns  PoDio,  paiticidaily  on 
of  hifl  affiscted  use  of  obsolete  words  and  expreanons.    Sulpicius  ApoDinaria,  tiie 
grammarian,  who  lived  in  the  reigns  of  the  Antonines,  boasted  that  be  waa  the  ooiy 
person  of  his  time  who  could  understand  Sallust.    His  writinp  were  illuBtiated  ly 
many  of  the  ancient  grammarians,  as  Asper  and  Statilius  Blax*mtta.    In  the  covae 
of  the  ninth  century,  we  find  Lupus,  Abbot  of  Ferriers,  in  one  of  his  letlen,  p«ay- 
faig  his  friend  Regimbertud  to  procure  for  him  a  copy  of  Sallust* ;  and  there  was  a 
copy  of  his  worics  in  the  Library  of  Glastonbuiy  Abbey,  in  the  year  1240t.    The 
style  of  Sallust  is  veiy  peculiar :  He  often  omits  words  which  o^er  writers  waaU 
insert,  and  inserts  those  which  they  would  omit.  Hence  his  text  became  early,  aad 
▼ery  generallv,  corrupted,  from  tnmscribers  and  copyists  leaving  out  what  tfaey  na- 
turally enough  supposed  to  be  redundancies,  and  supplying  what  they  conaideied  as 
deficiencies. 

There  appeared  not  less  than  three  editions  of  Sallust  in  the  cooiae  of  the  year 
1470.  It  has  been  much  disputed,  and  does  not  seem  to  be  yet  ascertained,  wfakih 
of  them  is  the  £dUio  Prmeepti,  One  was  printed  under  the  care  of  Meruia,  by 
Sptra,  at  Venice ;  but  the  other  two  are  without  name  of  place  or  printer :  It  has  been 
conjectured,  that  of  these  two,  die  one  which  is  in  folio  was  printed  at  Rome) ;  and 
the  other,  in  quarto,  at  Paris,  W  Geriog,  Crantz,  and  Friburg§.  The  Venice  £di> 
tion  is  usually  accounted  the  Editio  Phneep«||,  but  Fuhrmann  eonstders  both  die 
Paris  and  Roman  editions  as  prior  to  it.  llie  Roman,  he  thinks,  in  concuneBee 
with  the  opinion  of  Haries,  b  the  eariiest  of  all.  The  Bipontine  editors  style  the 
Parisian  impression  the  Primaria  Prineeps,  Besides  these  three,  upwards  tk  thirty 
other  editions  were  published  in  the  course  of  the  fifteenth  century.  One  of  tiiein 
was  printed  at  Venice,  1493,  from  the  Reeetmon  of  Pomponius  Letos,  who  has 
been  accused  by  subsequent  editors  of  introducing  many  of  the  conuplions  which 
have  crept  into  the  text  of  SallustlT.  There  were  dso  a.  number  of  commentaries  in 
this  century,  by  scholars,  who  did  not  themselves  publish  editions  of  the  \ustorlan, 
but  greatly  contributed  to  th^  assistance  of  Uiose  who  prepared  them  in  the  next. 
The  commentary  of  Laurentius  Valla,  in  particular,  which  was  first  printed  at  Rome 
in  1490,  and  in  which  scarcely  a  single  word  is  passed  over  without  remark  or  ex- 
planation, enriched  most  of  the  editions  which  appeared  in  the  end  of  the  fifteenth* 
and  the  beginning  of  the  subsequent  century *t.  The  first  of  any  note  in  the  six- 
teenth century,  were  those  of  Aldus,  Venice,  1509,  and  1521.  Carrio,  who  pob- 
lishcd  an  edition  at  Antwerp  in  1579,  collected  many  of  the  fra^ents  of  SaJlust's 
great  History  of  Rome ;  and  he  amended  tibie  text  of  the  CatUinanan  and  Juguilhine 
Wars,  as  he  himself  boasts,  in  several  thousand  places.  Tlie  edition  of  Gruter,  in 
1607,  in  which  the  text  received  considerable  alterations,  on  the  authority  of  the 
Palatine  MS.,  obtained  in  its  time  considerable  reputation.  The  earliest  ranomai 
edition  is  in  1649 ;  but  the  best  is  that  printed  at  Leyden,  with  the  notes  of  Grooo- 
vius,  in  1690.  An  immense  number  of  MSS.,  and  copies  of  the  most  ancient  edi- 
tions, were  collated  by  Wasse  for  the  Cambridge  edition,  1710.  He  chiefly  followed 
the  text  of  Gruter,  but  he  has  added  the  notes  of  various  commentators,  and  also 
some  original  observations  of  his  own,  particularly  comparisons,  which  he  has  insti- 
tuted between  his  author  and  the  ancient  Greek  writers.  The  editions  of  Corttus 
(Leipsic,  1724),  and  of  Havercamp  (Amsterdam,  1742),  are  both  excellent.  The 
former,  in  preparing  his  work,  consulted  not  less  than  thirty  MSS.,  fifteen  of  which 
were  preserved  in  the  Wolfenbuttel  library.  He  also  assiduously  collated  most  of 
the  old  editions,  and  found  some  good  readings  in  those  of  Venice,  1 470—1 4SS,  and 
that  of  Leipsic,  1508.  Most  of  the  editions,  nowever,  of  the  fifteenth  century,  he 
affirms,  are  very  bad ;  and,  according  to  him,  a  greater  number  of  the  errors,  which 


*  EpUL  104.  t  Warton,  JUit  qfEngUsh  Poetry,  Vol.  I.  Dissert  U. 

X  Fuhrmann,  Handbuch  der  Classiseh.  Lit. 

6  Dibdin,  Introduction  to  the  Classica,  Vol.  11.  p.  197. 

11  Fabricius,  Bib.  Lot.  Lib.  I.  c.  9. 

ir  Ibid,  •!  ^^' 


APPENDIX.  47 

liad  crept  into  the  text  of  Sallust,  are  to  be  attributed  to  them,  than  to  the  conup- 
tions  of  Pompomus  Lsetus.  Cortius  chiefly  erred  in  conceiving  that  Sallust's  con- 
ciseness consisted  solely  in  paucity  of  words,  so  that  he  always  preferred  the  read- 
ings where  the  greatest  number  of  them  were  thrown  out,  though  the  meaning  was 
thereby  obscured,  and  sometimes  altogether  lost.  The  readings  in  Havercamp's 
edition  are  all  founded  on  those  of  Wasse  and  Gruter.  The  text  is  overloaded  with 
notes :  "  Textus,"  says  Emesti,  "  velut  cymba  in  oceano,  ita  in  notis  natat."  The 
various  readings  are  separated  from  the  notes,  being  inserted  between  the  text  and 
the  commentary.  In  tne  first  volume,  we  have  the  text  of  Sallust,  and  the  annota- 
tioo»--in  the  second,  the  prefaces  of  different  editors  of  Sallust — ^his  life — the  frag- 
ments of  his  works — and  the  judgments  pronounced  by  ancient  authors  on  his  writ- 
ings. The  text  of  Teller's  edition,  Berlin,  1790,  is  formed  on  that  of  Cortius,  but 
departs  from  it,  where  the  editor  conceived  himself  justified  bv  the  various  readings 
of  a  rare  anil  ancient  edition,  published  at  Brescia,  1495,  which  he  had  consulted. 
It  is  totally  unprovided  with  prolegomena,  or  notices,  with  regard  to  the  life  and 
wiitiugs  ot'  the  author,  or  his  works ;  but  there  is  appended  to  it  a  recension  of  the 
celebrated  Spanish  Translation,  executed  under  the  auspices  of  the  Infant  Don  Ga- 
briel, and  a  very  full  Index  LatinitatU.  The  best  of  the  recent  German  editions,  is 
that  of  Lange,  Halle,  1816.  In  this  work,  the  editor  chiefly  follows  Havercampus. 
His  great  (»)ject  was  to  restore  the  purity  of  the  text,  which  he  believed  to  have 
been  greatly,  corrupted  by  the  rash  and  unauthorized  alterations  of  preceding  edi- 
tors, more  particularly  of  Cortius.  Notes  are  subjoined,  partly  illustrative  of  Salr 
lust's  genius  and  telents,  and  partly  of  that  portion  of  Roman  history,  of  which  he 
treated. 

Sallust  has  been  translated  into  Italian,  by  a  Genoese  of  the  name  of  Agost. 
Ortica,  (Venice,  1518).  The  work  of  Ortica  also  comprehends  a  version  of 
Cicero's  fourtii  Catilinarian  orations,  and  the  supposed  reply  of  Catiline.  ^  The  style 
is  barbarous,  involved,  and  obscure,  and  in  some  passages  nearly  unintelligible. 
In  point  of  style,  the  translation  of  Lelio  Carani  (Florence,  1580)  is  purer,  but  it  is 
too  paraphrastic,  and  has  not  always  accurately  expressed  the  meaning  of  the 
original.  The  version  of  Paulo  Spinola  (1564)  was  scarcely  more  happy.  These 
three  translations  having  become  scarce  by  the  middle  of  last  century, 
and  being  defective  in  many  of  the  most  essential  qualities  of  a  translation,  the 
Doctor  Battista  Bianchi,  Professor  of  Latin  at  Sienna,  undertook  an  improved 
translation,  in  which  he  attempted  to  imitate  the  brevity  of  Sallust,  though  he  did 
not,  like  some  of  his  predecessors,  insert  obsolete  Italian  words,  corresponding  to 
tiie  antique  Latin  expressions  adopted  by  his  original.  To  this  translation,  first 
printed  at  Venice,  1761,  there  is  prefixed  a  long  and  elaborate  preface,  in  which 
the  author  discusses  the  hbtorical  and  literary  merits  of  Sallust,  and  enumerates 
the  translations  of  his  works  which  had  at  that  time  appeared  in  the  different 
languages  of  Europe.  After  this  follows  the  life  of  the  Latin  author.  There  are 
likewise  annotations  at  the  foot  of  the  page,  and  an  index  at  the  end  of  the  whole. 
The  next  Italian  translation  of  any  note  which  appeared,  was  that  by  Alfieri,  which 
is  considered  In  Italy  as  a  masterpiece :  His  prose  style,  which  was  founded  on  that 
of  the  classic  writers,  qualified  him  admirablv  for  the  task. 

