POST-AUGUSTAN POETRY

From Seneca to Juvenal

By

H. E. BUTLER, Fellow of New College

PREFACE

I have attempted in this book to provide something of an introductionto the poetical literature of the post-Augustan age. Although few ofthe writers dealt with have any claim to be called poets of the firstorder, and some stand very low in the scale of poetry, as a whole thepoets of this period have suffered greater neglect than they deserve. Their undeniable weaknesses tend in many cases to obscure their realmerits, with the result that they are at times either ignored orsubjected to unduly sweeping condemnation. I have attempted in thesepages to detach and illustrate their excellences without in any waypassing over their defects. 

Manilius and Phaedrus have been omitted on the ground that as regardsthe general character of their writings they belong rather to theAugustan period than to the subsequent age of decadence. Manilius indeedcomposed a considerable portion of his work during the lifetime ofAugustus, while Phaedrus, though somewhat later in date, showed asobriety of thought and an antique simplicity of style that place him atleast a generation away from his contemporaries. The authorities towhose works I am indebted are duly acknowledged in the course of thework. I owe a special debt, however, to those great works of reference, the Histories of Roman Literature by Schanz and Teuffel, toFriedländer's _Sittengeschichte_, and, for the chapters on Lucan andStatius, to Heitland's _Introduction to Haskin's edition of Lucan_ andLegras' _Thébaïde de Stace_. I wish particularly to express myindebtedness to Professor Gilbert Murray and Mr. Nowell Smith, who readthe book in manuscript and made many valuable suggestions andcorrections. I also have to thank Mr. A. S. Owen for much assistance inthe corrections of the proofs. 

My thanks are owing to Professor Goldwin Smith for permission to printtranslations from 'Bay Leaves', and to Mr. A. E. Street and Mr. F. J. Miller and their publishers, for permission to quote from theirtranslations of Martial (Messrs. Spottiswoode) and Seneca (ChicagoUniversity Press) respectively. 

H. E. BUTLER. 

_November_, 1908. 

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

THE DECLINE OF POST-AUGUSTAN POETRY

Main characteristics, p. 1. The influence of the principate, p. 1. Tiberius, p. 2. Caligula, p. 4. Claudius, p. 5. Nero, p. 6. Decay of Roman character, p. 9. Peculiar nature of Roman literature, p. 10. Greatness of Augustan poets a bar to farther advance, p. 11. Roman education: literary, p. 12; rhetorical, p. 14. Absence of true educational spirit, p. 16. Recitations, p. 18. Results of these influences, p. 19. 

CHAPTER II

DRAMA

i. THE STAGE. Drama never really flourishing at Rome, p. 23. Comedy, represented by Mime and Atellan farce, p. 24. Legitimate comedy nearly extinct, p. 25. Tragedy replaced by _salticae fabulae_, p. 26; or musical recitations, p. 28. Pomponius Secundus, p. 29. Curiatius Maternus, p. 30. 

ii. SENECA: his life and character, p. 31. His position in literature, p. 35. His epigrams, p. 36. His plays, p. 39. Their genuineness, p. 40. The _Octavia, Oedipus, Agamemnon, _ and _Hercules Oetaeus, _ p. 41. Date of the plays, p. 43. Their dramatic value, p. 44. Plot, p. 45. Descriptions, p. 48. Declamation, p. 49; at its best in _Troades_ and _Phaedra_, p. 51. Dialogue, p. 55. Stoicism, p. 58. Poetry (confined mainly to lyrics), p. 63. Cleverness of the rhetoric, p. 65. _Sententiae_, p. 68. Hyperbole, p. 69. Diction and metre; iambics, p. 70; lyrics, p. 71. Plays not written for the stage, p. 72. Influence on later drama, p. 74. 

iii. THE OCTAVIA. Sole example of _fabula praetexta_, p. 74. 

Plot, p. 75. Characteristics, p. 76. Date and authorship, p. 77. 

CHAPTER III

PERSIUS

Life, p. 79. Works, p. 81. Influence of Lucilius, p. 83; of Horace, p. 84. Obscurity, p. 85. Qualifications necessary for a satirist; Persius' weakness through lack of them, p. 87. Success in purely literary satire, p. 88. Lack of close observation of life, p. 90. Persius' nobility of character, p. 91. His Stoicism, p. 93. His capacity for friendship, p. 95. 

CHAPTER IV

LUCAN

Life, p. 97. Minor works, p. 99. His choice of a subject, p. 101, Choice of epic methods, p. 102. Petronius' criticism of historical epic, p. 103. Difficulties of the subject, p. 104. Design of the poem, p. 106. Characters: Pompey, p. 106. Caesar, p. 108. Cato, p. 109. Descriptive passages, p. 112. Hyperbole, p. 115. Irrelevance, p. 116. Lack of poetic vocabulary, p. 116. Tendency to political satire, p. 117. Speeches, p. 120. _Sententiae, _ p. 122. Metre, p. 123. Summary, p. 123. 

CHAPTER V

PETRONIUS

Authorship of _Satyricon:_ character of Titus Petronius, p. 125. Literary criticism, p. 127. Attack on contemporary rhetoric, p. 128. Eumolpus the poet, p. 129;laments the decay of art, p. 130. Poem on the Sack of Troy, p. 130. Criticism of historical epic, p. 131. The poetic fragments, p. 133. Epigrams, p. 134. Question of genuineness, p. 135. Their high poetic level, p. 136. 

CHAPTER VI

MINOR POETRY, 14-69 A. D. 

I. DIDACTIC POETRY

i. THE AETNA. Its design, p. 140. Characteristics of the poem, p. 141. Authorship, p. 143. Date, p. 145. 

ii. COLUMELLA. Life and works, p. 146. His tenth book, a fifth Georgic on gardening, p. 147. His enthusiasm and descriptive power, p. 148. 

II. CALPURNIUS SICULUS, THE EINSIEDELN FRAGMENTS, AND THE PANEGYRICUS IN PISONEM

Pastoral poetry, p. 150. Calpurnius Siculus; date, p. 151. Who was he? p. 152. Debt to Vergil, p. 152. Elaboration of style, p. 153. Obscurity, affectation and insignificance, p. 154. Einsiedeln fragments; was the author Calpurnius Piso? p. 156. _Panegyricus in Pisonem, _ p. 157. Graceful elaboration, p. 158. Was the author Calpurnius Siculus? p. 159. 

III. ILIAS LATINA

Early translations of _Iliad, _ p. 160. Attius Labeo, p. 160. Polybius p. 161. _Ilias Latina, _ a summary in verse, p. 161. Date, p. 162. Authorship: the question of the acrostic, p. 162. Wrongly attributed to Silius Italicus. P. 163. 

IV. MINOR POETS

Gaetulicus, p. 163. Caesius Bassua, p. 164. 

CHAPTER VII

EMPERORS AND MINOR POETS, 70-117 A. D. 

I. EMPERORS AND POETS WHOSE WORKS ARE LOST

Vespasian and Titus, p. 166. Domitian. The Agon Capitolinus and Agon Albanus, p. 167. Literary characteristics of the Flavian age, p. 168. Saleius Bassus, Serranus, and others, p. 169. Nerva, p. 169. Trajan, p. 170. Passennus Paulus, p. 170. Sentius Augurinus, p. 171. Pliny the Younger, p. 172. Almost entire disappearance of poetry after Hadrian. P. 174. 

II. SULPICIA

Sulpicia, a lyric poetess, p. 174. Martial's admiration for her, p. 175. Characteristics of her work, p. 176. Her Satire, p. 176. Is it genuine? p. 177. 

CHAPTER VIII

VALERIUS FLACCUS

Epic in the Flavian age, p. 179. Who was Valerius? His date, p. 180. The _Argonautica_, unfinished, p. 181. Its general design, p. 182. Merits and defects of the Argonaut-saga as a subject for epic, p. 183. Valerius' debt to Apollonius Rhodius, p. 183. Novelties introduced in treatment; Jason, p. 184;Medea, p. 185. Valerius has a better general conception as to how the story should be told, but is far inferior as a poet, p. 186. Obscure learning; lack of humour, p. 187. Involved language, p. 188. Preciosity; compression, p. 189. Real poetic merit: compared with Statius and Lucan, p. 191. Debt to Vergil, p. 191. Metre, p. 192. Brilliant descriptive power, p. 193. Suggestion of mystery, p. 193. Sense of colour, p. 195. Similes, p. 195. Speeches, p. 197. The loves of Jason and Medea, p. 198. General estimate, p. 200. 

CHAPTER IX

STATIUS

Life, p. 202. Character, p. 205. The _Thebais_; its high average level, p. 206. Statius a miniature painter, p, 207. Weakness of the Theban-saga as a subject for epic, p. 208. Consequent lack of proportion and unity in _Thebais_, p. 210. Vergil too closely imitated, p. 211. Digressions, p. 212. Character-drawing superficial, p. 213. Tydeus, p. 214. Amphiaraus, p. 216. Parthenopaeus and other characters, p. 218. Atmosphere that of literature rather than life, p. 220. Fine descriptive passages, p. 221. Dexterity, often degenerating into preciosity, p. 224. Similes, p. 225. Metre, p. 226. The _Achilleis_, p. 227. The _Silvae_, p. 227. Flattery of Domitian, p. 228. Extraordinary preciosity, p. 229. Prettiness and insincerity, p. 230. Brilliant miniature-painting, p. 232. The _Genethliacon Lucani_, p. 233. Invocation to Sleep, p. 234. Conclusion, p. 235. 

CHAPTER X

SILIUS ITALlCUS

Life, p. 236. Weakness of historical epic, p. 238. Disastrous intrusion of mythology, p. 239. Plagiarism from Vergil, p. 240. Skill in composition of early books, p. 240. Inadequate treatment of closing scenes of the war, p. 241. The characters, p. 241. Total absence of any real poetic gifts, p. 242. Regulus, p. 244. The death of Paulus, p. 246. Fabius Cunctator, p. 247. Conclusion, p. 249. 

CHAPTER XI

MARTIAL

Life, p. 251. The epigram, p. 258. Martial's temperament, p. 259. Gift of style, p. 260. Satirical tone, good-humoured and non-moral, p. 261. Obscenity, p. 263. Capacity for friendship, p. 264. His dislike of Rome, p. 267. His love of the country, p. 268. Comparison with Silvae of Statius, p. 271. Flattery of Domitian, p. 271. Laments for the dead, p. 272. Emotion as a rule sacrificed to point, p. 275. The laureate of triviality, p. 276. Martial as a client, p. 277. His snobbery, p. 279. Redeeming features; polish and wit, p. 281. The one perfect post-Augustan stylist, p. 284. Vivid picture of contemporary society, p. 285. 

CHAPTER XII

JUVENAL

Life, p. 287. Date of satires, p. 289. Motives (Sat, i), p. 291. Themes of the various satires; third satire, p. 293; fourth, fifth, and sixth satires, p. 294; seventh and eighth satires; signs of waning power, p. 295; tenth satire, p. 296; eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth satires, p. 297; fifteenth and sixteenth satires, showing further decline of power, p. 298. Juvenal's narrow Roman ideals; hatred of the foreigner, p. 299. Exaggeration, p. 301. Coarseness, p. 303. Vividness of description, p. 304. Mordant epigram and rhetoric, p. 308. Moral and religious ideals, p. 311. _Sententiae_, p. 315. Poetry, p. 316. Metre, p. 317. The one great poet of the Silver Age, p. 317. 

INDEX OF NAMES, p. 321

FOOTNOTES

CHAPTER I

THE DECLINE OF POST-AUGUSTAN POETRY

During the latter years of the principate of Augustus a remarkablechange in literary methods and style begins to make itself felt. Thegradual extinction of the great luminaries is followed by a gradualdisappearance of originality and of the natural and easy-flowing stylewhose phrases and felicities adorn, without overloading or obscuring thesense. In their place comes a straining after effect, a love ofstartling colour, produced now by over-gorgeous or over-minute imagery, now by a surfeit of brilliant epigram, while controlling good sense andobservance of due proportion are often absent and imitative preciositytoo frequently masquerades as originality. Further, in too many casesthere is a complete absence of moral enthusiasm, close observation, andgenuine insight. 

What were the causes of this change? Was it due mainly to the evilinfluence of the principate or to more subtle and deep-rooted causes?

The principate had been denounced as the _fons et origo mali_. [1] Thatits influence was for evil can hardly be denied. But it was rather asymptom, an outward and visible sign of a deep-engrained decay, which itaccentuated and brought to the surface, but in no way originated. We aretold that the principate 'created around itself the quiet of thegraveyard, since all independence was compelled under threat of death tohypocritical silence or subterfuge; servility alone was allowed tospeak; the rest submitted to what was inevitable, nay, even endeavouredto accommodate their minds to it as much as possible. ' Even if thishighly coloured statement were true, the influence of such tyrannicalsuppression of free thinking and free speaking could only have_directly_ affected certain forms of literature, such as satire, recenthistory, [2] and political oratory, while even in these branches ofliterature a wide field was left over which an intending author mightsafely range. The _direct_ influence on poetry must have beenexceedingly small. If we review the great poets of the Augustan andrepublican periods, we shall find little save certain epigrams ofCatullus that could not safely have been produced in post-Augustantimes. Moreover, when we turn to what is actually known of the attitudeof the early emperors towards literature, the balance does not seriouslyincline against them. It may be said without hesitation of the fouremperors succeeding Augustus that they had a genuine taste and somecapacity for literature. 

Of two only is it true that their influence was in any way repressive. The principate of Tiberius is notorious for the silence of literature;whether the fact is due as much to the character of Tiberius as to thetemporary exhaustion of genius following naturally on the brilliance ofthe Augustan period, is more than doubtful. But Tiberius cannot beacquitted of all blame. The cynical humour with which it pleased him tomark the steady advance of autocracy, the _lentae maxillae_ whichAugustus attributed to his adopted son, [3] the icy and ironic crueltywhich was--on the most favourable estimate--a not inconsiderable elementin his character, no doubt all exercised a chilling influence, not onlyon politics but on all spontaneous expression of human character. Further, we find a few instances of active and cruel repression. Lampoons against the emperor were punished with death. [4] CremutiusCordus was driven to suicide for styling 'Brutus and Cassius the last ofall the Romans'. [5] Mamercus Scaurus had the misfortune to write atragedy on the subject of Atreus in which he advised submission toAtreus in a version of the Euripidean

 [Greek: tas t_on turann_on amathias pherein chre_on][6]

He too fell a victim to the Emperor's displeasure, though the chiefcharges actually brought against him were of adultery with the PrincessLivilla and practice of the black art. We hear also of another case inwhich _obiectum est poetae quod in tragoedia Agamemnonem probrislacessisset_ (Suet. _Tib_. 61). It is worthy of notice that actors alsocame under Tiberius's displeasure. [7] The mime and the Atellan farceafforded too free an opportunity for improvisation against the emperor. Even the harmless Phaedrus seems to have incurred the anger of Sejanus, and to have suffered thereby. [8] Nor do the few instances in whichTiberius appears as a patron of literature fill us with great respectfor his taste. He is said to have given one Asellius Sabinus 100, 000sesterces for a dialogue between a mushroom, a finch, an oyster, and athrush, [9] and to have rewarded a worthless writer, [10] ClutoriusPriscus, for a poem composed on the death of Germanicus. On the otherhand, he seems to have had a sincere love of literature, [11] though hewrote in a crabbed and affected style. He was a purist in language witha taste for archaism, [12] left a brief autobiography[13] and dabbled inpoetry, writing epigrams, [14] a lyric _conquestio de morte LuciiCaesaris_[15] and Greek imitations of Euphorion, Rhianus, andParthenius, the learned poets of Alexandria. His taste was bad: he wenteven farther than his beloved Alexandrians, awaking the laughter of hiscontemporaries even in an age when obscure mythological learning was ata premium. The questions which delighted him were--'Who was the motherof Hecuba?' 'What was the name of Achilles when disguised as a girl?''What did the sirens sing?'[16] Literature had little to learn fromTiberius, but it should have had something to gain from the fact that hewas not blind to its charms: at the worst it cannot have requiredabnormal skill to avoid incurring a charge of _lèse-majesté_. 

The reign of the lunatic Caligula is of small importance, thanks to itsextreme brevity. For all his madness he had considerable ability; he wasready of speech to a remarkable degree, though his oratory suffered fromextravagant ornament[17] and lack of restraint. He had, however, someliterary insight: in his description of Seneca's rhetoric as _meraecommissiones_, 'prize declamations, ' and 'sand without lime' he gave anadmirable summary of that writer's chief weaknesses. [18] But he would inall probability have proved a greater danger to literature thanTiberius. It is true that in his desire to compare favourably with hispredecessors he allowed the writings of T. Labienus, Cremutius Cordus, and Cassius Severus, which had fallen under the senate's ban in the twopreceding reigns, to be freely circulated once more. [19] But he by nomeans abandoned trials for _lèse-majesté_. The rhetorician CarinasSecundus was banished on account of an imprudent phrase in a _suasoria_on the hackneyed theme of tyrannicide. [20] A writer of an Atellan farcewas burned to death in the amphitheatre[21] for a treasonable jest, andSeneca narrowly escaped death for having made a brilliant display oforatory in the senate. [22] He also seriously meditated the destructionof the works of Homer. Plato had banished Homer from his ideal state. Why should not Caligula? He was with difficulty restrained from doingthe like for Vergil and Livy. The former, he said, was a man of littlelearning and less wit;[23] the latter was verbose and careless. Evenwhen he attempted to encourage literature, his eccentricity carried himto such extremes that the competitors shrank in horror from entering thelists. He instituted a contest at Lugudunum in which prizes were offeredfor declamations in Greek and Latin. The prizes were presented to thevictors by the vanquished, who were ordered to write panegyrics inhonour of their successful rivals, while in cases where the declamationswere decided to be unusually poor, the unhappy authors were ordered toobliterate their writings with a sponge or even with their own tongues, under penalty of being caned or ducked in the Rhone. [24]

Literature had some reason to be thankful for his early assassination. The lunatic was succeeded by a fool, but a learned fool. Claudius washistorian, antiquary, and philologist. He wrote two books on the civilwar, forty-one on the principate of Augustus, a defence of Cicero, eightbooks of autobiography, [25] an official diary, [26] a treatise ondicing. [27] To this must be added his writings in Greek, twenty books ofEtruscan history, eight of Carthaginian, [28] together with a comedyperformed and crowned at Naples in honour of the memory ofGermanicus. [29] His style, according to Suetonius, was _magis ineptusquam inelegans_. [30] He did more than write: he attempted a reform ofspelling, by introducing three new letters into the Latin alphabet. Hisenthusiasm and industry were exemplary. Such indeed was his activitythat a special office, [31] _a studiis_, was established, which wasfilled for the first time by the influential freedman Polybius. Claudiuslacked the saving grace of good sense, but in happier days might havebeen a useful professor: at any rate his interest in literature waswhole-hearted and disinterested. His own writing was too feeble toinfluence contemporaries for ill and he had the merit of having givenliterature room to move. Seneca might mock at him after his death, [32]but he had done good service. 

Nero, Claudius' successor, was also a liberal, if embarrassing, patronof literature. His tastes were more purely literary. He had received anelaborate and diversified education. He had even enjoyed the privilegeof having Seneca--the head of the literary profession--for his tutor. These influences were not wholly for the good: Agrippina dissuaded himfrom the study of philosophy as being unsuited for a future emperor, Seneca from the study of earlier and saner orators that he might himselfhave a longer lease of Nero's admiration. [33] The result was that atemperament, perhaps falsely styled artistic, [34] was deprived of thesolid nutriment required to give it stability. Nero's great ambition wasto be supreme in poetry and art as he was supreme in empire. He composedrapidly and with some technical skill, [35] but his work lackeddistinction, connexion of thought, and unity of style. [36] Satirical[37]and erotic[38] epigrams, learned mythological poems on Attis and theBacchae, [39] all flowed from his pen. But his most famous works were his_Troica_, [40] an epic on the Trojan legend, which he recited before thepeople in the theatre, [41] and his [Greek: Iion al_osis], which mayperhaps have been included in the _Troica_, and is famous as having--soscandal ran--been declaimed over burning Rome. [42] But his ambitionsoared higher. He contemplated an epic on the whole of Roman history. Itwas estimated that 400 books would be required. The Stoic AnnaeusCornutus justly remarked that no one would read so many. It was pointedout that the Stoic's master, Chrysippus, had written even more. 'Yes, 'said Cornutus, 'but they were of some use to humanity. ' Cornutus wasbanished, but he saved Rome from the epic. Nero was also prolific inspeeches and, proud of his voice, often appeared on the stage. Heimpersonated Orestes matricida, Canace parturiens, Oedipus blind, andHercules mad. [43] It is not improbable that the words declaimed or sungin these scenes were composed by Nero himself. [44] For the encouragementof music and poetry he had established quinquennial games known as theNeronia. How far his motives for so doing were interested it is hard tosay. But there is no doubt that he had a passionate ambition to win theprize at the contest instituted by himself. In A. D. 60, on the firstoccasion of the celebration of these games, the prize was won by Lucanwith a poem in praise of Nero. [45] Vacca, in his life of Lucan, statesthat this lost him Nero's favour, the emperor being jealous of hissuccess. The story is demonstrably false, [46] but that Nero subsequentlybecame jealous of Lucan is undoubted. Till Lucan's fame was assured, Nero extended his favour to him: then partly through Lucan's extremevanity and want of tact, partly through Nero's jealousy of Lucan'spre-eminence that favour was wholly withdrawn. [47] Nevertheless, thoughNero may have shown jealousy of successful rivals, he seems to have hadsufficient respect for literature to refrain from persecution. He didnot go out of his way to punish personal attacks on himself. If nameswere delated to the senate on such a charge, he inclined to mercy. Eventhe introduction into an Atellan farce of jests on the deaths ofClaudius and Agrippina was only punished with exile. [48] Only after thedetection of Piso's conspiracy in 65 did his anger vent itself onwriters: towards the end of his reign the distinguished authors, Virginius Flavus and the Stoic Musonius Rufus, were both driven intoexile. As for the deaths of Seneca and Lucan, the two most distinguishedwriters of the day, though both perished at Nero's hands, it was theirconduct, not their writings, that brought them to destruction. Both wereimplicated in the Pisonian conspiracy. If, then, Nero's direct influenceon literature was for the bad, it was not because he was adverse: itsuffered rather from his favour: the extravagant tastes of the princepsand the many eccentricities of his life and character may perhaps find areflection in some of the more grotesque extravagances of Lucan, suchfor instance as the absurdly servile dedication of the _Pharsalia_. Buteven in this direction his influence was probably comparatively small. 

In view, then, of what is known of the attitude of the four emperors ofthe period most critical for Silver Latin literature, the period of itsbirth, it may be said that, on the worst estimate, their directinfluence is not an important factor in the decline. [49] On the otherhand, the indirect influence of the principate was beyond doubt evil. Society was corrupt enough and public life sufficiently uninspiringunder Augustus. After the first glow of enthusiasm over the restorationof peace and order, and over the vindication of the Roman power on thefrontiers of empire had passed away, men felt how thinly veiled wastheir slavery. Liberty was gradually restricted, autocracy cast off itsmask: the sense of power that goes with freedom dwindled; little wasleft to waken man's enthusiasm, and the servility exacted by theemperors became more and more degrading. Unpleasing as are theflatteries addressed to Augustus by Vergil and Horace, they fade intoinsignificance compared with Lucan's apotheosis of Nero; or to takelater and yet more revolting examples, the poems of the Silvae addressedby Statius to Domitian or his favourites. Further, these four emperorsof the Julio-Claudian dynasty set a low standard of private life: theymight command flattery, they could hardly exact respect. Two cleverlunatics, a learned fool, and a morose cynic are not inspiring. 

Nevertheless, however unhealthy its influence may have been--and therehas been much exaggeration on this point--it must be remembered that theprincipate found ready to its hand a society with all the seeds of decayimplanted deep within it. Even a succession of sane and virtuous Caesarsmight well have failed, with the machinery and material at theirdisposal, to put new and vigorous life into the aristocracy and peopleof Rome. Even the encroachments of despotism on popular liberty must beattributed in no small degree to the incapacity of what should have beenthe ruling class at Rome. Despotism was in a sense forced upon theemperors: they were not reluctant, but, had they been so, they wouldstill have had little choice. The primary causes of the decline ofliterature, as of the decay of life and morals, lie much deeper. Theinfluence of princeps and principate, though not negligible, is_comparatively_ small. 

The really important causes are to be found first in the general decayof Roman character--far-advanced before the coming of Caesarism, secondly in the peculiar nature of Roman literature, and thirdly in thevicious system of Roman education. 

It was the first of these factors that produced the lubricity thatdefiles and the lack of moral earnestness that weakens such a largeproportion of the literature of this age. It is not necessary toillustrate this point in any detail. [50] The record of Rome, alike inhome and foreign politics, during the hundred and twenty years precedingthe foundation of the principate forms one of the most fascinating, butin many respects one of the most profoundly melancholy pages in history. The poems of Catullus and the speeches of Cicero serve equally toillustrate the wholesale corruption alike of public and privatemorality. The Roman character had broken down before the gradual inroadsof an alien luxury and the opening of wide fields of empire to plunder. It is an age of incredible scandal, of mob law, of _coups d'état_ andproscriptions, saved only from utter gloom by the illusory light shedfrom the figures of a few great men and by the never absent sense offreedom and expansion. There still remained a republican liberty ofaction, an inspiring possibility of reform, an outlet for personalambition, which facilitated the rise of great leaders and writers. AndRome was now bringing to ripeness fruit sprung from the seed ofHellenism, a decadent and meretricious Hellenism, but even in its decaythe greatest intellectual force of the world. 

Wonderful as was the fruit produced by the graft of Hellenism, it toocontained the seeds of decay. For Rome owed too little to early Greekepic and to the golden literature of Athens, too much to the later agewhen rhetoric had become a knack, and

 the love of letters overdone Had swamped the sacred poets with themselves. [51]

Roman literature came too late: that it reached such heights is aremarkable tribute to the greatness of Roman genius, even in itsdecline. With the exception of the satires of Lucilius and Horace therewas practically no branch of literature that did not owe its inspirationand form to Greek models. Even the primitive national metre had diedout. Roman literature--more especially poetry--was therefore bound to beunduly self-conscious and was always in danger of a lack of spontaneity. That Rome produced great prose writers is not surprising; they hadcopious and untouched material to deal with, and prose structure wasnaturally less rapidly and less radically affected by Greek influence. That she should have produced a Catullus, a Lucretius, a Vergil, aHorace, and--most wonderful of all--an Ovid was an amazing achievement, rendered not the less astonishing when it is remembered that the sternbent of the practical Roman mind did not in earlier days give highpromise of poetry. The marvel is not wholly to be explained by thecircumstances of the age. The new sense of power, the revival of thenational spirit under the warming influence of peace and hope, thatcharacterize the brilliant interval between the fall of the republic andthe turbid stagnation of the empire, are not enough to account for it. Their influence would have been in vain had they not found remarkablegenius ready for the kindling. 

The whole field of literature had been so thoroughly covered by thegreat writers of Hellas, that it was hard for the imitative Roman to beoriginal. As far as epic poetry was concerned, Rome had poor materialwith which to deal: neither her mythology--the most prosaic andbusiness-like of all mythologies--nor her history seemed to give anyreal scope for the epic writer. The Greek mythology was ready to hand, but it was hard for a Roman to treat it with high enthusiasm, and stillharder to handle it with freshness and individuality. The purelyhistorical epic is from its very nature doomed to failure. Treated withaccuracy it becomes prosy, treated with fancy it becomes ridiculous. Vergil saw the one possible avenue to epic greatness. He went back intothe legendary past where imagination could have free play, linkedtogether the great heroic sagas of Greece with the scanty materialspresented by the prehistoric legends of Rome, and kindled the whole workto life by his rich historical imagination and his sense of the grandeurof the Rome that was to be. His unerring choice of subject and hisbrilliant execution seemed to close to his successors all paths to epicfame. They had but well-worn and inferior themes wherefrom to choose, and the supremacy of Vergil's genius dominated their minds, becoming anobsession and a clog rather than an assistance to such poetic genius asthey possessed. The same is true of Horace. As complete a master inlyric verse as Vergil in heroic, he left the after-comer no possibilityof advance. As for Ovid, there could be only one Ovid: the cleverest andmost heartless of poets, he at once challenged and defied imitation. Satire alone was left with real chance of success: while the human raceexists, there will always be fresh material for satire, and the imperialage was destined to give it peculiar force and scope. Further, satireand its nearest kin, the epigram, were the only forms of literature thatwere not seriously impaired by the artificial system of education thathad struck root in Rome. 

Otherwise the tendency to artificiality on the one hand and inadequacyof thought on the other, to which the conditions of its birth and growthexposed Roman literature, were aggravated to an almost incredible extentby the absurd system of education to which the unformed mind of theyoung Roman was subjected. It will be seen that what Greece gave withthe right hand she took away with the left. 

There were three stages in Roman education, the elementary, theliterary, the rhetorical. The first, in which the _litterator_ taughtthe three R's, does not concern us here. In the second stage the_grammaticus_ gave instruction in Greek and Latin literature, togetherwith the elements of grammar and style. The profound influence of Greeceis shown by Quintilian's recommendation[52] that a boy should start onGreek literature, and by the fact that boys began with Homer. [53] Greekauthors, particularly studied, were Aesop, Hesiod, the tragedians, andMenander. [54] Among Roman authors Naevius, Ennius, Pacuvius, Accius, Afranius, Plautus, Caecilius, and Terence were much read, though therewas a reaction against these early authors under the empire, and theywere partly replaced by Vergil, Horace, and Ovid. [55] These authors weremade vehicles for the teaching of grammar and of style. The latter pointalone concerns us here. The Roman boy was taught to read aloudintelligently and artistically with the proper modulation of the voice. For this purpose he was carefully taught the laws of metre, with specialreference to the peculiarities of particular poets. After the readingaloud (_lectio_) came the _enarratio_ or explanation of the text. Theeducational value of this was doubtless considerable, though it wasimpaired by the importance assigned to obscure mythological knowledgeand unscientific archaeology. [56] The pupil would be further instructedby exercises in paraphrase and by the treatment in simple essay form ofthemes (_sententiae_). 'Great store was set both in speaking and writingon a command of an abundance of general truths or commonplaces, and evenat school boys were trained to commit them to memory, to expand them, and illustrate them from history. '[57] Finally they were taught to writeverse. Such at least is a legitimate inference from the extraordinaryprecocity shown by many Roman authors. [58] This literary trainingcontained much that was of great value, but it also had gravedisadvantages. There seems in the first place to have been too much'spoon-feeding', and too little genuine brain exercise for thepupil. [59] Secondly, the fact that at this stage boys were nurturedalmost entirely on poetry requires serious consideration. The quality ofthe food supplied to the mind, though pre-eminently palatable, must havetended to be somewhat thin. The elaborate instruction in mythologicalerudition was devoid of religious value; and indeed of any value, savethe training of a purely mechanical memory. Attention was called toomuch to the form, too little to the substance. Style has its value, butit is after all only a secondary consideration in education. The effectupon literature of this poetical training was twofold. It caused anundue demand for poetical colour in prose, and produced a horribleprecocity and _cacoethes scribendi_[60] in verse, together with anabnormal tendency to imitation of the great writers of previousgenerations. [61]

But the rhetorical training which succeeded was responsible for farworse evils. The importance of rhetoric in ancient education is easilyexplained. The Greek or Roman gentleman was destined to play a part inthe public life of the city state. For this purpose the art of speakingwas of enormous value alike in politics and in the law courts. Hence theuniversal predominance of rhetoric in higher education both in Rome andGreece. [62] The main instrument of instruction was the writing of themesfor declamation. These exercises were divided into _suasoriae_--deliberative speeches in which some course of action was discussed--and _controversiae_--where some proposition was maintained or denied. Pupils began with _suasoriae_ and went on to _controversiae_. Regardedas a mental gymnastic, these themes may have possessed some value. Butthey were hackneyed and absurdly remote from real life, as can be judgedfrom the examples collected by the elder Seneca. Typical subjects of the_suasoria_ are--'Agamemnon deliberates whether to slay Iphigenia';[63]'Cicero deliberates whether to burn his writings, Antony having promisedto spare him on that condition';[64] 'Three hundred Spartans sent againstXerxes after the flight of troops sent from the rest of Greece deliberatewhether to stand or fly. '[65]

The _controversia_ requires further explanation. A general law isstated, e. G. _incesta saxo deiciatur_. A special case follows, e. G. _incesti damnata antequam deiceretur invocavit Vestam: deiecta vixit_. The special case had to be brought under the general rule; _repetitur adpoenam_. [66] Other examples are equally absurd:[67] one and all areridiculously remote from real life. It was bad enough that boys' timeshould be wasted thus, but the evil was further emphasized by thepractice of recitation. These exercises, duly corrected and elaborated, were often recited by their youthful authors to an audience ofcomplaisant friends and relations. Of such training there could be butone possible result. 'Less and less attention was paid to the substanceof the speech, more and more to the language; justness andappropriateness of thought came to be less esteemed than brilliance andnovelty of expression. '[68]

These formal defects of education were accompanied by a widespreadneglect of the true educational spirit. The development on healthy linesof the _morale_, and intellect of the young became in too many instancesa matter of indifference. Throughout the great work of Quintilian wehave continued evidence of the lack of moral and intellectual enthusiasmthat characterized the schools of his day. Even more passionate are thedenunciations levelled against contemporary education by Messala in the_Dialogus_ of Tacitus. [69] Parents neglect their children from theirearliest years: they place them in the charge of foreign slaves, oftenof the most degraded character; or if they do pay any personal attentionto their upbringing, it is to teach them not honesty, purity, andrespect for themselves and their elders, but pertness, luxurious habits, and neglect alike of themselves and of others. The schools moreover, apart from their faulty methods and ideals of instruction, encourageother faults. The boys' interests lie not in their work, but in thetheatres, the gladiatorial games, the races in the circus--those ancientequivalents of twentieth-century athleticism. Their minds are utterlyabsorbed by these pursuits, and there is little room left for noblerstudies. 'How few boys will talk of anything else at home? What topic ofconversation is so frequent in the lecture-room; what other subject sofrequently on the lips of the masters, who collect pupils not by thethoroughness of their teaching or by giving proof of their powers ofinstruction, but by interested visits and all the tricks oftoadyism?'[70] Messala goes on[71] to denounce the unreality of theexercises in the schools, whose deleterious effect is aggravated by thelow standard exacted. 'Boys and young men are the speakers, boys andyoung men the audience, and their efforts are received withundiscriminating praise. '

The same faults that were generated in the schools were intensified inafter-life. In the law courts the same smart epigrams, the samemeretricious style were required. No true method had been taught, withthe result that 'frivolity of style, shallow thoughts, and disorderlystructure' prevailed; orators imitated the rhythms of the stage andactually made it their boast that their speeches would form fittingaccompaniments to song and dance. It became a common saying that 'ourorators speak voluptuously, while our actors dance eloquently'. [72]Poetical colour was demanded of the orator, rhetorical colour of thepoet. The literary and rhetorical stages of education reacted on oneanother. [73]

Further, just as the young poet had to his great detriment beenencouraged to recite at school, so he had to recite if he was to winfame for his verse in the larger world. Even in a saner society poetrywritten primarily for recitation must have run to rhetoric; in arhetorical age the result was disastrous. In an enormous proportion ofcases the poet of the Silver Age wrote literally for an audience. Greatas were the facilities for publication the poet primarily made his name, not by the gradual distribution of his works among a reading public, butby declaiming before public or private audiences. The practice ofgathering a circle of acquaintances together to listen to therecitations of a poet is said first to have been instituted by AsiniusPollio, the patron of Vergil. There is evidence to show that all thepoets of the Augustan age gave recitations. [74] But the practicegradually increased and became a nuisance to all save the few who hadthe courage to stand aloof from these mutual admiration societies. Indiscriminate praise was lavished on good and bad work alike. EvenPliny the younger, whose cultivation and literary taste place him highabove the average literary level of his day, approves of the increase ofthis melancholy harvest of minor poetry declaimed by uninspiredbards. [75] The effect was lamentable. All the faults of the _suasoria_and _controversia_ made their appearance in poetry. [76] The poet hadcontinually to be performing acrobatic feats, now of rhetoric orepigram, now of learning, or again in the description of blood-curdlinghorrors, monstrous deaths and prodigious sorceries. Each work wasoverloaded with _sententiae_ and purple patches. [77] So only could theauthor keep the attention of his audience. The results were disastrousfor literature and not too satisfactory[78] for the authors themselves, as the following curious passage from Tacitus (_Dial. _ 9) shows:

Bassus is a genuine poet, and his verse possesses both beauty andcharm: but the only result is that, when after a whole year, workingevery day and often well into the night, he has hammered out onebook of poems, he must needs go about requesting people to begood enough to give him a hearing: and what is more he has topay for it: for he borrows a house, constructs an auditorium, hires benches and distributes programmes. And then--admittinghis recitations to be highly successful--yet all that honour andglory falls within one or two days, prematurely gathered like grassin the blade or flowers in their earliest bloom: it has no sure orsolid reward, wins no friendship or following or lasting gratitude, naught save a transient applause, empty words of praise and afleeting enthusiasm. 

The less fortunate poet had to betake himself to the forum or the publicbaths or some temple, there to inflict his tawdry wares upon the ears ofa chance audience. [79] Others more fortunate would be lent a room bysome rich patron. [80] Under Nero and Domitian we get the apotheosis ofrecitation. Nero, we have seen, established the Neronia in 60 andhimself competed. Domitian established a quinquennial competition inhonour of Jupiter Capitolinus in 86 and an annual competition held everyQuinquatria Minervae at his palace on the Alban mount. [81] From thattime forward it became the ambition of every poet to be crowned at thesegrotesque competitions. 

The result of all these co-operating influences will be evident as wedeal with the individual poets. Here we can only give a brief summaryof the general characteristics of this fantastic literature. We have astriving after originality that ends in eccentricity: writers weresteeped in the great poets of the Augustan age: men of comparativelysmall creative imagination, but, thanks to their education, possessedof great technical skill, they ran into violent extremes to avoid thecharge of imitating the great predecessors whom they could not help butimitate; hence the obscurity of Persius--the disciple of Horace--and ofStatins and Valerius Flaccus--the followers of Vergil. Hence Lucan'sbold attempt to strike out a new type of epic, an attempt that ended ina wild orgy of brilliant yet turbid rhetoric. The simple and naturalwas at a discount: brilliance of point, bombastic description, gorgeouscolour were preferred to quiet power. Alexandrian learning, already toomuch in evidence in the Augustan age, becomes more prominent and moreoppressive. For men of second-rate talent it served to give their worka spurious air of depth and originality to which it was not entitled. The necessity of patronage engendered a fulsome flattery, while thefalse tone of the schools of rhetoric, [82] aided perhaps by theinfluence of the Stoical training so fashionable at Rome, led to amarvellous conceit and self-complacency, of which a lack of humour wasa necessary corollary. These symptoms are seen at their worst duringthe extravagant reign of Nero, though the blame attaches as much toSeneca as to his pupil and emperor. Traces of a reaction against thiswild unreality are perhaps to be found in the literary criticismscattered tip and down the pages of Petronius, [83] but it was not tillthe extinction of Nero and Seneca that any strong revolt in thedirection of sanity can be traced. Even then it is rather in the sphereof prose than of poetry that it is manifest. Quintilian headed aCiceronian reaction and was followed by Pliny the younger and for atime by Tacitus. But we may perhaps trace a similar Vergilian reactionin the verse of Silius, Statius, and Valerius. [84] Their faults do notnauseate to the same extent of those of their predecessors. But themischief was done, and in point of extravagance and meretricious tastethe differense is only one of degree. 

Satire alone attains to real eminence: rhetoric and epigram are its mostmordant weapons, and the schools of rhetoric, if they did nothing else, kept those weapons well sharpened: the gross evils of the age opened anample field for the satirist. Hence it is that all or almost all that isbest in the literature of the Silver Age is satirical or strongly tingedwith satire. Tacitus, who had many of the noblest qualifications of apoet, almost deserves the title of Rome's greatest satirist; the worksof Persius and Juvenal speak openly for themselves while many of thefinest passages in Lucans are most near akin to satire. It is true thatunder the principate satire had to be employed with caution; under thefirst two dynasties it was compelled to be general in tone: it was notuntil after the fall of Domitian, under the enlightened rule of Nervaand Trajan, that it found a freer scope and was at least allowed to lashthe vices of the present under the names of the past. 

It is in satire alone that we find any trace of genuine moralearnestness and enthusiasm; and the reason for this is primarily thatthe satirists wrote under the influence of the one force that definitelyand steadily made for righteousness. It is the Stoic philosophy thatkindles Persius and Lucan, while Tacitus and Juvenal, even if they makeno profession of Stoicism, have yet been profoundly influenced by itsteaching. Their morality takes its colour, if not its form, from thephilosophy oh the 'Porch'. The only non-satirical poetry primarilyinspired by Stoicism is the dramatic verse of Seneca. That its influencehere is not wholly for the best is due only in part to the intrinsicqualities of its teaching. It is rather in its application that thefault lies; it dominates and crushes the drama instead of suffusing itand lending it wings; it insists on preaching instead of suggesting. Itis too insistent and aggressive a creed to harmonize with poetry, unlessthat poetry be definitely didactic in type and aim. But it is admirablysuited to be the inspiration of satire, and it is therefore that thesatire makes a far stronger moral appeal than any other form ofpost-Augustan literature. 

Satire apart, the period is in the main an age of _belles lettres_, of'the literary _gourmet_, the connoisseur, the _blasé_ and disillusionedman of society, passionately appreciative of detail, difficultiesovercome, and petty felicities of expression. '[85] It is the fashion todespise its works, and the fashion cannot be described as unhealthy orunjust. Yet it produced a few men of genius, while even in the works ofthose who were far removed from genius, the very fact that there is muchrefinement of wit, much triumphing over technical difficulties, muchelaborate felicity of expression, makes them always a curious and attimes a remunerative study. But perhaps its greatest claim upon us liesin the unexpected service that it rendered to the cause of culture. Inthe darkness of the Middle Ages when Greek was a hidden mystery to thewestern world, Lucan and Statius, Juvenal and Persius, and even thehumble and unknown author of the _Ilias Latina_, did their part inkeeping the lamp alive and illumining the midnight in which lay hiddenthe 'budding morrow' of the Renaissance. 

CHAPTER II

DRAMA

I

THE STAGE

The drama proper had never flourished at Rome. The causes are not farto seek. Tragic drama was dead in Greece by the time Greek influencemade itself felt, while the New Comedy which then held the stage was oftoo quietly realistic a type and of too refined a wit and humour to beattractive to the coarser and less intelligent audiences of Rome. Terence, the _dimidiatus Menander_, as Caesar called him, though he wonhimself a great name with the cultured classes by the purity andelegance of his Latin and the fine drawing of his characters, was afailure with popular audiences owing to his lack of broad farcicalhumour. Plautus with his coarse geniality and lumbering wit made agreater success. He had grafted the festive spirit of Roman farce on tothe more artistic comedy of Athens. Tragedy obtained but a passingvogue. Ennius, Accius, and Pacuvius were read and enjoyed by not a feweducated readers, but for the Augustan age, as far as the stage wasconcerned, they were practically dead and buried. The Roman populacehad by that period lost all taste for the highest and most refinedforms of art. The races in the circus, the variety entertainments andbloodshed of the amphitheatre had captured the favour of the polyglot, pampered multitude that must have formed such a large proportion of aRoman audience. 

Still, dramatic entertainments had by no means wholly disappeared by thetime of the Empire. But what remained was of a degraded type. The NewComedy of Athens, as transferred to the Roman stage, had given groundbefore the advance of the mime and the _fabula Atellana_. The history ofboth these forms of comedy belongs to an earlier period. For thepost-Augustan age our evidence as to their development is very scanty. Little is known save that they were exceedingly popular. Both werecharacterized by the broadest farce and great looseness of construction;both were brief one-act pieces and served as interludes or conclusionsto other forms of spectacle. 

The Atellan was of Italian origin and contained four stock characters, Pappus the old man or pantaloon, Dossennus the wise man, correspondingto the _dottore_ of modern Italian popular comedy, Bucco the clown, andMaccus the fool. It dealt with every kind of theme, parodied the legendsof the gods, laughed at the provincial's manners or at the inhabitantsof Italian country towns, or depicted in broad comic style incidents inthe life of farmer and artisan. Maccus appeared as a young girl, as asoldier, as an innkeeper; Pappus became engaged to be married; Buccoturned gladiator; and in the rough and tumble of these old friends theRoman mob found rich food for laughter. [86]

The mime was of a very similar character, but freer in point of form. Itrenounced the use of masks and reached, it would seem, an even greaterpitch of indecency than the Atellan. The subjects of a few mimes areknown to us. Among the most popular were the _Phasma_ or _Ghost_[87] andthe _Laureolus_[888] of Catullus, a writer of the reign of Caligula. Inthe latter play was represented the death by crucifixion of the famousbrigand 'Laureolus'; so degraded was popular taste that on one occasionit is recorded that a criminal was made to take the part of Laureolusand was crucified in grim earnest upon the stage. [89] In another mime ofthe principate of Vespasian the chief attraction was a performingdog, [90] which, on being given a pretended opiate, went to sleep andlater feigned a gradual revival in such a realistic manner as to rousethe wildest applause on the part of the audience. 

Both Atellan and mime abounded in topical allusions and spared not eventhe emperors. Allusion was made to the unnatural vices attributed toTiberius, [91] to the deaths of Claudius and Agrippina, [92] to theavarice of Galba, [93] to the divorce of Domitian, [94] and on more thanone occasion heavy punishment was meted out to authors and actorsalike. [95]

Legitimate comedy led a struggling existence. An inscription atAeclanum[96] records the memory of a certain Pomponius Bassulus, who notonly translated certain comedies of Menander but himself wrote originalcomedies; while in the letters of Pliny[97] we meet with VergiliusRomanus, a writer of comedies of 'the old style' and of _mimiambi_. Hepossessed, so Pliny writes, 'vigour, pungency, and wit. He gave honourto virtue and attacked vice. ' It is to be feared that such a form ofcomedy can hardly have been intended for the public stage, and thatVergilius, like so many poets of his age, wrote for private performanceor recitation. These two writers are the only authors of legitimatecomedies known to us during the Silver Age. But both _fabulae palliatae_and _togatae_, that is to say, comedies representing Greek and Romanlife respectively, continued to be acted on the public stage. The_Incendium_[98] of Afranius, a _fabula togata_, was performed in thereign of Nero, and the evidence of Quintilian[99] and Juvenal[100] showsthat _palliatae_ also continued to be performed. But true comedy hadbeen relegated to a back place and the Silver Age did nothing to modifythe dictum of Quintilian, [101] _in comoedia maxime claudicamus_. 

As with comedy so with tragedy. Popular taste rejected the Graeco-Romantragedy as tedious, and it was replaced by a more sensuous andsensational form of entertainment. The intenser passions and emotionswere not banished from the stage, but survived in the _salticae fabulae_and a peculiar species of dramatic recitation. Infinitely debased aswere these substitutes for true drama, the forms assumed by thedecomposition of tragedy are yet curious and interesting. The first stepwas the separation of the _cantica_ from the _diverbia. _ Lyric scenes oreven important iambic monologues were taken from their setting and sungas solos upon the stage. [102] It was found difficult to combineeffective singing with effective gesture and dancing, for music hadbecome more florid and exacting than in the days of Euripides. A secondactor appeared who supplied the gesture to illustrate the first actor'ssong. [103] From this peculiar and to us ridiculous form of entertainmentit is a small step to the _fabula saltica, _ which was at once nearer thelegitimate drama and further from it. It was nearer in that the sceneswere not isolated, but formed part of a more or less carefullyconstructed whole. It was further inasmuch as the actor disappeared, only the dancer remaining upon the stage. The words of the play wererelegated to a chorus, while the character, actions, and emotions of theperson represented by the words of the chorus were set forth by thedress, gesticulation, and dancing of the _pantomimus_. How the variousscenes were connected is uncertain; but it is almost a necessaryinference that the connexion was provided by the chorus or, as in modernoratorio, by recitative. To us the mimetic posturing of the _pantomimus_appears an almost ridiculous substitute for drama; but the dancing ofthe actors seems to have been extraordinarily artistic and at times tohave had a profound effect upon the emotions of the audience, [104] whilethe brilliant success in our own time of plays in dumb show, such as thefamous _Enfant Prodigue, _ should be a warning against treating the_pantomimus_ with contempt. 

This form of entertainment was first introduced at Rome in 22 B. C. Bythe actors Pylades and Bathyllus, [105] the former being famed for histragic dancing, the latter for a broader and more comic style, whosedramatic counterpart would seem to have been the satyric drama. [106] Thesatyric element seems, however, never to have become really popular, the_fabula saltica_ as we know it dealing mainly with tragic or highlyemotional themes. Indeed, to judge from Lucian's disquisition on the artof dancing, the subjects seem to have been drawn from almost everyconceivable source both of history and mythology. [107] Many of these_salticae fabulae_ must have been mere adaptations of existingtragedies. Their literary value was, according to Plutarch, by no meanshigh;[108] it was sacrificed to the music and the dancing, for theemotional effect of which Lucian can scarcely find sufficiently highterms of praise. [109] The themes appear to have been drawn from the morelurid passages in mythology and history. If the libretto was not coarsein itself, there is abundant evidence to show that the subjects chosenwere often highly lascivious, while the movements of the dancers--notseldom men of the vilest character--were frequently to the last degreeobscene. [110] Inadequate as this substitute for the drama must seem tous, we must remember that southern peoples were--and indeed are--farmore sensitive to the language of signs, to expressive gesticulation andthe sensuous movements of the body[111] than are the less quick-wittedand emotional peoples of the North; and further, even if for the mostpart these _fabulae salticae_ had small literary value, distinguishedpoets did not disdain to write librettos for popular actors. Passagesfrom the works of Vergil were adapted for such performances;[112] Lucanwrote no less than fourteen _fabulae salticae, _[113] while the _Agave_of Statius, [114] written for the dancer Paris, is famous from thewell-known passage in the seventh satire of Juvenal. Nothing survives ofthese librettos to enlighten us as to their literary characteristics, and the other details of the performance do not concern us here. [115] Itis sufficient to say that the _pantomimus_ had an enormous vogue in theSilver Age, and won a rich harvest by his efforts, and that the factionsof the theatre, composed of the partisans of this or that actor, werescarcely less notorious than the factions of the circus for thedisturbances to which they gave rise. [116]

Of the musical recitations of portions of existing tragedies or oftragic episodes written for the occasion we possess even less knowledge. The passages selected or composed for this purpose were in allprobability usually lyric, but we hear also of the chanting of iambics, as, for instance, in the case of the _Oedipus in Exile, _ in which Neromade his last appearance on the stage. [117] Of the part played by thechorus and of the structure of the librettos we know nothing; they mayhave been purely episodic and isolated or may, as in the _salticaefabulae, _ have been loosely strung together into the form of anill-constructed play. That they were sometimes written in Greek is knownfrom the fact that the line quoted by Suetonius from the _Oedipus inExile_ mentioned above is in that language. Of the writers of thisdebased and bastard offspring of drama we know nothing save that Nero, who was passionately fond of appearing in them, seems also to havewritten them. (Suet. Ner. 39. )

The tragic stage had indeed sunk low, when it served almost entirely forexhibitions such as these. Nevertheless tragedy had not ceased to existeven if it had ceased to hold the stage. [118] Varius and Ovid had wonfame in the Augustan age by their Thyestes and Medea, and thepost-Augustan decadence was not without its tragedians. One only ismentioned by Quintilian in his survey of Roman poetry, PomponiusSecundus. Of him he says (x. 1. 98), 'Of the tragedians whom I myselfhave seen, Pomponius Secundus is by far the most eminent; a writer whomthe oldest men of the day thought not quite tragic enough, butacknowledged that he excelled in learning and elegance of style. 'Pomponius was a man of great distinction. [119] His friendship for AeliusGallus, the son of Sejanus, had brought him into disgrace with Tiberius, but he recovered his position under Claudius. He attained to theconsulship, and commanded with distinction in a war against the Chattiin A. D. 50. Of his writings we know but very little. Of his playsnothing is left save a brief fragment[120] from a play entitled_Aeneas_; whether it dealt with the deeds of Aeneas in his native landor in the land of his adoption is uncertain, though it is on the wholeprobable that the scene was Italian and that the drama was therefore a_fabula praetexta_. Whether his plays were performed on the public stageis not quite clear. Tacitus tells us of riots in the theatre in A. D. 44, [121] when 'poems' by Pomponius were being recited on the stage. Butthe words used by the historian (_is carmina scaenae dabat_) pointrather to the recitation of a dramatic solo than to a complete tragedyof the orthodox type. Pomponius, dramatist and philologist, [122] remainsa mere name for us. 

Another distinguished writer of plays was Curiatius Maternus, awell-known orator; it is in his house that Tacitus places the scene ofthe _Dialogus_, and he is the chief character of the conversation. Hehad written his first tragedy under Nero, [123] and at the time of the_Dialogus_ (A. D. 79-81) his _Cato_--a _fabula praetexta_--was the talkof Rome. [124] He had written another historical drama on the ancestor ofNero, L. Domitius Ahenobarbus, the persistent foe of Julius Caesar, whoperished on the field of Pharsalia. [125] He had also written plays onthe more hackneyed themes of Medea and Thyestes. [126] He had all theopportunities and all the requisite gifts for a successful publiccareer, but his heart was with the Muses, and he resolved to quit publiclife and to devote himself wholly to poetry, for there, in hisestimation, the truest fame was to be found. [127] Here our knowledgeends. Of the details of his life we are as ignorant as of his plays. 

A few other names of tragic poets are known to us. Paccius wrote an_Alcithoe_, [128] Faustus a _Thebais_ and a _Tereus_, [129] Rubrenus Lappaan _Atreus_, [130] while Scaevus Memor, [131] victor at the AgonCapitolinus and brother of Turnus the satirist, wrote a _Hercules_ and a_Hecuba_ or _Troades_. [132] Martial (xi. 9) styles him the 'glory of theRoman buskin', but he too is but the shadow of an empty name. Thetragedies of the age are lost to us, all save the tragedies of thephilosopher Seneca, plays of which, save for one casual reference[133]in Quintilian, contemporary literature gives no hint, but which, howeverlittle they may have deserved it, were destined to have no negligibleinfluence on the subsequent history of the world's drama. 

II

SENECA

Lucius Annaeus Seneca, one of the most striking figures among the greatwriters of Rome, was born at Cordova[134] about the opening of theChristian era, to be the most remarkable member of a remarkable family. His father, who bore the same name, was the famous rhetorician to whomwe have already referred. His elder brother, M. Annaeus Novatus, [135]was adopted by L. Iunius Gallio, whose name he assumed, had adistinguished public career, and is best known to us, in his capacity ofgovernor of Achaea, as the 'Gallio' of the Acts. The youngest of thefamily, M. Annaeus Mela, [136] remained in the equestrian order anddevoted himself to the acquisition of wealth, regarding this as thesafest path to fame. He succeeded to some extent in his object, but hismain claim upon our remembrance is as the father of the poet Lucan. Lucius Seneca came to Rome at an early age, [137] and, in spite of thebad health which afflicted him all his life long, [138] soon made hismark as an orator. Indeed, so striking was his success that--although heshowed no particular eagerness for a political career--his sheer masteryof the Roman speech wakened the jealousy of Caligula, [139] who onlyspared his life on the ground that he suffered from chronic asthma andwas not likely to live long, and contented himself, therefore, withmordant but not unjust criticism of the style of his intendedvictim. [140] But though oratory provided Seneca with the readiest meansfor the gratification of his not inconsiderable vanity, and for theexercise of his marvellous powers of wit and epigram, it was not thepursuit of rhetoric and its prizes that really held the first place inhis heart. That place was claimed by philosophy. His first love wasPythagoreanism, which he studied under Sotion[14l] of Alexandria, whoseinfluence was sufficient to induce his youthful pupil to become aconvinced vegetarian. But his father, who hated fads and philosophers, persuaded Seneca without much difficulty to 'dine better', and thedoctrines of Pythagoras were soon displaced by the more fashionableteaching of the Stoics. From the lips of Attalus[142] he learned all theprinciples of that ascetic school. 'I besieged his class-room, ' hewrites; 'I was the first to come, the last to go; I would waylay himwhen out walking and lead him to discuss serious problems. ' Whether hedenounced vice and luxury, or extolled poverty, Attalus found aconvinced disciple in Seneca. His convictions did not possess sufficientweight to lead him to embrace a life of austere poverty, but he at leastlearned to sleep on a hard mattress, and to eschew hot baths, wine, unguents, oysters, and mushrooms. How far his life conformed to thehighest principles of his creed, it is hard to say. If we are to believehis detractors, he was guilty of committing adultery with the PrincessJulia Livilla, was surrounded with all the luxuries that the age couldsupply, and drained the life-blood of Italy and the provinces byextortionate usury. [143] During his long exile in Corsica he could writea consolatory treatise to his mother on the thesis that the truephilosopher is never an exile;[144] wherever he is, there he is at home;but little more than a year later he writes another consolatory treatiseto the imperial freedman Polybius, full of the most grovelling flatteryof Polybius himself and of the Emperor Claudius, [145] the same Claudiuswhom he afterwards bespattered with the coarse, if occasionallyhumorous, vulgarity of the _Apocolocyntosis_. [146] He was tutor to theyoung Nero, but had not the strength to check his vices. He sought tocontrol him by flattery and platitudes rather than by the high exampleof the philosophy which he professed. [147] The composition of thetreatise _ad Neronem de Clementia_ was a poor reply to Nero's murder ofBritannicus. [148] He could write eloquently of Stoic virtue, but when hehimself was confronted with the hard facts of life over which Stoicismclaimed to triumph, he proved no more than a 'lath painted to look likeiron'. Such is the case against Seneca. That it can be rebutted entirelyit is impossible to claim. But we must remember the age in which helived. Its love of debauchery was only equalled by its prurient love ofscandal. Seneca's banishment on the charge of an intrigue with Livillais not seriously damaging. The accusation _may_ have been true: it is atleast as likely to have been false, for it was instigated by Messalina. That he lived in wealth and luxury is undoubted: his only defence wasthat he was really indifferent to it; he could face any future; he had, therefore, a right to enjoy the present. [149] That he ground down theprovincials by his usury is possible; the standard in such matters waslow, and the real nature of his extortions may never have come home tohim; he must have depended largely on his agents. With regard to hismanagement of the young princeps the case is different. Seneca was givenan almost impossible task. Neither his nature nor his surroundings madeNero a suitable subject for moral instruction. Seneca must have beenhampered at every turn. He must either bend or break. At least he wonthe respect of his pupil, and the good governance of the empire duringthe first five years of Nero's reign was due largely to the fact thatthe power was really in the hands of Seneca and Burrus. [150] Many of theweaknesses of his character may be accounted for by physical debility, and we must further remember that a Stoic of the age of Nero foundhimself in a most difficult position. He could not put his principlesinto full practice in public life without incurring the certaindispleasure of the emperor. The stricter Stoic, therefore, like Thrasea, retired to the seclusion of his estates 'condemning the wicked world ofRome by his absence from it'. [151] Seneca, weaker, but possessed ofgreater common sense, chose the _via media_. He was content to sacrificesomething of his principles to the service of Rome--and of himself. Itis not necessary to regard him as wholly disinterested in his conduct;it is unjust and absurd to regard him as a glorified Tartuffe. [152] Sucha supposition is adequately refuted by his writings. It is easy for awriter at once so fluent and so brilliant to give the impression ofinsincerity; but the philosophical works of Seneca ring surprisinglytrue. We cannot doubt his faith, though his life may at times havebelied it. He reveals a warmth of human feeling, a richness ofimagination, a comprehension of human failings and sorrows, that makehim rank high among the great preachers of the world. Even here, it istrue, he has his failings; he repeats himself, has little constructivetalent, and fails at times to conceal a passion for the obvious beneaththe brilliance of his epigram. But alike in the spheres of politics andliterature he is the greatest man of his age. In literature he standsalone: he is a prose Ovid, with the saving gift of moral fervour. Hisstyle is terse and epigrammatic, but never obscure; it lacks the roll ofthe continuous prose of the Augustan age, but its phrases have a beautyand a music of their own: at their best they are touched with a genuinevein of poetry, at their worst they have a hard brilliance against theattractions of which only the most fastidious eye is proof. He toweredover all his contemporaries. In him were concentrated all theexcellences of the rhetorical schools of the day. Seneca became themodel for literary aspirants to copy. But he was a dangerous model. Hislack of connexion and rhythm became exaggerated by his followers, andthe slightest lack of dexterity in the imitator led to a flashytawdriness such as Seneca himself had as a rule avoided. He was toofacile and careless a composer to yield a canon for style. The reactioncame soon. Involved, whether justly or not, in the Pisonian conspiracyof 65 A. D. , he was forced to commit suicide. He died as the Stoics ofthe age were wont to die, cheerfully, courageously, and withself-conscious ostentation. [153] Within a few years of his death thegreat Ciceronian reaction headed by Quintilian began. The very vehemencewith which the Senecan style was attacked, now by Quintilian[154] andlater by Fronto, [155] shows what a commanding position he held. 

He was poet as well as philosopher. Quintilian tells us that he leftscarcely any branch of literature untouched. 'We possess, ' he says, 'hisspeeches, poems, letters, and dialogues. '[156] Two collections of poemsattributed to Seneca have come down to us, a collection of epigrams anda collection of dramas. There is strangely little external evidence tosupport either attribution, but in neither case can there be any seriousdoubt as to the general correctness of the tradition. 