There  have  been  more  translations  of  Sallust  in  French,  than  in  any  other  lan- 
guage. It  was  translated,  it  is  said,  as  far  back  as  the  reign  of  King  John  of  France, 
who  died  in  1364.  "  Le  Roi  Jean,"  says  Villaret,  "  ainsi  qu'oh  I'a  rapport^,  avoit 
fait  entreprendre  des  versions  de  quelques  auteurs  Latins,  tels  que  Salluste  et  Tite- 
Live*."  I  do  not  suppose,  however,  that  this  translation  was  given  to  the  press  on 
the  invention  of  printing.  The  first  version  printed  was  that  of  Baudoin,  in  1617; 
which  was  succeeded,  in  the  course  of  the  s^me  century,  by  the  futile  attempts  of 
Cassagne  and  Du  Toil.  The  version  of  the  Abb^  Le  Masson,  which  Appeared  in 
the  commencement  of  the  ensuing  century,  was  accompanied  with  a  defence  of 
the  moral  character  of  the  historian.  It  was  followed,  in  a  few  years  afterwards,  by 
that  of  the  Abb^  Thyvon,  which,  though  it  does  not  convey  an  adequate  idea  of 
the  strength  and  sententious  brevity  of  the  original,  is  for  the  most  part  extremely 
faitiiful  to  the  meaning  of  the  author.  Its  deficiency  in  the  former  qualities,  seems 
to  have  induced  M   DottevUle  to  attempt  a  new  translation,  as  he  appears  U>  be 


•  ViOaiet,  Hi$L  de  France,  T.  XL  p.  121. 


48  APPENDIX. 

ahrayi  striTinf  at  tenenew  and  condfleness  of  style.  *<  Hit  Mlxut,**  njs  ^ 
■MMrt  recent  EngH«h  tnnalator,  "  like  his  Tacitus,  U  harah  and  dry ;  and  hdf  frolt- 
lees  endeavours  to  vie  in  brevity  with  either  historian,  are  sufficient  to  prove,  if 
inch  proof  were  needful,  how  absurd  an  attempt  it  is  in  any  translator,  for  the  sake 
of  seising  some  peculiar  feature  of  resemblance,  or  some  ,nncied  g;iaee  of  dictioii, 
to  violate  the  genius  of  his  native  language.**  A  similar  criticism  is  extended,  in 
the  following  paragraph,  to  the  version  of  M.  Beauzie,  though  it  is  admitted  to  be 
the  most  faioiliil  and  accurate  that  ever  appeared  in  the  French  langon^.  Tte 
translation  of  Dotteville  was  first  printed  in  1760,  and  that  of  Beauzio  fifteen  yeas 
afterwards.  About  the  same  time  M.  de  Brosses,  President  of  the  Pailinaent  «f 
Dijon,  published  a  History  of  Rome  during  the  Seventh  Century,  whicfa  _ 
to  be  chiefly  made  up  from  the  fragments  of  Sallust.  The  War  of  Jugortfaa 
first  in  the  historical  arrangement — then  foUow  the  events  which  intervened  ~ 
that  contest  and  the  Conspiracy  of  Catiline,  taken  from  die  fragments  *of 
which  are  Interwoven  with  the  body  of  the  nanative-^and,  lastly,  (he  Conspiracy. 
The  work,  which  extends  to  three  volumes  4to,  comprehends  very  fiiU  notes,  and 
includes  a  life  of  Sallust,  which,  though  written  in  an  indifferent  style,  displays  con- 
siderable learning  and  research.  Although  the  version  of  De  Brosses  was  generally 
accounted  one  of  the  best  translations  of  the  Classics,  which  bad  appeared  in  dte 
French,  or  any  other  language,  it  does  not  seem  to  have  been  considered  as  pie- 
cludittg  subsequent  attempts.  A  translation  by  Dureau  Delamalle  appeared  in 
1808,  and  one  by  MoHevaut,  yet  more  recent,  which  has  gone  throi^  at  least 
three  Qditions.  Still,  however,  many  persons  in  France  prefer  the  venion  of 
Dotteville  to  the  more  modem  translations. 

It  would  appear,  that  the  writings  of  Sallust  became  known  and  popular  in  JSi^- 
iand  soon  after  the  revival  of  literature.  A  translation  of  the  Jugurthine  War, 
'executed  by  "  Sir  Alexander  Barclay,  Priest,  at  the  command  of  the  Duke  of  Nor> 
folke,  and  printed  bv  Richard  P^iison,"  in  folio,  was  published  as  early  as  the  reign 
of  Henry  v  III.  It  bears  on  the  title-page — "  Here  begynoeth  the  bmouM  Cronyue 
of  the  Warre  which  the  Romaynes  had  against  Ju||^]%,  usurper  of  the  Kyngdome 
of  Numidy :  Which  Cronyde  was  compyled  in  Latm  by  the  renowned  Sallust.  And 
translated  into  Elngli^h  by  Sir  Alexander  Barclay,  Freest,  at  commandment  of  the 
right  bye  and  mighty  Prince,  Thomas  Duke  of  Northfolke."  Hie  volume  is  without 
date,  but  is  supposed  to  have  been  printed  about  1540.  It  was  twice  reprinted  in 
1557,  and  in  one  of  these  editions  was  accompanied  with  Catiline's  Consmracy, 
tian»Iated  by  Thomas  Paynel.  The  version  of  Barclay,  though  a  good  one  for  the 
thne,  having  become  obsolete,  not  less  than  three  translattons  appeared  in  the 
middle  and  end  of  the  seventeenth  century — one  by  William  Crosse,  and  the  other 
two  by  anonymous  authors.  These  early  translations  are  all  "  FaiUiluUy  done  in 
Englysh,"  according  to  the  taste  of  the  time,  which,  if  the  sense  were  tolerably 
rendered,  was  little  solicitous  for  accuracy,  and  still  less  for  elegance  of  dicdon*. 
In  Rowe*8  translation,  1709,  the  sense  of  tne  author  Is  given  with  correctness,  bat 
the  style  is  feeble  and  colloquial.  Gordon,  better  known  as  the  translator  of  Tacitus, 
also  translated  Sallust  in  1744.  His  version  Ib  accompanied  with  a  series  of  dis- 
courses on  topics  connected  with  Roman  history,  as  on  (action  and  parties,  public 
corruption,  and  civil  wars.  The  Epistles  of  Sulust  to  Cesar  on  Government,  are 
also  translated  by  him,  and  their  authenticity  vindicated.  In  1751,  Dr  Rose  pub- 
lished a  new  translation  of  the  Catilinarian  and  Jugurthine  Wars.  "This  translation," 
says  Steuart,  "  is  justly  entitled  to  the  esteem  in  whicfa  it  has  been  held,  and  die 
author  himself  to  considerable  praise,  for  his  endeavours  to  combine  the  advantam 
of  a  free  and  literal  version.  His  chief  defect  proceeds  from  what  constitutes  Uie 
great  difficulty  in  all  classicid  translation — ^the  uniting  a  dear  trahafusion  of  the  sense 
with  the  ease  and  freedom  of  original  composition.  To  the  critical  reader,  this  will 
be  abundantly  obvious,  if  he  compare  the  version  of  Sallust  with  the  orilonal  pieces 
of  Dr  Rose  himself.  In  the  speeches,  too,  where  tiie  ancient  writers  laid  oat  all 
their  energy,  and  in  which  they  should  be  followed  by  a  like  effort  of  the  tranrialor, 
the  author  is  cold  and  languid,  and  he  rises  on  no  occasion  above  the  level  of  ordi- 
nary narrative."  The  most  recent  English  translation  is  that  by  the  author  above 
quoted — 1806,  two  volumes  quarto.  Two  long  Essays,  with  notes,  are  prefixed  to  it — 
me  one  on  the  Life,  and  the  other  on  the  Literary  Character  and  Writings  of  SaQiist. 


*  Stuart's  SdUu8t,  Essay  II. 


APPENDIX.  49 

The  Spanish  translatioii  of  Sallust,  execated  undsr  the  auspices  of  the  Infimt  Don 
Gabriel,  has  been  much  celebrated  on  account  of  its  plates  and  incomparable  typo« 
graphy.    It  was  printed  in  1772. 


CJSSAR. 

Lupus,  Abbot  of  Ferriers,  says,  in  one  of  his  letters,  that  no  historic  work  of 
Cesar  was  extant,  except  his  Commentaries  on  the  Gallic  War,  of  which  he  pro* 
mises  to  send  his  correspondent,  the  Bishop  Heribold,  a  copy,  as  soon  as  he  can 
procure  one*.  The  other  Commentaries,  De  Bella  Chnli,  and  De  Bello  AUxaii' 
drino,  of  which  he  speaks  as  being  also  extant,  were  written,  he  affirms,  by  Hirtius. 
It  thus  appears,  tiiat  though  Lupus  was  mistaken  as  to  the  author  of  the  work  De 
BtUo  CttfiU,  the  whde  series  of  memoirs  now  known  by  the  name  of  Cesar's  Com* 
mentaries,  was  extant  in  the  ninth  century.  About  a  century  afterwards.  Pope 
Gerbert,  or  Sylvester  IL,  writes  to  the  Archbishop  of  Rheims  to  procure  the  loan  of 
a  copy  of  Cesar  from  the  Abbot  of  Terdon,  Who  was  possessed  of  one,  and  to  have 
it  transcribed  for  himf.  Cesar's  Commentaries  are  repeatedly  quoted  in  the  Spe- 
cukun  Hittoriale  of  Vincent  de  Beauvais,  a  work  of  the  thirteenth  century,  and  in 
various  other  productions  of  the  same  period.  It  is  probable,  therefore,  tfaiat  copies 
of  them  were  not  very  scarce  in  that  age ;  but  they  had  be<^ome  so  rare  by  the 
middle  of  the  fifteenth  century,  that  Candidi,  In  a  letter  to  Niccolo  Niccoli,  annoupces 
the  discovery  of  a  MS.  of  Cesar  as  a  great  event. 

Andrea,  Bishop  of  Aleri^,  took  charge  of  the  first  edition  of  Cesar,  and  an  erudite , 
epistie  by  him  is  prefixea  to  it.  It  came  forth  'at  Rome,  from  the  printing-press  of 
Sweyn  and  Pannartz,  as  early  as  the  year  1469.  Of  this  EdiHo  Prineepa  of  Cesar, 
only  275  copies  were  thrown  off;  but  it  was  reprinted  at  the  same  place  in  1472. 
There  were  a  good  many  editions  published  towards  the  end*  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury, most  of  which  have  now  become  rare.  The  first  of  the  ensuing  century  was 
that  of  Philippus  Beroaldus,  (Bologna  1604).  It  was  followed  by  the  Aldine  editions, 
(Venice  161S-19,)  which  are  not  so  remarkable  either  for  accuracy  or  beauty  as 
the  other  early  editions  of  the  Classics  which  issued  from  the  celebrated  press  of  the 
Manutii.  The  first  had  seven  pages  of  errata — **  Mendis  scatet,"  sav  the  Bipontine 
editors.  In  the  edition,  1566,  there  were  inserted  plates  of  warlike  instruments, 
encampments,  and  the  most  celebrated  places  mentioned  in  Cesar's  campaigns^ 
which  became  a  common  onuiment  and  appendage  in  subsequent  impressions. 

Fulvius  Ursinus  published  an  edition  of  considerable  note  in  1570.    Ursinus  had 
discovered  a  MS.  written  in  the  middle  of  the  tenth  century,  which  he  chiefly  em-* 
ployed  in  the  correction  of  the  text.    He  is  accused  of  having  committed  a  litenuy 
theft  in  the  publication  of  this  work,  it  being  alleged  that  he  had  received  many 
annotations  from  Petrus  Ciacconius,  which  he  mixed  up  with  his  own,  and  inserted . 
as  such,  suppressing  altogether  the  name  of  the  real  author. 

The  next  edition  of  any  eminence,  was  that  of  Strada  (Frankfort,  1574).  This 
impression  is  remarkable  for  containing  forty  plates  of  battles,  and  other  thin|;s  re- 
lating to  the  campaigns  of  Cesar;  as  also  inscriptions,  found  in  various- ciUes  of 
Spain,  it  is  also  distinguished  as  having  been  the  prototype  of  Clarke's  Splendid 
edition  of  Cesar,  which  Mr  Dibdin  pronounces  to  be  "  the  most  sumptuous  classical 
volume  which  this  country  ever  produced.  It  contains,"  says  he,  "  eighty-seven 
copperplates,  which  were  engraved  at  the  expense  of  the  different  n^leroen  to 
whom  they  are  dedi^ted.  Of  the5!e  plates,  I  am  not  disposed  to  think  so  highly 
as  some  fond  admirers :  The  head  of  Marlborough,  to  whom  this  courtly  won  is 
dedicated,  by  Kneller  and  Vertue,  does  not  convey  any  exalted  idea  .of  that  re» 
nowned  hero ;  and  the  bust  of  Julius  Cesar^  which  follows  it,  will  appear  meagre 
and  inelegant  to  those  who  have  contemplated  a  similar  print  in  the  quarto  publi- 
cation of  Lavater's  Ptiysiognomy.  The  plates  are  in  general  rather  curious  than 
ably  executed ;  and  compared  with  what  Flaxman  has  done  for  Homer  and  i£schy- 
lus,  are  tasteless  and  unspirited.  The  type  of  this  magnificent  volume  is  truly 
beautiful  and  splendid,  and  for  its  fine  lustre  and  perfect  execution,  reflects  immor- 
tality on  the  publisher.    The  text  is  accompanied  wi^  various  readings  in  the  mar- 


Epift,  57.  t  JBpist  8. 


60  APPENDIX. 

^ ;  and  at  the  end  of  the  Toloine,  after  the  fracmeDU  of  Cesar,  are  the  critia! 
notes  of  the  editor,  compiled  wi^  ^^^  labour  trom  the  collation  of  ancient  MS^ 
and  former  editions.  A  MS.  in  the  Queen's  libraiy,  and  one  belonein^  to  the  Bi^bof 
of  Ely,  were  particularly  consulted  by  Dr  Clarke.  The  work  closes  with  a  h:^ 
and  correct  index  of  names  and  places.  It  is  upon  the  whole  a  most  splendid  ei&' 
tion,  and  wHl  be  a  lastinfr  monument  of  the  taste,  as  well  as  erudition  of  the  editor.** 
The  best  edition  since  the  time  of  0r  Clarke's,  is  that  by  Ou^ndorp,  printed  at 
Leyden  in  1737.  This  editor  had  the  use  of  many  ancient  MSS.,  parliculariy  nra 
of  the  beginning  of  the  ninth  century,  one  of  which  had  belonged  to  Julias  Bodzs- 
sius,  and  the  omer  to  Petros  Bellovacensis.  "  The  preceding  commen^to;«'(ui 
Ce«ar,*'  says  Harles, "  have  all  been  eclipsed  by  the  skill  and  researches  ofChden- 
doip,  who,  by  a  careful  examination  of  numerous  MSS.  and  editions,  bcs  ofteo  sac* 
cessfully  restored  the  true  ancient  reading  of  his  author."  He  has  inserted  in  hb 
publication  Dodwell's  disquisitidn  concerning  the  author  of  \the  books  2V  £iSt 
jilexandrinOf  and  Scallger's  ThpographUtU  Description  of  QauL  Moras  R- 
piinted  this  edition,  bat  with  many  critical  improvement^,  at  Leipsic,  17S0.  He 
has  illustiated  the  military  tactics  of  Cesar,  from  Ritter's  History  of  the  Gaul^,  isd 
from  the  books  of  Guiachardus,  De  Re  JkliUtari  Veterum»  The  best  modem  German 
edition  Is  that  of  Oberlin,  (Leipsic,  1806).  It  is  founded  on  the  basis  of  those  oi 
Oudendorp  and  Morus,  with  additional  observations,  and  a  careful  revitioo  (^  ibe 
text.  In  the  preface,  those  writings  in  which  the  faith  due  to  Cesar's  Comrae&ti* 
ries  is  attempted  to  be  shaken,  are  reviewed  and  refuted ;  and  there  are  added  seve* 
ral  fragments  of  Cesar,  as  also  those  notices  of  ancient  authors  conceniiDg  imo. 
which  had  been  neglected  or  omitted  by  Morus. 

Cxsar  was  first  rendered  into  RcUian  by  Agost.  Ortica,  the  translator  of  SallusL 
He  says,  in  the  preface,  that  his  version  was  executed  in  a  veiy  hurried  manner,  s 
it  was  transcribed  and  printed  all  in  the  course  of  six  months.    Argelati  could  not 
ascertain  the  date  of  the  most  ancient  edition,  which  was  printed  at  Milan,  but  be 
thinks  that  it  was  as  old  as  the  fifiteeoth  century*.    This  impression  was  followed 
by  not  fewer  than  twelve  others,  before  the  middle  of  the  oxteenA  century.    A 
subsequent  translation,  by  F.  Baldelli,  appeared  at  Venice,  1554.    This  edition  was 
succeeded  by  many  others,  particularly  one  at  Venice  in  15do,  quarto,  of  which 
Palladio,  the  great  architect,  took  charge.    He  inserted  |n  it  various  engtavings  of 
battles,  encampments,  sieges,  and  oUier  military  operations,  from  plates  which  had 
been .  executed  by  his  two  sons,  Leonida  and  Orazio,  and  had  come  into  his  bands 
soon  after  their  premature  decease.     He  prepared  the  edition  chieflv  for  the  sake  ol 
introducing  these  designs,  and  thereby  honouring  the  memoiy  of  his  children.    To 
this  edition  there  is  a  preface  by  Palladio  on  tiie  military  affairs  of  the  Romans,  their 
legions,  arms,  and  encampments.    A  splendid  impression  of  BaldelU's  vecaon,  ac- 
companied with  Palladio's  designs,  was  thrown  off  at  Venice  in  1619.    in  1737,  a 
translation  appeared  at  Venice,  oearing  to  be  printed  from  an  ancient  MS.  of  Cesar, 
in  Italian,  which  the  editor  says  he  had  discovered,  {where  he  does  not  speciArt) 
and  had  in  some  few  places  corrected  and  modernized.    Paitoni  has  expoWd  mii 
literary  fraud,  and  has  shown,  that  it  is  just  the  translation  of  BaJdells,  with  a  few 
words  aftered  at  die  beginning  of  paragraphs.     In  some  respects,  however,  it  is  a 
good  edition,  containmg  various  tables  and  notices  conducive  to  the  proper  noder- 
standing  of  the  author. 

» 

We  have  seen  that  several  translations  of  the  Latin  classics  were  executed  bf 
order  of  the  French  king,  John.  Charles  V.,  who  succeeded  him  in  1S64,  was  a 
still  warmer  patron  of  learning,  and  was  himself  tolerably  versed  in  Latin  fitentve* 
"Tant  que  compettement,"  says  Christine  de  Pise,  in  her  Memoirs  of  hisD,  "cn- 
tendoit  son  LAtin.*'  By  his  order  and  directions  the  first  JFVencA  tianshtioD  of 
Cesar  was  undertakenf .  But  the  earliest  French  iranslation  of  Cesar's  CommeDta- 
ries  which  was  printed,  was  that  of  Robert  Gaguin,  dedicated  to  Charles  Vin*  ^ 
published  in  1488.  Of  the  recent  French  versions  the  most  esteemed  is  that  by 
Turpin  de  Crissi,  accompanied  by  historical  and  critical  notes,  and  piinfted  at  MoB' 
targis,  1785. 


*  BibUoteea  degU  Volgarigzaiari,  Tom.  L  p.  206. 
t  Villaret,  Bitt.  de  Frimee,  T.  XI.  p.  121. 


\ 


APPENDIX.  SI 

llieptrt  of  Cssar's  Commentaries  which  relates.to  tile  Gallie  wan  was  translatecl 
into  English  as  early  as  1665,  by  Ardnir  Golding,  who  dedicated  his  work  to  Sir  Wil- 
liam  Cecil,  afterwards  Lord  Burleigh.  In  1696,  a  translation  of  the  whole  Commen- 
taries was  printed  with  the  following  title :  **  The  Commentaries  of  Cssar,  of  his 
"Wars  in  Gallia,  and  of  the  Civil  Wars  betwixt  him  and  Pompey,  with  numy  excel- 
lent  andjudieioua  Observations  thereupon ;  as  also,  the  Art  of  our  Modem  Train- 
iikfr ;  by  Clement  Edmonds,  Esq."  The  best  translation  is  that  by  «  William  Dun- 
can, Professor  of  Philosophy  in  the  University  of  Aberdeen,  printed  at  London, 
1756,"  with  a  long  preliminary  Discourse  concerning  the  Roman  Art  of  War. 


CICERO. 

"Some  of  Cicero's  orations  were  studied  harangues,  which  he  had  prepared  and 
^^tten  oyer  previous  to  their  delivery.    This,  however,  was  not  the  case  with  the 
ipreater  proportion  of  his  speeches,  most  of  which  were  pronounced  without  much 
premeditation,  but  were  afterwards  copied  out,  witii  such  corrections  and  embellish- 
ments as  bestowed  on  them  a  greater  polish  and  lustre  than  when  they  had  origm- 
aUy  fellen  from  his  lips.    Before  the  invention  of  printing  had  increased  the  means  of 
satisfyms  public  curiosity,  as  no  oration  was  given  to  the  world  but  by  the  author 
himself,  be  had  always  the  power  of  altering  and  improving  by  his  experience  of  the 
«flect  it  produced  at  delivery.    Pliny  informs  us,  that  many  things  on  which  Cicero 
had  enlaiiged  at  the  time  when  he  actually  spoke  in  the  Senate  and  tfie  Forum, 
were  retrenched  when  he  ultimately  gave  his  orations  to  the  public  in  writing*. 
Cicero  himself  had  somewhere  declared,  that  the  defence  of  Cornelius  had  occupied 
four  da3rs,  whence  Pliny  concludes,  that  those  orations  which,  when  delivered  at 
fdSl  length,  took  up  so  much  time  at  the  bar,  were  gready  altered  and  abridged, 
when  he  afterwards  comprised  them  in  a  single  volume.    The  brations,  in  particular, 
for  Murena  and  Varenus,  he  says,  seem  now  to  contain  merely  the  general  heads 
of  a  discourse.    Sometimes,  however,  they  were  extended  and- not  curtailed,  by  the 
orator  in  the  closet,  as  was  confessedly  the  caise  in  the  defence  of  Blilo.    A  few  of 
the  orations  which  Cicero  had  delivered,  he  did  not  consider  as  at  idl  wortliy  of  pre- 
servation.   Thus,  of  the  oration  for  Dejotarus,  he  says,  in  one  of  faiB  letters  to  Doh- 
bella,  "  I  did  not  imagine  that  1  had  preserved  among  mj  papere  the  trifling  speech 
which  I  made  in  behalf  of  Dejotarus ;  however,  I  have  found  it,  and  sent  it  to  you, 
agreeablv  to  your  requestf."    This  accounts  for  many  speeches  of  Cicero,  tiie  de- 
livery of  which  is  recorded  in  history,  being  now  lost.     It  appeara,  however,  that 
those  which  he  conndered  deserving  of  his  care,  though  ihey  may  be  widely  dif- 
ferent frem  the  state  in  which  they  were  originally  pronounced,  came  pure  from  the 
hand  of  (he  author,  either  in  the  shape  in  which  he  would  have  widied  to  have  de- 
livered them,  or  in  that  which  he  considered  best  adapted  for  publication  and  pe- 
rusal.   They  were  probably  transcribed  by  himself,  and  copies  of  them  multiplied  by 
his  freedmen,  such  as  Tyro  and  Tyrannio,  whom  he  had  accustomed  to  accurate 
transcription.     His  orations  had  also  the  good  fortune  to  meet,  at  a  veiy  earlv  pe» 
riod,  with  a  judicious  and  learned  commentator  in  the  person  of  Aseodius  Pedbnus, 
a  grammarian  in  the  reign  of  Nero,  part  of  whose  Commentarv  was  discovered  by 
Poggio,  along  with  other  classical  woriu,  in  the  monastery  of  St  Gall,  near  Con- 
stance. 