The _Anthologia Latina_, compiled at Carthage in the sixth century, opens with seventy-three epigrams, of which three are attributed by theMSS. To Seneca (_Poet. Lat. Min. _ 1-3, Baehrens). The first is entitled_de qualitate temporis_ and descants on the ultimate destruction of theworld by fire--a well-known Stoical doctrine. The second and third arefierce denunciations of Corsica, his place of exile. The rest arenameless. But there are several which can only be attributed to Seneca. The ninth is entitled _de se ad patriam_, and is addressed to Cordova byone plunged in deep misfortune--a clear reference to his banishment inCorsica. The fifty-first is a prayer that the author's two brothers maybe happier than himself, and that 'the little Marcus may rival hisuncles in eloquence'. The brothers are described one as older, the otheras younger than the author. It is an obvious inference that the brothersreferred to are Gallio and Mela, while it is possible that the littleMarcus is no other than the gifted son of Mela, Marcus Annaeus Lucanus, the epic poet. [157] The fifteenth represents him as an exile in a barrenland: he appeals to a faithful friend named Crispus, probably thedistinguished orator Passienus Crispus, the younger, who was consul forthe second time in 44 A. D. [158] There are also other epigrams which, though less explicit, suit the circumstances of Seneca's exile. Thefifth is written in praise of the quiet life. The author has twobrothers (l. 14), and at the opening of the poem cries, 'let others seekthe praetorship!' In this connexion it is noteworthy that at the time ofhis banishment Seneca had held no higher office than the quaestorship. The seventeenth and eighteenth are on the same subject, and contain asolemn warning against _regum amicitiae_, appropriate enough in themouth of the victim of a court intrigue. Epigrams 29-36 are devoted tothe praises of Claudius for his conquest of Britain. Claudius hadbanished him and was a suitable subject for flattery. For the rest thepoems are largely of the republican character so fashionable in Stoiccircles during the first century of the empire. There are many epigramson Cato [159] and the Pompeys. Others, again, are of a rhetoricalnature, dealing with scholastic themes;[160] others of an erotic andeven scandalous character. We can claim no certainty for the view thatall these poems are by Seneca, but there is a general resemblance ofstyle throughout, and probability points to the whole collection beingby the same author. The fact that the same theme is treated more thanonce scarcely stands in the way. We cannot dictate the amusements of aweary exile. It would be rash even to deny the possibility of his beingthe author of the erotic poems. [161] Philosopher as he was, he had beenbanished on a charge of adultery: without in any way admitting the truthof that accusation, we may readily believe that he stooped to one of thefashionable amusements of the day, the composition of pointed andunsavoury verse; for the standard of morality in writing was far lowerthan the standard of morals in actual life. [162]

The poems repay reading, but call for little comment. They lackoriginality. The thought is thin, the expression neat, though scarcelyas pointed as we might expect from such an author, while the metre isgraceful: the treatment of the elegiac is freer than that of Ovid, butpleasing and melodious. At times powerful lines flash out. 

 qua frigida semper praefulget stellis Arctos inocciduis (xxxvi. 6)

 Where the cold constellation of the heaven gleams ever with unsetting stars. 

shines out from the midst of banal flattery of the emperor withastonishing splendour. The poem _de qualitate temporis_ (4) closes withfour fine lines with the unmistakable Senecan ring about them--

 quid tam parva loquor? moles pulcerrima caeli ardebit flammis tota repente suis. Omnia mors poscit. Lex est, non poena, perire: hic aliquo mundus tempore nullus erit. 

 Why speak of things so small? The glorious vault of heaven one day shall blaze with sudden self-kindled flame. Death calls for all creation. 'Tis a law, not a penalty to perish. The universe itself shall one day be as though it had never been. 

Cato (9) deliberates on suicide with characteristic rhetoric, artificialin the extreme, but not devoid of dignity--

 estne aliquid, quod Cato non potuit? dextera, me vitas? durum est iugulasse Catonem? sed, quia liber erit, iam puto, non dubitas. Fas non est vivum cuiquam servire Catonem: quinctiam vivit nunc Cato, si moritur. [2]

 Is there then that which Cato had not the heart to do? Right-hand, dost thou shrink from me? Is it hard to slay Cato? Nay, methinks thou dost hesitate no more, for thou shalt set Cato free. 'Tis a crime that Cato should live to be any man's slave; nay, Cato truly lives if Cato die. 

Cleverest of all is the treatment of the rhetorical theme of the twobrothers who meet in battle in the civil war (72). The one unwittinglyslays the other, strips the slain, and discovers what he has done--

 quod fuerat virtus, factum est scelus. Haeret in hoste miles et e manibus mittere tela timet. Inde ferox: 'quid, lenta manus, nunc denique cessas? iustius hoste tibi qui moriatur adest. Fraternam res nulla potest defendere caedem; mors tua sola potest: morte luenda tua est, scilicet ad patrios referes spolia ampla penates? ad patrem victor non potes ire tuum. Sed potes ad fratrem: nunc fortiter utere telo! impius hoc telo es, hoc potes esse pius. Vivere si poteris, potuisti occidere fratrem! nescisti: sed scis: haec mora culpa tua est. Viximus adversis, iaccamus partibus isdem (dixit et in dubio est utrius ense cadat). Ense meo moriar, maculato morte nefanda? cui moreris, ferrum quo moriare dabit. ' dixit et in fratrem fraterno concidit ense: victorem et victum condidit una manus. [163]

 What had been valour now is made a crime. The soldier halts by his foe and fears to launch his shafts. Then his courage rekindled. 'What! coward hand, dost thou delay _now_? There is one here whom thou shouldst slay sooner than the foe. Naught can assoil of the guilt of a brother's blood save only death; 'tis thy death must atone. Shalt thou bear home to thy father's halls rich spoil of war? Nay, victor thus, thou canst not go to meet thy sire. But victor thou canst go to meet thy brother; _now_ use thy weapon bravely. This weapon stained thee with crime, 'tis this weapon shall make thee clean. If thou hast heart to live, thou hadst the heart to slay thy brother; thou _hadst_ no such murderous thought, but _now_ thou hast; this thy tarrying brings thee guilt. We have lived foes, let us lie united in the peace of the grave. ' He ceased and doubted on whose sword to fall. ' Shall I die by mine own sword, thus foul with shameful murder. He for whom thou diest shall give thee the steel wherewith to die. ' He ceased, and fell dead upon his brother, slain by his brother's sword. The same hand slew both victor and vanquished. 

This is not poetry of the first class, if indeed it is poetry at all. But it is trick-rhetoric of the most brilliant kind without degeneratinginto bombastic absurdity. There is, in fact, a restraint in theseepigrams which provides a remarkable contrast with the turgidextravagance that defaces so much of the dramas. This is in part due tothe difference of the moulds into which the rhetoric is run, but it ishard to resist the belief that the epigrams--written mainly during theexile in Corsica--are considerably later than the plays. They are inthemselves insignificant; they show no advance in dexterity upon thedramas, but they do show a distinct increase of maturity. 

The plays are ten in number; they comprise a _Hercules Furens, Troades, Phoenissae_ (or _Thebais_), _Medea, Phaedra_ (or _Hippolytus_), _Oedipus, Agamemnon, Thyestes, Hercules Oetaeus_, and--sole example ofthe _fabula praetexta_--the _Octavia_. Despite the curious silence ofSeneca himself and of his contemporaries, there can be little doubt asto the general correctness of the attribution which assigns to Senecathe only Latin tragedies that grudging time has spared us. The _Medea, Hercules Furens, Troades, Phaedra, Agamemnon_, and _Thyestes_ are allcited by late writers, while Quintilian[164] himself cites a line fromthe Medea as the work of Seneca. The name Seneca, without any furtherspecification, points as clearly to Seneca, the philosopher, as the nameCicero to the great orator. The absence of any further or more explicitreference on the part of Quintilian to Seneca's achievements as atragedian is easily explained on the supposition that the criticregarded them as but an insignificant portion of his work. Yet strongerconfirmation is afforded by the internal evidence. The verse is markedby the same brilliant but fatiguing terseness, the same polish andpoint, the same sententiousness, the same succession of short stabbingsentences, that mark the prose works of Seneca. [165] More remarkablestill is the close parallelism of thought. The plays are permeatedthrough and through with Stoicism, and the expression given to certainStoical doctrines is often almost identical with passages from thephilosophical works. [166] Against these evidences the silence of Senecahimself counts for little. We may charitably suppose that he rated hisplays at their just value. In any case a poet is under no compulsion toquote his own verses, or even to refer to them, in works of a totallydifferent nature. [167]

A more serious question is whether Seneca is the author of all the playstransmitted to us under his name. The authenticity of four of thesedramas has been seriously questioned. That the _Octavia_ is by a laterhand may be regarded as certain. Seneca could hardly have dared to writea play on so dangerous a theme--the brutal treatment by Nero of hisyoung wife Octavia. Moreover, Seneca himself is one of the dramatispersonae, and there are clear references to the death of Nero, while thestyle is simple and restrained, and wholly unlike that of the otherplays. It is the work of a saner and less flamboyant age. [168] The_Agamemnon_ and the _Oedipus_ have been suspected on the ground thatcertain of the lyric portions are written in a curious patchwork metreof a character fortunately unique in Latin lyric verse. The _Agamemnon_further has two choruses. [169] But in all other respects the language, technique, and metre closely resemble the other dramas. Neitherobjection need carry any weight. There is no reason why Seneca shouldnot have introduced a double chorus or have indulged in unsuccessfulmetrical experiments. [170] Far more difficult is the problem presentedby the _Hercules Oetaeus_. It presents many anomalies, of which theleast are a double chorus and a change of scene from Oechalia toTrachis. Imitations and plagiarisms from the other plays abound, and thework has more than its fair share of vain repetitions and tastelessabsurdities. On the other hand, metre and diction closely recall thedramas accepted as genuine. It is hard to give any certain answer tosuch a complicated problem, but it is noteworthy that all the worstdefects in this play (which among its other peculiarities possessesabnormal length) occur after l. 705, while the earlier scenes depictingthe jealousy of Deianira show the Senecan dramatic style almost at itsbest. Even in the later portion of the play there is much that may be bythe hand of Seneca. It is impossible to brand the drama as whollyspurious. The opening lines (1-232) may not belong to the play, but mayform an entirely separate scene dealing with the capture of Oechalia:there is no reason to suppose that they are not by Seneca, and the samestatement applies to the great bulk of ll. 233-705. The remainder has inall probability suffered largely from interpolation, but its generalresemblance to Seneca in style and diction is too strongly marked topermit us to reject it _en bloc_. The problem is too obscure to repaydetailed discussion. [171] The most probable solution of the questionwould seem to be that the work was left in an unfinished condition withinconsistencies, self-plagiarisms, repetitions, and absurdities whichrevision would have removed; this unfinished drama was then worked overand corrected by a stupid, but careful student of Seneca. 

There is such a complete absence of evidence as to the period ofSeneca's life during which these dramas were composed, that muchingenuity has been wasted in attempts to solve the problem. The viewmost widely held--why it should be held is a mystery--is that they werecomposed during Seneca's exile in Corsica (41-9 A. D. ). [172] Others, again, hold that they were written for the delectation of the youngNero, who had early betrayed a taste for the stage. This view hasnothing to support it save the accusation mentioned by Tacitus, [173] tothe effect that the patronage and approval of Nero led Seneca to writeverse more frequently than his wont. Direct evidence there is none, butthe general crudity of the work, coupled with the pedantic hardness andrigidity of the Stoicism which pervades the plays, points strongly to anearly date, considerably earlier than the exile in Corsica. There is notrace of the mature experience and feeling for humanity thatcharacterize the later philosophical works. On the contrary, these playsare just what might be expected of a young man fresh from the schools ofrhetoric and philosophy. [174] As to the order in which the plays werewritten there is practically nothing to guide us. [175] The _HerculesOetaeus_ is probably the latest, for in it we find plagiarisms from the_Hercules Furens, Oedipus, Thyestes, Phoenissae, Phaedra_, and_Troades_. Even here, however, there is an element of uncertainty, forit is impossible to ascertain whether any given plagiarism is due toSeneca or to his interpolators. 

Leaving such barren and unprofitable ground, what can we say of theplays themselves? Even after making due allowance for the hopelessdecline of dramatic taste and for the ruin wrought by the schools ofrhetoric, it is hard to speak with patience of such productions, when werecall the brilliance and charm of the prose works of Seneca. We canforgive him being rhetorical when he speaks for himself; when he speaksthrough the lips of others he is less easily tolerable. 

Drama is a reading of human life: if it is to hold one's interest itmust deal with the feelings, thought, and action of genuine human beingsand represent their complex interaction: the characters must be real andmust differ one from the other, so that by force of contrast and by thecontinued play of diverse aspects and developments of the human soul, the significance, the pathos, and the power of the fragment of humanlife selected for representation may be fully brought out and set beforeour eyes. If these characteristics be absent, the drama must ofnecessity be an artistic failure by reason of its lack of truth. But itrequires also plot, with a logical growth leading to some great climaxand developing a growing suspense in the spectator as to what shall bethe end. It is true that plot without reality may give us a successfulmelodrama, that truth of character-drawing with a minimum of plot maymove and interest us. But in neither case shall we have drama in itstruest and noblest form. 

Seneca gives us neither the half nor the whole. The stage is ultimatelythe touchstone of dramatic excellence. But if it is to be such atouchstone, it must have an audience with a penetration of intelligenceand a soundness of taste such as had long ceased to characterize Romanaudiences. The Senecan drama has lost touch with the stage and lacksboth unity and life. Such superficial unity as his plots possess is dueto the fact that they are ultimately imitations of Greek[176] drama. Afull discussion of the plots is neither necessary here nor possible. Afew instances of Seneca's treatment of his material must suffice. [177]He has no sense of logical development; the lack of sequence and ofproportion traceable in the letters is more painfully evident in thetragedies. 

The _Hercules Furens_ supplies an excellent example of the weakness ofthe Senecan plot. It is based on the [Greek: H_erakl_es mainomenos] ofEuripides, and such unity as it possesses is in the main due to thatfact. It is in his chief divergences from the Euripidean treatment ofthe story that his deficiencies become most apparent. Theseus appearsearly in the play merely that he may deliver a long rhodomontade on theappearance of the underworld, whence Hercules has rescued him; and, worst of all, the return of Hercules is rendered wholly ineffective. Amphitryon hears the approaching steps of Hercules as he bursts his wayto the upper world and cries (523)--

 est est sonitus Herculei gradus. 

The chorus then, as if they had heard nothing, deliver themselves of achant that describes Hercules as still a prisoner in Hades. WhenHercules at last is allowed to appear, he appears alone, and delivers along ranting glorification of himself (592-617) before he is joined byhis father, wife, and children. As Leo has remarked, [178] this episodehas been tastelessly torn into two fragments merely to give Hercules anopportunity for turgid declamation. 

The _Medea_, again, is, on the whole, Euripidean in form, though itprobably owes much to the influence of Ovid. [179] It is, moreover, theleast tasteless and best constructed of his tragedies. It losescomparatively little by the omission of the Aegeus episode, but suffersterribly by the insertion of a bombastic description of Medea'sincantations. The love of the Silver Age for rhetoric has convertedMedea into a skilful rhetorician, its love for the black art hasdegraded her to a vulgar sorceress. Nothing, again, can be cruder ormore awkward than the manner in which the news of the death of Creon andhis daughter is announced. After an interval so brief as scarcely tosuffice even for the conveyance of the poisoned gifts to the palace, inrushes a messenger crying (879)--

 periere cuncta, concidit regni status. Nata atque genitor cinere permixto iacent. 

 _Cho_. Qua fraude capti? _Nunt_. Qua solent reges capi, donis. 

 _Cho_. In illis esse quis potuit dolus?

 _Nunt_. Et ipse miror vixque iam facto malo potuisse fieri credo; quis cladis modus? avidus per omnem regiae partem furit ut iussus ignis: iam domus tota occidit, urbi timetur. 

 _Cho_. Unda flammas opprimat. 

 _Nunt_. Et hoc in ista clade mirandum accidit, alit unda flammas, quoque prohibetur magis, magis ardet ignis: ipsa praesidia occupat. 

 All is lost! the kingdom's fallen! Father and daughter lie in mingled dust!

 _Ch_. By what snare taken?

 _Mess_. By gifts, the snare of kings. 

 _Ch_. What harm could lurk in them?

 _Mess_. Myself I marvel, and scarce though the deed is done can I believe it possible. How died they? Devouring flames rage through all the palace as at her command. Now the whole house is fallen and men fear for the city. 

 _Ch_. Let water quench the flames. 

 _Mess_. Nay, in this overthrow is this added wonder. Water feeds the flames and opposition makes the fire burn fiercer. It hath seared even that which should have stayed its power. 

That is all: if we had not read Euripides we should scarcely understandthe connexion between the gifts and the mysterious fire. Seneca, withthe lack of proportion displayed in nearly all his dramas, has spent somuch time in describing the wholly irrelevant and absurd details ofMedea's incantations that he finds no room to give what might be areally dramatic description of the all-important catastrophe in whichMedea's vengeance finds issue. There is hardly a play which will notprovide similar instances of the lack of genuine constructive power. Inthe _Oedipus_ we get the same long narrative of horror that hasdisfigured the _Hercules Furens_ and the _Medea_. Creon describes to usthe dark rites of incantation used to evoke the shade of Laius. [180] Inthe _Phaedra_ we find what at first would seem to be a clever piece ofstagecraft. Hippolytus, scandalized at Phaedra's avowal of herincestuous passion, seizes her by the hair and draws his sword as thoughto slay her. He changes his purpose, but the nurse has seen him andcalls for aid, denouncing Hippolytus' violence and clearly intending tomake use of it as damning evidence against him. But the chorus refuse tocredit her, and the incident falls flat. [181] Everywhere there is thesame casual workmanship. If we stop short of denying to Seneca thepossession of any dramatic talent, it is at any rate hard to resist theconviction that he treated the plays as a _parergon_, spending littlethought or care on their _ensemble_, though at times working up a sceneor scenes with an elaboration and skill as unmistakable as it is oftenmisdirected. 

The plays are, in fact, as Nisard has admirably put it, _drames derecette_. The recipe consists in the employment of threeingredients--description, declamation, and philosophic aphorism. Thereis room for all these ingredients in drama as in human life, but inSeneca there is little else: these three elements conspire together toswamp the drama, and they do this the more effectively because, forall their cleverness, Seneca's description and declamation areradically bad. It is but rarely that he shows himself capable ofsimple and natural language. If a tragic event enacted off the stagerequires description, it must outdo all other descriptions of the sametype. And seeing that one of the chief uses of narrative in tragedy isto present to the imagination of the audience events which are toohorrible for their eyes, the result in Seneca's hands is often littleless than revolting. For example, the self-blinding of Oedipus is setforth with every detail of horror, possible and impossible, till theimagination sickens. 

(961) gemuit et dirum fremens manus in ora torsit, at contra truces oculi steterunt et suam intenti manum ultro insequuntur, vulneri occurrunt suo. Scrutatur avidus manibus uncis lumina, radice ab ima funditus vulsos simul evolvit orbes; haeret in vacuo manus et fixa penitus unguibus lacerat cavos alte recessus luminum et inanes sinus saevitque frustra plusque quam satis est furit. 

The last line is an epitome of Seneca's methods of description. Yet morerevolting is the speech of the messenger describing the banquet, atwhich Atreus placed the flesh of Thyestes' murdered sons before theirfather (623-788). Nothing is spared us, much that is impossible isadded. [182] At times, moreover, this love of horrors leads to theintroduction of descriptions wholly alien to the play. In the _HerculesFurens_ the time during which Hercules is absent from the scene, engagedin the slaying of the tyrant Lycus, is filled by a description of Hadesfrom the mouth of Theseus, who is fresh-come from the underworld. Thespeech is not peculiarly bad in itself; it is only very long[183](658-829) and very irrelevant. 

The effect of the declamation is not less unhappy. Seneca's dramatispersonae rarely speak like reasoning human beings: they rant at oneanother or at the audience with such overwrought subtleties of speechand rhetorical perversions that they give the impression of being nomore than mechanical puppets handled by a crafty but inartistic showman. All speak the same strange language, a language born in the rhetoricalschools of Greece and Rome. Gods and mortals alike suffer the samemelancholy fate. Juno, when she declares her resolve to afflict Herculeswith madness, addresses the furies who are to be her ministers asfollows (_H. F. _ 105):

 concutite pectus, acrior mentem excoquat quam qui caminis ignis Aetnaeis furit: ut possit animo captus Alcides agi magno furore percitus, nobis prius insaniendum est--Iuno, cur nondum furis? me me, sorores, mente deiectam mea versate primam, facere si quicquam apparo dignum noverca; vota mutentur mea: natos reversus videat incolumes precor manuque fortis redeat: inveni diem invisa quo nos Herculis virtus iuvet. Me vicit et se vincat et cupiat mori ab inferis reversus. . . . Pugnanti Herculi tandem favebo. 

 Distract his heart with madness: let his soul More fiercely burn than that hot fire which glows On Aetna's forge. But first, that Hercules May be to madness driven, smitten through With mighty passion, I must be insane. Why rav'st thou not, O Juno? Me, oh, me, Ye sisters, first of sanity deprive, That something worthy of a stepdame's wrath I may prepare. Let all my hate be change To favour. Now I pray that he may come To earth again, and see his sons unharmed; May he return with all his old time strength. Now have I found a day when Hercules May help me with his strength that I deplore. Now let him equally o'ercome himself And me; and let him, late escaped from death, Desire to die. . . And so at last I'll help Alcides in his wars. MILLER. 

She is clearly a near relative of that Oedipus who, in the _Phoenissae_, begs Antigone to lead him to the rock where the Sphinx sat of old (120):

 dirige huc gressus pedum, hic siste patrem. Dira ne sedes vacet. Monstrum repone maius. Hoc saxum insidens obscura nostrae verba fortunae loquar, quae nemo solvat. . . . Saeva Thebarum lues luctifica caecis verba committens modis quid simile posuit? quid tam inextricabile? avi gener patrisque rivalis sui frater suorum liberum et fratrum parens; uno avia partu liberos. Peperit viro, sibi et nepotes. Monstra quis tanta explicat? ego ipse, victae spolia qui Sphingis tuli, haerebo fati tardus interpres mei. 

 Direct me thither, set thy father there. Let not that dreadful seat be empty long, But place me there a greater monster still. There will I sit and of my fate propose A riddle dark that no man shall resolve. * * * * * What riddle like to this could she propose, That curse of Thebes, who wove destructive words In puzzling measures? What so dark as this? _He was his grandsire's son-in-law, and yet His father's rival; brother of his sons, And father of his brothers: at one birth The grandame bore unto her husband sons, And grandsons to herself_. Who can unwind A tangle such as this? E'en I myself, Who bore the spoils of triumph o'er the Sphinx, Stand mute before the riddle of my fate. MILLER. 

There is no need to multiply instances; each play will supply many. Onlyin the _Troades_[184] and the _Phaedra_ does this declamatory rhetoricrise to something higher than mere declamation and near akin to truepoetry. In these plays there are two speeches standing on a differentplane to anything else in Seneca's iambics. In the _Troades_ Agamemnonis protesting against the proposed sacrifice of Polyxena to the spiritof the dead Achilles (255). 

 quid caede dira nobiles clari ducis aspergis umbras? noscere hoc primum decet, quid facere victor debeat, victus pati. Violenta nemo imperia continuit diu, moderata durant; . . . Magna momento obrui vincendo didici. Troia nos tumidos facit nimium ac feroces? stamus hoc Danai loco, unde illa cecidit. Fateor, aliquando impotens regno ac superbus altius memet tuli; sed fregit illos spiritus haec quae dare potuisset aliis causa, Fortunae favor. Tu me superbum, Priame, tu timidum facis. Ego esse quicquam sceptra nisi vano putem fulgore tectum nomen et falso comam vinclo decentem? casus haec rapiet brevis, nec mille forsan ratibus aut annis decem. . . . Fatebor . . . Affligi Phrygas vincique volui; ruere et aequari solo utinam arcuissem. 

 Why besmirch with murder foul the noble shade of that renowned chief? First must thou learn the bounds of a victor's power, of the vanquished's suffering. No man for long has held unbridled sway; only self-control may endure . . . I myself have conquered and have learned thereby that man's mightiness may fall in the twinkling of an eye. Shall Troy o'erthrown exalt our pride and make us overbold? Here we the Danaans stand on the spot whence she has fallen. Of old, I own, I have borne myself too haughtily, self-willed and proud of my power. But Fortune's favour, which had made another proud, has broken my pride. Priam, thou makest me proud, thou makest me tremble. I count the sceptre naught save a glory bright with worthless tinsel that sets the vain splendour of a crown upon my brow. All this the chance of one short hour may take from me without the aid of a thousand ships and ten long years of siege . . . I will own my fault . . . I desired to crush and conquer Troy. Would I had forbidden to lay her low and raze her walls to the ground!

The thought is not deep: the speech might serve for a model for a_suasoria_ in the schools of rhetoric. But there is a stateliness anddignity about it that is most rare in these plays. At last after drearytracts of empty rant we meet Seneca, the spiritual guide of the epistlesand the treatises. 

Far more striking, however, from the dramatic standpoint, are the greatspeeches in the _Phaedra_, where the heroine makes known her passion forHippolytus (600 sqq. ). They are frankly rhetorical, but direct, passionate, and to the point. They contain few striking lines orsentiments, but they are clear and comparatively free from affectation. Theseus has maddened Phaedra by his infidelities, and has long beenabsent from her, imprisoned in the underworld. An uncontrollable passionfor her stepson has come upon her. She appeals to the unsuspectingHippolytus for pity and protection (619):

 muliebre non est regna tutari urbium; tu qui iuventae flore primaevo viges cives paterno fortis imperio rege, sinu receptam supplicem ac servam tege. Miserere viduae. 

 _Hipp_. Summus hoc omen deus avertat. Aderit sospes actutum parens. 

 'Tis no woman's task to rule cities. Do thou, strong in the flower of thy first youth, flinch not, but govern the state by the power thy father held. Take me and shield me in thy bosom, thy suppliant and thy slave! Pity thy father's widow. 

 _Hipp_. Nay, high heaven avert the omen. Soon shall my father return unscathed. 

Phaedra then begins to show her true colours. 'Nay!' she replies, 'hewill not come. Pluto holds him fast, the would-be ravisher of his bride, unless indeed Pluto, like others I wot of, is indifferent to love. 'Hippolytus attempts to console her: he will do all in his power to makelife easy for her:

 et te merebor esse ne viduam putes ac tibi parentis ipse supplebo locum. 

 I shall prove me worthy of thee: so thou shalt not deem thyself a widow. I will fill up my absent father's room. 

These innocent words are as fuel to Phaedra's passion. She turns to himagain appealing for pity, pity for an ill she dare not name--

 quod in novercam cadere vix credas malum. 

He bids her speak out. She replies, 'Love consumes me with anall-devouring flame. 'He still fails to catch her meaning, supposingthat the passion of which she speaks is for the absent Theseus. She canrestrain herself no longer: 'Aye, 'tis for Theseus!' she cries (646):

 Hippolyte, sic est; Thesei vultus amo [185] illos priores quos tulit quondam puer, cum prima puras barba signaret genas monstrique caecam Cnosii vidit domum et longa curva fila collegit via. Quis tum ille fulsit! presserant vittae comam et ora flavus tenera tinguebat pudor; inerant lacertis mollibus fortes tori; tuaeque Phoebes vultus aut Phoebi mei, tuusque potius--talis, en talis fuit cum placuit hosti, sic tulit celsum caput: in te magis refulget incomptus decor; est genitor in te totus et torvae tamen pars aliqua matris miscet ex aequo decus; in ore Graio Scythicus apparet rigor. Si cum parente Creticum intrasses fretum, tibi fila potius nostra nevisset soror. Te te, soror, quacumque siderei poli in parte fulges, invoco ad causam parem: domus sorores una corripuit duas, te genitor, at me natus. En supplex iacet adlapsa genibus regiae proles domus, respersa nulla labe et intacta, innocens tibi mutor uni. Certa descendi ad preces: finem hic dolori faciet aut vitae dies, miserere amantis. [186]

 Even so, Hippolytus; I love the face that Theseus wore, in the days of old while yet he was a boy, when the first down marked his bright cheeks and he looked on the dark home of the Cretan monster and gathered the long magic thread along the winding way. Ah! how then he shone upon my eyes. A wreath was about his hair and his delicate cheeks glowed with the golden bloom of modesty. Strong sinews stood out upon his shapely arms and his countenance was the countenance of the goddess that thou servest or of mine own bright sun-god; nay, rather 'twas as thine own. Even so, even so looked he when he won the heart of her that was his foe, and lofty was his carriage like to thine. But in thee still brighter shines an artless glory, and on thee is all thy father's beauty. Yet mingled therewith in equal portion is something of thy wild mother's fairness. On thy Greek face is seen the fierceness of the Scythian. Hadst thou sailed o'er the sea with thy sire to Crete, for thee rather had my sister spun the magic thread. On thee, on thee, my sister, I call where'er thou shinest in the starry heaven, on thee I call to aid my cause. Lo! sisters twain hath one house brought to naught--thee did the father ruin, me the son. Lo! suppliant at thy knees I fall, the daughter of a king, stainless and pure and innocent. For thee alone I swerve from my course. I have steeled my soul and stooped to beg of thee. Today shall end either my sorrow or my life. Pity, have pity, on her that loves thee. 

Then the storm of Hippolytus' anger breaks. Here at least Seneca hasused his great rhetorical gifts to good effect. The passion may behighly artificial when compared with the passion of the genuinely humanPhaedra of Euripides, but it is nevertheless passion and not bombast:crudity there may be, but there is no real irrelevance. 

There is less to praise and more to wonder at in Seneca's dialogue. Instead of rational conversation or controversy, he gives us a brilliantbut meretricious display of epigram, the mechanical nature of which isoften emphasized by a curious symmetry of structure. For line after lineone character takes up the words of another and turns them against himwith dexterity as extraordinary as it is monotonous. The resultingartificiality is almost incredible. It appears in its most extravagantform in the _Thyestes_. [187] Scarcely less strained, though from thenature of the subject the extravagance is less repellent, is a passagein the _Troades_. Achilles' ghost has demanded the sacrifice ofPolyxena. Agamemnon hesitates to give orders for the sacrifice. Pyrrhus, Achilles' son, enumerates the great deeds of his father, and asks, indignantly, if such glory is to win naught save neglect after death. Agamemnon has sacrificed his own daughter, why should he not sacrificePriam's? Agamemnon--in the speech quoted above--refuses indignantly. 'Sacrifice oxen if you will: no human blood shall be shed!' Pyrrhusreplies (306):

 hac dextra Achilli victimam reddam suam. Quam si negas retinesque, maiorem dabo dignamque quam det Pyrrhus; et nimium diu a caede nostra regia cessat manus paremque poscit Priamus. 

_Agam_. Haud equidem nego hoc esse Pyrrhi maximum in bello decus, saevo peremptus ense quod Priamus iacet, _supplex paternus. 

_Pyrrh_. _supplices_ nostri _patris_ hostesque eosdem novimus. Priamus tamen praesens rogavit; tu gravi pavidus metu, nec ad rogandum fortis Aiaci preces Ithacoque mandas clausus atque hostem tremens. 

 By this right hand he shall receive his own. And if thou dost refuse and keep the maid, A greater victim will I slay, and one More worthy Pyrrhus' gift: for all too long From royal slaughter hath my hand been free, And Priam asks an equal sacrifice. 

_Agam_. Far be it from my wish to dim the praise That thou dost claim for this most glorious deed-- Old Priam slain by thy barbaric sword, Thy father's suppliant. 

_Pyrrh_. I know full well My father's suppliants--and well I know His enemies. Yet royal Priam came And made his plea before my father's face; But thou, o'ercome with fear, not brave enough Thyself to make request, within thy tent Did trembling hide, and thy desires consign To braver men, that they might plead for thee. MILLER. 

Agamemnon retorts, 'What of your father, when he shirked the toils ofwar and lay idly in his tent?'--

 levi canoram verberans plectro chelyn. 

_Pyrrh_. Tunc magnus Hector, arma contemnens tua, cantus Achillis timuit et tanto in metu _navalibus pax alta Thessalicis fuit_. 

_Agam_. Nempe isdem in _istis Thessalis navalibus pax alta_ rursus Hectoris patri _fuit_. 

_Pyrrh_. Est _regis_ alti _spiritum_ regi dare. 

_Agam_. Cur dextra _regi spiritum_ eripuit tua?

_Pyrrh_. Mortem _misericors_ saepe pro vita dabit. 

_Agam_. Et nunc _misericors_ virginem busto petis?

_Pyrrh_. Iamne immolari virgines credis nefas?

_Agam_. Praeferre patriam liberis regem decet. 

_Pyrrh_. _lex_ nulla capto parcit aut poenam impedit. 

_Agam_. Quod non vetat _lex_, hoc vetat fieri pudor. 

_Pyrrh_. Quodcumque _libuit_ facere victori _licet_. 

_Agam_. Minimum decet _libere_ cui multum _licet_. 

 Idly strumming on his tuneful lyre. 

_Pyrrh_. Then mighty Hector, scornful of thy arms, Yet felt such wholesome fear of that same lyre, That our _Thessalian ships_ were left in _peace_. 

_Agam_. An equal _peace_ did Hector's father find, When he betook him to Achilles' _ships_. 

_Pyrrh_. 'Tis regal thus to spare a _kingly life_. 

_Agam_. Why then didst thou a _kingly life_ despoil?

_Pyrrh_. But _mercy_ oft doth offer death for life. 

_Agam_. Doth _mercy_ now demand a maiden's blood?

_Pyrrh_. Canst thou proclaim such sacrifice a sin?

_Agam_. A king must love his country more than child. 

_Pyrrh_. No _law_ the wretched captive's life doth spare. 

_Agam_. What _law_ forbids not, yet may shame forbid. 

_Pyrrh_. 'Tis victor's right to do whate'er he _will_. 

_Agam_. Then should he _will_ the least, who most can do. MILLER. 

The cleverness of this is undeniable: individual lines (e. G. The last)are striking. Taken collectively they are ineffective; we feel, moreover, that the cleverness is mere knack: the continued picking up ofthe adversary's words to be used as weapons against himself iswearisome. It would be nearly as great a strain to listen to such adialogue as to take part in it: the atmosphere is that of the school ofrhetoric, an atmosphere in which sensible and natural dialogue isimpossible. [188]

The characters naturally suffer from this continued display ofdeclamatory rhetoric. They have but one voice and language; they differfrom one another only in their clothes and the situations in which theyare placed. It is true that some of them are patterns of virtue andothers monsters of iniquity. But strip off the coating of paint, andwithin the limits of these two types--for there are but two--the puppetsare precisely the same. There is none of the play of light and shade soessential to drama: all is agonizingly crude and lurid. This is not dueto the rhetoric alone, there is another influence at work. The plays arepermeated by a strong vein of Stoicism. Carried to its logicalconclusion Stoicism lays itself open to taunts such as Cicero levels athis friend Cato in the _pro Murena_, [189] where he delivers a humorous_reductio ad absurdum_ of its tenets. Such a philosophy is fatal to thedrama. It allows no room for human sentiment or human weakness; the mostvirtuous affections are chilled and robbed of their attractiveness:there are no gradations of temperament, intellect, or character: pathosdisappears. The Stoic ideal was a being in whom the natural impulses anddesires should be completely subjected to the laws of pure reason. Ittends in its intensity to a narrowness, an abstract unreality which isunfavourable to the development of the more human virtues. What it gavewith one hand the more rigid Stoic philosophy took away with the other. It preached the brotherhood of man and took away half the value ofsympathy. And here in the plays there is nothing of the _mitissapientia_, the concessions to mortal weakness, the humanity, whichcharacterize the prose works of Seneca and have won the hearts of manygenerations of men. There the hardness of Stoicism is softened by ripeexperience and a tendency to eclecticism, and the doctrinaire standsless sharply revealed. 'Sous l'austérité du philosophe, on trouve unhomme. ' The most noteworthy result of this hard Stoicism upon the playsis the almost complete absence of pathos springing from the tendererhuman affections. Seneca's tragedy may sometimes succeed in horrifyingus, as in the ghastly rhetoric of the _Thyestes_ or the _Medea_. Hemoves us rarely. 

But there are a few striking exceptions to the rule, notably thebeautiful passage of the _Troades_, where Andromache bids her companionsin misfortune cease from useless lamentation[190] (409):

 quid, maesta Phrygiae turba, laceratis comas miserumque tunsae pectus effuso genas fletu rigatis? levia perpessae sumus, si flenda patimur. Ilium vobis modo, mihi cecidit olim, cum ferus curru incito mea membra raperet et gravi gemeret sono Peliacis axis pondere Hectoreo tremens. Tunc obruta atque eversa quodcumque accidit torpens malis rigeusque sine sensu fero. Iam erepta Danais coniugem sequerer meum, nisi hic teneret: hic meos animos domat morique prohibet; cogit hic aliquid deos adhuc rogare--tempus aerumnae addidit. 

 Why, ye sad Phrygian women, do ye rend your hair and beat your woeful breasts and bedew your cheeks with streaming tears? But light is our sorrow, if it lies not too deep for tears. For you Ilium but now has fallen, for me it fell long ago, when the cruel wheels of the swift ear of Peleus' son dragged in the dust the limbs of him I loved, and groaned loud as they quivered beneath the weight of Hector dead. Then was I overthrown, then cast to utter ruin, and since then I bear whatso falleth upon me, with a heart that is numb with grief, chilled and insensible, and long since had I snatched myself from the hands of the Greeks and followed my husband, did not my child keep me among the living: he checks my purpose and forbids me to die; he constrains me still to make supplication to heaven and prolongs my anguish. 

Even here the pathos is the calm and reasoned pathos of hopelessness, the pathos of a Stoic who preaches endurance of evils against which hisphilosophy is not proof. Here, too, we find the Stoic attitude towardsdeath. Death is the end of all; there is naught to dread; death puts anend to hope and fear: to die is to be as though we had never been (394):

 post mortem nihil est, ipsaque mors nihil. Velocis spatii meta novissima; spem ponant avidi, solliciti metum. Tempus nos avidum devorat et chaos: mors individua est, noxia corpori nec parcens animae: Taenara et aspero regnum sub domino limen et obsidens custos non facili Cerberus ostio rumores vacui verbaque inania et par sollicito fabula somnio. Quaeris quo iaceas post obitum loco? quo non nata iacent. 

 Since naught remains, and death is naught But life's last goal, so swiftly sought: Let those who cling to life abate Their fond desires, and yield to fate; Soon shall grim time and yawning night In their vast depths engulf us quite; Impartial death demands the whole-- The body slays nor spares the soul. Dark Taenara and Pluto fell, And Cerberus, grim guard of hell-- All these but empty rumours seem, The pictures of a troubled dream. Where then will the departed spirit dwell? Let those who never came to being tell. MILLER. 

Death brings release from sorrow: the worst of torture is to be forcedto live on in the midst of woe--

 mors votum meum--cries Hecuba--(1171) infantibus violenta, virginibus venis, ubique properas, saeva: me solam times. 

 O death, my sole desire, for boys and maids Thou com'st with hurried step and savage mien: But me alone of mortals dost thou fear. MILLER. 

So, too, Andromache, in the passage quoted above, almost apologizes fornot having put an end to her existence. Polyxena meets death withexultation (_Tro_. 945, 1152-9): even the little Astyanax is infectedwith Stoic passion for suicide (1090):

 nec gradu segni puer ad alta pergit moenia. Ut summa stetit pro turre, vultus huc et huc acres tulit intrepidus animo. . . . Non flet e turba omnium qui fletur; ac, dum verba fatidici et preces concipit Vlixes vatis et saevos ciet ad sacra superos, sponte desiluit sua in media Priami regna. 

 And with no lingering pace the boy climbed the lofty battlements, and all about him cast his keen gaze with dauntless soul. . . . But he alone of all the throng who wept for him wept not at all, and, while Ulysses 'uttered in priestly wise the words of fate and prayed' and called the cruel gods to the sacrifice, the boy of his own will cast himself down to death on the fields that Priam ruled. 

The enthusiasm for death is carried too far. [191] Even the agony of the_Troades_ fails really to stir us: it depresses us without wakening oursympathy. So, too, with other scenes: in the _Hercules Furens_ we havethe virtuous Stoic--in the persons of Megara and Amphitryon--confrontingthe _instans tyrannus_ in the person of Lycus: it is the hackneyed themeof the schools of rhetoric, [192] but derives its inspiration fromStoicism (426):

_Lyc_. Cogere. _Meg_. Cogi qui potest nescit mori. _Lyc_. Effare potius, quod novis thalamis parem regale munus. _Meg_. Aut tuam mortem aut meam. _Lyc_. Moriere demens. _Meg_. Coniugi occurram meo. _Lyc_. Sceptrone nostro famulus est potior tibi?_Meg_. Quot iste famulus tradidit reges neci. _Lyc_. Cur ergo regi servit et patitur iugum?_Meg_. Imperia dura tolle: quid virtus erit?[193]_Lyc_. Obici feris monstrisque virtutem putas?_Meg_. Virtutis est domare quae cuncti pavent. _Lyc_. Tenebrae loquentem magna Tartareae premunt. _Meg_. Non est ad astra mollis e terris via. [194]_Lyc_. Thou shalt be forced. _Meg_. He can be forced, who knows not how to die. _Lyc_. Tell me what gift I could bestow more rich Than royal wedlock?_Meg_. Or thy death or mine. _Lyc_. Then die, thou fool. _Meg_. 'Tis thus I'll meet my lord. _Lyc_. Is that slave more to thee than I, a king?_Meg_. How many kings has that slave given to death!_Lyc_. Why does he serve a king and bear the yoke?_Meg_. Remove hard tasks, and where would valour be?_Lyc_. To conquer monsters call'st thou valour then?_Meg_. 'Tis valour to subdue what all men fear. _Lyc_. The shades of Hades hold that boaster fast. _Meg_. No easy way leads from the earth to heaven. MILLER

So, too, a little later (463) Amphitryon crushes Lycus with a trueStoic retort:--

_Lyc_. Quemcumque miserum videris, hominem scias. _Amph_. Quemcumque fortem videris, miserum neges. [195]

_Lyc_. Whoe'er is wretched, him mayst thou know for mortal. _Amph_. Whoe'er is brave, thou mayst not call him wretched. 

Admirable as are the sentiments expressed by these virtuous andcalamitous persons, they leave us cold: they are too self-sufficient toneed our sympathy. Pain and death have no terrors for them; why shouldwe pity them? But it would be unjust to lay the blame for this absenceof pathetic power entirely on the influence of Stoicism. The scholasticrhetoric is not a good vehicle for pathos, and must bear a large portionof the blame, though even the rhetoric is due in no small degree to theStoic type of dialectic. As Seneca himself says, speaking of others thanhimself, 'Philosophia quae fuit, facta philologia est. '[196] And it mustfurther be remembered that of the few flights of real poetry in theseplays some of the finest were inspired by Stoicism. The drama cannotnourish in the Stoic atmosphere, poetry can. Seneca was sometimes apoet. His best-known chorus, the famous _regem non faciunt opes_ of the_Thyestes_ (345), is directly inspired by Stoicism. The speeches ofAgamemnon and Andromache, together with the chorus already quoted fromthe _Troades_, all bear the impress of the Stoic philosophy. The same istrue of the scarcely inferior chorus on fate from the _Oedipus_ (980). 

But there are other passages of genuine poetry where the Stoic issilent. The chorus in the _Hercules Furens_ (838), giving theconventional view of death, will stand comparison with the chorus of the_Troades_, giving the philosophic view. The chorus on the dawn (_H. F. _125) brings the fresh sounds and breezes of early morning into theatmosphere of the rhetorician's lecture-room. The celebrated

 venient annis saecula seris quibus Oceanus vincula rerum laxet et ingens pateat tellus Tethysque novos detegat orbes nec sit terris ultima Thule (_Med. _ 375)

 Late in time shall come an age, when Ocean shall unbar the world, and the whole wide earth be revealed, and Tethys shall show forth a new world, nor Thule be earth's limit any more. 

has acquired a fictitious importance since the discovery of the newworld, but shows a fine imagination, even if--as has been maintained--itis merely a courtly reference to the British expedition of Claudius. Andthe invocation to sleep in the _Hercules Furens_ proved worthy toprovide an inspiration for Shakespeare[197] (1063):

 solvite tantis animum monstris solvite superi, caecam in melius flectite mentem. Tuque, o domitor Somne malorum, requies animi, pars humanae melior vitae, volucre o matris genus Astracae, frater durae languide Mortis, veris miscens falsa, futuri certus et idem pessimus auctor, pax errorum, portus vitae, lucis requies noctisque comes, qui par regi famuloque venis, pavidum leti genus humanum cogis longam discere noctem: placidus fessum lenisque fove, preme devinctum torpore gravi. 

 Save him, ye gods, from monstrous madness, save him, restore his darkened mind to sanity. And thou, O sleep, subduer of ill, the spirit's repose, thou better part of human life, swift-winged child of Astraca, drowsy brother of cruel death, mixing false with true, prescient of what shall be, yet oftener prescient of sorrow, peace mid our wanderings, haven of man's life, day's respite, night's companion, that comest impartially to king and slave, thou that makest trembling mankind to gain a foretaste of the long night of death; do thou bring gentle rest to his weariness, and sweet balm to his anguish, and overwhelm him with heavy stupor. 

But the poetry is confined mainly to the lyrics. In them, though themetre be monotonous and the thought rarely more than commonplace, thefeeling rings true, the expression is brilliant, and the never absentrhetoric is sometimes transmuted to a more precious substance with afar-off resemblance to true lyrical passion. In the iambics, with theexception of the passages already quoted from the _Troades_ and the_Phaedra_, touches of genuine poetry are most rare. [198] In certain ofthe long descriptive passages (_H. F. _ 658 sqq. , _Oed. _ 530 sqq. ) we geta stagey picturesqueness, but no more. It is for different qualitiesthat we read the iambics of Seneca, if we read them at all. 

Even in its worst moments the rhetoric is capable of extorting ourunwilling admiration by its sheer cleverness and audacity. A goodexample is to be found in the passage of the _Thyestes_, where Atreusmeditates whether he shall call upon his sons Menelaus and Agamemnon toaid him in his unnatural vengeance on Thyestes. He has doubts as towhether he is their father, for Thyestes had seduced their motherAerope (327):--

 prolis incertae fides ex hoc petatur scelere: si bella abnuunt et gerere nolunt odia, si patruum vocant, pater est. Eatur. 

 And by this test of crime, Let their uncertain birth be put to proof: If they refuse to wage this war of death And will not serve my hatred; if they plead He is their uncle--then he is their sire. So to my work! MILLER'S translation slightly altered. 

Equally ingenious is the closing scene between Atreus and Thyestes afterthe vengeance is accomplished and Thyestes has feasted on the flesh ofhis own sons (1100):

_Thy_. Quid liberi meruere?_Atr_. Quod fuerant tui. _Thy_. Natos parenti--_Atr_. Fateor et, quod me iuvat, certos. _Thy_. Piorum praesides testor deos. _Atr_. Quin coniugales?_Thy_. Scelere quid pensas scelus?_Atr_. Scio quid queraris: scelere praerepto doles, nec quod nefandas hauseris angit dapes; quod non pararis: fuerat hic animus tibi instruere similes inscio fratri cibos et adiuvante liberos matre aggredi similique leto sternere--hoc unum obstitit: _tuos_ putasti. _Thy_. What was my children's sin?_Atr_. This, that they were thy children. _Thy_. But to think That children to the father--_Atr_. That indeed, I do confess it, gives me greatest joy, That thou art well assured they were thy sons. _Thy_. I call upon the gods of innocence--_Atr_. Why not upon the gods of marriage call?_Thy_. Why dost thou seek to punish crime with crime?_Atr_. Well do I know the cause of thy complaint: Because I have forestalled thee in the deed. Thou grievest, not because thou hast consumed This horrid feast, but that thou wast not first To set it forth. This was thy fell intent, To arrange a feast like this unknown to me, And with their mother's aid attack my sons, And with a like destruction lay them low. But this one thing opposed--thou thought'st them thine. MILLER. 

These passages are as unreal as they are repulsive, but they arediabolically clever. Seneca's rhetoric is, however, as we have alreadyseen, capable of rising to higher things, and even where he does notsucceed, as in the passages quoted above from the _Phaedra_ and_Troades_, [199] in introducing a genuine poetic element, he oftenproduces striking declamatory effects. The exit of the blind Oedipus, ashe goes forth into life-long banishment, bringing peace to Thebes at thelast, is highly artificial in form, but, given the rhetorical drama, isnot easily surpassed as a conclusion--

 mortifera mecum vitia terrarum extraho. Violenta Fata et horridus Morbi tremor, Maciesque et atra Pestis et rabidus Dolor, mecum ite, mecum. Ducibus his uti libet (1058). 

 With me to exile lead I forth 'all pestilential humours of the land. Ye blasting fates', ye trembling agues, famine and deadly plague and maddened grief, go forth with me, with me! My heart rejoices to follow in your train. 

So likewise the last despairing cry of Jason, as Medea sailsvictoriously away in her magic car--

 per alta vade spatia sublimi aethere, testare nullos esse qua veheris deos

 Sail on through the airy depths of highest heaven, and bear witness that, where thou soarest, no gods can be. 

forms a magnificent ending to a play which, for all its unreality, succeeds for more than half its length (l 578) in arresting ourattention by its ingenious rhetoric and its comparative freedom frommere bombast. Excellent, too, is the speech (_Phoen_. 193) in whichAntigone dissuades her father from suicide. 'What ills can time have instore for him compared to those he has endured?'--

 qui fata proculcavit ac vitae bona proiecit atque abscidit et casus suos oneravit ipse, cui deo nullo est opus, quare ille mortem cupiat aut quare petat? utrumque timidi est: nemo contempsit mori qui concupivit. Cuius haut ultra mala exire possunt, in loco tuto est situs, quis iam deorum, velle fac, quicquam potest malis tuis adicere? iam nec tu potes nisi hoc, ut esse te putes dignum nece-- non es nec ulla pectus hoc culpa attigit. Et hoc magis te, genitor, insontem voca, quod innocens es dis quoque invitis. . . . . . . . . . Quidquid potest auferre cuiquam mors, tibi hoc vita abstulit. 

 Who tramples under foot his destiny, Who disregards and scorns the goods of life, And aggravates the evils of his lot, Who has no further need of Providence: Wherefore should such a man desire to die, Or seek for death? Each is the coward's act. No one holds death in scorn who seeks to die. The man whose evils can no further go Is safely lodged. Who of the gods, think'st thou, Grant that he wills it so, can add one jot Unto thy sum of trouble? Nor canst thou, Save that thou deem'st thyself unfit to live. But thou art not unfit, for in thy breast No taint of sin has come. And all the more, My father, art thou free from taint of sin, Because, though heaven willed it otherwise, Thou still art innocent. . . . Whatever death From any man can take, thy life hath taken. MILLER

It is, however, in isolated lines and striking _sententiae_ thatSeneca's gift for rhetorical epigram is seen at its best. Nothing couldbe better turned than

 quaeris Alcidae parem? nemo est nisi ipse: (_H. F_. 84). [A] curae leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent (_Phaedra_ 607). [B] fortem facit vicina libertas senem (_Phaedra_ 139). [C] qui genus iactat suum, aliena laudat (_H. F_. 340). Fortuna fortes metuit, ignavos premit (_Med_. 159). Fortuna opes auferre, non animum potest (_Med_. 176). Maius est monstro nefas:[D] nam monstra fato, moribus scelera imputes (_Phaedra_ 143). 

[A] Cp. Theobald: None but himself can be his parallel. 

[B] Cp. Sir W. Raleigh: Passions are best compared with floods andstreams, The shallow murmur but the deep are dumb. 

[C] For dawning freedom makes the aged brave. MILLER. 

[D] For thy impious love is worse Than her unnatural and impious love. The first you would impute to character, The last to fate. MILLER. 

If nothing had survived of Seneca's plays but a collection of_sententiae_, we might have regretted his loss almost as we regret theloss of Menander. 

Here his merits, such as they are, end: they fail to justify us inplacing him high as a dramatist; and he has many faults over and abovethose incidental to his style and modes of thought. While freer thanmost of his contemporaries from the vain display of obscure erudition, he falls into the common vice of introducing 'catalogues'. They are dullin epic: in drama they are worse than dull. The _Hercules Furens_ is noplace for a matter-of-fact catalogue of the hero's labours, set forth(210-248) in monotonous iambics from the mouth of Amphitryon. If theyare to be described at all, they demand the decorative treatment oflyric verse, [200] nor is a catalogue of the herbs used by Medea topoison the robe destined for her rival any more excusable. [201] Again, like his contemporaries, he shows a lack of taste and humour which inits worst manifestations passes belief. Not a few of the passagesalready quoted serve to illustrate the point. But for fatuity it wouldbe hard to surpass the words with which Amphitryon interrupts Theseus'account of the horrors of the underworld:

 estne aliqua tellus Cereris aut Bacchi ferax? (_H. F. _ 697. )

Scarcely less absurd is the chorus in the _Phaedra_, who, when hymningthe power of love, give a long list of animals subject to such passion:the catalogue culminates with the statement that even whales andelephants fall in love (351):

 amat insani belua ponti Lucaeque boves. 

But all such instances pale before the conclusion of the _Phaedra_. Notcontent with giving a ghastly and exaggerated account of the death ofHippolytus, Seneca must needs bring the fragments of his mutilated bodyupon the scene. Theseus, at the suggestion of the chorus, attempts toput them together again. The climax comes when, finding anunidentifiable portion, he cries (1267):

quae pars tui sit dubito, sed pars est tui!

The actual language of the plays is pure and classical. There is notrace of provincialism, nothing to suggest that Seneca was a Spaniard. Its vices proceed from the false mould in which it has been cast. Thereis a lack of connecting particles, and we proceed by a series of shortrhetorical jerks. [202] It is the style that Seneca himself condemns inhis letters (114. 1). Its faults are further aggravated by the metre:taken line by line, the iambics of Seneca are impressive: takencollectively they are monotonous in the extreme. The ear suffers acontinual series of stabs, which are not the less unpleasant becausenone of them go deep. The verse seems formed, one might almost saypunched out, by a relentless machine. It is never modified bycircumstances; it is the same in narrative and dialogue, the same inpassion and in calm, if indeed Seneca can ever be said to be eitherpassionate or calm. Its pauses come with monotonous regularity at theend of the line, diversified only by an occasional break at the caesurain the third foot. Nor does the rule[203] observed by Seneca, that onlya spondee or anapaest is permitted in the fifth foot, tend to relievethe monotony, though it does much to give the individual lines suchweight as they possess. A more complete contrast with the iambics of theearly Latin Tragedies cannot be imagined. What has been gained in polishhas been lost in dignity. Whence the Senecan iambic is derived, is aquestion which cannot be answered with certainty. It is wholly unlikethe early Roman tragic iambic. Elision is rare, and there is littlevariety. Instead of the massive and rugged measure of Pacuvius orAccius, we have a finished and elegant monotony. In all likelihood it isthe lineal descendant of the iambic of Ovid. [204] In view of Seneca'sgreat admiration for Ovid--he quotes him continually in his proseworks--of Ovid's mastery of rhetoric and epigram, and yet more of thedistinct parallels traceable between the _Phaedra_ and _Medea_ of Senecaand the corresponding _Heroides_ of Ovid, it becomes a strongprobability that the Senecan iambic was deeply influenced--if notactually created--by the iambic style of the earlier poet's lost drama, the famous _Medea_. [205]

As to the models to which he is indebted for his treatment of choricmetres we know nothing. In spite of the fact that he employs a largevariety of metres, and that his choruses at times stray from rhetoricinto poetry of a high order, there is in them a still more deadlymonotony than in his iambics. The chorus are devoid of life; they arethere partly as a concession to convention, but mainly to supplyincidental music. Their inherent dullness is not relieved by the metre. Of strophic arrangement there is no clear trace; in a large proportionof cases the choruses are written in one fixed and rigid metre admittingof no variety: even where different metres alternate, the relaxation isbut small, for the same monotony reigns unchecked within the limits ofeach section. The strange experiments in mixed metres in the _Agamemnon_and _Oedipus_ show Seneca's technique at its worst: they are composed offragments of Horatian metres, thinly disguised by inversions andresolutions of feet: they lack all governing principle and are anunqualified failure. Of the remaining metres the Anapaestic, Asclepiad, Sapphic, and Glyconic predominate. He is, perhaps, least unsuccessful inhis treatment of the Anapaest: the lines do not lack melody, and thenatural flexibility of the metre saves them from extreme monotony, though they would have been more successful had he employed theparoemiac line as a solemn and resonant close to the march of thedimeter. But one wearies soon of the eternal Asclepiads and Glyconicswhich he often allows to continue in unbroken and unvaried series forseventy or eighty lines together. He rarely allows any variation withinthe Glyconic and never makes use of it to break the monotony of theAsclepiad. Still worse are his Sapphics. Abandoning the usualarrangement in stanzas of three lesser Sapphics followed by an Adonicverse, his Sapphic choruses consist almost entirely of the lesserSapphic varied by a very occasional Adonic. The continual succession ofthese lines without so much as an occasional change of caesura todiversify the rhythm is at times almost intolerable. At the close ofsuch choruses we feel as though we had jogged at a rapid trot for longmiles on a very hard and featureless road. 

Language and metre work hand in hand with rhetoric to make thesestrange plays dramatically ineffective. So strange are they and in manyways so unlike anything else in Classical literature, that the questionas to the purpose with which they were written and the place theyoccupied in the literature of their day affords an interesting subjectfor speculation. Were they written for the stage? Decayed as was thetaste for tragedy, tragedies may occasionally have been acted. [206] Butthere are considerations which suggest doubt as to whether the plays ofSeneca were written with any such purpose. Even under Nero it isscarcely credible that the introduction of the mangled fragments ofHippolytus upon the stage would be possible or palatable. [207] Medeakills her children _coram populo_, and, not content with killing them, flings their bodies at Jason from her magic chariot high in air. Hercules kills his children in full view of the audience, not within thehouse as in the corresponding drama of Euripides. Such scenes suggestthat the plays were written not for the stage but for recitation withmusical interludes from a trained choir. Indications that this was thecase are to be found in the _Hercules Furens_. While the hero is engagedin slaying his children, Amphitryon, in a succession of short speeches, gives the details of the murder. This would be ridiculous andunnecessary were the scene actually presented on the stage, whereas theybecome absolutely necessary on the assumption that the play was writtenfor recitation. [208] This assumption has the further merit of beingcharitable; skilful recitation would cover many defects that would bealmost intolerable on the stage. 

It is improbable, however, that the drama of Seneca occupied animportant position in the literature of their day. The golden age oftragedy was past, and it is hard to believe that these plays arefavourable specimens even of their own age. The authors of the SilverAge virtually ignore their existence, and, with the exception of tworeferences in Tertullian and one in Apollinaris Sidonius, they arequoted only by scholars and grammarians. 

They have small intrinsic value: but they afford interesting evidencefor the taste[209] of their own day, and their influence on modern dramahas been enormous. In the Renaissance at the dawn of the drama'srevival, Seneca was regarded as a dramatist of the first order. Scaligerranked him above Euripides: it was to him men turned to find models fortragedy. Everywhere we see traces of the Senecan drama. [210] It is atribute to the dexterity of his rhetoric that his influence should havebeen so enormous, but it is to be regretted in the interests of thedrama. For to Seneca more than to any other man is due the excessiveprominence of declamatory rhetoric, which has characterized the dramathroughout Western Europe from the Renaissance down to the latter halfof the nineteenth century, and has proved a blemish to the work of allsave a few great writers who recognized the value of rhetoric, but nevermistook the shadow for the substance. 

III

THE 'OCTAVIA'

A tragedy with this title is included by the MSS. Among the plays ofSeneca. Its chief interest lies in the fact that it is the one survivingexample of a _fabula praetexta_, or tragedy, drawn from Roman life. Itdeals with a tragic incident of Nero's reign, the final extinction ofthe Claudian house. Octavia, daughter of Claudius and Messalina, is theheroine. Her life was one long tragedy. Her childhood was darkened bythe disaster that befell her unworthy mother, her maturer years by hermarriage to Nero. She was a mere pawn in the game of politics. Themarriage was brought about by the designs of Agrippina, to render Nerosecure of the principate. To effect this end her betrothed Silanus waskilled, Claudius, her father, and Britannicus, her brother, dispatchedby poison. Soon her own wedded life turned to tragedy. Nero fell madlyin love with Poppaea, and resolved to put away Octavia. At Poppaea'sinstigation she was accused of a base intrigue. The plot failed; thefalse charge could not be pressed home; she was divorced on the groundof sterility, and imprisoned in a town of Campania. A rumour arose thatshe was to be reinstated; the mob of Rome declared itself in her favourand gave wild expression to its joy. Poppaea's statues were cast down, Octavia's replaced. Poppaea was furious. She laid siege to Nero and wonhim to her will. The old false charge of adultery was trumped up; acomplaisant freed man was found to confess himself Octavia's lover. Shewas banished to Pandataria and slain (June 9, 62 A. D. ). 