All  the  orations  of  Cicero  were  not  lost  during  the  middle  ages.  Pope  Geri)ert, 
in  one  of  his  letten,  asks  from  the  Abbot  Gesilbert  a  copy  of  the  concluding  part  of 
the  speech  for  Dejotarus ;  and  he  writes  to  anottier  of  his  correspondents,  to  bring 
him  Cicero's  treatise  De  AepuMie^  and  the  Orations  against  Verres,  *<  Comitentur 
iter  tnum  Talliana  opuscule,  et  de  RepubHca  et  In  Verrem| :"  Branetto  Latin!, 
who  died  in  1294,  translated  into  Italian  the  orations  for  Dejotarus,  Marcellus,  and 
Ligarius,  which  were  afterwards  printed  at  Lyons  in  1668§.  These  three  harangues 


*  Plin.  Epist,  Lib.  I.  Ep.  20.  t  Ejrist.  F^uml.  Lib.  IX.  Ep.  12. 

1  Epist  87. 

§  Tlraboschi,  Stor,  deU  Lett,  BaL  Tom.  IV.  Lib.  IIL  o.  5.  §  21.    Maffei,  2Vv- 
4uUmMal.p,  41. 

Vol.  IL— 7 


6i  APPENDIX. 

being  la  a  giMt  iMiwm  oonpUneatwy  •ddrsMw  lo  Cmv,  ui4 
MDtuneDt  iMit  what  lakht  be  aafely  expretied  In  preMoce  of  an  imliiiHtod 
raign,  mdie  tranacr&pCi  had  been  made  of  them  in  Rome's  tjiannirni 
those  orations  which  breathed  forth  the  eipiring  spirit  of  liberty. 

Cicero  was  the  idol  of  Petrarch,  the  mat  restoier  of  ekssieal  Utemtnie.  He 
never  could  sp«ik  of  him  but  in  terms  of  deep  and  enlhusiaBtic  admirntiam.  Tbs 
sweetness  and  sonorousness  of  TuUy's  periods  charmed  his  ear ;  and  tlMMin^ 
to  penetrate  tlie  depths  of  his  philosophy,  yet  Us  ▼igorous  ftncy  ofti 
the  Roman  orator  into  the  U^est  regions  of  imagination.  Henee»  while 
the  discovery  of  all  the  classics,  his  chief  diligence  was  exercised  in  endc 
to  preserve  such  works  of  Cicero  as  were  then  known,  and  to  recover  each 
lost*.  Petrarch  received  in  loan  from  Lapo  of  Casti^ioochio  a  copy  of  sevcfal  if 
Cicero's  orations,  among  which  were  the  Philippics,  and  the  oration  for  Jiib. 
These  he  kept  by  him  for  four  years,  that  he  mifmt  transciibe  them  with  !■ 
hand,  on  account  of  the  t>hmders  of  the  copyists  in  that  ^.  Tliis  we  lean 
tiie  letters  of  Lapo,  published  by  the  Abb^  Mehus.  Coming  to  Liege  when 
twenty-five  vears  of  age,  that  is,  in  1829,  Petrarch  remained  ^le  wl  two 
of  Cicero,  which  he  ud  discovered  in  that  city,  were  transcribed,  one  by  I 
hand,  and  another  by  a  fiiendt  bodi  of  which  were  immediately  tranwittfid  by  him 
to  Itahr.  Me  was  detained  at  Lfiege  for  some  time  Inr  the  difilculty  of  pfocmmg 
even  the  worst  sort  of  ink.  Sevenl  other  oiatioas  of  Cioeso  were  dieeof«nd  ^ 
Petrarch  in  different  parts  of  Itsly. 

Dominico  Arretino,  who  was  nearly  contemporary  with  Petraieh,  declares.  In  ooa 
of  his  works,  entitled  Fon$t  that  he  had  seen  eleven  of  Cicero's  ondona,  mid  that 
a  person  hsd  told  him  that  he  actual^  possess*^  and  had  read  twenty  of  tbemf. 
It  appears,  however,  that  in  the  time  of  Cosmo  de  Medici  those  wofka  of  Cieera 
which  were  extant  were  very  much  corrupted.  **  Illorum  librorum,"  saya  Nieeole 
^TiccoU,  speaUng  of  some  of  the  works  of  Cicero,  "magna  pars  inleiierit,  hi  was 
QUI  supersunt  adeo  mendosi  sunt,  ut  paulo  ab  interitu  distent ;"  henee,  in  liie  nld- 
dle  of  the  fifteenth  century,  the  diacoveiy  of  a  new  MS.  of  Cicero  was  hailed  as  t 
new  acquisition.  At  Langres,  in  a  library  of  the  monks  of  Chigni,  ia  finqgnd^, 
Pofrgio  found  the  oration  for  Cedna,  which  he  immediate  tmnscrihed,  and  aent 
various  copies  of  it  to  his  friends  in  Italy.  In  the  monasteries  around  Gonalaace  he 
discovered  the  two  orations  against  Ridlus,  Le  Legt  JigrmA,  and  that  to  die  peo- 
l>|e  on  the  same  subject ;  also  the  orations  Pro  Mabirio,  snd  Pre  Bmoq.  A  nola 
on  the  MS.  copy  of  the  oration  tn  Pttonete,  preserved  in  the  abbev  of  Santa  Maria, 
in  Florence,  records  the  ftct  of  this  harangue  having  beoi  likewise  diacoverad  by 
Posgiol. 

A  compendium  of  Cicero's  treatise  De  MvenHane  was  weO  known  in  the  daA 
ages,  having  been  translated  into  Italian,  in  an  abiidged  form,  in  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury, by  a  professor  of  Bologna.  This  was  almost  ute  first  prose  woric  which  had 
appeared  in  the  language,  and  was  printed  at  Lyons  with  the  EihUa  ^JSnaUHU^ 
fay  Brunette  Latini,  who  also  translated  the  first  book  De  Aieefi<ioiie§.  Lopes  of 
Fenieres  possessed  a  copy  of  Cicero's  A/kelonea,  as  he  himself  infimns  nafl,  hot  It 
was  inconiplete;  and  he  accordinsiy  asks  Einhart,  who  had  been  his  preoepter,  for 
^e  loan  ofhis  MS.  of  this  work,  in  order  that  his  own  miebt  be  perfected.  lognl- 
phus,  who  flourished  in  England  towards  the  close  of  the  eleventh  century,  dectue% 
^t  he  was  sent  from  Westminster  to  the  school  at  Oxford,  where  he  learned  Aris- 
totle, and  the  first  two  books  of  Tully's  Rhetoricfifi,  Now,  if  the  first  two  books 
of  the  Bhetorica^  which  are  all  that  have  hitherto  been  discovered,  were  used  as  sn 
elemenlsry  work  in  the  public  school  at  Ozfoi^,  riiey  can  hardly  he  auppoaad  to 
have  been  very  scarce  in  Italy.  From  the  jurisconsult,  Raymond  Soperaattus,  or 
Sorranza,  to  whom  he  had  been  indebted  for  the  books  De  Oiori&^  Pelmch 
received  an  imperfect  copy  of  the  tract  De  Oratore,  of  whidi  the  MSS.,  thoi^ 
fsneitlly  ucomplete,  were  by  no  means  uncommon  at  that  period.    **Ab  hoe 


•  EpiH.  Jid  VW,  lUtuL  ep.  2.  f  Mebus,  PU.  Ambroe,  Oamaid.  p.  21S. 

{  Ginguen^,  Hist.  JUt  tPlUUie,  Tom.  11.    Shepherd's  L^e  of  Paggu,.    Ban- 
dmi,  Catal.  Codie,  BibUoth.  MedU.  Laurent.  Tom.  U.  p.  482. 
.   6  Paitoui,  Bibiiotee.  degH  JiiUar.  VolgmUtaH. 

IT  HaOain's  Evrope  during  the  Jl£d4k  JBlgee,  Vol.  Ul.  p.  524.  Sd  ed. 


APPENDIX.  53 

faftM,**  nyv  he,  '*  et  Vanonb  et  Cieeronis  aliqw:  Cv^  mmm  Tokmen  i»  eem« 
■ranilnis  fidt ;  led  iotar  ipsa  eommunia  libii  de  Oratore  ae  de  Leg^ibus  impeifecti,  ut 
fere  semper  invwutmtiir."  Nearly  half  a  century  from  the  death  of  Petnrch  had 
etopaed,  before  the  disco'very  of  a  complete  copy  of  Cicero's  rhetorical  works.  It 
w^as  about  the  year  1418,  during  the  Popedom  of  Martin  V.,  and  while  Poggio 
was  io  Enriand,  that  Geiaid  Landriani,  Bishop  of  Lodi,  found  in  that  dty,  among 
the  rains  of  an  ancient  monastery,  a  MS.,  containinc  Cicero's  treatise  De  Oratore^ 
bis  BnUuB  and  Orator,  He  carried  the  MS.  with  him  to  Miho,  and  there  gave  it 
to  Oaspar  Bazizza.  The  character,  however,  in  winch  it  was  written,  was  such, 
Ibat  few  scholars  or  antiquaries  in  that  city  could  read  it  At  length  Cosmus,  a 
young  Veronese  scholar,  deciphered  and  transcribed  the  dialogue  De  Oratore. 
Blondus  Flavins,  die  author  of  the  Italia  JUuMtraia,  who  had  come  in  eariy  youth 
fiom  his  native  place,  Forii,  to  Milan,  transcribed  the  Arufia,  and  sent  copies  of  it 
to  Guarittus  of  Verona,  and  Leonard  Justiniani,  at  Venice.  By  there  means  the 
liietoricai  works  of  Cicero  were  soon  difliised  all  over  Italy.  The  discovery  wae 
hailed  as  a  triumph,  and  subject  of  public  congratulation.  Pogg^  was  informed  of 
it  while  in  England,  and  there  awaited  the  arrival  of  a  copy  widi  the  most  lively 
impatienoe*. 

The  philosophic  writings  of  Cicero  have  descended  to  us  in  a  more  imperfect 
etate  tlwn  his  oratorical  dTakMoiefl  or  orations.  In  consequence  of  the  noble  spirit 
of  freedom  and  patriotism  which  they  breathe,  their  proscription  would  no  doubt 
speedily  follow  that  of  their  author.  There  is  a  common  story  of  a  grandson  off 
Augustus  concealing  one  of  Cicero's  philosophic  works,  on  bemg  detected  while 
perasing  it  by  his  giandfbther,  and  tfaoi]|)b  he  received  his  gracious  permission  to 
finish  it,  the  anecdote  shews  that  it  was  among  the  hJbri  prohibUL  The  chief 
leading,  indeed,  of  Alexander  Severus,  was  the  Mep^bUe  and  Ofieee\ :  But  Alex- 
ander was  an  imperial  phcenix,  which  never  revived  in  the  Roman  empire ;  and  we 
hear  little  of  Cicero  during  the  reigns  of  the  barbarian  sovereigns  of  Italy  in  the 
middle  ages. 

Petrarch  procured  an  imperfect  copy  of  Cicero^s  treatise  De  LegibuB,  from  the 
Lawyer  Raymond  Sornmza^  who  had  a  most  extensive  libiary,  and  to  whom,  ae 
we  have  just  seen,  he  had  been  indebted  for  a  MS.  of  the  dialogue  Dp  Oratore^ 

No  further  discovery  was  subsequently  made  of  the  remaining  parts  of  the  work 
De  Leg^ue*  The  other  philosophical  writings  of  Cicero  were  found^by  Petrarch 
among  the  hooka  in  his  fether's  library,  or  were  recovered  for  him  by  the  persons 
whofn  lie  employed  for  this  purpose  in  almost  every  quarter  of  Italy:  "  Abeuntibiia 
amicis,"  says  he,  **  et,  ut  fit,  petentibus  numquid  e  patria  sua  vdlem,  lesponde* 
bam, — ^nihil  preter  libros  Ciceronis."  Petrarch  frequently  quotes  the  treatise  De 
fHnibuOt  as  a  work  witii  which  he  was  familiar.  Leonard  Aretine,  however,  haa 
been  senenJly  considered  as  the  discoverer  of  that  dialogue,  as  also  of  the  treatise 
De  JViturA  Deorum§. 

**  There  is  no  collection  of  my  lettera,**  says  Cicero,  in  one  of  his  epistles  to  At- 
tieus ;  "  but  Tiro  has  about  seventy  of  them,  and  you  can  furnish  some  more.  I 
must  look  over  and  correct  them,  and  tiien  th^  may  be  published."  Hiis,  however, 
never  was  accomplished  by  himself.  After  tfale  revolution  of  the  Roman  state,  the 
publication  of  his  letters  must  have  been  dangerous,  on  account  of  the  freedom  with 
which  he  expresses  himself  concerning  Octavius,  and  the  ministeis  of  his  power. 
Cornelius  Nepos  mentions,  that  some  of  Cicero's  letters  were  published,  but  that 
sixteen  books  of  Epistles  to  Atticus,  from  his  consulship  to  his  death,  thou£^  extant, 
were  by  no  means  m  common  clrculatfon)| .  The  reigns  of  the  prfauses  who  succeed- 
ed Atwustus,  were  not  more  fiivouiable  to  fieedom  than  his  own ;  and  hence  the 
FamOfaur  Letten,  as  well  as  those  to  Atticus,  probably  remained  long  in  the  eabioete 


*  B.  Flavii,  Hal.  lUuet.  p.  846.  ap..Me!ners,  Lebenschreibung  Bervhmter  man- 
ner^ Tom.  I.  p.  89.  Ghiguen^,  m»t,  Ut,  Tom.  IL  Pet.  Victor,  tfi  Cwtigat.  ad 
deer,  pott  eaetig,  in  Paradox, 

t  Lemprid.  in  Alex,  8ev,  c.  29.    *<Latina  ciim  legeret,  non  alia  fluigis  legebat 
qokm  de  Offlciis  Ciceronis  et  De  Republica." 
Epiet.  Sena.  Lib.  XV.  Ep.  I. 
Chiyton's  fltsf  ory  of  the  HoUH  ofJUkdid,  e.  9. 
Ptf.  JittU.  c.  16. 


54  APPENDIX. 

of  the  duioiit,  before  they  recelTed  any  crftteal  inspeclioD.  Tbe  LeCtan  af  C^Dera, 
however,  were  weD  known  in  the  middle  ages,  and  even  in  those  times  paiM  were 
taken  to  have  accurate  copies  of  them.  Lupns  Fenaiieosis  procured  duplicates  of 
Cicero's  Epistles,  in  order  to  collate  them  with  his  own  MSS.,  and  thai  to  asahe 
up  a  correct  and  complete  coUectioD*.  John  of  SalSsbuiy  cites  two  of  Ciccra^s  bet- 
ters to  Caius  Casshis ;  one  of  which  is  now  contained  in  the  twelfth,  and  the  other 
in  the  fifteenth  book  of  the  Ftimiliar  epUtUa.  In  the  Life  of  JuUus  Cmamt,  which 
passes  under  the  name  of  Julius  Celsus,  and  which  was  written  during  the  midAa 
ages,  eztracti  are  occasionally  made  from  the  Famiiiar  EpisUcM.  They  had  heceme 
scarce,  however,  at  the  time  when  Petrarch  found  a  copy  of  them  at  Teraao,  a 
place  where  he  little  expected  to  make  such  a  dlscoveiyf-  Thb  old  MS.,  wUck 
Victorius  thinks  of  the  age  of  the  Florentine  Pandects,  ultimately  came  ints  ihe 
Medicean  library;  and  a  copy  which  Petrarch  had  transcribed  from  it,  was  biem^ 
from  Padua  to  Florence  by  NIccolo  Niccoli,  at  whose  deadi  it  was  placed  la  the 
library  of  St  Marc  in  that  city}.  Several  schofan  who  inspected  berth  have  oh- 
senred,  that  the  transcript  by  Petrarch  differed  in  some  respects  from  the  originalj. 
It  was  also  marked  with  various  corrections  and  glosses,  in  die  hand-writing  of  Nie- 
colo  Niccoli  himself  ||.  All  the  other  MSS.  of  the  Familiar  Episdes  flowed  fiamifais 
discoveied  by  Petrarch,  as  we  leam  from  a  passage  of  Lagomarsmus,  who  speska 
thus  of  the  dmerent  eodtees  of  the  Eputolm  FamtUarei:  **  Quibos  tamen  ego  co- 
dicibus  non  tantum  tribuo,  quantum  uni  illi  omnium  quotqnot  ubique  tanaraaayidem 
epistolarwn  corpus  continentes,  extant,  vetusrissimo,  (et  ex  quo  cpleraa  omBca  qui 
usquam  sunt  tanquam  e  fonte  ac  eapite  manasse,  et  Angehis  PoKtianuB,  et  Felras 
Victorius  memoriB  prodtderant,)  qui  Florentie  inMediceo-Laurentiane  Bifaliothecc 
XLiX.  adservatur  numero  IX.  extra  notatuslT."  There  has  been  a  good  deal  of 
doubt  and  discussion  how  these  Letters  first  came  to  obtain  the  title  ofAmtiMres. 
They  are  not  so  called  in  any  original  MS.  of  Cicero,  nor  are  they  dted  by  this  name 
In  any  ancient  author,  as  Auius  C^Uius,  or  Priacian.  These  writers  genenBy  quote 
each  book  of  the  Epistles  by  the  name  of  the  peison  to  whom  the  first  letter  in 
diat  book  is  addressed.  Thus  Gellius  cites  the  first  book  by  the  name  of  the  Let- 
ters to  Lentulus,  because  It  commences  with  a  letter  to  mm.  Nor  are  Ifae  MSS, 
in  which  t}ie  appellation  of  the  Epistolm  FamiliareM  is  employed  unifona  in  tha 
title.  In  some  MSS.  they  are  called  EpUtoUB  FamUiares,  in  others,  Efittolm 
ad  FamiUaret,  and  in  a  Palatine  MS.  ZMnri  Epiitolarum  FamiUanim. 

Previous  to  the  year  1840,  I^trarcb  also  discovered  die  EpiUles  to  jffficiia^f , 
which  had  been  misRing  for  many  centuries ;  and  on  perusing  them,  dedaiad  tfiat 
he  now  recognized  Cicero  as  an  inconsideiate  and  unfortunate  old  man.  He  co- 
pied them  over  with  his  own  hand,  and  arranged  them  in  their  proper  order.  The 
MS.  in  his  hand-writing  passed,  afUr  his  dea£,  into  the  possession  of  Cohiccio  Sa- 
lutati,  and  subsequendy  became  the  property  of  Colueeio  s  disciple  Leonard  AsetiDe. 
Donatiis,  the  son  of  Leonard,  succeeded  to  it,  and  by  him  it  was  transfened  to  Do- 
natus  Acciaiolus.  After  his  decease,  it  fell  into  the  hands  of  an  obscure  gnmma- 
rian,  who  gave  it  to  Bartollom^o  Cavalcand,  in  whose  library  it  was  ooosuhed  by 
P.  Victorius,  and  was  afterwards  kMstowed  on  him  by  the  owner.  VictDiius,  highly 
valuioji  this  MS.,  which  he  first  recognised  to  be  in  the  hand-writing  of  P^hiuch, 
conceived  that  it  would  be  preserved  with  greatest  security  in  some  public  collec- 
tion; and  he  accordingly  presented  it  to  Cosmo,  the  first  Duke  of  TuscaM,  to  be 
deposited  in  the  Medicean  librarytt-  With  regard  to  the  most  ancient  MS.  from 
which  Petrarch  made  die  copy,  it  unfortunately  was  lost,  as  Petrus  Yletorias  la- 
ments in  one  of  his  Episdes^t*  "  Utinam  inveniretur  exemplum,  unde  has  ad  Alt»- 
eum  descripsit  Petrarca,  ut  exstat  illud,  quo  usus  est  in  describendis  alteris  Qfis,  000 
Familiares  appellantur,  de  cujus  libri  antiquitate,  omni  veneratione  digna,  magninee 
multa  vereque  alio  lo,co  predicavi."  It  thus  appears,  that  the  Epistles  (o  Attieus 
were  well  Imown  to  Petrarch.  Still,  however,  as  diey  were  scarce  in  the  fifteenth 
century,  Poggio,  who  found  a  copy,  v^hile  attending  the  Council  of  Constance, 


*  Epiit.  69.  t  Petrarc.  EjM.  ad  Ptros  IZbisf.  £p.  I. 