The play gives us a compressed version of the tragedy. It opens with aspeech by Octavia's nurse, setting forth the sorrows of her youngmistress. The speech over, she leaves the stage to be succeeded byOctavia, who, in a lament closely modelled on the lament of theSophoclean Electra, [211] bewails the sorrows of her house, the deaths ofMessalina, Claudius, and Britannicus. The nurse reappears, attempts toconsole her, and counsels submission to fate. Octavia changes her strainand prays for death. After a lament from the chorus, Nero and Senecaenter on the scene. Seneca urges moderation and sets forth his ideal ofmonarchy. Nero is quite his match in argument, rejects his advice, and, concluding with the words

 desiste tandem, iam gravis nimium mihi, instare: liceat facere quod Seneca improbat (588). 

 Have done at last, For wearisome has thine insistence grown; One still may do what Seneca condemns . . . MILLER. 

declares his intention of marrying Poppaea without delay. An interestingchorus follows, describing how Rome of old expelled the kings for theircrimes. Nero has sinned even more than they. Has he not slain even hismother? There follows a long and interesting description of themurder, [212] which serves as an introduction to the entrance of theghost of Agrippina in the guise of an avenging fury, prophesying thedethronement and death of her unnatural son. She is succeeded on thestage by Octavia, resigned to the surrender of her position and contentto be no more than Nero's sister; once more the chorus bewail her fate. At last her rival Poppaea appears in conversation with her nurse. Thenurse congratulates her, but Poppaea has been terrified by visions ofthe night and is ill at ease. Her rival is not yet removed and her ownplace is still insecure. At this point comes the one ray of hope thatillumines this sombre drama. A messenger arrives with the news that thepeople have risen in Octavia's favour. But the reader is not left insuspense for a moment. Nero appears and orders the suppression of the_émeute_ and the execution of Octavia. The chorus mourn the fate of thebeloved of the Roman people. Their power and splendour is but brief:Octavia perishes untimely, like Gracchus and Livius Drusus. She herselfappears in the hands of soldiers, being dragged off to execution anddeath. Like Cassandra, [213] she compares her fate with that of thenightingale, to whom the gods gave a new life of peace full of sweetlamentation as a close to her troubled human existence. One more song ofcondolence from the chorus, one more song of sorrow from Octavia, andshe is taken from our sight, and the play closes with a denunciation bythe chorus of the hardness of heart and the insatiate cruelty of Rome. 

It is not hard to summarize the general effect of this curious drama. Its author has read the Greek tragedians carefully and to some purpose;he has studied the characters of Electra, Cassandra, and Antigone withdiligence, if without insight. He clearly feels deep sympathy forOctavia, and to some extent succeeds in communicating this sympathy tothe audience. His heroine speaks in character: she is never a maleStoic, flaunting in female garb, she is a genuine woman, a gentle, lovable creature broken down by misfortune. The other characters areuninteresting. Nero is an academic tyrant, Seneca an academic adviser, Poppaea is little more than a lay figure. The most that can be said forthem is that they do not rant. The chorus are on the whole a fairlysatisfactory imitation of a chorus of sympathetic Greek women. [214]There is nothing forced or unnatural about them; they are real humanbeings; their sympathy is genuine, and its expression appropriate. Butthey are dull; monotonous lamentation in monotonous anapaests is theheight of their capacity. The play is a failure: the subject is not initself dramatic; if it had been, it would have been spoiled by thetreatment it receives. We are never in suspense; Octavia has never theremotest chance of escape; our pity for her is genuine enough, but hercharacter lacks both grandeur and psychological interest: the pathos ofher situation will not compensate us for the absence of a dramatic plot. The fall of the house of Claudius compares ill with the tragedy of thePelopidae. And the treatment of the story, from the dramatic standpoint, is childish. The play is scarcely more than a series of melancholymonologues interspersed with not less melancholy dirges from the chorus. The most we can say of it is that it is simple and unaffected: if itlacks brilliance, it also lacks exaggeration. Thought and diction arecommonplace and uninspired, but they are never absurd--an extraordinarymerit in a poet of the Silver Age. 

It will have been sufficiently evident from this brief sketch thatthe _Octavia_ is in all respects very different indeed from the otherplays that claim Seneca for their author. It is free from theirfaults and their merits alike. It never sinks to their depths, butit never rises to their heights. Apart, however, from these generalconsiderations, [215] there is evidence amounting almost to certaintythat the _Octavia_ is not by Seneca. The tragedy takes place in thelifetime of Seneca. Seneca himself figures in the play. The story is ofsuch a nature that it could hardly have been written, much lesspublished, in the reign of Nero. Yet more conclusive is the fact thatthe ghost of Agrippina prophesies the fate of Nero in such a way as tomake it certain that the author outlived the emperor and was acquaintedwith the facts of his death. [216]

Who then was the author? When did he write? Evidence is almostabsolutely lacking. From its comparative sanity and simplicity and itsintense hatred of Nero it may reasonably be conjectured that it is thework of the Flavian age; the age of the anti-Neronian reaction and ofthe return to saner models in life and literature. But there is nocertainty; it may have been written under Nerva, Trajan, or Hadrian. Itstands detached and aloof from the literature of its age. 

CHAPTER III

PERSIUS

It is possible to form a clearer picture of the personality of AulusPersius Flaccus, the satirist, than of any other poet of the Silver Age. Not only are the essential facts of his brief career preserved for us ina concise, but extremely relevant biography taken from the commentary ofthe famous critic Valerius Probus, but there are few poets whose worksso clearly reveal the character of their author. 

Persius was born at the lofty hill-town of Volaterrae, in Tuscany, onthe 4th of December, 34 A. D. [217] He was scarcely six years old when helost his father, a wealthy Roman knight, named Flaccus. His mother, Fulvia Sisennia, married again, but her second husband, a knight namedFusius, died after a few years of wedded life. Persius was educated athome up to the age of twelve, when he was taken to Rome to be taughtliterature by Remmius Palaemon and rhetoric by Verginius Flavus. Of thelatter nothing is known save that he wrote a much-approved textbook onrhetoric and was exiled by Nero;[218] the former was a freedman whoseremarkable talents were only equalled by his gross vices; he had aprodigious memory, was a skilful _improvvisatore_, and the mostdistinguished teacher of the day. [219] At the age of sixteen, shortlyafter his assumption of the _toga virilis_, the young Persius made thefriendship which was to be the ruling influence of his life. He learnedto know and love the great Stoic teacher, Cornutus, with an attachmentthat was broken only by death. It was from Cornutus that he imbibed theprinciples of Stoicism, and at his house that he met the Greekphilosophers, Petronius Aristocrates of Magnesia and the Lacedaemonianphysician, Claudius Agathurnus, whose influence upon his character wasonly less than that of Cornutus. Among his intimates he countedCalpurnius Statura, who died in early youth, and the famous lyric poet, Caesius Bassus, [220] who was destined long to survive his friend and todo him the last service of editing the satires, which his prematuredeath left unpublished and unfinished. Lucan also was one of his fellowstudents in the house of Cornutus, [221] while at a later date he madethe acquaintance of Seneca, the leading writer of the day, although henever felt the seductive attractions of his fluent style and subtleintellect. More important influences were his almost filial respect andaffection for the distinguished orator, [222] M. Servilius Nonianus, andhis close companionship with Thrasea Paetus, the leader of the Stoicopposition. [223] At one time Persius, if the scholiast may bebelieved, [224] contemplated a military career. The statement is scarcelyprobable in view of the contempt and dislike with which he invariablyspeaks of soldiers, nor is it easy to conceive a profession less suitedto the temperament of the quiet and retiring poet. Whatever his originalintentions may have been, he actually chose the secluded life of study, the _vita umbratilis_, as the Romans called it, remote from the dust andheat of the great world. That he was wise we cannot doubt. It was theonly life possible in those days for a man of his character. 'Fuit morumlenissimorum, verecundiae virginalis, pietatis erga matrem et sororem etamitam exemplo sufficientis: fuit frugi, pudicus. ' Even in a saner, purer, and less turbulent age, such a one would have been more fittedfor the paths of study than for any branch of public life. He died of adisease of the stomach on the 24th of November, 62 A. D. , in his villa onthe Appian Way, some eight miles south of Rome, [225] leaving behind hima valuable library, a small amount of unpublished verse, and aconsiderable fortune, amounting to 2, 000, 000 sesterces. The whole ofthis fortune he bequeathed to his mother and sister, only begging themto give to his friend Cornutus a sum of 100, 000 sesterces, twenty poundsweight of silver plate, and the whole of his library, containing no lessthan 700 volumes by the Stoic Chrysippus. Cornutus accepted the books, but refused the rest, showing that indifference to wealth that was to belooked for, though not always to be found, in professors of the Stoicphilosophy. The literary work left by the dead poet was submitted by hismother to the judgement of Cornutus, himself a poet. [226] The bulk ofthe work was not great. Persius had in his boyhood written a _praetexta_or tragedy with a Roman plot, a book of poems describing his journeyswith Thrasea, [227] and a few verses on his kinswoman Arria, the wife ofCaecina Paetus, immortalized by her devotion to her husband and herheroic death. [228] As the work of his maturer years he left his satires. Cornutus recommended that all save the satires should be destroyed; theyalone, unfinished though they might be, were worthy of the memory of hisdead friend. He began the task of correcting them for publication, buttransferred it to Caesius Bassus, at the latter's earnest entreaty. Ofthe nature of the correction and editing required we are ignorant, savefor the statement of Probus that a few lines were removed from the endof the book to give it an appearance of completion. [229] The poems metwith instant success;[230] they excited both wonder and criticism; thatthey continued to be read is shown by the existence of copious scholia, which must, indeed, have been almost necessary for such continuance oftheir popularity. [231]

The slender volume of Persius' works is composed of six satires inhexameter verse and a prologue written in choliambi. The first dealswith the corruption of literature; the second, addressed to Macrinus onhis birthday, treats of the right and wrong objects of prayer; the thirdis an appeal to an indolent young man for energy and earnestness; thefourth, almost a continuation of the third, attacks the lack of'self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control', in public men; thefifth, addressed to his friend and teacher Cornutus, maintains the Stoicdoctrine that all the world are slaves; only the righteous man attainsto freedom; in the sixth, addressed to Caesius Bassus, the poet claimsthe right to spend his wealth in reasonable enjoyment, and denounces thegrasping and unseemly selfishness of an imaginary heir to his fortune. In the prologue--or epilogue as it is sometimes regarded[232]--hesarcastically disclaims any pretensions to poetic inspiration, and hintsironically that, in view of the number of poets who write merely to wintheir bread, inspiration may be regarded as unnecessary. 

The ambition to win fame as a satirist was first fired in Persius by hisreading the tenth book of the satires of Lucilius. If we may believeProbus, he imitated the opening of that book in his first satire, beginning like Lucilius by detracting from himself and proceeding toattack other authors indiscriminately. [233] Not enough of the tenth bookof Lucilius has survived to enable us to check the accuracy of thisstatement, though it finds independent testimony in a remark of thescholiast on Horace, that the tenth book of Lucilius contained freecriticisms of the early poets of Rome. [234] Further, the third satire issaid by the scholiast to have been modelled on the fourth book ofLucilius, and there is a certain amount of evidence for supposing thecholiambi of the epilogue to be an imitation of a Lucilian model. [235]We have, however, no means of testing the truth of these assertions: thedebt of Persius to Lucilius must be taken on trust. Of his enormousindebtedness to Horace we have, on the other hand, the clearestevidence. It is hard to conceive two poets with less in common asregards ideals, temperament, and technique; and yet throughout Persiuswe are startled by strange, though unmistakable, echoes of Horace. 

He knows his Horace by heart, and Horace has become a veritableobsession. He is not content with giving his characters Horatiannames. [236] That might be convention, not plagiarism. But phrase afterphrase calls up the Horatian original. He runs through the whole gamutof plagiarism. There is plagiarism, simple and direct. 

 O si sub rastro crepet argenti mihi seria, dextro Hercule! (2. 10)

 O that I could hear a crock of silver chinking under my harrow, by the blessing of Hercules. CONINGTON. 

is undisguisedly copied from Horace (_Sat. _ ii. 6. 10). 

 O si urnam argenti fors quae mihi monstret, ut illi, thesauro invento, qui mercennarius agrum ilium ipsum mercatus aravit, dives amico Hercule!

But as a rule, since he cannot keep Horace out, he strives to disguisehim. The familiar

 si vis me flere, dolendum est primum ipsi tibi

of the _Ars Poetica_ (102) reappears in the far less natural

 verum nec nocte paratum plorabit, qui me volet incurvasse querela (_Pers_. I. 91). 

 A man's tears must come from his heart at the moment, not from his brains overnight, if he would have me bowed down beneath his piteous tale. CONINGTON. 

He speaks of his verses so finely turned and polished--

 ut per leve severos effundat iunctura unguis (i. 64). 

 So that the critical nail runs glibly along even where the parts join. CONINGTON. 

In this fantastically contorted and affected phrase we may espy aningenious blending of two Horatian phrases, totus teres atque rotundus, externi ne quid valeat per leve morari (_Sat. _ ii. 7. 86), and the simple

 ad unguem factus

f _Sat. _ i. 5. 32. [237]

There is no need to multiply instances. Horace appears everywhere, but_quantum mutatus ab illo!_ As the result of this particular method ofborrowing, assisted by affectations and obscurities which are all hisown, Persius attains to a kind of spurious originality of diction, whichoften degenerates into sheer eccentricity. In spite of the fact that theoriginal text can almost everywhere be reconstructed with certainty, heis almost the most obscure of Latin poets to the modern reader. A fewinstances will suffice. There were, it appears, three ways of mocking aperson behind his back: one might tap the fingers against the lowerportion of the hand in imitation of a stork's beak, one might imitate adonkey's ears, or one might put out one's tongue. When Persius wishes tosay 'Janus, I envy you your luck, for no one can mock at you behind yourback!' he writes (i. 58):

 O Iane, a tergo quem nulla ciconia pinsit, nec manus auriculas imitari mobilis albas, nec linguae, quantum sitiat canis Apula, tantae. 

 Happy Janus, whom no stork's bill batters from behind, no nimble hand quick to imitate the ass's white ears, no long tongues thrust out like the tongue of a thirsty Apulian bitch. 

The obscurity of the first line springs in part from the fact that thecustom is not elsewhere spoken of. The second line may pass. The thirddefies literal translation. It means 'no long tongues thrust out likethe tongue of a thirsty Apulian bitch'. But the omission of all mentionboth of 'protrusion' and of the 'dog days' makes the Latin almostwithout meaning. The epithet _Apula_ becomes absurd. A 'thirsty Apuliandog' is barely sufficient to suggest the midsummer drought of Apulia. This is an extreme case; it is perhaps fairer to quote lines such as

 si puteal multa cautus vibice flagellas (iv. 49), 'if in your zeal for the main chance you flog the exchange with many astripe, ' a mysterious passage generally supposed to mean 'if you exactexorbitant usury'. A little less enigmatic, but fully as forced andunnatural is

 dum veteres avias tibi de pulmone revello (v. 92), 'while I pull your old grandmotherly views from your heart, ' or theextraordinarily harsh metaphor of the first satire (24)--

 quo didicisse, nisi hoc fermentum et quae semel intus innata est rupto iecore exierit caprificus?

 What is the good of past study, unless this leaven--unless the wild fig-tree which has once struck its root into the breast, break through and come out? CONINGTON. 

which means nothing more than 'What is the good of study unless a manbrings out what he has in him?' A far more serious source of obscurity, however, is his obscurity of thought. Even when the sense of individuallines has been discovered, it is often difficult to see the drift of thepassage as a whole. Logical development is perhaps not to be expected inthe 'hotch-potch' of the 'satura'. But one has a right to demand thatthe transitions should be easy and the drift of the argument clear. ThisPersius refuses us. The difficulties which he presents are--as in thecase of Robert Browning--in part due to his adoption of the traditionaldramatic form in satire, a form in which clearness of expression is asdifficult as it is desirable. But we cannot excuse his obscurity as wesometimes can in Browning--either as being to some extent a realisticrepresentation of the discursiveness and lack of method thatcharacterize the reasonings of the average intelligent man, or on theother hand as springing from the intensity of the poet's thought. It isnot the case with Persius that his thoughts press so thick and quickupon him, or are of so deep and complicated a character, as to beincapable of simple and lucid expression. It is sheer waywardness andperversity springing from the absence of true artistic feeling to whichwe must attribute this cardinal defect. For his thought is commonplace, and his observation of the minds and ways of men is limited. 

The qualities that go to the making of the true satirist are many. Hemust be dominated by a moral ideal, not necessarily of the highest kind, but sufficiently exalted to lend dignity to his work and sufficientlystrongly realized to permeate it. He must have a wide and comprehensiveknowledge of his fellow men. A knowledge of the broad outlines of thecardinal virtues and of the deadly sins is not sufficient. The satiristmust know them in their countless manifestations in the life of man, asthey move our awe or our contempt, our admiration or our terror, ourlove or our loathing, our laughter or our tears. He must be able topaint society in all its myriad hues. He must have a sense of humour, even if he lacks the sense of proportion; he must have the gift oflaughter, even though his laughter ring harsh and painful. He must havethe gift of mordant speech, of epigram, and of rhetoric. He must drivehis points home with directness and lucidity. Mere denunciation of viceis not enough. Few prophets are satirists; few satirists are prophets. 

Of these qualities Persius has all too few. The man who has become thepupil of a Cornutus at the age of sixteen, who has shunned a publiccareer, and is characterized by a _virginalis verecundia_, is notlikely, even in a long life, to acquire the knowledge of the worldrequired for genuine satire. The satirist, it might almost be said, mustnot only have walked abroad in the great world, but must have passedthrough the fire himself, and in some sense experienced the vices he hasset himself to lash. But Persius is young and, as far as might be inthat age, innocent. His outlook is from the seclusion of literary andphilosophic circles, and his satire lacks the peculiar vigour that canonly be got from jostling one's way in the wider world. In consequencethe picture of life which he presents lacks vividness. A few brilliantsketches there are; but they are drawn from but a narrow range ofexperience. There is nothing better of its kind than the description inthe first satire of the omnipresent poetaster of the reign of Nero, withhis affected recitations of tawdry, sensuous, and soulless verse (15):

 Scilicet haec populo pexusque togaque recenti et natalicia tandem cum sardonyche albus sede leges celsa, liquido cum plasmate guttur mobile conlueris, patranti fractus ocello. Tunc neque more probo videas nec voce serena ingentis trepidare Titos, cum carmina lumbum intrant et tremulo scalpuntur ubi intima versu. 

 Yes--you hope to read this out some day, got up sprucely with a new toga, all in white, with your birthday ring on at last, perched up on a high seat, after gargling your supple throat by a liquid process of tuning, with a languishing roll of your wanton eye. At this you may see great brawny sons of Rome all in a quiver, losing all decency of gesture and command of voice, as the strains glide into their very bones, and the marrow within is tickled by the ripple of the measure. CONINGTON. 

A few lines later comes a similar and equally vivid picture (30):

 ecce inter pocula quaerunt Romulidae saturi, quid dia poemata narrent. Hic aliquis, cui circum umeros hyacinthina laena est, rancidulum quiddam balba de nare locutus, Phyllidas Hypsipylas, vatum et plorabile siquid, cliquat ac tenero subplantat verba palato. 

 Listen. The sons of Rome are sitting after a full meal, and inquiring in their cups, 'What news from the divine world of poesy?' Hereupon a personage with a hyacinth-coloured mantle over his shoulders brings out some mawkish trash or other, with a snuffle and a lisp, something about Phyllises or Hypsipyles, or any of the many heroines over whom poets have snivelled, filtering out his tones and tripping up the words against the roof of his delicate mouth. CONINGTON. 

Here the poet is describing what he has seen; in the world of letters heis at home. He can laugh pungently enough at the style of oratoryprevailing in the courts--

 nilne pudet capiti non posse pericula cano pellere, quin tepidum hoc optes audire 'decenter'. 'fur es', ait Pedio. Pedius quid? crimina rasis librat in antithetis, doctas posuisse figuras laudatur, 'bellum hoc?' (i. 83). 

 Are you not ashamed not to be able to plead against perils threatening your grey hairs, but you must needs be ambitious of hearing mawkish compliments to your 'good taste'? The accuser tells Pedius point blank, 'You are a thief. ' What does Pedius do? Oh, he balances the charges in polished antitheses-- he is deservedly praised for the artfulness of his tropes. Monstrous fine that! CONINGTON. 

He can parody the decadent poets with their effeminate rhythms and theirabsurdities of speech. [238] He can mock the archaizer who goes to Acciusand Pacuvius for his inspiration. [239] He can give an admirable summaryof the genius of Lucilius and Horace--

 secuit Lucilius urbem, te Lupe, te Muci, et genuinum fregit in illis; omne vafer vitium ridenti Flaccus amico tangit et admissus circum praecordia ludit, callidus excusso populum suspendere naso (i. 114). 

 Lucilius bit deep into the town of his day, its Lupuses and Muciuses, and broke his jaw-tooth on them. Horace, the rogue, manages to probe every fault while making his friend laugh; he gains his entrance and plays about the heartstrings with a sly talent for tossing up his nose and catching the public on it. CONINGTON. 

But the first satire stands alone _qua_ satire. It is not, perhaps, themost interesting to the modern reader. It mocks at empty literaryfashions, which have comparatively small human interest. But it is inthis satire that Persius comes nearest the true satirist. The obscurityand affectation of its language is its one serious fault; otherwise itshows sound literary ideals, close observation, and a pretty vein ofhumour. Elsewhere there is small trace of keen observation[240] ofactual life; he calls up before his reader no vision of the varied lifeof Rome, whether in the streets or in the houses of the rich. Instead, he laboriously tricks out some vice in human garb, converses with it inlanguage such as none save Persius ever dreamed of using, or scourges itwith all the heavy weapons of the Stoic armoury. There is at times acertain violence and even coarseness[241] of description which does dutyfor realism, but the words ring hollow and false. The picture describedor suggested is got at second-hand. He lacks the vivacity, realism, andcommon sense of Horace, the cultured man of the world, the biting wit, the astonishing descriptive power, and the masterly rhetoric of Juvenal. We care little for the greater part of Persius' disquisition[242] on thetrite theme of the schools, 'what should be the object of man's prayersto heaven?' when we have read the tenth satire of Juvenal. There is thesame commonplace theme in both, and there is perhaps less originality tobe found in the general treatment applied to it by Juvenal. But Juvenalmakes us forget the triteness of the theme by his extraordinary gift ofstyle. Like Victor Hugo, he has the gift of imparting richness andsplendour to the obvious by the sheer force and glory of his declamatorypower. Similarly the fifth satire, where Persius descants on the themethat only the good man is free, while all the rest are slaves, comparesill as a whole with the dialogue between Horace and Davus on the samesubject (_Sat. _ ii. 7). There is such a harshness, an angularity andbitterness about it, that he wholly fails of the effect produced by theeasy dignity of the earlier poet. It is abrupt, violent, and obscure;and for this reason the austere Stoic makes less impression than hismore engaging and easy-going predecessor. Horace knew how to press homehis points, even while he played about the hearts of men. Persius hasneither the persuasiveness of Horace nor the force of Juvenal. 

But Persius, if he falls below his great rivals in point of art, is inone respect immeasurably their superior. He is a better and a noblerman. In his denunciations of vice his eyes are set on a more exaltedideal, an ideal from which he never wanders. There is a world ofdifference between the 'golden mean' of Horace, and the worship ofvirtue that redeems the obscurities of Persius. There is a still greatergulf between the high scorn manifested by Persius for all that is baseand ignoble, and the fierce, almost petulant, indignation of Juvenal, that often seems to rend for the mere delight of rending, and is attimes disfigured by such grossness of language that many anunsympathetic reader has wondered whether the indignation was genuine. Neither Horace nor Juvenal ever rose to the moral heights of theconclusion of the second satire (61):

 O curvae in terris animae et caelestium inanes, quid iuvat hoc, templis nostros immittere mores et bona dis ex hac scelerata ducere pulpa? haec sibi corrupto casiam dissolvit olivo et Calabrum coxit vitiato murice vellus, haec bacam conchae rasisse et stringere venas ferventis massae crudo de pulvere iussit. Peccat et haec, peccat, vitio tamen utitur. At vos dicite, pontifices, in sancto quid facit aurum? nempe hoc quod Veneri donatae a virgine pupae. Quin damus id superis, de magna quod dare lance non possit magni Messalae lippa propago? compositum ius fasque animo sanctosque recessus mentis et incoctum generoso pectus honesto: haec cedo ut admoveam templis et farre litabo. 

 O ye souls that cleave to earth and have nothing heavenly in you! How can it answer to introduce the spirit of the age into the temple-service and infer what the gods like from this sinful pampered flesh of ours? The flesh it is that has got to spoil wholesome oil by mixing casia with it--to steep Calabrian wool in purple that was made for no such use; that has made us tear the pearl from the oyster, and separate the veins of the glowing ore from the primitive slag. It sins--yes, it sins; but it takes something by its sinning; but you, reverend pontiffs, tell us what good gold can do in a holy place. Just as much or as little as the dolls which a young girl offers to Venus. Give _we_ rather to the gods such an offering as great Messala's blear-eyed representative has no means of giving, even out of his great dish--duty to God and man well blended in the mind--purity in the shrine of the heart, and a manly flavour of nobleness pervading the bosom. Let me have these to carry to the temple, and a handful of meal shall win me acceptance. CONINGTON. 

This is real enthusiasm, though the theme be trite, and it isnoteworthy that the enthusiasm has clarified the language, which goesstraight to the point without obscurity or circumlocution. Here alonedoes the second satire of Persius surpass the more famous tenth satireof Juvenal. Yet even this fine outburst is surpassed by the deservedlywell-known passage of the third satire, in which Persius appeals to ayoung man 'who has great possessions' to live earnestly andstrenuously (23):

 udum et molle lutum es, nunc nunc properandus et acri fingendus sine fine rota. Sed rure paterno est tibi far modicum, purum et sine labe salinum (quid metuas?) cultrixque foci secura patella est. Hoc satis? an deceat pulmonem rumpere ventis, stemmate quod Tusco ramum millesime ducis, censoremve tuum vel quod trabeate salutas? ad populum phaleras, ego te intus et in cute novi. Non pudet ad morem discincti vivere Nattae. Sed stupet hic vitio et fibris increvit opimum pingue, caret culpa, nescit quid perdat, et alto demersus summa rursus non bullit in unda. Magne pater divum, saevos punire tyrannos haut alia ratione velis, cum dira libido moverit ingenium ferventi tincta veneno: virtutem videant intabescantque relicta. Anne magis Siculi gemuerunt aera iuvenci, et magis auratis pendens laquearibus ensis purpureas subter cervices terruit, 'imus, imus praecipites' quam si sibi dicat et intus palleat infelix quod proxima nesciat uxor?

 You are moist soft earth, you ought to be taken instantly, instantly, and fashioned without end by the rapid wheel. But you have a paternal estate with a fair crop of corn, a salt-cellar of unsullied brightness (no fear of ruin surely!), and a snug dish for fireside service. Are you to be satisfied with this? or would it be decent to puff yourself and vapour because your branch is connected with a Tuscan stem, and you are thousandth in the line, or because you wear purple on review days and salute your censor? Off with your trappings to the mob! I can look under them and see your skin. Are you not ashamed to live the loose life of Natta? But he is paralysed by vice; his heart is overgrown by thick collops of fat; he feels no reproach; he knows nothing of his loss; he is sunk in the depth and makes no more bubbles on the surface. Great Father of the Gods, be it thy pleasure to inflict no other punishment on the monsters of tyranny, after their nature has been stirred by fierce passion, that has the taint of fiery poison--let them look upon virtue and pine that they have lost her for ever! Were the groans from the brazen bull of Sicily more terrible, or did the sword that hung from the gilded cornice strike more dread into the princely neck beneath it, than the voice which whispers to the heart, 'We are going, going down a precipice, ' and the ghastly inward paleness, which is a mystery, even to the wife of our heart? CONINGTON. 

The man who wrote this has 'loved righteousness and hated iniquity'. Inthe work of Persius' rivals it is scarcely an exaggeration to say thatit is the hatred of iniquity that is most prominent; the love ofrighteousness holds but a secondary place. 

Persius is uncompromising; he is the true Stoic with the motto 'all ornothing'. But he has nothing of the stilted Stoicism that is such apainful feature of the plays of Seneca; nor, however perverse andaffected he may be in diction, do we ever feel that his Stoicism is insome respects no better than a moral pose, a distressing feeling thatsometimes afflicts as we read Seneca's letters or consolatory treatises. He speaks straight from the heart. His faults are more often the faultsof the school of philosophy than of the schools of rhetoric. The youngLucan is said to have exclaimed, after hearing a recitation given byPersius:[243] 'That is real poetry, my verses are mere _jeux d'esprit_. '

If we take Persius at his noblest, Lucan's criticism is just. In thesepassages not only is the thought singularly pure and noble, and theexpression felicitous, but the actual metre represents almost thehigh-water mark of the post-Vergilian hexameter. Here, as in otherwriters of the age, the influence of Ovid is traceable in the increaseof dactyls and the avoidance of elision. But the verse has a swing anddignity, together with a variety, that can hardly be found in any otherpoetry of the Silver Age. It is the existence of passages such asthese, and the high unswerving moral enthusiasm characterizing all hiswork, that have made Persius live through the centuries. It isfashionable for the critic to say, 'We lay down Persius with a sigh ofrelief. ' That is true, but we feel the better for reading him. He isone of the few writers of Rome whose personality awakens a feeling ofwarm affection. He was a rigid Stoic, yet not proud or cold. In an ageof almost universal corruption he kept himself unspotted from theworld. He had a rare capacity for whole-hearted friendship. If histeacher Cornutus had never made another convert, and his preaching hadbeen vain, it would have been ample reward to have won such a tributeof affection and gratitude as the lines in which Persius pours forthhis soul to him (v. 21):

 tibi nunc hortante Camena excutienda damus praecordia, quantaque nostrae pars tua sit, Cornute, animae, tibi, dulcis amice, ostendisse iuvat. Pulsa dinoscere cautus quid solidum crepet et pictae tectoria linguae. Hic ego centenas ausim deposcere fauces, ut quantum mihi te sinuoso in pectore fixi, voce traham pura, totumque hoc verba resignent, quod latet arcana non enarrabile fibra. Cum primum pavido custos mihi purpura cessit bullaque subcinctis Laribus donata pependit, cum blandi comites totaque inpune Subura permisit sparsisse oculos iam candidus umbo, cumque iter ambiguum est et vitae nescius error deducit trepidas ramosa in compita mentes, me tibi supposui. Teneros tu suscipis annos Socratico, Cornute, sinu. Tune fallere sollers adposita intortos extendit regula mores, et premitur ratione animus vincique laborat artificemque tuo ducit sub pollice vultum. Tecum etenim longos memini consumere soles, et tecum primas epulis decerpere noctes. Unum opus et requiem pariter disponimus ambo, atque verecunda laxamus seria mensa. Non equidem hoc dubites, amborum foedere certo consentire dies et ab uno sidere duci: nostra vel aequali suspendit tempora libra Parca tenax veri, seu nata fidelibus hora dividit in geminos concordia fata duorum, Saturnumque gravem nostro Iove frangimus una: nescio quod certe est quod me tibi temperat astrum. 