Mehus,  VU.  AmbroB,  Camald,  p.  214.        §  Fabricius,  SUf.  LaL  Lib.  I.  c.  8. 

Pet.  Vict.  Epiat.  IT  Lagomarsini,  ad  Poggii  Epist.  1. 189. 

t  Epist,  ad  yk,  lUutt,  Ep.  I.  ft  Bftocuu,  Catalog.  Bib.  LaurenL  p.  474. 
tt  Lib.  VII. 


I 


APPENDIX.  6S 

WM  considered  in  bis  own  tge  as  ttie  discoverer  of  the  entire  collection  of  the 
JEjri9tk$  to  JitHeutt  and  has  been  regarded  in  the  same  light  by  modem  writers. 

llie  three  books  of  the  Letters  of  Cicero  to  his  brother  Quintus,  were  found  by 
an  Italian  grammarian, 'Gasparinus  of  Bergamo,  who  died  in  the  year  1481 ;  and  who 
some  time  before  his  death  had  talcen  great  pains  to  amend  their  corrupted  text*. 
That  they  were  much  corrupted,  may  be  conjectured  from  what  we  Icnow  of  the 
manner  in  which  they  were  originally  written,  for  it  appears,  from  one  of  the  Let- 
ters of  Cicerof,  that  Quintus  haid  complained  that  he  could  scarcely  read  some  of 
his  former  letters.  Now,  when  Quintus  could  scarcely  read  his  brother's  tuuid- 
writing,  what  must  have  been  the  diflSculties  and  mistaices  of  the  Librarnu  by 
whom  they  were  first  collected  and  copied  ? 

Cicero'a  translation  of  Aratus  appears  to  have  been  extant  in  tiie  ninth  century. 
Lupus  of  Ferrieres  had  an  imperfect  copy  of  it,  and  begs  a  complete  copy  from  ms 
eorrespondeot  Ansbald.  "  Tu  autem,"  says  he,  **  huic  nostro  cuisori  Tuttium  in 
Arato  tnde  ;  ut  ex  eo,  quern  me  impetraturum  credo,  que  deesse  iDi  Egil  noeter 
aperuit,  suppleanturt." 

""  Various  editions  of  separate  portions  of  the  writlnge  of  Cicero  were  printed  before 
the  publication  of  a  complete  collection  of  his  woru.  The  Oro/um^— the  treatise 
J)e  Orotore— the  Opera  Phiio9op?aea^the  Epistokt  FamUiareS' — and  Jtd  AtH- 
eumy  were  all  edited  in  Italy  between  d)e  years  1466  and  1471 — most  of  them  being 
printed  at  Rome  by  Sweynheim  and  Pannartz.  The  most  ancient  printing-press  in 
Italy  was  that  established  at  the  Monastery  of  Subiaco,  in  the  Campagna  di  Roma,  by 
these  printeis.  Sweynheim  and  Pannartz  were  two  German  scholars,  who  had  been 
induced  to  settle  at  that  convent  by  the  circumstance  that  it  was  chiefly  inhabited 
by  Geiman  monks.  In  1467,  they  went  from  Subtaco,  to  Rome§  ;  after  this  remo- 
val, they  received  in  correcting  their  editions,  the  assistance  of  a  poor  but  eminent 
scholar,  Giandrea  de  Bussi ;  and  were  aided  by  the  patronage  of  Andrea,  Bishop  of 
Aleria,  who  furnished  prefiuses  to  manv  of  their  classical  editions.  Notwithstand- 
ing the  rage  for  classical  MSS.  wMeh  had  so  recently  existed,  and  the  novelty, 
usefulness,  and  importance  of  ttie  art  which  they  first  introduced  into  Italy,  as  also 
the  support  which  they  ieceived  from  men  of  rank  and  learning,  they  laboured  un- 
der the  greatest  difficulties,  and  prosecuted  their  undeitaldn^  with  veiy  inadequate 
compensation,  as  we  learn  from  a  petition  presented,  1472,  m  their  names,  to  Pope 
Sextos,  by  the  chief  patron,  the  Bishop  of  Aleria.  Their  necessities  wore  probaUy 
produced  by  the  number  of  copies  of  each  impression  which  they  threw  off,  and 
which  exceeding  the  demand,  they  were  so  encumbered  by  those  left  on  their 
hands,  as  to  be  reduced  to  the  greatest  poverhr  and  distress]!.  The  first  book 
which  they  printed  at  Rome,  was  the  EpisiokB  FamUiaree  of  Cicero. 

Alexander  Bfinutianus,  who  published  an  edition  of  the  whole  works  at  Milan, 
1496,  in  four  volumes  folio,  was  the  first  person  who  comprised  the  scattered  pub- 
lications of  Cicero  in  one  imiform  book.  Haries  informs  us,  in  one  passage,  that 
Minutianus  did  not  consult  any  MSS.  in  the  preparation  of  this  edition,  but  merely 
collated  the  editions  of  the  separate  parts  of  Cicero's  writings  previously  published, 
so  that  his  work  is  only  a  continued  reimpression  of  preening  editions^  ;  but  he 
elsewhere  mentions,  that  he  had  inspected  the  MSS.  of  the  Orations  which  Poggio 
had  brought  from  Germany  to  Italy  *  f .  In  the  Orations,  Minutianus  chiefly  followed 
the  Biescian  edition,  1483,  which  was  itself  founded  on  that  of  Rome.  Tike  work 
was  printed  off,  not  according  to  the  best  arrangement,  but  as  the  copies  of  the  pre- 
ceding editions  successively  readied  him,  wMch  he  himself  acknowled^  in  the 
preface.  **  Sed  quam  nqcessitas  prescripdt  dum  vetustlora  exemplaria  ex  divectis 
et  longinquis  locis  exspectamus."  "  If  we  peruse  Saxius,"  says  Mr  Dibdin,  "  we 
shall  see  with  what  toO,  and  at  what  a  heavy  expense,  this  celebrated  work  of 
Minutianus  was  compiled."  De  Buro  and  Emesti  are  lavish  in  their  praises  of  its 
typographical  beauty.    The  latter  says  it  is  printed  **  grand!  modulo,  chartis  et  lite- 


*  Fuhrmann,  Handhuehder  CUuMtteh.  Lit,  T.  lY.  p.  208. 

t  Episi,  Lib.  II.  £p.  15.  %  ^Bpist.  69. 

§Tiraho9chi,  Stor.  delV  Letterat.  JRol.  T.  VI.  Part  I.  Lib.  I. 

Il  Beloe,  Anecdotes  of  Literature  ttnd  Searu  Book$,  Vol.  VI.  p.  140.    * 

ir  Jntroduct,  in  JVotit.  LUerat.  Roman,  p.  47.  *t  Ibid.  p.  84. 


60  APPENDIX. 


ii«  p«dckrif  tt  splendldto."  The  AMiiie  ediltoo,  which  wm  ptiUUied  fai  pttte  fion 
1612  to  1638,  is  not  Accounted  e  veiy  eiilktl  or  correct  oae»  tixnigh  the  ktter  per* 
tioDofitwM  printed  under  the  eaie  of  Naugerins.  It  would  be  endless  to  emne- 
lete  the  subsequeot  editions  of  Cleero.  Tlist  of  Petrus  Victoiias,  howerer, 
wlieiB  Hsrtes  calls  Cieeronia  JE$cuUipiU8t  piinted  at  Venice  in  16S4— 37»  in  fcnr 
Yohmes  fi^o,  should  not  be  foii^tten,  as  there  is  no  commentator  to  wiMMn  <S- 
cero  hatf  been  more  indebted  £uk  to  Victorius,  particularly  in  the  coireetioB  aid 
emendi^on  of  the  EpisQes.  The  edition  of  Lambinos*  Paris,  1566,  dso 
notice.  Lambinus  was  an  ncute  and  daring  commentator,  who  nnde  many 
lections  on  the  text,  but  adopted  some  alterations  too  rashly.  From  his 
downwards,  Haries  thinks  diat  tibe  editors  of  Cicero  may  be  divided  into  two 
some  following  the  bold  ehanoes  introduced  by  Lambinus,  and  odieia  ptcfenh^ 
the  more  scrupulous  text  of  Victorius.  Of  the  latter  class  was  Gnitenie,  who, 
in  his  edition  published  at  Hamburgh*  1618,  appears  to  haye  obstinatehr  r^ectsd 
even  the  most  obvious  emendations  which  had  been  recently  made  on  the  teit  oC 
his  author.  The  three  editions  of  Emesti's  Cicero,  (Lips.  17S7,Hal.  Sax.  1786— 
74,)  and  the  three  of  Olivet's,  (P^ris,  1740,  Geneva,  1768,  Ozon.  17S8,)  are  toe 
wen  known  to  be  paiticuhMzed  or  described.  Olivet  did  not  crikte  MS8. ;  hut  be 
compared  with  each  other  what  he  considered  as  the  four  most  importnnt  edMfons 
of  Cicero ;  those  of  P.  Victorius,  PauUus  Msnutius,  Lambinas,  and  GtiNeras.  b 
1796,  tlie  first  volume  of  a  new  edition  of  Cioero,  by  Beck,  was  printed  at  Leipse, 
and  since  that  period,  three  more  volumes,  at  lomr  intervals,  have  ftUenien  tte 
press.  The  hat  volume  which  appeared,  was  in  1807 ;  and  atong  with  the  tfaiee  by 
which  it  was  preceded,  comprehends  the  Orations- of  Cicero.  '  The  prefiwe  eootains 
a  very  fiiU  account  of  preceding  editions,  and  the  most  authoritative  MSS.  of  Cicers. 
Emesti's  editions  were  adopted  as  the  baste  of  the  text ;  but  die  editor  departs  finm 
them  where  be  sees  occasion.  He  does  not  propose  many  nefw  emendaliotts  of  Ui 
own  ;  but  he  seems  a  very  acute  judge  of  the  merit  of  various  readincs,  and  a  jufi- 
eious  selector  firom  the  corrections  of  others.  While  this  edition  of  Seek  was  pro* 
ceeding  in  Ctermany,  Schutz^broujght  forth  another,  which  is  now  eompleced»  ex- 
cept part  of  the  Index  LaHnUati$.  There  are  few  notes  sobfoined  co  the  text; 
but  long  summaries  are  prefixed  to  each  omtion  and  worii  of  Cioero  *,  and  ttie  fikeio- 
fiea  ad  Heremmun  te  introduced  by  an  ample  dissertation  eoneeining  the  real  anther 
of  that  treatise.  A  new  arrangement  of  the  EptBtola  FamiHareM  has  also  bettt 
adoptnd.  Tliey  an  no  longer  printed,  as  in  most  other  editions,  In  a  chnwiolegjcri 
series,  but  are  clsesed  according  to  the  individuals  to  whom  tlwy  are  addrassed. 
Hie  whole  publication  is  dedicated  to  Great  Britain  and  the  Allied  Soveralgos,  in 
a  long  columnar  panegyric. 

There  have  also  been  lately  publi^ed  in  Gennany ,  seveial  learned  and  critical  edi- 
tions of  separate  portions  of  the  works  of  Cicero,  paiticnlarly  his  PbHosophical 
Writings.  The  edition  of  all  bu  Philosophic  Treatises,  by  Goeiens,  which  is  now 
proceeding  and  already  comprehends  the  Aeademiett,  the  dialogues  De  Legibmt  and 
2>e  FinibStj  Is  distinxutehed  by  intelligent  Prefaces  and  Exouisuses  on  the  periods 
of  the  composition  of  the  respective  iSalogues ;  as  also  on  the  design  of  theantfier 
in  their  composition. 

The  translations  of  Cicero  are  so  numerous,  that  for  the  Italian  tianaiations  I 
must  refer  the  reader  to  PaitonI,  BibUoteea  degU  autori  catHehi  Oreei  e  LalM 
Volgafij^aH,  Tom.  I.  p.  219 ;  and  Argelati,  BibHoteea  degU  Vo^aritzaiorU  Tom. 
f .  p.  214.  For  French  verdons,  to  Goujet,  BibUotheqvie  f^an^oUe,  Tom.  II.  p. 
221 ;  and,  for  Engtish,  to  Bruggemann,  View  qfthe  EdiHone  and  TVaHdaSmu  rf 
the  Jlneient  Oreek  and  Latin  authors,  p.  481. 


I    «7    ] 


Fo&  the  benefit  of  fhose  who  wish  to  proeecute  tiieir  inquiries  into  the  subject 
of  Roman  Literature,  I  have  subjoined  a  note  of  some  of  tlie  most  important  Books 
which  treat  of  the  subject.  An  asteri^  is  prefixed  to  the  titles  or  those  works 
^hich  have  been  consulted  by  me  in  the  compilation  of  tiie  preceding  pages. 

AiMXRiCHivs. — Specimen  veteria  RomaruB  IMeratura  deperditm  vel  adkuc 
latentia,  seu  SyUabtu  Historieus  et  Critieu$  veterum  oUm  notm  erudUionis 
Komanorum,  ab  urbe  conditA  ad  Honotii  JiupuH  exeeatwn,  eorum  imprimis 
quorum  Latina  opera  vel  omrwio  vel  ex  parte  Msiderantw.  Ferrara,  1784.  Svo. 

"  This  work  is  intended  to  give  an  idea  of  Roman  literature,  from  the  foundation 
of  the  dty  to  the  death  of  the  Emperor  Honorius.  The  pre&ce,  written  by  a  friend 
of  the  author,  sives  an  account  or  the  manner  in  which  the  Romans  lived,  both  in 
the  capital  ana  in  the  provinces,  during  tliis  long  period.  The  historical  and  lite- 
tary  Syllabus  contains,  under  nine  articles,  a  variety  of  literary  matters.  In  the 
first,  the  Abb^  Aimerichios  gives  us  brief  notices,  and  a  critical  review  of  the  an- 
cient Roman  writers,  both  Paean  and  Christian,  whose  works  were  extant  in  pub- 
lic or  private  libraries,  before  me  death  of  the  Emperor  Honorius.  In  the  second, 
we  have  the  titles  and  subjects  of  several  woifa  which  have  been  lost,  but  wfaidi 
have  been  cited  or  indicated  by  contemporary  writera,  or  writere  neariy  such,  whose 
testimonies  are  related  by  our  author.  The  third  contains  an  account  of  the  most 
celebrated  public  or  private  libraries,  that  were  known  at  Rome  before  the  death  of 
Honorius :  and,  in  the  fourA,  we  have  the  author's  inquiries  concerning  the  pro- 
nunciation of  the  Romans,  their  roaAner  of  writing,  and  the  changes  which  took  place 
in  their  orthography.  In  the  fifth,  the  Abb^  treats  of  the  magistracies  that  could  not 
be  obtained,  either  at  Rome  or  in  the  provinces,  but  by  men  of  letters,  as  also  of 
rites  and  sacrifices,  of  luxury,  riches,  public  shows,  &c.  In  the  sixth,  he  gives  his 
particular  opinion  concerning  the  ancient  literature  of  the  Romans,  and  tiie  mixture 
of  the  Latin  and  Greek  languages  which  they  employed,  both  in  tiieir  conversation 
wid  in  their  writings.  The  seventh  contains  an  indication  of  the  principal  heresies 
that  disturbed  the  church,  fit>m  the  time  of  the  Aposties  to  that  of  Honorius ;  and  Uie 
eighth  several  memorable  fiu:ts  and  maxims,  not  generally  known,  which  belong  to 
the  literary,  civil,  militaiy,  and  ecclesiastical  history  of  this  period.  In  the  conclud- 
ing article,  the  Abb^  takes  notice  of  the  Latin  worirs  which  had  jbeen  lost  for  a 
considerable  time,  and  shows  how,  and  by  whom,  they  were  first  discovered."*- 
From  this  account,  wbch  I  have  extracted  from  Home's  iniroduetion  to  the 
St^idy  of  Bibliography,  I  regret  extremely  that  I  have  had  no  opportunity  of 
consulting  the  work  of  Aimerichius. 

Blbssio. — De  Origme  PkUo$ophia  apud  Rimumoe*    Strasburgh>  1T70.  4to. 

BscMAirirus. — Manduetia  ad  Unguam  Latinam  cum  Traetatu  de  OrigiiUbm 
Lmgum  Latina,  1608.  8vo. 

*Casaubo]i. — De  Satyriea  Qrmeorum  Poiai  et  Bomanorum  Saiira  Kbri  duo, 
in  quUms  etiam  Poita  reeenseniw,  qui  m  utrAque  poinfloruerunt.  Hale,  1 T74. 
dvo. 

This  treatise,  which  is  one  of  the  most  learned  and  agreeable  productions  of 
Castubon,  is  the  source  of  almost  OTerytliing  that  has  teen  written  by  modem 


[     68    ] 

«Qthoif»  on  die  iubfaet  of  the  satiric  poetry  of  the  Roimiis.  Cannbon  tneee  iti 
•ally  history  in  the  Feaceimine  verses,  the  Atellane  &bles,  and  the  satires  of  En- 
nius  and  LudUus,  and  vindicates  to  the  Romans  the  invention  of  this  species  of 
composition,  for  wliich,  he  contends,  diey  had  no  model  in  the  poetiy  of  the  Gfeeis. 

CelisAMivb. — DisserUaiodi  Sludiu  Honumarwn  LUerariii.  Odie,  1018.410. 

CoftRABus. — QiuBstura — Parte$  dua,  qwarum  altera  de  ki^onis  Fiffi  ei  Li- 
kris-^Jlltera  deeronii  lAbroa  permuUU  loeU  emendate    Lips.  17M.  8vo. 

*Ckusius.— Isees  qftke  Moman  Ppeta.    London,  17S8.  2  Vols. 

''EBBRHA&nT.— 27^  den  Ziutand  der  SeMnen  Wi8$en$ekqften  bei  den  E^ 
mem,    Altona,  1001.  8vo. 

This  work  was  written  by  a  Swede,  and  in  the  Swedish  language.  It  eontains, 
in  its  original  form,  a  veiy  8uper6cial  and  inaccurate  slcetch  of  the  sulifeot ;  bat 
seme  valuable  notes  and  corrections  accompany  the  German  translation. 

^Fabkicivs. — BibHoiheea  Latma,  digesta  et  aueta  diHgenUA  Jo.  Jhtg,  SmeOi 
Lips.  1773.  3  Tom.  8vo. 

The  well-known  and  justly-esteemed  BibUotheea  of  Fabiidus  gives  an  aceoont 
of  all  die  Latin  writers  uom  Plautus  to  Marcian  CapeUa.  In  most  of  the  articles 
we  have  a  biographical  sketch  of  the  author — a  list  of  his  writings— an  account  of 
the  most  authoritative  MSS.  of  his  works — of  die  best  editions,  and  of  the  most 
celebrated  translations  in  the  modem  languages  of  Europe. 


FiTHRMAiTN. — HmMuch  der  C^a$sischen  LUeraitw,  oder  jSnieUung  twr  JCmt- 
nu9  der  Qri^chiBchtM  wid  JidmUchen  Claasisehen  Schr^tateUer,  i&en  Sehrff' 
ten,  und  der  besten  Jiuagaben,  und  Uebersetzungen  dereelben.  Rudobtadt, 
180»— 10. 

Two  of  the  volumes  of  this  work  relate  to  Roman  literature,  ft  is  chieOy  Mhlio- 
naphical,  contaming  very  full  accounts  of  the  editions  and  translations  of  the 
Classics  which  have  app»ued,  particulariy  in  Qennany ;  but  there  are  also  some 
critical  accounts  of  the  works  of  the  Roman  authors :  these  are  chie%  extracted 
liom  Journals  and  Reviews,  and,  in  consequence,  tiie  author  frequentiy  repeals  the 
same  thing  in  dififerent  words,  and  still  more  frequentiy  contradicts  himsdi'. 

*FvHBMANif. — JSnleitung  xur  C^achUhie  der  Claaeiacken  liUratur  der 
Griechen  und  Romer.    Rudolstadt,  1816. 
An  abridgment  of  the  preceding  work. 

*FuNccius.'Z>s  Origine  et  PtterUUt,  De  JidoleacenH&t  VWUJEtaU^  ei  Se- 
neeiuie  lAngutB  Laiinm.    Frankfort,  1720. 

This  is  one  of  the  most  learned  and  valuable  works  extant  on  the  subject  of  La- 
tin literature.  In  the  first  tract,  De  PueriiiA,  tiie  author  chiefly  treats  <i  the  origiD 
and  progress  of  the  Roman  language. 

*OAUDBifTii7s  PAOAiriivus.^De  PkiloaophuB  ep.  Ramanoe  Ortu  et  ProgreM" 
sti.    Pisa,  1648,4. 

A  very  doll  and  imperfect  account  of  the  state  of  philosophy  among  the  Bomsiw, 
lirom  the  earliest  periods  to  the  time  of  Boethius. 

*Hakkius.  (Mabt.) — De  Sonuinarum  Perwn  Ser^teribu$»  Lips.  1687.  4to. 

The  first  part  of  this  work  contains  a  succinct  account  of  the  ancient  Roman  An- 
nalists and  Historians.  The  latter  part  relates  to  modem  writera  who  treated  of 
Roman  affiiirs. 


^Habi<ks.   (Th.  Christ.) — Hfitrod'uetio  in  JVbtttiom  Literature 
Mwrintis  Seriptorum  Latinarum.  Noribere.  1781.  2  Tom.  8vo. 

This  work  of  Haries,  as  far  as  it  extends,  Is  written  on  tiie  same  plan,  and  is  much 
of  the  same  description,  as  the  BihUotheea  of  Fabticiiis.  It  is  not  contiiiiied  ftrtiier, 
Iwwever,  than  the  Augustan  age  inclusive. 


[59] 

^Harlbs.  (Th.  Christ.) — Breviar  J\rotUia  LUerahtrm  Rtnndnm,  imprimis 
StriptorumLoAmorum,    Lips.  1788. 1  Tom.  8vo. 