 It is to you, at the instance of the muse within me, that I would offer my heart to be sifted thoroughly; my passion is to show you, Cornutus, how large a share of my inmost being is yours, my beloved friend; strike it, use every test to tell what rings sound, and what is the mere plaster of a varnished tongue. An occasion indeed it is for which I may well venture to ask a hundred voices, that I may bring out in clear utterance how thoroughly I have lodged you in the very corners of my breast, and unfold in words all the unutterable feelings which lie entwined deep down among my heart-strings. When first the guardianship of the purple ceased to awe me and the band of boyhood was hung up as an offering to the quaint old household gods, when my companions made themselves pleasant, and the folds of my gown, now white, the stripe of purple gone, left me free to cast my eyes at will over the whole Subura--just when the way of life begins to be uncertain, and the bewildered mind finds that its ignorant ramblings have brought it to a point where roads branch off--then it was that I made myself your adopted child. You at once received the young foundling into the bosom of a second Socrates; and soon your rule, with artful surprise, straightens the moral twists that it detects, and my spirit becomes moulded by reason and struggles to be subdued, and assumes plastic features under your hand. Aye, I mind well how I used to wear away long summer suns with you, and with you pluck the early bloom of the night for feasting. We twain have one work and one set time for rest, and the enjoyment of a moderate table unbends our gravity. No, I would not have you doubt that there is a fixed law that brings our lives into one accord, and one star that guides them. Whether it be in the equal balance that truthful Destiny hangs our days, or whether the birth-hour sacred to faithful friends shares our united fates between the Heavenly Twins, and we break the shock of Saturn together by the common shield of Jupiter, some star, I am assured, there is which fuses me with you. CONINGTON. 

There is a sincerity about these beautiful lines that is as rare as itis welcome in the poetry of this period. Much may be forgiven to thepoet who could write thus, even though rarely. And it must be rememberedthat Persius is free from the worst of the besetting sins of his age, the love of rhetorical brilliance at the expense of sense, a failingthat he criticizes with no little force in his opening satire. Hisharshness and obscurity are due in part to lack of sufficient literaryskill, but still more to his attempt to assert his originality againstthe insistent obsession of the satires of Horace. As in the case of somany of his contemporaries, his literary fame must depend in the main onhis 'purple patches'. 

But he does what few of his fellow poets do; he leaves a vividimpression of his personality, and reveals a genuine moral ardour andnobility of character that refuse to be clouded or hidden by his darksayings and his perverse obscurity. 

CHAPTER IV

LUCAN

Marcus Annaeus Lucanus, [244] the poet who more than any other exhibitsthe typical excellences and defects of the Silver Age, was born atCordova on November 3, in the year 39 A. D. [245] He came of adistinguished line. He was the son of M. Annaeus Mela, brother of Senecathe philosopher and dramatist, and son of Seneca the rhetorician. Melawas a wealthy man, [246] and in 40 A. D. Removed with his family to Rome. His son (whose future as a great poet is said to have been portended bya swarm of bees that settled on the cradle and the lips of the bard thatwas to be[247]) received the best education that Rome could bestow. Heshowed extraordinary precocity in all the tricks of declamatoryrhetoric, soon equalling his instructors in skill and far out-distancinghis fellow pupils. [248] Among his preceptors was his kinsman, the famousStoic, L. Annaeus Cornutus, well known as the friend and teacher ofPersius. [249] His first appearance before the public was at the Neroniain 60 A. D. , when he won the prize for Latin verse with a poem in praiseof Nero. [250] Immediately afterwards he seems to have proceeded toAthens. But his talents had attracted the attention and patronage ofNero. He was recalled to Rome, [251] and at the nomination of theprinceps became Quaestor, although he had not yet attained the requisiteage of twenty-five. [252] He was also admitted to the College of Augurs, and for some time continued to enjoy Nero's friendship. But it was notto last. Lucan had been educated in Stoic surroundings. Though his ownrelatives managed to combine the service of the emperor with their Stoicprinciples, Lucan had not failed to imbibe the passionate regret for thelost liberty of the republic that was so prominent a feature in Stoiccircles. It was not a mere pose that led him to select the civil war asthe subject of his poem. His enthusiasm for liberty may have beenliterary rather than political in character. But when we are dealingwith an artistic temperament we must bear in mind that the ideals whichwere primarily inspiration for art may on slight provocation becomeincentives to action. And in the case of Lucan that provocation was notlacking. As his fame increased, Nero's friendship was replaced byjealousy. The protégé had become too serious a rival to the patron. [253]Lucan's vanity was injured by Nero's sudden withdrawal from arecitation. [254] From servile flattery he turned to violent criticism:he spared his former patron neither in word nor deed. He turned thesharp edge of his satire against him in various pungent epigrams, andwas forbidden to recite poetry or to plead in the law courts. [255] Butit would be unjust to Lucan to attribute his changed attitude purely towounded vanity. Seneca was at this very moment attempting to retire frompublic life. The court of Nero had become no place for him. Lucan cannothave been unaffected by the action of his uncle, and it is only just tohim to admit the possibility that the change in his attitude may havebeen due, at any rate in part, to a change in character, an awakening tothe needs of the State and the needs of his own soul. There is no needto question the genuineness of his political enthusiasm, even though ittended to be theatrical and may have been largely kindled by motives notwholly disinterested. The Pisonian conspiracy found in him a readycoadjutor. He became one of the ringleaders of the plot ('paene signiferconiurationis'), and in a bombastic vein would promise Nero's head tohis fellow-conspirators. [256] On the detection of the plot, in 65 A. D. , he, with the other chiefs of the conspiracy, was arrested. For long hedenied his complicity; at last, perhaps on the threat or application oftorture, his nerve failed him; he descended to grovelling entreaties, and to win himself a reprieve accused his innocent mother, Acilia, ofcomplicity in the plot. [257] His conduct does not admit of excuse. Butit is not for the plain, matter-of-fact man to pass judgement lightly onthe weakness of a highly-strung, nervous, artistic temperament; theartist's imagination may transmute pain such as others might hope tobear, to anguish such as they cannot even imagine. There lies thepalliation, if palliation it be, of Lucan's crime. But it availed himnothing: the reprieve was never won; he was condemned to die, the mannerof his death being left to his free choice. He wrote a few instructionsfor his father as to the editing of his poems, partook of a sumptuousdinner, and then, adopting the fashionable form of suicide, cut thearteries of his arms and bled to death. He died declaiming a passagefrom his own poetry in which he had described the death of a soldierfrom loss of blood. [258] It was a theatrical end, and not out of keepingwith his life. 

He lived but a little over twenty-five years and five months, but heleft behind him a vast amount of poetry and an extraordinary reputation. His earliest work[259] seems to have been the _Iliacon_, describing thedeath of Hector, his ransom and burial. Next came the _Catachthonion_, ashort work on the underworld. This was followed by the _laudes Neronis_, to which reference has already been made, and the _Orpheus_, which wasextemporized in a competition with other poets. [260] If we follow theorder given by Statius, his next work was the prose declamation on theburning of the city (64 A. D. ) and a poem addressed to his wife Polla(_adlocutio ad Pollam_). Then comes his _chef d'oeuvre_, the_Pharsalia_, to which we shall return. Of the other works mentioned byVacca, the _Silvae_ must have been, like the _Silvae_ of Statius, trifles thrown off hurriedly for the gratification of friends or for thecelebration of some great occasion. [261] The _salticae fabulae_ were_libretti_ written for the _pantomimus_, [262] while the _Saturnalia_were light verse sent as presents to friends on the festival ofSaturn. [263] Of these works nothing has come down to us save a fewscanty fragments, not in any way calculated to make us regret theirloss. [264] Even Vacca can find no very high praise for them. Judgingalike from the probabilities of the case and from the _Pharsalia_itself, they must have suffered from Lucan's fatal gift of fluency. 

It was the _Pharsalia_ that won Lucan undying fame. Three books of thisambitious historical epic were finished and given to the world duringthe poet's lifetime. [265] These the poet had, at any rate in part, recited in public, calling attention, with a vanity worthy of himselfand of the age, to his extreme youth; he was younger than Vergil whenhe composed the _Culex_![266] The remaining seven books never had thebenefit of revision, owing to the poet's untimely end, [267] thoughcuriously enough they show no special signs of lack of finish, andcontain some of the finest passages in the whole work. The compositionof all ten books falls between 60 and 65 A. D. Lucan had chosen for histheme the death-struggle of the republic. It was a daring choice formore reasons than one. There were elements of danger in singing thepraises of Pompey and Cato under the principate. To that the fate ofCremutius Cordus bore eloquent testimony. [268] But Nero was lesssensitive about the past than Tiberius. The republic had never becomeofficially extinct. Tyrannicide was a licensed and hackneyed theme ofthe schools of rhetoric; in skilful hands it might be a subtleinstrument of flattery. Moreover, Nero was descended in direct linefrom Domitius Ahenobarbus, who had fought and died for Pompey on thefield of Pharsalus. In the books published during Lucan's lifetimethere is not a line that could have given personal offence to theprinceps, while the fulsome dedication would have covered a multitudeof indiscretions. [269] Far more serious were the difficulties presentedby the nature of the story itself. Historical epic rarely admits ofartistic treatment, and the nearer the date of the events described, the more insoluble is the problem. 

Two courses were open to Lucan: he might treat the story withcomparative fidelity to truth, avoiding all supernatural machinery, savesuch as was justified by historical tradition; on the other hand hemight adopt the course subsequently pursued by Silius Italicus in hispoem on the Punic War, and introduce all the hackneyed interventions ofOlympus, sanctioned by Vergil and followed by many a poet since. Thelatter method is obviously only suited for a purely legendary epic, though even the legendary epic can well dispense with it, and it mighthave been supposed that an age so sceptical and careless of the orthodoxtheology, as that into which Lucan was born, would have felt the fullabsurdity of applying such a device to historical epic. Lucan was wisein his choice, and left Olympus severely alone. But his choice rousedcontemporary criticism. In the _Satyricon_ of Petronius we find adefence of the old conventional mechanism placed in the mouth of ashabby and disreputable poet named Eumolpus (118). He complains 'thatyoung men plunge headlong into epic verse thinking that it requires nomore skill than a showy declamation at the school of rhetoric. They donot realize that to be a successful poet one must be steeped in thegreat ocean of literature. They do not recognize that there is such athing as a special poetic vocabulary, [270] or that the commonplaces ofrhetoric require to be interwoven with, not merely tacked on to, thefabric of their verse, and so it comes about that the writer who wouldturn the Civil War into an epic is apt to stumble beneath the burden hetakes upon his shoulders, unless indeed he is permeated through andthrough with literature. You must not simply turn history into verse:historians do it better in prose. Rather the poet should sweep on hisway borne by the breath of inspiration and untrammelled by hard fact, making use of cunning artifice and divine intervention, and interfusinghis "commonplaces" with legendary lore; only so will his work seem to bethe fine frenzy of an inspired bard rather than the exactitude of onewho is giving sworn evidence before a judge'. He then proceeds in 295verses to deal, after the manner he has prescribed, with the eventscontained in the first three books of the _Pharsalia_, the only booksthat had been made public at the time when Petronius' romance wascomposed. Pluto inspires Caesar to the crime of civil war. Peace, Fidelity, and Concord fly from the earth at his approach. The gods rangethemselves on this side and on that. Discord perched high on Apennineincites the peoples of Italy to war. The verse is uninspired, the methodis impossible, the remedy is worse than the disease. The last hope ofour taking the poem seriously has departed. Yet this passage ofPetronius contains much sound criticism. Military and political historydoes _not_ admit of being turned into genuine poetry; an epic on anhistoric war must depend largely on its purple patches of descriptionand rhetoric: it almost demands that prominence of epigram and'commonplace' that Eumolpus condemns. [27l] Petronius sees the weaknessof Lucan's epic; he fails because, like Silius Italicus, he thinks hehas discovered a remedy. The faults of Lucan's poem are largely inherentin the subject chosen; they will stand out clearly as we review thestructure and style of the work. 

In taking the whole of the Civil War for his subject Lucan wasconfronted with a somewhat similar problem to that which facedShakespeare in his _Julius Caesar_. The problem that Shakespeare had tomeet was how to prolong and sustain the interest of the play after thedeath of Caesar and the events that centre immediately round it. Thedifficulty was surmounted triumphantly. The obstacles in Lucan's pathwere greater. The poem is incomplete, and there must be some uncertaintyas to its intended scope. That it was planned to include the death ofCato is clear from the importance assigned him in the existing books. But could the work have concluded on such a note of gloom as the deathof the staunchest champion of the republic? The whole tone of the poemis republican in the extreme. If the republic must perish, it should notperish unavenged. There are, moreover, many prophetic allusions to thedeath of Caesar, [272] which point conclusively to Lucan's intention tohave made the vengeance of Brutus and Cassius the climax of his poem. The problem which the poet had to resolve was how to prevent theinterest from nagging, as his heroes were swept away before thetriumphant advance of Caesar. He concentrates our attention at theoutset on Pompey. Throughout the first eight books it is for him that heclaims our sympathy. And then he is crushed by his rival and driven inflight to die an unheroic death. It is only at this point that Catoleaps into prominence. But though he has a firmness of purpose and agrandeur of character that Lucan could not give Pompey, he never has thechance to become the protagonist. Both Pompey and Cato, for all the finerhetoric bestowed on them, fail to grip the reader, while from the veryfacts of history it is impossible for either of them to lend unity tothe plot. Both are dwarfed by the character of Caesar. Caesar is thevillain of the piece; he is a monster athirst for blood, he will notpermit the corpses of his enemies (over which he is made to gloat) to beburied after the great battle, and when on his coming to Egypt the headof his rival is brought him, his grief and indignation are representedas being a mere blind to conceal his real joy. The successes are oftenmerely the result of good fortune. Lucan is loth to admit even hisgreatness as a general. And yet, blacken his character as he may, hefeels that greatness. From the moment of his brilliant characterizationof Caesar in the first book[273] we feel we have a man who knows what hedesires and will shrink from nothing to attain his ends; he 'thinksnaught yet done while aught remains to do', [274] he 'strikes fear intomen's hearts because he knows not the meaning of fear', [275] and throughall the melodramatic rhetoric with which he addresses his soldiers, there shines clear the spirit of a great leader of men. Whoever wasintended by the poet for his hero, the fact remains that Caesardominates the poem as none save the hero should do. He is the hero ofthe _Pharsalia_ as Satan is the hero of _Paradise Lost_. [276] It isthrough him above all that Lucan retains our interest. The result isfatal for the proper proportion of the plot. Lucan does not actuallyalienate our sympathies from the republic, but, whatever our moraljudgement on the conflict may be, our interest centres on Caesar, and itis hardly an exaggeration to say that the true tragedy of the epic wouldhave come with his death. The _Pharsalia_ fails of its object as arepublican epic; its success comes largely from an unintended quarter. 

What the exact scale of the poem was meant to be it is hard to say. Vergil had set the precedent for an epic of twelve books, and it is notimprobable that Lucan would have followed his example. On the otherhand, if Cato and Caesar had both to be killed in the last two books, great compression would have been necessary. In view of the diffusenessof Lucan's rhetoric, and the rambling nature of his narrative, it ismore than probable that the epic would have exceeded the limit of twelvebooks and been a formidable rival in bulk to the _Punica_ of SiliusItalicus. On the other hand, the last seven books of the existing poemare unrevised, and may have been destined for abridgement. There is somuch that is irrelevant that the task would have been easy. 

But it is not for the plot that Lucan's epic is read. It has wonimmortality by the brilliance of its rhetoric, its unsurpassedepigrams, its clear-cut summaries of character, its biting satire, andits outbursts of lofty political enthusiasm. These features stand outpre-eminent and atone for its astounding errors of taste, its strainedhyperbole, its foolish digression. Lucan fails to make his actors liveas they move through his pages; their actions and their speeches arealike theatrical; he has no dramatic power. But he can sum up theircharacters in burning lines that live through all time and have fewparallels in literature. And these pictures are in all essentialssurprisingly just and accurate. His affection for Pompey and thedemands of his plot presented strong temptations to exalt his characterat the expense of historical truth. Yet what can be more just than thefamous lines of the first book, where his character is set againstCaesar's? (129):

 vergentibus annis in senium longoque togae tranquillior usu dedidicit iam pace ducem: famaeque petitor multa dare in volgus; totus popularibus auris inpelli plausuque sui gaudere theatri; nec reparare novas vires, multumque priori credere fortunae, stat magni nominis umbra: qualis frugifero querens sublimis in agro exuvias veteres populi sacrataque gestans dona ducum: nec iam validis radicibus haerens pondere fixa suo est, nudosque per aera ramos effundens trunco non frondibus efficit umbram. 

 One aged grown Had long exchanged the corselet for the gown: In peace forgotten the commander's art, And learned to play the politician's part, -- To court the suffrage of the crowd, and hear In his own theatre the venal cheer; Idly he rested on his ancient fame, And was the shadow of a mighty name. Like the huge oak which towers above the fields Decked with ancestral spoils and votive shields. Its roots, once mighty, loosened by decay, Hold it no more: weight is its only stay; Its naked limbs bespeak its glories past, And by its trunk, not leaves, a shade is cast. PROF. GOLDWIN SMITH. 

Even the panegyric pronounced on him by Cato on hearing the news of hisdeath is as moderate as it is true and dignified (ix. 190):

 civis obit, inquit, multum maioribus inpar nosse modum iuris, sed in hoc tamen en utilis aevo, cui non ulla fuit iusti reverentia; salva libertate potens, et solus plebe parata privatus servire sibi, rectorque senatus, sed regnantis, erat. . . . Invasit ferrum, sed ponere, norat; praetulit arma togae, sed pacem armatus amavit: iuvit sumpta ducem iuvit dimissa potestas. 

 A man, he said, is gone, unequal far To our good sires in reverence for the law, Yet useful in an age that knew not right, One who could power with liberty unite, Uncrowned 'mid willing subjects could remain, The Senate rule, yet let the Senate reign. * * * * * He drew the sword, but he could sheathe it too, War was his trade, yet he to peace inclined, Gladly command accepted-and resigned. --PROF. GOLDWIN SMITH. 

Elsewhere he is as one of the 'strengthless dead', here he lives. Elsewhere he may be invested with the pathos that must cling to theshadow of a mighty name, but he is too weak and ineffective to beinteresting. His wavering policy in his last campaign is undulyemphasized. [277] When he is face to face with Caesar at Pharsalus andexhorts his men, he can but boast, he cannot inspire. [278] When thebattle turns against him he bids his men cease from the fight, andhimself flies, that he may not involve them in his own disaster. [279] Noless convincing portrait could be drawn. The material was unpromising, but Lucan emphasizes all his weaknesses and wholly fails to bring outhis nobler elements. He is unworthy of the line

 nec cinis exiguus tantam compescuit umbram. 

So, too, in a lesser degree with Caesar. For a moment in the first bookhe flashes upon us in his full splendour (143):

 sed non in Caesare tantum nomen erat nec fama ducis: sed nescia virtus stare loco, solusque pudor non vincere bello. Acer et indomitus, quo spes quoque ira vocasset. Ferre manum et numquam temerando parcere ferro, successus urgere suos, instare fauori numinis, inpellens quidquid sibi summa petenti obstaret, gaudensque viam fecisse ruina. 

 Not such the talisman of Caesar's name, But Caesar had, in place of empty fame. The unresting soul, the resolution high That shuts out every thought but victory. Whate'er his goal, nor mercy nor dismay He owned, but drew the sword and cleft his way: Pressed each advantage that his fortune gave; Constrained the stars to combat for the brave; Swept from his path whate'er his rise delayed, And marched triumphant through the wreck he made. PROF. GOLDWIN SMITH. 

Here at any rate is Caesar the general: in such a poem there is no roomfor Caesar the statesman. But from this point onward we see no trueCaesar. Henceforward, save for a few brief moments, he is a figure forthe melodramatic stage alone, a 'brigand chief', a master hypocrite, thefavourite of fortune. And yet, for all his unreality, Lucan has endowedhim with such impetuous vigour and such a plenitude of power that hedwarfs the other puppets that throng his pages even more, if possible, than in real life he overtopped his contemporaries. 

Cato, the third great figure of the _Pharsalia_, was easier to draw. Unconsciously stagey in life, he is little stagier in Lucan. And yet, in spite of his absurdity, he has a nobility and a sincerity of purposewhich is without parallel in that corrupt age. He was the hero of theStoic republicans[280] of the early principate, the man of principle, stern and unbending. He requires no fine touches of light and shade, for he is the perfect Stoic. But from the very rigidity of hisprinciples he was no statesman and never played more than a secondarypart in politics. 

Lucan's task is to exalt him from the second rank to the first. But itis no easy undertaking, since it was not till after the disaster ofPharsalus that he played any conspicuous part in the Civil War. He firstappears as warrant for the justice of the republican cause (i. 128). Wenext see him as the hope of all true patriots at Rome (ii. 238). Pompeyhas fled southward. Cato alone remains the representative of all that isnoblest and best in Rome. He has no illusions as to Pompey's character. He is not the leader he would choose for so sacred a cause; but betweenPompey and Caesar there can be no wavering. He follows Pompey. Not tillthe ninth book does he reappear in the action. Pompey is fallen, and allturn to Cato as their leader. The cause is lost, and Cato knows it well;but he obeys the call of duty and undertakes the hopeless enterpriseundismayed. He is a stern leader, but he shares his men's hardships tothe full, and fortifies them by his example. He is in every action whatthe real Cato only was at Utica. On him above all others Lucan haslavished all his powers; and he has succeeded in creating a character ofsuch real moral grandeur that, in spite of its hardness and austerity, it almost succeeds in winning our affection (ii. 380):

 hi mores, haec duri inmota Catonis secta fuit, servare modum finesque tenere naturamque sequi patriaeque inpendere vitam nec sibi sed toti genitum se credere mundo. 

 'Twas his rule Inflexible to keep the middle path Marked out and bounded; to observe the laws Of natural right; and for his country's sake To risk his life, his all, as not for self Brought into being, but for all the world. SIR E. RIDLEY. 

Here is a man indeed worthy to be the hero of a republican epic, didhistory permit it. Our chief reason--at moments there is a temptation tosay 'our only reason'--for regretting the incompletion of the_Pharsalia_ is that Lucan did not live to describe Cato's death. _There_was a subject which was worthy of his pen and would have been a labourof love. With what splendour of rhetoric he might have invested it canonly be conjectured from the magnificent passage where Cato refuses toinquire into his fate at Ammon's oracle (ix. 566):

 quid quaeri, Labiene, iubes? an liber in armis occubuisse velim potius quam regna videre? an sit vita nihil, sed longa? an differat aetas? an noceat vis ulla bono, fortunaque perdat opposita virtute minas, laudandaque velle sit satis, et numquam successu crescat honestum? scimus, et hoc nobis non altius inseret Hammon. Haeremus cuncti superis, temploque tacente nil facimus non sponte dei; nec vocibus ultis numen eget, dixitque semel nascentibus auctor quidquid scire licet, steriles nec legit harenas, ut caneret paucis, mersitque hoc pulvere verum. Estque dei sedes, nisi terra et pontus et aer et caelum et virtus? superos quid quaerimus ultra? Iuppiter est quodcumque vides quodcumque moveris. Sortilegis egeant dubii semperque futuris casibus ancipites; me non oracula certum, sed mors certa facit. Pavido fortique cadendum est; hoc satis est dixisse Iouem. 

 What should I ask? Whether to live a slave Is better, or to fill a soldier's grave? What life is worth drawn to its utmost span, And whether length of days brings bliss to man? Whether tyrannic force can hurt the good, Or the brave heart need quail at Fortune's mood? Whether the pure intent makes righteousness, Or virtue needs the warrant of success? All this I know: not Ammon can impart Force to the truth engraven on my heart. All men alike, though voiceless be the shrine, Abide in God and act by will divine. No revelation Deity requires, But at our birth, all men may know, inspires. Nor is truth buried in this desert sand And doled to few, but speaks in every land. What temple but the earth, the sea, the sky, And heaven and virtuous hearts, hath deity? As far as eye can range or feet can rove Jove is in all things, all things are in Jove. Let wavering souls to oracles attend, The brave man's course is clear, since sure his end. The valiant and the coward both must fall This when Jove tells me, he has told me all. PROF. GOLDWIN SMITH. 

One Cato will not lend life to an epic, and history, to the great lossof art, forbids him to play a sufficiently important role. It isunnecessary to comment on the lesser personages of the epic; if theleading characters lack life, the minor characters lack individuality aswell. [281] Lucan has nothing of the dramatic vitalising power that is sonecessary for epic. 

He is equally defective in narrative power. He can give us brilliantpictures as in the lines describing the vision of Caesar at theRubicon[282] or Pompey's last sight of Italy. [283] But such passages arefew and far between. Of longer passages there are not perhaps more thanthree in the whole work where we get any sustained beauty ofnarrative-the parting of Pompey and his wife, [284] Pompey's dream beforePharsalus, [285] and a description of a Druid grove in SouthernGaul. [286] The first of these is noticeable as being one of the fewoccasions on which Lucan shows any command of simple pathos unmarred bytricks of tawdry rhetoric. The whole episode is admirably treated. Thespeeches of both husband and wife are commendably and unusually simpleand direct, but the climax comes after Cornelia's speech, where the poetdescribes the moment before they part. With the simplest words and themost severe economy of diction, he produces an effect such as Vergilrarely surpassed, and such as was never excelled or equalled again inthe poetry of Southern Europe till Dante told the story of Paolo andFrancesca (v. 790):

 sic fata relictis exsiluit stratis amens tormentaque nulla vult differre mora. Non maesti pectora Magni sustinet amplexu dulci, non colla tenere, extremusque perit tam longi fructus amoris, praecipitantque sues luctus, neuterque recedens sustinuit dixisse 'vale', vitamque per omnem nulla fuit tarn maesta dies; nam cetera damna durata iam mente malis firmaque tulerunt. 

 So spake she, and leaped frenzied from the couch, loth to put off the pangs of parting by the least delay. She cannot bear to cast her arms about sad Magnus' bosom, or clasp his neck in a last sweet embrace; and thus the last delight, such long love as theirs might know, is cast away: they hasten their own agony; neither as they parted had the heart to say farewell; and while they lived they knew no sadder day than this. All other losses they bore with hearts hardened and steeled by misery. 

It is faulty and monotonous in rhythm, but one would gladly have morefrom Lucan of the same poetic quality, even at the expense of the sameblemishes. The dream of Pompey is scarcely inferior (vii. 7):

 at nox, felicis Magno pars ultima vitae, sollicitos vana decepit imagine somnos. Nam Pompeiani visus sibi sede theatri innumeram effigiem Romanae cernere plebis attollique suum laetis ad sidera nomen vocibus et plausu cuneos certare sonantes; qualis erat populi facies clamorque faventis, olim cum iuvenis primique aetate triumphi * * * * * sedit adhuc Romanus eques; seu fine bonorum anxia venturis ad tempera laeta refugit, sive per ambages solitas contraria visis vaticinata quies magni tulit omina planctus. Seu vetito patrias ultra tibi cernere sedes sic Romam fortuna dedit. Ne rumpite somnos, castrorum vigiles, nullas tuba verberet aures. Crastina dira quies et imagine maesta diurna undique funestas acies feret, undique bellum. 

 But night, the last glad hours that Magnus' life should know, beguiled his anxious slumbers with vain images of joy. He seemed to sit in the theatre himself had built, and to behold the semblance of the countless Roman multitude, and hear his name uplifted to the stars by joyous voices, and all the roaring benches vying in their applause. Even so he saw the people and heard their cheers in the days of old, when still a youth, in the hour of his first triumph . . . He sat no more as yet than a knight of Rome; whether it was that at thy fortune's close thy sleep, tormented with the fears of what should be, fled back to happier days, or riddling as 'tis wont, foretold the contrary of thy dreams and brought thee omens of mighty woe; or whether, since ne'er again thou mightest see thy father's home, thus even in dreams fortune gave it to thy sight. Break not his slumbers, guardians of the camp; let not the trumpet strike his ears at all. Dread shall to-morrow's slumbers be, and, haunted by the sad image of the disastrous day, shall bring before his eyes naught save war and armies doomed to die. 

The scene is well and naturally conceived; there is no rant or falsepathos; it is an oasis in a book which, though in many ways the finestin the _Pharsalia_, yet owes its impressiveness to a rhetoric which, for all its brilliance and power, will not always bear more thansuperficial examination. The last passage, with its description of theDruid's grove near Massilia, [287] is on a different plane. It givesless scope to the higher poetical imagination; it describes a scenesuch as the Silver Age delighted in, [288] a dark wood, whereto thesunlight scarce can penetrate; altars stand there stained with darkrites of human sacrifice; no bird or beast will approach it; no windever stirs its leaves; if they rustle, it is with a strange mysteriousrustling all their own: there are dark pools and ancient trees, theirtrunks encircled by coiling snakes; strange sounds and sights arethere, and when the sun rides high at noon, not even the priest willapproach the sanctuary for fear lest unawares he come upon his lord andmaster. While similar descriptions may be found in other poets of theage, there is a strength and simplicity about this passage that rivetsthe attention, whereas others leave us cold and indifferent. But Lucandoes not always exercise such restraint, and such passages are as rareas they are welcome. The reason for this is obvious: the narrative mustnecessarily consist in the main of military movements. In the words ofPetronius, [289] that is better done by the historians. The adventureson the march are not likely as a rule to be peculiarly interesting;there are no heroic single combats to vary and glorify the fighting. Conscious of this inevitable difficulty, and with all the rhetorician'smorbid fear of being commonplace, Lucan betakes himself to desperateremedies, hyperbole and padding. If he describes a battle, he mustinvent new and incredible horrors to enthral us; his sea-fight atMassilia is a notable instance;[290] death ceases to inspire horror andbecomes grotesque. If a storm arises he must outdo all earlier epicstorms. Vergil had attempted to outdo the storms of the Odyssey. Lucanmust outdo Vergil. Consequently, in the storm that besets Caesar on hislegendary voyage to Italy in the fisherman's boat[291] that 'carriedCaesar and his fortunes', strange things happen. The boat rockshelplessly in mid-sea--

 Its sails in clouds, its keel upon the ground, For all the sea was piled into the waves And drawn from depths between laid bare the sand. [292]

In the same tempest--

 The sea had risen to the clouds In mighty mass, had not Olympus' chief Pressed down its waves with clouds, [293]

If he is concerned with a march through the African desert, he mustintroduce the reader to a whole host of apocryphal serpents, withdetails as to the nature of their bites. [294] So terrible are thesereptiles that it is a positive relief to the army to enter the region oflions. [295] Before such specimens as this the hyperbole of Seneca seemstame and insignificant. 