*Ha&lb8.  (Th.  Christ.) — SuppUmenta  ad  Breviorem  ^otUiam  LUeraiurm 
Mamana.    Lips.  1788.  2  Tom.  8vo. 

Hiis  work,  and  the  preceding,  are  on  the  same  plan  as  the  hUrodueiio  ;  but  bring 
down  die  history  of  Roman  writers,  and  the  editions  of  their  works,  to  the  latest 
periods.  It  is  mvch  to  be  regretted,  that  these  works  of  Harles  had  not  been  incor- 
porated into  one  $  since,  taken  separately,  each  is  incomplete,  and  coOectiyely,  they 
abound  in  repetitions. 

^Klvoliito.  <C.  F.) — SuppUmetOa  ad  Srefnarem  JSTotiHam  LUeratura  JRo- 
nutruB.  Lips.  1817. 

This  Supplement  to  Hailes,  contains  an  account  of  die  editions  of  the  Classics 
which  had  appeared  chiefly  in  Germany,  subsetpient  to  the  puUieation  of  Ae  Bre* 
vior^oHtia,    • 

KoNiOt^-De  Satir&  JRomanorum,    Oldenburgh,  1796. 

KRiBOK.^Dui<rt6«  de  Veterum  Sonumorum  PeregrinationUma  Jieademieii, 
Jenae,  1704. 4to. 

Lxo  (Ankibai.  i>i)»-'^emoriediPaewrio.  Neapol.  1768. 

Mbibrotto.— 2>e  Prme^pms  retrum  JRmnananim  Seripionbus.  Beilin,  1702. 
folio. 

*HinjuER. — EinUUung  gu  n&thiger  Xenfmss  und  Cfebrauehe  der  aUen  La- 
iewMchm  SehrifUteUer,    Dresden,  1747.  5  Tom.  8vo. 

*MoiinB  d'Orsxtal. — ConaideroHont  aur  le  Progrh  de$  BelleB  LUtn$  ehex 
les  Bomaku.    Paris,  1749. 


*09ANNV9,—^jShialeeta  Critiea,  Pohii  Bomanorum  dcamem  reKqma$  UhU' 
tnmHa.    Berlin,  1717. 

This  is  a  work  of  considerable  ingenuity  and  research.  It  contains  some  djbicut- 
fllon  concerning  the  date  at  which  regular  comedies  and  tragedies  were  first  eiiii* 
bited  at  Rome ;  but  it  is  chiefly  occupied  witii  comparisons  t^tween  the  Fragments 
of  the  andent  Latin  Dramatists,  and  the  corresponding  passages  in  the  Greek  ori* 
ginals. 

^Sagittarius  (Casp.) — ConunentaHo  de  VitA  et  ScriptU  tko,  jSndronieit 
JVtfott,  Ennn,  CtteUii,  Paewnh  •'Attn,  JStHUi,  iMeilU,  J^anUt  Cofoms.  Alten- 
biinr>1672. 

Inis  is  a  smaD  volume  of  110  pages,  which  has  now  become  eztremely  scarce. 

Saoittarius  (CAsp.)-^De  Plt&i  seriptis,  editiombuB,  interpretibui,  ledMne^ 
atqueimUoHonePlauH,  TererUUy  Oieerania,    Altenburg,  1671. 

*ScHoxub. — Biit&ire  AbregU  de  la  LUteraiure  Bamame.  Paris,  1816.  4 
Tom.  8yo. 

See  above.    Pre&ce,  p.  xiii. 

*TiRABosoHi.-^Aorid  delta  LUteratura  BaUama.    Modena,  1787.  Tom.  I. 
and  II. 
See  above.    Pre&ce,  p.  xiii. 

•Yossivs  (Gbrard).— De  fitstoriets  LaHnie  JJJbri  tree.    Lugd.  Bat.  1651. 

*WAi.CHm.— JKitofia  CfriHea  LaHma  LmgtkB   Lips.  1761. 

*ZiBoi«BR.— Zle  Mma  Bomanorum,   Gotting.  1789. 

Vol.  II.. 


[60] 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE, 


6om." 

I>ie.. 

A.U.C. 

A.U.C. 

L.  AndronicuB 

534 

Nsevios    ..    • 

560 

Ennius     •*   . 

516 

585 

Plautufl     ..   • 

525 

570 

C»ciliu8  •     . 

586 

Terence   .     . 

560 

594 

Pacuviua  .   \ 

534 

624 

Attius       •     • 

684 

664 

Lucilias    .     . 

605 

659? 

LucretiuB 

656 

702 

Catullus   •  ^. 

667 

7081 

Laberius  /    • 

710 

Cato    •    .;    . 

519 

605 

Varro  .     .\  . 

637 

727 

Sallust      :     . 

668 

718 

Cffisar    ^  »     . 

656 

709 1 

Hortensius  .. 

640 

70^ 
710 

Cicero      .     . 

647 

' 


INDEX. 


Afbantub,  hifl  Comediee,  toI.  i.  p.  170. 

AgiiciUtuf*,  adTUitim  of  Italy  for,  ii.  6—11. 

Andas,  Q.  Valerias,  Latin  Annalist,  ii.  74. 

Antipater,  Celiua,  Latin  Annalist,  ii.  72. 

Antonius»  Maicus,  character  of  his  eloquence,  ii.  117.  His  death,  119. 

Arcesllaus  founds  the  New  Academy,  U.  208. 

Asdlio,  Sempronlus,  Latin  Annalist,  ii.  73. 

Atellane  Fables,  i.  229. 

AttiuB,  his  Tragedies,  i.  214. 

Bratus,  hb  Historical  fipUomes,  ii.  107. 

CeciBus,  his  Comedies,  L  168. 

Cacina,  his  history,  u.  108. 

Cesar  compared  with  Xenophon,  Ii.  94.  His  Commentaries,  95 — ^101.    His  Ephe- 

ineris,  whether  the  same  work  widi  his  Commentaries,  101.    His  Anticatones, 

102.    His  Analocia,  108. 
Calvus,  licinius,  &  Epigrams,  L  822.    His  orations,  ii.  181. 
Carmen  Saliare,  i.  48. 

Cameades  teaches  the  Greek  philosophy  at  Rome,  Ii.  211. 
Cato,  the  Censor,  his  work  on  Agriculture,  ii.  12 — 16.    His  Orations,  16.   His 

woric  De  Orif^us,  18.    On  Uedidne,  20—21. 
Catullus,  i.  271—820. 
Cethegus,  Marcus,  an  orator,  ii.  110. 
Cicero,  his  Orations,  ii.  162.    Compared  with  Demosthenes,  192.    His  fiorks  on 

Rhetoric,  198.  De  Oratore,  195.    Brutus,  198.    The  Orator,  199.    Toplca,200. 

Rhetorica  ad  Herennium,  inquiry  eoneeming  the  author  of,  202.    His  philoso- 

Ehical  works— De  Legibus,  228.    De  Flnibus,  229.    Academica,  282.    Tuscu- 
mm  DisputatMnes,  286.    De  Natura  Deonim,  248.    De  Offidis,  257.    De 
Seneetute,  259     De  Republica,  268.    His  Epistles,  278. 
Columna  Rostrata,  inscription  on  the,  i.  46. 
Cotta,his  style  of  oratory,  ii.  122.  \ 

Crassus,  Lucius,  character  of  his  eloquence,  ii.  120.    His  death,  ibid.    Compared 
with  Antony,  121. 

Decemviral  Laws,  ii.  184. 

Dialogue,  remarks  on  this  species  of  composition,  ii.  194. 

Eloquence,  Roman,  commencement  of,  ii.  109. 

Ebnius,  his  tragedies,  i.  67.    Annals,  78.    Translation  of  Euhemeras,  94. 
Etruscans,  their  origin,  i.  20.    Their  conquosts,  26.    Religion,  29.  ^ts,  85. 
EuguUan  Tables, ^47.  i% 


INDEX. 

Fftbiai  Pictor,  Latin  Annalist,  ii.  67^71. 
Tnltm  Arvales,  hymn  of  the,  i.  48. 

Galba,  Sergius,  ui  orator,  ii.  110. 

Gracchi,  oratoiy  of  the,  ii.  113. 

Hinius,  his  continuation  of  Cesar's  Commentaries,  ii.  105. 

History,  Roa»n,  uncertainty  of,  ii.  57— «7.  «.       ,         «    ^ 

Hortensius,  his  luxury  and  magnificence,  ii.  124.    His  villas  at  TnKoliim,  Baob, 

and  Laorentum,  124, 125.    Character  of  his  eloquence,  127.    His  dMondanti, 

180,  Note. 

Jurisconsults,  Roman,  account  of,  ii.  188. 

Laherius,  i.  828. 

Lclius,  his  oratoiy  comiaTed  with  that  of  Sdpio,  U.  111. 

tAtin  Language,  its  origin,  i.  82.    Its  changes,  48. 

Laws,  Roman,  ii.  188—138. 

Leges  Regie,  ii.  183. 

Li^os  Andronicus,  i.  64—58. 

Lucceius,  his  History  of  Oie  Social  War,  ii.  107. 

LncUtus,  i.  288—248. 

Lucretius,  i.  250 — 271, 

Lucullus,  his  patronage  of  learning,  ii.  51. 

Lttscius  Lavinius,  i.  171. 

Magna  Greda,  its  settlements,  I.  50. 
^"mes,  their  origin  and  subjecti,  i.  824. 


Nevhis,  1.  5&-42. 

Pacuvius,  i.  20f . 

Plautus,  i.  96—188. 

Philosophy,  Greelc,  introduction  of,  at  Rome,  ii.  209. 

Plebiscita,  account  of  the,  ii.  136. 

Pretor,  account  of  the  office  of,  ii.  141. 

PttbhuB  Syrus,  i.  882. 

Quadrigarlos,  Claudius,  Latin  Annalist,  ii.  78. 

Saflust,  his  character,  ii.  82.    His  Gardens,  ibid.    Hit  conspirvsy  of  Catiline,  v»A 

Jugurthine  war,  84—88.    His  Roman  History,  92. 
Satire,  Roman,  origin  of,  i.  232. 
Senatusconsultum,  what,  ii.  187. 
Slsenna,  Roman  Annalist,  ii.  75. 

Sulpicius,  his  worthless  character,  ii.  121.    His  style  of  oratoiy,  122. 
Sylla,  his  library,  ii.  50.    His  Memoirs  of  his  Ufe,  77.    Hu  character,  78. 

Terence,  i.  171^206.    Compared  with  Plautus,  206. 
Theatre,  Roman,  its  construction,  i.  837-'-853. 
Ttrannio,  his  Ubiary,  ii.  52. 
Trabea,  i.  178. 

Varro,  his  farms  and  villas,  Ii.  26.    His  woric  on  Agriculture,  28—34.    De  LinP* 
Latina,  34.    Other  woriss  of  Varro,  40. 

FINIS. 


jAJCss  SAT,  ivn,  vmxtnmR. 


.\m  1  ^  mii