The introduction of irrelevant episodes would be less reprehensible wereit not that such episodes are for the most part either dull or a freshexcuse for bombast or (worse still) a display of erudition. [296] Hedevotes no less than 170 lines in the first book to a description of theprodigies that took place at Rome on the outbreak of the Civil War, andof the rites performed to avert their omens. [297]

In the next book a hundred and sixty-six lines are given to a luridpicture of the Marian and Sullan proscriptions, [298] and forty-six to acompressed geography of Italy. [299] In the fifth book we are given thetedious story of how a certain obscure Appius consulted the Delphianoracle[300] and how he fared, merely, we suspect, that Lucan may have anopportunity for depicting the frenzies of the Pythian prophetess. Similarly, at the close of the sixth book, Pompey's son consults anecromancer as to the result of the war. [301] The scene is describedwith not a little skill and ingenuity, but it has little _raison d'etre_save the gratification of the taste for witchcraft which Lucan sharedwith his audience and his fellow poets. 

Apart from these weaknesses of method and execution, Lucan's style isunsuited to epic whether historical or legendary. He has not sufficientcommand of a definitely poetical vocabulary to enable him to captivatethe reader by pure sensuous charm. He is, as Quintilian says, 'magisoratoribus quam poetis imitandus. ' He cannot shake himself free from theinfluence of his rhetorical training. It is a severe condemnation of anepic poet to deny him, as we have denied, the gifts of narrative anddramatic power. Yet much of Lucan is more than readable, to some it iseven fascinating. He has other methods of meeting the difficultiespresented by historical epic. The work is full of speeches, moralising, and apostrophes. He will not let the story tell itself; he is alwaysharping on its moral and political significance. As a result, we getlong passages that belong to the region of elevated political satire. They are not epic, but they are often magnificent. It is in them thatLucan's political feeling appears at its truest and strongest. [302] Theactual fortunes of the republican armies, as recounted by Lucan, mustfail to rouse the emotions of the most ardent anti-Caesarian, and it isdoubtful whether they would have responded to more skilful treatment. But in the apostrophes grief and indignation can find a voice and stirthe heart. They may reveal a monstrous lack of the sense of historicalproportion. To attribute the depopulation of the rural districts ofItaly to the slaughter at Pharsalus is absurd. That Lucan does this isundeniable, but his words have a deeper significance. It was atPharsalus, above all other battles, that the republic fell to ruin, andthe poet is justified in making it the symbol of that fall. [303] Andeven where the sentiment is at bottom false, there is such animpetuosity and vigour in the lines, and such a depth of scorn in eachepigram, that the reader is swept off his balance and convinced againsthis will. We hardly pause to think whether Pharsalus, or even the wholeseries of civil wars, really prevented the frontiers of Rome beingconterminous with the limits of the inhabited globe, when we read suchlines as (vii. 419)--

 quo latius orbem possedit, citius per prospera fata cucurrit. Omne tibi bellum gentes dedit omnibus annis: te geminum Titan procedere vidit in axem; haud multum terrae spatium restabat Eoae, ut tibi nox, tibi tota dies, tibi curreret aether, omniaque errantes stellae Romana viderent. Sed retro tua fata tulit par omnibus annis Emathiae funesta dies, hac luce cruenta effectum, ut Latios non horreat India fasces, nec vetitos errare Dahas in moenia ducat Sarmaticumque premat succinctus consul aratrum, quod semper saevas debet tibi Parthia poenas, quod fugiens civile nefas redituraque numquam libertas ultra Tigrim Rhenumque recessit ac totiens nobis iugulo quaesita vagatur, Germanum Scythicumque bonum, nec respicit ultra Ausoniam. 

 The wider she lorded it o'er the world, the swifter did she run through her fair fortunes. Each war, each year, gave thee new peoples to rule thee did the sun behold advancing towards either pole; little remained to conquer of the Eastern world; so that for thee, and thee alone, night and day and heaven should revolve, and the planets gaze on naught that was not Rome's. But Emathia's fatal day, a match for all the bygone years, has swept thy destiny backward. This day of slaughter was the cause that India trembles not before the lictor-rods of Rome, and that no consul, with toga girded high, leads the Dahae within some city's wall, forbidden to wander more, and in Sarmatia drives the founder's plough. This day was the cause that Parthia still owes thee a fierce revenge, that freedom flying from the crimes of citizens has withdrawn behind Tigris and the Rhine, ne'er to return, and, sought so oft by us with our life's blood, wanders the prize of German and of Scyth, and hath no further care for Ausonia. 

But this famous apostrophe closes on a truer note with six lines ofunsurpassed satire (454)--

 mortalia nulli sunt curata deo. Cladis tamen huius habemus vindictam, quantam terris dare numina fas est: bella pares superis facient civilia divos; fulminibus manes radiisque ornabit et astris, inque deum templis iurabit Roma per umbras. 

 No god has a thought for the doings of mortal men: yet for this overthrow this vengeance is ours, so far as gods may give satisfaction to the earth: civil wars shall raise dead Caesars to the level of the gods above; and Rome shall deck the spirits of the dead with rays and thunderbolts and stars, and in the temples of the gods shall swear by the name of shades. 

Noblest of all are the lines that close another apostrophe on the samesubject a little later in the same book (638)--

 maius ab hac acie quam quod sua saecula ferrent volnus habent populi; plus est quam vita salusque quod perit; in totum mundi prosternimur aevum, vincitur his gladiis omnis quae serviet aetas. Proxima quid suboles aut quid meruere nepotes in regnum nasci? pavide num gessimus arma teximus aut iugulos? alieni poena timoris in nostra cervice sedet. Post proelia natis si dominum, Fortuna, dabas, et bella dedisses. 

 A deeper wound than their own age might bear was dealt the peoples of this earth in this battle: 'tis more than life and safety that is lost: for all future ages of the world are we laid low: these swords have vanquished generations yet unborn, and doomed them to eternal slavery. What had the sons and grandsons of those who fought that day deserved that they should be born into slavery? Did we bear our arms like cowards, or screen our throats from death? Upon our necks is riveted the doom that we should live in fear of another. Nay, Fortune, since thou gavest a tyrant to those born since the war, thou shouldst have given them also the chance to fight for freedom. 

These are the finest of not a few[304] remarkable expressions of Lucan'shatred for the growing autocracy of the principate: it is noteworthythat almost all occur in the last seven books. They can hardly beregarded as mere abstract meditations; they have a force and bitternesswhich justify us in regarding them as evidence of his changed attitudetowards Nero. The first three books were published while he yet baskedin the sunshine of court favours. Then came the breach between himselfand Nero. His wounded vanity assisted his principles to come to thesurface. [305]

The speeches, with very few exceptions, [306] scarcely rank with theapostrophes. Like the speeches in the plays of Seneca, they are littlemore than glorified _suasoriae_. They are, for the most part, suchspeeches as--after making the most liberal allowance for rhetoricallicence--no human being outside a school of rhetoric could have uttered. Caesar's soldiery would have stared aghast had they been addressed bytheir general in such language as Lucan makes him use to inspire themwith courage before Pharsalus. They would have understood little, andcared less, had Caesar said (vii. 274)--

 civilia paucae bella manus facient; pugnae pars magna levabit his orbem populis Romanumque obteret hostem;

 Not in civil strife Your blows shall fall--the battle of to-day Sweeps from the earth the enemies of Rome. SIR E. RIDLEY. 

or (279)--

 sitque palam, quas tot duxit Pompeius in urbem curribus, unius gentes non esse triumphi. 

 Make plain to all men that the crowds who decked Pompeius' hundred pageants scarce were fit For one poor triumph. SIR E. RIDLEY. 

They would have laughed at exaggerations such as (287)--

 cuius non militis ensem agnoscam? caelumque tremens cum lancea transit, dicere non fallar quo sit vibrata lacerto. 

 Of each of you shall strike, I know the hand: The javelin's flight to me betrays the arm That launched it hurtling. SIR E. RIDLEY. 

And yet beneath all this fustian there is much that stirs the blood. Lines such as (261)--

 si pro me patriam ferro flammisque petistis, nunc pugnate truces gladiosque exsolvite culpa. Nulla manus belli mutato iudice pura est. Non mihi res agitur, sed vos ut libera sitis turba precor, gentes ut ius habeatis in omnes. Ipse ego privatae cupidus me reddere vitae plebeiaque toga modicum compomere civem, omnia dum vobis liceant, nihil esse recuso. Invidia regnate mea;

 If for my sake you sought your fatherland with fire and sword, fight fierce to-day, and by victory clear your swords from guilt. No hand is guiltless judged by a new arbiter of war. The struggle of to-day does naught for me; but for you, so runs my prayer, it shall bring freedom and dominion o'er the world. Myself, I long to return to private life, and, even though my garb were that of the common people, to be a peaceful citizen once more. So be it all be made lawful for you, there is naught I would refuse to be: for me the hatred, so be yours the power. 

or (290)--

 quod si signa ducem numquam fallentia vestrum conspicio faciesque truces oculosque minaces, vicistis, Nay, if I behold those signs that ne'er deceived your leader, fierce faces and threatening eyes, you are already conquerors. 

though they are not the words of the historical Caesar, have a stirringsincerity and force. But the speeches fail because all speak the sameartificial language. A mutineer can say of Caesar (v. 289)--

 Rheni mihi Caesar in undis dux erat, hic socius. Facinus quos inquinat aequat;

 Caesar was my leader by the waves of Rhine, here he is my comrade. The stain of crime makes all men equal. 

or threaten with the words (292)--

 quidquid gerimus fortuna vocatur. Nos fatum sciat esse suum. 

 As fortune's gift He takes the victory which our arms have won: But _we_ his fortunes are, his fates are ours To fashion as we will. SIR E. RIDLEY. 

The lines are brilliant and worthy of life: in their immediate contextthey are ridiculous. Epigrams have their value, however, even when theysuit their context ill, and neither Juvenal nor Tacitus has surpassedLucan in this respect, or been more often quoted. He is, saysQuintilian, _sententiis clarissimus_. Nothing can surpass (iv. 519)--

 victurosque dei celant, ut vivere durent, felix esse mori. 

 And the gods conceal from those who are doomed to live how happy it is to die. Thus only may they endure to live. 

or (viii. 631-2)--

 mutantur prospera vitae, non fit morte miser;

 Life may bring defeat, But death no misery. SIR E. RIDLEY. 

or (i. 32)--

 alta sedent civilis volnera dextrae;

 Deep lie the wounds that civil war hath made. 

or (ix. 211)--

 scire mori sors prima viris, sed proxima cogi. 

 Best gift of all The knowledge how to die: next, death compelled. SIR E. RIDLEY. 

Lines such as (i. 281)--

 semper nocuit differre paratis, To pause when ready is to court defeat. SIR E. RIDLEY. 

or (v. 260)--

 quidquid multis peccatur, inultum est

 The crime is free where thousands bear the guilt. SIR E. RIDLEY. 

are commonplace enough in thought but perfect in expression. Of adifferent character, but equally noteworthy, are sayings such as iv. 819--

 momentumque fuit mutatus Curio rerum;

 The change of Curio turned the scale of history. 

or (iv. 185)--

 usque adeone times, quem tu facis ipse timendum?

 Dost fear him so Who takes his title to be feared from thee? SIR E. RIDLEY, _slightly altered. _

Lucan's gift for epigram is further enhanced by the nature of his metre. Ponderous in the extreme, it is ill-suited for epic, though in isolatedlines its very weight gives added force. But he had a poor ear forrhythm: his hexameter is monotonous as the iambics of Seneca. There is awant of variety in pauses; he will not accommodate his rhythm tocircumstances; line follows line with but the slightest rhythmicalvariation, and there is far too[307] sparing a use of elision. Thisfailing is in part due to his desire to steer clear of the influence ofVergil and strike out on a line of his own. Faint echoes of Vergil, itis true, occur frequently throughout the poem, but to the untrained eyeLucan is emphatically un-Vergilian. His affinity to Ovid is greater. Both are rhetorical, and Lucan is indebted to Ovid for much mythologicaldetail. And it is probable that he owes his smoothness and monotony ofmetre largely to the influence of the _Metamorphoses_. His ponderosityis all his own. [308]

Lucan is the child of his age, but he is almost an isolated figure inliterature. He has almost every conceivable defect in every conceivabledegree, from the smallest detail to the general conception of his poem. And yet he triumphs over himself. It is a hateful task to read the_Pharsalia_ from cover to cover, and yet when it is done and the lapseof time has allowed the feeling of immediate repulsion to evaporate, thereader can still feel that Lucan is a great writer. The absurdities slipfrom the memory, the dreariness of the narrative is forgotten, and thegreat passages of lofty rhetoric, with their pungent epigram and theirhigh political enthusiasm, remain deeply engraven on the mind. It isthey that have given Lucan the immortality which he promised himself. The _Pharsalia_ is dead, but Lucan lives. 

It is useless to conjecture what might have been the fate of suchremarkable gifts in a less corrupt age. This much, however, may be said, Lucan never had a fair chance. The circle in which he moved, theeducation which he received, suffered only his rhetorical talent todevelop, and to this were sacrificed all his other gifts, his clearnessof vision, his sense of proportion, his poetical imagination. He wasspoilt by admiration and his own facility. Moreover, Seneca was hisuncle: a comparison shows how profoundly the elder poet influenced theyounger. There is the same self-conscious arrogance begotten ofStoicism, the same brilliance of wit and absence of humour. Theirdefects and merits alike reveal them as kindred, though Lucan standsworlds apart as a poet from Seneca, the ranting tragedian. He was buttwenty-five when he died. Age might have brought a maturity and dignityof spirit which would have made rhetoric his servant and not his master, and refined away the baser alloys of his character. Even as it was heleft much that, without being pure gold, yet possessed many elements andmuch of the brilliance of the true metal. Dante's judgement was truewhen he set him among the little company of true poets, of which Dantehimself was proud to be made one. 

CHAPTER V

PETRONIUS

The most curious and in some respects the most remarkable work that theSilver Age has bequeathed to us is a fragment of a novel, the_Satyricon_ of Petronius Arbiter, Its author is generally identifiedwith Titus Petronius, the friend and victim of Nero. Tacitus hasdescribed him in a passage, remarkable even among Tacitean portraits forits extraordinary brilliance. 'His days he passed in sleep, his nightsin the business and pleasures of life. Indolence had raised him to fame, as energy raises others, and he was reckoned not a debauchee andspendthrift, like most of those who squander their substance, but a manof refined luxury. And indeed his talk and his doings, the freer theywere, and the more show of carelessness they exhibited, were the betterliked for their look of a natural simplicity. Yet as proconsul ofBithynia and soon afterwards as consul, he showed himself a man ofvigour and equal to business. Then, falling back into vice or affectingvice, he was chosen by Nero to be one of his few intimate associates, asa critic in matters of taste (_elegantiae arbiter_). The emperor thoughtnothing charming or elegant in luxury unless Petronius had expressed hisapproval. Hence jealousy on the part of Tigellinus, who looked on him asa rival, and even his superior, in the science of pleasure. And so heworked on the prince's cruelty, which dominated every other passion:charging Petronius with having been the friend of Scaevinus, bribing aslave to turn informer, robbing him of the means of defence, andhurrying into prison the greater part of his domestics. It happened atthe time that the emperor was on his way to Campania, and thatPetronius, after going as far as Cumae, was there detained. He bore nolonger the suspense of fear or of hope. Yet he did not fling away lifewith precipitate haste, but having made an incision in his veins andthen according to his humour bound them up, he again opened them, whilehe conversed with his friends, not in a serious strain or on topics thatmight win him the glory of courage. He listened to them as theyrepeated, not thoughts on the immortality of the soul or on the theoriesof philosophers, but light poetry and playful verses. To some of hisslaves he gave liberal presents, to others a flogging. He dined, indulged himself in sleep, that death, even though forced, might have anatural appearance. Even in his will he did not, as did many in theirlast moments, flatter Nero or Tigellinus, or any other of the men inpower. On the contrary, he described fully the prince's shamefulexcesses, with the names of his male and female companions and theirnovelties in debauchery, and sent the account under seal to Nero. Thenhe broke his signet-ring, that it might not be available to bring othersinto peril. '[309]

There is nothing definitely to bring this ingenious and brilliantdebauchee into connexion with the Petronius Arbiter of the _Satyricon_. But the character of Titus Petronius is exactly in keeping with the toneof the novel; the novelist's cognomen Arbiter, though in itself by nomeans extraordinary, may well have sprung from or given rise to thetitle _elegantiae arbiter_; and finally the few indications of date inthe novel all point to a period not far from the reign of Nero. There isthe criticism of Lucan, [310] which certainly loses point if not writtenduring Lucan's lifetime; there is the criticism of the rhetoricaltraining of the day, [311] which finds a remarkable echo in the criticismof Vipstanus Messala in the _Dialogus_ of Tacitus, a work which, whatever the date of its actual composition, certainly refers to aperiod less than ten years after the death of T. Petronius; there is thestyle of the work itself; wherever the writer abandons the colloquialLatin, in which so much of the work is written, we find a finisheddiction, whether in prose or verse, which no unprejudiced judge couldplace later than the accession of Trajan, and which has nothing in it toprevent its attribution to the reign of Nero. In that reign there is butone Petronius to whom we can assign the _Satyricon_, the Petroniusimmortalized by Tacitus. [312]

Of the work as a whole this is no place to speak. The fragments whichsurvive are in the main in prose. But the work is modelled on theMenippean satires of Varro, and belongs to the same class of writing asthe _Apocolocyntosis_ of Seneca. In the form of a loosely-strung andrambling novel we have a satirical commentary on human life; the satireis cynical and pungent, rather than mordant, makes no pretence oflogic, and proceeds not from a moral sense but from a sense of humour. Wild and indecent as Petronius' laughter often is, it springs from onewho is a real artist, possessing a sense of proportion as well as thesense of contrast that is the source and fount of humour. This is moststrongly evident in that portion of his satire which concerns us here, inasmuch as it is directed against contemporary literary tendencies. Wemust beware of fastening on the words of the characters in the novel asnecessarily expressing the thoughts of its author. But it is noteworthythat all his literary criticism points in the same direction; it isabove all conservative. Through the mouths of Encolpius, the dissolutehero of the story, and the rhetorician Agamemnon[313] he denounces theflamboyant rhetoric of the day, its remoteness from reality, the lackof sanity and industry on the part both of pupil and instructor. 'Asboys they pass their time at school at what is no better than play, asyouths they make themselves ridiculous in the forum, and, worst of all, when they grow old they refuse to acknowledge the faults acquired bytheir education. ' Study is necessary, and above all the study of goodmodels. Sophocles, Euripides, Pindar, the great lyricists, Plato, Demosthenes, Thucydides, Hyperides, all the great classics, these arethe true models for the young orator. Agamemnon cannot restrain himselfand even bursts into verse in the course of this disquisition on thedecadence of oratory:

 artis severae si quis ambit effectus mentemque magnis applicat, prius mores frugalitatis lege poliat exacta. Nec curet alto regiam trucem vultu cliensve cenas impotentium captet nec perditis addictus obruat vino mentis calorem, neve plausor in scaenam sedeat redemptus histrionis ad rictus. Sed sive armigerae rident Tritonidis arces, seu Lacedaemonio tellus habitata colono Sirenumve domus, det primos versibus annos Maeoniumque bibat felici pectore fontem. Mox et Socratico plenus grege mittat habenas liber et ingentis quatiat Demosthenis arma. Hinc Romana manus circumfluat et modo Graio exonerata sono mutet suffusa saporem. Interdum subducta foro det pagina cursum et cortina[314] sonet celeri distincta meatu; dein[315] epulas et bella truci memorata canore grandiaque indomiti Ciceronis verba minetur. His animum succinge bonis: sic flumine largo plenus Pierio defundes pectore verba. 

 If any man court success in the lofty art of letters and apply his mind to great things, he must first perfect his character by simplicity's stern law; he must care naught for the haughty frown of the fierce tyrant that lords it in his palace, nor seek client-like for invitations to the board of the profligate, nor deliver himself over to the company of debauchees and drown the fire of his understanding in wine, nor sit in the theatre the hired applauder of the mouthing actor. But whether the citadel of panoplied Minerva allure him with its smile, or the land where the Spartan exile came to dwell, or the Sirens' home, let him devote his early years to poesy, and let his spirit drink in with happy omen a draught from the Maeonian fount. Thereafter, when his soul is full of the lore of the Socratic school, let him give himself free rein and brandish the weapons of great Demosthenes. Next let the band of Roman authors throng him round, and, but newly freed from the music of Greece, suffuse his soul and change its tone. Meanwhile, let his pen run its course withdrawn from the forum, and let Apollo's tripod send forth a voice rhythmic and swift: next let him roll forth in lordly speech the tale of heroes' feasting and wars, set forth in fierce strain and lofty language, such as fell from the lips of dauntless Cicero. Prepare thy soul for joys such as these; and, steeped in the plenteous stream of letters, thou shalt give utterance to the thoughts of thy Pierian soul. 

This is not inspired poetry; but its advice is sound, and its point ofview just. Nor is this criticism a mere _jeu d'esprit_; it is hard toresist the conclusion that the author is putting his own views into themouths of his more than shady characters. For, _mutatis mutandis_, thesame attitude towards literary art is revealed in the utterances of thepoet Eumolpus. [316] It is a curious fact that while none of thecharacters in Petronius are to be taken seriously, their speech at timessoars from the reeking atmosphere of the brothel and the clamour of thestreets to clearer and loftier regions of thought, if not of action. Thefirst appearance of Eumolpus is conceived in a broadly comic vein. 'While I was thus engaged a grey-haired old man entered the picturegallery. He had a troubled countenance, which seemed to promise somemomentous utterance. His dress was lamentable, and showed that he wasclearly one of those literary gentlemen so unpopular with the rich. Hetook his stand by my side. "I am a poet, " he said, "and no mean one, ifany trust is to be placed in wreaths of honour, which are so oftenbestowed even on those who least deserve them. " "Why, then, are you soill-clad?" I asked. "Just for that very reason. Devotion to art neverbrought any one wealth"--

 qui pelago credit magno se faenore tollit; qui pugnas et castra petit, praecingitur auro; vilis adulator picto iacet ebrius ostro, et qui sollicitat nuptas, ad praemia peccat: sola pruinosis horret facundia pannis atque inopi lingua desertas invocat artes. [317]

 He who entrusts his fortunes to the sea, wins a mighty harvest; he who seeks the camp and the field of war, may gird him with gold: the vile flatterer lies drunken on embroidered purple; the gallant who courts the favours of wedded wives, wins wealth by his sin: eloquence alone shivers in frosty rags and invokes the neglected arts with pauper tongue. 

'There's no doubt as to the truth of it. If a man has a detestation ofvice and chooses the paths of virtue, he is hated on the ground that hismorals are eccentric. No one approves of ways of life other than hisown. Then there are those whose sole care is the acquisition of wealth;they are unwilling that anything should be thought to be a superior goodto that which they themselves possess. And so they persecute lovers ofliterature with all their might. ' This _vitiorum omnium inimicus_ thenproceeds to tell a story which casts a startling light upon his'eccentric morality'. Its undoubted humour can hardly be said to redeemits amazing grossness. He has scarcely finished the narration of his ownshame when he is back again in another world--the world of letters. Helaments the decay of art and philosophy. 'The passion for money-makinghas brought ruin in its train. While virtue went bare and was a welcomeguest, the noble arts flourished, and men vied with one another in theeffort to discover anything that might be of service to mankind. ' Hequotes the examples of Democritus, Eudoxus, Chrysippus in the world ofscience, of Myron in art. 'We have given ourselves up to wine and women, and take no pains to become acquainted even with the arts alreadydiscovered. We traduce antiquity by teaching and learning its vicesonly. Where is dialectic? Where is astronomy? Where is philosophy?' Hesees that Encolpius is not listening, but is absorbed in thecontemplation of a picture representing the sack of Troy, and seizes theopportunity of reciting a poem of his own upon the subject. The linesare for the most part neither original nor striking; they form a kind ofabstract in iambics of the second Aeneid, from the appearance of Sinonto the emergence of the Greeks from the Trojan horse. But the work isfinished and elegant, [318] and the simile which describes the arrival ofthe serpents that were to slay Laocoon is not unworthy of a moresuccessful poet than Eumolpus is represented to have been:

 ecce alia monstra; celsa qua Tenedos mare dorso replevit, tumida consurgunt freta undaque resultat scissa tranquillo minans[319] qualis silenti nocte remorum sonus longe refertur, cum premunt classes mare pulsumque marmor abiete imposita gemit. Respicimus; angues orbibus geminis ferunt ad saxa fluctus, tumida quorum pectora rates ut altae lateribus spumas agunt. 

 Lo! a fresh portent; where the ridge of lofty Tenedos filled the sea, there breaks a swelling surge, and the broken waves rebound and threaten the calm: as when in the silent night the sound of oars is borne afar, when navies burden the main and the smitten deep groans beneath its freight of pine. We looked round: the waves bear towards the rocks two coiling snakes, whose swelling breasts, like tall ships, drive the water in foam along their sides. 

The picture is at once vivid and beautiful, and we feel almost regretfulat the fate which his recitation brought on the unhappy poet. 'Those whowere walking in the colonnade began to throw stones at Eumolpus as herecited. He recognized this method of applauding his wit, covered hishead with his cloak and fled from the temple. I was afraid that he woulddenounce me as a poet. And so I followed him till I came to thesea-shore and was out of range. "What do you mean, " I said, "byinflicting this disease of yours upon us? You have been less than twohours in my company, and you have more often spoken like a poet than aman. I'm not surprised that people throw stones at you. I'm going tofill my own pockets with stones, and the moment you begin to unburdenyourself, I'm going to break your head. " His face revealed a painfulemotion. "My good youth, " said he, "to-day is not the first occasion onwhich I have suffered this fate. Nay, I have never entered a theatre torecite, without attracting this kind of welcome. But as I don't want toquarrel with you, I will abstain from my daily food for the whole day. "'Eumolpus did not keep this promise; but the poem with which he broke itis of small importance and need not detain us. [320] It is a littledisquisition on the refinements of luxury now prevalent, and has but onenotable line--the last--

 quidquid quaeritur optimum videtur. 

 Whatever must be sought for, that seems best. 

But later he has another outbreak. Encolpius and his friends have beenshipwrecked near Croton. On their way to the town Eumolpus beguiles thetedium of the climb by the criticism of Lucan and the attempt to improveon the _Pharsalia_, which have been discussed in the chapter on Lucan. If neither his poetry nor his criticism as a whole are sound, they areat least meant seriously. Here, again, we have a plea for earnest study, and for the avoidance of mere tricks of rhetoric. As for the rhetoricianAgamemnon, so for Eumolpus, the great poets of the past are Homer andthe lyric poets; and nearer home are the 'Roman Vergil' and Horace. Ifthere was nothing else in this passage than the immortal phrase 'Horatiicuriosa felicitas', it would redeem it from the commonplace. Petroniusis a 'classicist'; the friend of Nero, he protests against theflamboyance of the age as typified in the rhetorical style of Seneca andLucan. If the work was written at the time when Seneca and Lucan firstfell from the Imperial favour, such criticism may well have found favourat court. If, with the brilliant whimsicality that characterizes all hiswork, Petronius has placed these utterances in the mouth of disreputableand broadly comic figures, that does not impair the value or sincerityof the criticism. Eumolpus' complaint of the decline of the arts and thebaneful effect of the struggle for wealth is no doubt primarily inspiredby the fact that he is poor and can find no patron nor praise for hisverse, but must put up with execrations and showers of stones. But thatdoes not affect the truth of much that he says, nor throw doubt upon thesincerity of Petronius himself. 

The same whimsicality is shown elsewhere in the course of the novel. It contains not a few poems which, detached from their context, arefull of grace and charm, though their application is often disgustingin the extreme. Such are the hexameters towards the close of the workin which Encolpius describes the scene of his unhappy love affair witha certain Circe:

 Idaeo quales fudit de vertice flores terra parens, cum se concesso iunxit amori Iuppiter et toto concepit pectore flammas: emicuere rosae violaeque et molle cyperon, albaque de viridi riserunt lilia prato: talis humus Venerem molles clamavit in herbas, candidiorque dies secreto favit amori (127);

 As the flowers poured forth by mother earth from Ida's peak, when she yielded to Jove's embrace and the god's soul was filled with passionate flame; the rose, the violet, and the soft iris flashed forth, and white lilies gleamed from the green meadow; so shone the earth when it called our love to rest upon the soft grass, and the day, brighter than its wont, smiled on our secret passion. 

 nobilis aestivas platanus diffuderat umbras et bacis redimita Daphne tremulaeque cupressus et circum tonsae trepidanti vertice pinus. Has inter ludebat aquis errantibus amnis spumeus et querulo vexabat rore lapillos. Dignus amore locus: testis silvestris aedon atque urbana Procne, quae circum gramina fusae ac molles violas cantu sua furta colebant (131). 

 A noble plane tree and the bay tree with its garland of berries, and the quivering cypress and the trim pine with its tremulous top, spread a sweet summer shade abroad. Amid them a foaming river sported with wandering waters and lashed the pebbles with its peevish spray. Meet was the place for love, with the woodland nightingale and the town-haunting swallow for witness, that, flitting all about the grass and the soft violets, told of their loves in song. 

The unpleasing nature of the context cannot obscure the fact that herewe have genuine poetry of great delicacy and beauty. [321]

Of the satirical epigrams contained in the novel little need be said. They are not in any way pointless or feeble, but they lack the ease andgrace, and, it may be added, the sting, of the best work of Martial. The themes are hackneyed and suffer from the absence of the personalnote. But it is at least refreshing to find that Petronius does notattempt, like Martial and others, to excuse his obscenity on the groundthat his actual life is chaste. He speaks out frankly. 'Why hide whatall men know?'

 quid me constricta spectatis fronte Catones damnatisque novae simplicitatis opus? sermonis puri non tristis gratia ridet, quodque facit populus, Candida lingua refert (132). 

 Why gaze at me, ye Catos, with frowning brow, and damn the fresh frankness of my work? my speech is Latin undefiled, and has grace unmarred by gloom, and my candid tongue tells of what all Rome's people do. 

A more interesting collection of poems, probably Petronian, remains tobe discussed. In addition to the numerous fragments of poetry includedin the surviving excerpts from the _Satyricon_, a considerable number ofepigrams, attributed with more or less certainty to Petronius, arepreserved in the fragments of the _Anthologia Latina_. [322] Immediatelyfollowing on the epigrams assigned to the authorship of Seneca, theCodex Vossianus Q. 86 gives sixteen epigrams, [323] each headed by theword _item_. Of these two are quoted by Fulgentius as the work ofPetronius. [324] There is, therefore, especially in view of the fact thatthey all bear a marked family resemblance to one another, a strongpresumption that all are by the author of the _Satyricon_. Further, there are eleven epigrams[325] published by Binet in his edition ofPetronius[326] from a MS. Originally in the cathedral library ofBeauvais, but now unfortunately lost. The first of the series is quotedby Fulgentius[327] as being by Petronius, and there is no reason fordoubting the accuracy of Binet or his MS. [328] as to the rest. Thesepoems are followed by eight more epigrams, [329] the first two of whichBinet attributes to Petronius on stylistic grounds, but without any MS. Authority. [330] Lastly, four epigrams are preserved by a third MS. (Cod. Voss. F. III) under the title _Petronii_[331]. Of these the first twoare found in the extant portions of the _Satyricon_. The evidence forthe Petronian authorship of these thirty-seven poems is not conclusive. Arguments based on resemblance or divergence in points of style aresomewhat precarious in the case of an author like Petronius, writingwith great variety of style on a variety of subjects. But there are somevery marked resemblances between certain of these poems and versessurviving in the excerpts from the Satyricon[332], and the evidence_against_ the Petronian authorship is of the slightest. A possibleexception may be made in the case of the last eight epigrams preservedby Binet, though even here Binet is just enough in pointing out theresemblance of the first two of these to what is admittedly the work ofPetronius. But with regard to the rest we shall run small risk inregarding them as selected from the lost books of the _Satyricon_. 

These poems are very varied in character and as a whole reach a higherpoetical level than most of those preserved in the existing fragments ofthe _Satyricon_. [1] The most notable features are simplicity andunaffected grace of diction coupled with a delicate appreciation of thebeauties of nature. There is nothing that is out of keeping with theclassicism on which we have insisted as a characteristic of Petronius, there is much that is worthy of the best writers of the Augustan age. The five lines in which he describes the coming of autumn have much incommon with the descriptions of nature already quoted from the_Satyricon_. The last line in particular has at once a conciseness and awealth of suggestion that is rare in any post-Ovidian poet:

 iam nunc algentes autumnus fecerat umbras atque hiemem tepidis spectabat Phoebus habenis, iam platanus iactare comas, iam coeperat uvas adnumerare suas defecto palmite vitis: ante oculos stabat, quidquid promiserat annus. [333]

 Now autumn had brought its cool shades, Phoebus' reins glowed less hot and he was looking winterward. The plane was beginning to shed her leaves, the vine to count its clusters, and its fresh shoots were withered. Before our eyes stood all the promise of the year. 

Equally charming and sincere in tone is the description of the delightsof the simple life:

 parvula securo tegitur mihi culmine sedes uvaque plena mero fecunda pendet ab ulmo. Dant rami cerasos, dant mala rubentia silvae Palladiumque nemus pingui se vertice frangit. Iam qua diductos potat levis area fontes, Corycium mihi surgit olus malvaeque supinae et non sollicitos missura papavera somnos. Praeterea sive alitibus contexere fraudem seu magis inbelles libuit circumdare cervos aut tereti lino pavidum subducere piscem, hos tantum novere dolos mea sordida rura. I nunc et vitae fugientis tempora vende divitibus cenis! me qui manet exitus olim, hic precor inveniat consumptaque tempora poscat. [334]

 My cottage is sheltered by a roof that fears no ill; the grape, bursting with wine, hangs from the fertile elm; cherries hang by the bough and my orchard yields its rosy apples, and the tree that Pallas loves breaks beneath the rich burden of its branches. And now, where the garden bed's light soil drinks in the runnels of water, rises for me Corycian kale and low-growing mallow, and the poppy that grants easy slumber. Moreover, whether 'tis my pleasure to set snares for birds or hem in the timid deer, or on fine-meshed net to draw up the affrighted fish, this is all the guile known to my humble lands. Go to, now, and waste the flying hours of life on sumptuous feasts! I pray, that my destined end may find me here, and here demand an account of the days I have lived. 

These lines may be no more than an academic exercise on a commonplacetheme, but there can be no doubt of their artistic success. We find thesame simplicity in Columella, but not the same art. Compare them withthe work of Petronius' contemporary, Calpurnius Siculus, and there isall the difference between true poetry and mere poetising. Morepassionate and more convincing is the elegiac poem celebrating thepoet's return to the scene of former happiness:

 o litus vita mihi dulcius, o mare! felix, cui licet ad terras ire subinde tuas! o formosa dies! hoc quondam rure solebam naidas alterna[335] sollicitare manu. Hic fontis lacus est, illic sinus egerit algas: haec statio est tacitis fida cupidinibus. Pervixi; neque enim fortuna malignior umquam eripiet nobis, quod prior aura dedit. [336]

 O shore, O sea, that I love more than life! Happy is he that may straightway visit the lands ye border. O fairest day! 'Twas here that once I was wont to swim and vex the sea-nymphs with my hands' alternate strokes. Here is a stream's deep pool, there the bay casts up its seaweed: here is a spot that can faithfully guard the secret of one's love. I have lived my life to the full; nor can grudging fortune ever rob me of that which her favouring breeze once gave me. 

But Petronius can attain to equal success in other veins. Now we have afragment in the epic style containing a simile at once original andbeautiful:

 haec ait et tremulo deduxit vertice canos consecuitque genas; oculis nec defuit imber, sed qualis rapitur per vallis improbus amnis, cum gelidae periere nives et languidus auster non patitur glaciem resoluta vivere terra, gurgite sic pleno facies manavit et alto insonuit gemitu turbato murmure pectus. [337]

 He spake, and rent the white hair on his trembling head and tore his cheeks, and his eyes streamed with a flood of tears. As when a resistless river sweeps down the valley when the chill snows have melted and the languid south wind thaws the earth and suffers not the ice to remain, even so his face streamed with a torrent of weeping and his breast groaned loud with a confused murmur of sorrow. 

Elsewhere we find him writing in satirical vein of the origin ofreligion, [338] on the decay of virtue, [339] on the hardship of themarried state[340]:

 'uxor legis onus, debet quasi census amari. ' nec censum vellem semper amare meum. 

 'One should love one's wife as one loves one's fortune. ' Nay, I desire not always to love even my fortune. 

But it is in a love-poem that he reaches his highest achievement:

 lecto compositus vix prima silentia noctis carpebam et somno lumina victa dabam: cum me saevus Amor prensat sursumque capillis excitat et lacerum pervigilare iubet. 'tu famulus meus, ' inquit, 'ames cum mille puellas, solus, io, solus, dure, iacere potes?' exsilio et pedibus nudis tunicaque soluta omne iter incipio, nullum iter expedio. Nunc propero, nunc ire piget, rursumque redire paenitet et pudor est stare via media. Ecce tacent voces hominum strepitusque viarum et volucrum cantus turbaque fida canum: solus ego ex cunctis paveo somnumque torumque et sequor imperium, magne Cupido, tuum. [341]

 I lay on my bed and began to enjoy the silence of the night scarce yet begun, and was yielding my wearied eyes to sleep, when fierce Love laid hold of me, and, seizing me by the hair, aroused me, tore me, and bade me wake. 'Canst thou, my servant, ' he cried, 'the lover of a thousand girls, lie thus alone, alone, hard-hearted?' I leapt from my couch, and barefoot, with dishevelled robe, started on my errand, yet never accomplished it. Now I hurry forward, now am loth to go; now repent me that I have returned, and feel shame to stand thus aimless in mid-street. So the voices of men, the murmur of the streets, the song of birds, and the trusty watchdogs all are silent; and I alone dread the slumbers of my couch and follow thy behest, great god of love. 

If this is not great poetry, it is at least one of the most perfectspecimens of conventional erotic verse in all ancient literature. If weexcept a very few of the best poems of Propertius, Latin Elegiacs havenothing to show that combines such perfection of form with suchexquisite sensuous charm. It breathes the fragrance of the Greekanthology. 

The general impression left by the poetical work of Petronius iscuriously unlike that left by any Latin poet. Sometimes dull, he isnever eccentric; without the originality of the greatest artists, he hasall the artist's sensibility for form. He writes not as one inspired, but as one steeped in the best literature. Many were greater stylists, but few were endowed with such an exquisite sense of style. As a poet heis a _dilettante_, and his claim to greatness lies in the brilliant andaudacious humour of his 'picaresque novel'. But his verse at its besthas a charm and fragrance of its own that is almost unique in Latin, andreveals a combination of grace and facility, to find a parallel forwhich among writers of the post-Augustan age we must turn to the pagesof Martial. 

CHAPTER VI

MINOR POETRY, 14-70 A. D. 

I

DIDACTIC POETRY

Only two didactic poems of this period have survived, the poem ofColumella on gardening, and the anonymous work on Mount Etna, settingforth a theory of volcanic action. 

i

THE 'AETNA'

The _Aetna_ is a hexameter poem, 646 lines in length. The author lamentsthe indifference shown by poets to the natural phenomena of his day. They waste their time on the description of the marvels of art, thespectacular side of human civilization, and the surface-beauties ofNature. [342] They write trivial epics on the voyage of Argo, the sack ofTroy, Niobe, Thyestes, Cadmus, Ariadne, the Battle of the Giants[343]. They tell of the terrors of the underworld[344], and the loves of thegods[345]: they seek the false rather than the true, they neglect thegenuine wonders of Nature, the laws that govern heavenly and terrestrialphenomena. 

He will be wiser. But there is no need to travel far. He will not soarskyward to treat of the stars in their courses, of the seasons and signsof the weather, to the neglect of the marvels of mother earth. [346] Thegreatest of miracles is close at hand, Etna, the home of eternal fire. Deep in the heart of earth dwell two irresistible forces, wind andfire. [347] It is their conflict that causes the outbursts of flame andmolten rock that devastate the slopes of Etna. It is no smithy of thegods, no Titan's prison. The causes are natural, water and wind andfire. He has seen Etna; he describes the crater, [348] the volcanic rockthat can imprison fire, [349] the clouds that continually veil themountain's crest, [350] the flames that burst from its summit, thesubterranean rumblings, [351] the terrors of the lava stream. Heconcludes with the touching story of the Catanian brothers who, neglecting all else, sought only to save their aged parents from theflames. Their piety had its reward; they, and they alone, escaped fromthe lava; their neighbours, who sought to save their chattels and theirwealth, perished in the stream, encumbered by their belongings. 

Of the poet's theory of volcanic action we need not speak; it was thecurrent scientific theory of the day, and has no value for us; nor hasthe author any claim to originality. As to the style and composition ofthe work, brief comment will suffice. We may give the author credit fora real enthusiasm, and for a just contempt of the prevailing themes thatengaged the attention of the minor poets of the day. But he has no giftsfor poetry. His theme, although it gave considerable opportunities forepisodic display, was one of great difficulty. Much dry scientificdetail was necessarily required. If Lucretius is sometimes tedious andprosaic in spite of the vastness of his theme, the magnificence of hismoral background, and his inspired enthusiasm, what can be expected of apoem on a minor scientific theme such as Etna? Volcanoes can hardlycompete with the universe as a theme for poetry. The subject is one thatmight have fascinated an Alexandrian poet and found skilful treatment athis hands. But the author of the _Aetna_ had not the stylistic gifts ofthe Alexandrian. The actual arrangement of his matter is good, but, evenwhen due allowance is made for the corruption of our text, his obscurityis intolerable, his imagery confused, his language cumbrous and wooden. He has, moreover, no poetic imagination. _Aetna_, not the poet, providesthe fire. Even the beautiful story of the Catanian brothers, which formsby far the best portion of the poem, never rises to the level of purepoetry. It is illumined neither by the fire of rhetoric nor by thelambent light of sensuous diction and rich imagination. A few lines maybe quoted to show its general character (605):

 Nam quondam ruptis excanduit Aetna cavernis, et velut eversis penitus fornacibus ingens evecta in longum est rapidis fervoribus unda. * * * * * ardebant agris segetes et mollia cultu iugera cum dominis, silvae collesque rubebant. * * * * * tum vero ut cuique est animus viresque rapinae tutari conantur opes, gemit ille sub auro, colligit ille arma et stulta cervice reponit, defectum raptis illum sua carmina tardant, hic velox minimo properat sub pondere pauper. * * * * * . . . Haec nullis parsura incendia pascunt, vel solis parsura piis. Namque optima proles Amphinomus fraterque pari sub munere fortes, cum iam vicinis streperent incendia tectis, aspiciunt pigrumque patrem matremque senecta eheu defessos posuisse in limine membra, parcite, avara manus, dulces attollere praedas: illis divitiae solae materque paterque: hanc rapient praedam. Mediumque exire per ignem ipso dante fidem properant. O maxima rerum et merito pietas homini tutissima virtus! erubuere pios iuvenes attingere flammae et, quacumque ferunt illi vestigia, cedunt felix illa dies, illa est innoxia terra. Dextra saeva tenent, laevaque incendia fervent; ille per obliquos ignes fraterque triumphant tutus uterque pio sub pondere: suffugit illa et circa geminos avidus sibi temperat ignis, incolumes abeunt tandem et sua numina secum salva ferunt. Illos mirantur carmina vatum, illos seposuit claro sub nomine Ditis nec sanctos iuvenes attingunt sordida fata, securas cessere domus et iura piorum. 

 For once Etna burst its caves and, glowing with fire, cast forth all that its furnaces contained; a vast wave, swift and hot with fire, streamed forth afar. . . . Crops blazed along the fields, rich acres with their masters were consumed, forest and hill glowed rosy red. . . . Then each man, as he had courage and strength to bear away his goods, strove to protect his wealth. One groans beneath a weight of gold, another collects his weapons and slings them on his foolish neck. Another, unable to carry away what he has snatched up, wastes time in repeating charms, while there the poor man moves swift beneath his slender burden. . . . The fire feeds on all it meets: nought will it spare, or, if aught it spares, only the pious. For Amphinomus and his brother, the best of sons, brave in the toil they shared, when the fires roared loud and were already nigh their home, behold their father and their mother fall fainting on the threshold fordone with years. Cease, greedy folk, to shoulder the spoil of your fortunes that are so dear to you: for these men father and mother are their sole wealth; this only is the spoil that they would save. They hasten to escape through the midst of the fire, which itself gave them confidence. O piety, greatest of all that man may possess, of all virtues that which most saves the righteous. The flames blushed to touch the pious youths, and yield a path wherever they turn their steps. Blest was that day; the ground they trod was unharmed. The fierce burning holds all things on their right and blazes on their left. The brethren move triumphant on their path aslant the flame, each saved by his pious burden: the fire shuns their path and restrains its greedy hunger where pass the twain; scatheless they escape at length and bear those whom they worship to a place of safety. The songs of poets hymn their praise and the underworld gives them a glorious resting-place apart, nor does any unworthy fate befall these youths that lived so holy. They have passed away to dwell among the blessed, and sorrow cometh not nigh their dwelling-place. 

The narrative is clear, and the story delightful. But the telling of it, though free from affectation, is dull, prosaic, and uninspired. And itmust be remembered that this passage shows the author in his mostfavourable aspect. In his more technical passages the clearness andsimplicity is absent, the prosiness and lack of imagination remain, nakedly hideous. 

The author of the poem is unknown, the very date is uncertain. Theconception of the work is Lucretian, but in point of style, while fullof reminiscences of Lucretius, the poem owes most to Vergil, whosehexameter has undoubtedly been taken for a model, though it has lost allits music. Except in the avoidance of elision there is no trace of theinfluence of Ovid. The poem might easily have been written in the latterhalf of the reign of Augustus. [352] The obscurity is due to the lack, not the excess of art, and the poem has no special affinity with theSilver Age. Servius and Donatus, indeed, both seem to ascribe the poemto Vergil, [353] while it is found in the MSS. Which give us the_Appendix Vergiliana_. But there are considerations which have inclinededitors to place it later, in the reign of Nero, or in the opening yearsof the principate of Vespasian. In one of his letters (Sen. 79) Seneca, writing to his friend Lucilius Junior, urges him to 'describe Etna inhis poem, and by so doing treat a topic common to all poets'. The factthat Vergil had already treated it was no obstacle to Ovid's essayingthe task, nor was Cornelius Severus deterred by the fact that bothVergil and Ovid had handled the theme. Later he adds, 'If I know youaright, the subject of Aetna will make your mouth water. ' Lucilius wasprocurator in Sicily, and had sung the story of the Syracusan nymphArethusa. [354] It has been suggested that he[355] wrote the _Aetna_. ButLucilius was an imitator of Ovid, [356] and Seneca advises him _not_ towrite a didactic poem on Etna, but to treat it episodically (_in suocarmine_), as Vergil and Ovid[357] had done. It is conceivable that hemay have written a didactic poem on the subject, but Seneca's remarksyield absolutely no evidence for the fact. 

Others have made Cornelius Severus the author, [358] though it ispractically certain that his description of the volcano must haveoccurred in his poem _On the Sicilian War_. [359] But the fact thatSeneca makes no reference to the existence of any learned didactic poemon the subject carries a little more weight, and there are markedparallels between Seneca's 'quaestiones Naturales' and passages in the_Aetna_. [360] Further, the very badness of the poem makes us hesitate toplace it in the Augustan period. That age, no doubt, produced much badwork as well as good, but a poem so obscure and inartistically prosaicas the _Aetna_ was more likely to be produced and more likely to survivein an imitative and uninspired age such as that which followed on thedeath of Augustus. But for the evidence of Seneca we should place thepoem in the prosaic reign of Tiberius; the considerations adduced fromSeneca lead us, though with the utmost hesitation, to place it somewherebetween 57 and 79 A. D. [361] Of the lower limit there can be no doubt. The fires of the Phlegraean plains are extinct, [362] therefore the poemwas composed before the eruption of Vesuvius in 79 A. D. [363] Thequestion of the authorship of the _Aetna_ has necessarily been treatedat greater length than the merits of the poem deserve. It is a work ofsmall importance; its chief value is to show how low it was possible forRoman didactic poetry to sink. In the _Aetna_ it sinks lower than epicin the _Punica_ of Silius Italicus. That poem, for all its portentousdullness, shows a certain ponderous technical skill and literaryfacility. The author of the _Aetna_, though clearly a man of culture, isnever at his ease, the verse is laboured and lacking flexibility, andthere is no technical dexterity to compensate for a total absence ofgenius. The terror and beauty of the mountain crowned with snow and firefind no adequate expression in these monotonous lines. There remains aconglomerate of unoriginal and unsound physical speculation. 

ii

COLUMELLA

The _Aetna_ is a Lucretian poem decked out in a Vergilian dress. In thetenth book of Columella we have a didactic poem modelled on the_Georgics_ of Vergil. The author was of Spanish origin, a native ofGades, [364] and the contemporary of his great compatriot the youngerSeneca. [365] He had served in a military capacity in Syria, [366] but hisreal passion was agriculture. His ambition was to write a reallypractical farmers' manual. [367] He had written nine books in prose, covering the whole range of farming, from the tillage of the soil to thebreeding of poultry and cattle, and concluding with a disquisition onwild animals and bee-keeping. But in the tenth book, yielding to thesolicitation of his friend Publius Silvinus, [368] he set himself a moreexalted task, no less than the writing of a fifth Georgic on gardening. Vergil, in his fourth Georgic (148), had left the theme of gardens foranother's singing. Columella takes him at his word. The tenth book ismanifestly intended as the crown and conclusion of his work. But laterhe changed his plan. Another friend, Claudius Augustalis, [369] demandeda paraphrase, or rather an amplification in prose. This resulted in aneleventh book, in which the care of the garden and the duties of the_villicus_ are described, while the work was finally concluded in atwelfth book setting forth the duties of the _villica_. [370]

It may be doubted whether Columella was well advised when he yielded tothe entreaties of his friend Silvinus and wrote his tenth book inverse. He had no great poetic talent, nor did he possess the sleight ofhand of Calpurnius, the imitator of the _Eclogues_. But he possessesqualities which render his work far more attractive than that ofCalpurnius. He is a genuine enthusiast, with a real love of thecountryside and a charming affection for flowers. And as a stylist heis modest. He makes no attempt at display, no contorted striving afteroriginality. His verse is clear and simple as his tastes. He is contentto follow humbly in the footsteps of his great master, the 'starry'Vergil. [371] He imitates and even plagiarizes[372] because he loves, not because it is the fashion. He shows no appreciation of the moreintimate harmonies of the Vergilian hexameter; like so manycontemporaries, he realizes neither the value of judicious elision norvaried pauses; but his verse, in spite of its monotony and lack of lifeand movement, is not unmelodious. The poem is a sober work, uninspiredin tone, straightforward and simple in plan. It need not be describedin detail; its advice is obvious, setting forth the times and seasonsto be observed by the gardener, the methods of preparing the soil, thechoice of flowers, with all the customary mythological allusions. [373]At its worst, with its tedious lists of the names of flowers, it readslike a seedsman's catalogue, [374] at its best it is lit up with aquaint humour, a love of colour, and a homely yet vivid imagination. Mother earth--'sweet earth' he calls her--is highly personified; thatshe may be adorned anew, her green locks must be torn from their tangleby the plough, her old raiment stripped from her, her thirst quenchedby irrigation, her hunger satisfied with fertilizing manure. [375] Thegarden is to be no rich man's park for the display of statues andfountains. Its one statue shall be the image of the garden god, itspatron and its protector. [376] Its splendour shall be the varied hue ofits flower-beds and its wealth in herbs that serve the use of man:

 verum ubi iam puro discrimine pectita tellus deposito squalore nitens sua semina poscet, pingite tunc varios, terrestria sidera, flores, candida leucoia et flaventia lumina caltae narcissique comas et hiantis saeva leonis ora feri calathisque virentia lilia canis, nec non vel niveos vel caeruleos hyacinthos, tum quae pallet humi, quae frondens purpurat auro, ponatur viola et nimium rosa plena pudoris (94). 

 But when earth, with parted locks combed clear, gleams, all soilure cast aside, and demands the seeds that are her due, call forth the varied hues of flowers, earth's constellations, the white snowflake and the marigold's golden eyes, the narcissus-petals and the blossom that apes the fierce lion's gaping maw; the lily, too, with calix shining white amid its green leaves, the hyacinths white and blue; plant also the violet lying pale upon the ground or purple shot with gold among its leafage, and the rose with its deep shamefaced blush. 

He loves the return of spring with as deep a love as Vergil's, though hemust borrow Vergil's language to describe its coming and its power. [377]But his painting of its harvest of colour is his own:

 quin et odoratis messis iam floribus instat: iam ver purpureum, iam versicoloribus anni fetibus alma parens pingi sua tempora gaudet. Iam Phrygiae loti gemmantia lumina promunt et coniventis oculos violaria solvunt (255). 

 Nay, more, the harvest-time draws near for sweet-scented flowers. The purple spring has come, and kindly mother earth rejoices that her brows are painted bright with all the many-coloured offspring of the year. Now the Phrygian lotus puts forth its jewelled orbs and the violet beds open their winking eyes. 

All the glories of an Italian spring are in the lines in which a littlelater he describes the joy of living when the year is young, and thewasting heat of summer is still far off, when it is sweet to be in thesun and watch the garden with its rainbow colours:

 nunc ver egelidum, nunc est mollissimus annus, dum Phoebus tener ac tenera decumbere in herba suadet et arguto fugientes gramine fontes nec rigidos potare iuvat nec sole tepentes, iamque Dionaeis redimitur floribus hortus, iam rosa mitescit Sarrano clarior ostro. Nec tam nubifugo Borea Latonia Phoebe purpureo radiat vultu, nec Sirius ardor sic micat aut rutilus Pyrois aut ore corusco Hesperus, Eoo remeat cum Lucifer ortu, nec tam sidereo fulget Thaumantias arcu quam nitidis hilares conlucent fetibus horti (282). 

 Now cool spring is come, the gentlest season of the year, while Phoebus yet is young and bids us recline in the young herbage, and 'tis sweet to drink the rill that flows among the murmuring grass, with waters neither icy cold nor warm with the sun's heat. Now, too, the garden is crowned with the flowers Dione loves, and the rose ripens brighter than Tyrian purple. Not so brightly does Phoebe, Leto's daughter, shine with radiant face when Boreas has dispersed the clouds, nor glows hot Sirius so, nor ruddy Pyrois, nor Hesperus with shining countenance when he returns as the daystar at the break of dawn, not so fair gleams Iris with her starry bow, as shines the joyous garden with its bright offspring. 

These are the words of an enthusiast and a poet, and these fewoutbursts of song redeem the poem from dullness. There is wafted fromhis pages the perfume of the countryside, and the fresh air breatheswelcome amid the hothouse cultures of contemporary poets. And he isalmost the only poet of the age that can be read without a wince ofpain. He is at least as good a laureate of the garden as Thomson of theseasons, and he has all the grace of humility. Even when the artistfails us, we love the man. 

II

CALPURNIUS SICULUS. THE EINSIEDELN FRAGMENTS AND THE 'PANEGYRICUSIN PISONEM'

It may be said of pastoral poetry, without undue disrespect, that it isthe most artificial and the least in touch with reality of all the moreimportant forms of poetic art. Even in the hands of a master likeTheocritus, invested as it is with an incomparable charm, anddistinguished in many respects by an astonishing truth and fidelity, itis never other than highly artificial. For its birth an age was requiredin which the class whence the majority of poets and their audience aredrawn had largely lost touch with country life, or had at any ratedeveloped ideals that can only spring up in town society. This does notimply that men have ceased altogether to appreciate the value of thecountry life or the beauty of country surroundings, only that they havelost much of their understanding of them; and so their appreciationtakes new forms. They love the country as a half-forgotten paradise, they fly back to it as a refuge from the artificiality of town life, butthey take much of that artificiality with them. From the time ofTheocritus pastoral poetry pure and simple has steadily declined. Greatpoems have been written with exquisite pastoral elements or even cast inpastoral form. But they have never owed their greatness entirely, oreven chiefly, to the pastoral element. That element has merely provideda charming setting for scenes or thoughts that have nothing genuinelypastoral about them. 

Of the small amount of pastoral poetry extant in Latin it need hardly besaid that the _Bucolica_ of Vergil stand in a class by themselves. Andyet for all their beauty they are unsatisfactory to those who know andlove Theocritus. Their charm is undeniable, but they are immature andtoo obviously imitative. But Vergil was at least country-born and had adeep sympathy for country life. When we come to the scanty relics of hissuccessors and imitators we are conscious of a lamentable falling away. If Vergil's imitations of Theocritus fail to ring as true as theiroriginal, what shall be said of the imitators of Vergil's imitations?Even if they had been true poets, their verse must have rung false. Butthe poets with whom we have to deal, Calpurnius Siculus and theanonymous author of two poems known as the Einsiedeln fragments, werenot genuine poets. They had little of the intimacy with nature andunsophisticated man that was demanded by their self-chosen task. Thatthey possessed some real affection for the country is doubtless true, but it was not the prime inspiration of their verse. They had theambition to write poetry rather than the call; a slight bent towards thecountry, heightened by a vague dissatisfaction and weariness with theartificial luxury of Rome, led them to choose pastoral poetry. They makeup for depth of observation by a shallow minuteness. In the seveneclogues of Calpurnius may be found a larger assortment of vegetables, of agricultural implements and operations, than in the _Bucolics_ ofVergil, but there is little poetry, pastoral or otherwise. The 'grace ofall the Muses' and the breath of the country are fled for ever; thedexterous phrasing of a laborious copyist reigns in their stead. 

Of the life of Calpurnius Siculus nothing is known and but little can beconjectured. Of his date there can be little doubt. We learn from theevidence of the poems themselves that they were written in theprincipate of a youthful Caesar (i. 44; iv. 85, 137; vii. 6), beautifulto look upon (vii. 84), the giver of splendid games (vii. 44), theinaugurator of an age of peace, liberty and plenty (i. 42-88; iv_passim_). This points strongly to the opening of Nero's reign. Theyoung Nero was handsome and personally popular, and the opening years ofhis reign (_quinquennium Neronis_) were famous for good government andprosperity. But there are two further pieces of internal evidence whichclinch the argument. A comet is mentioned (i. 77) as appearing in theautumn, an appearance which would tally with that of the comet observedshortly before the death of Claudius in 54 A. D. , while the line

 maternis causam qui vicit Iulis (i. 45)

seems clearly to refer to the speech delivered by the young Nero for thepeople of Ilium, [378] from whom the Iuli, Nero's ancestors on themother's side, claimed to trace their descent. It may therefore safelybe assumed that the poems were written early in the reign of Nero. Amost ingenious attempt has been made to throw some light on the identityof their author. [379] He speaks of himself as Corydon, and he has apatron whom he styles Meliboeus. He prays that Meliboeus may bring himbefore Caesar's notice as Pollio brought Vergil (iv. 157 sqq. ; also i. 94). It has been suggested with some plausibility that Meliboeus is noother than C. Calpurnius Piso, the distinguished noble round whom in 65A. D. Centred the great conspiracy against Nero. The evidence rests onthe existence of a poem entitled _panegyricus in Pisonem_, [380] in whicha nameless poet seeks by his laudations to win Piso for a patron. Thestyle of the poem has a marked resemblance to that of Calpurnius. If, asis possible, it should be assigned to his authorship, it becomes fairlycertain that he was a dependent of Piso, and the name Calpurnius wouldsuggest that he may have been the son of one of his freedmen. 

The eclogues of Calpurnius are seven in number. [381] The first is inpraise of the Golden Age, with special reference to the advent of theyoung princeps. Though given a different setting it is clearly modelledon the fourth eclogue of Vergil. The second, describing a contest ofsong between two shepherds before a third as judge, follows Vergil evenmore closely. [382] Parallels might be further elaborated, but it issufficient to say here that only two of the poems show any originality, namely, the fifth and the seventh. In the former we have the advicegiven by an aged farmer to his son, to whom he is handing over his farm. It is inclined to be prosy, but is simple and pleasing in tone, and theold countryman may be forgiven if he sometimes seems to be quoting theGeorgics. The seventh is a more ambitious effort. A rustic describes thegreat games that he has seen given in the amphitheatre at Rome. Thelanguage, though characteristically decadent in its elaboration, showsconsiderable originality. The amphitheatre is, for instance, thusdescribed (vii. 30):

 qualiter haec patulum concedit vallis in orbem et sinuata latus resupinis undique silvis inter continuos curvatur concava montes, sic ibi planitiem curvae sinus ambit arenae et geminis medium se molibus alligat ovum. * * * * * balteus en gemmis, en illita porticus auro certatim radiant; nec non, ubi finis arenae proxima marmoreo praebet spectacula muro, sternitur adiunctis ebur admirabile truncis et coit in rotulum, tereti qui lubricus axe impositos subita vertigine falleret ungues excuteretque feras. Auro quoque torta refulgent retia, quae totis in arenam dentibus extant, dentibus aequatis: et erat (mihi crede, Lycota, si qua fides) nostro dens longior omnis aratro. 

 Even as this vale rounds to a wide circle, and with bending sides and slanting woods on every side makes a curved hollow amid the unbroken hills, so there the circle of the curving arena surrounds its level plain and locks either side of its towering structure into an oval about itself. . . . See how the gangway's parapet studded with gems and the colonnade plated with gold vie with each other's brightness; nay more, where the arena's bound sets forth its shows close to the marble wall, ivory is overlaid in wondrous wise on jointed beams and is bent into a cylinder, which, turning nimbly on its trim axle, may cheat with sudden whirl the wild beast's claws and cast them from it. Nets, too, of twisted gold gleam forth, hung out into the arena on tusks in all their length and of equal size, and--believe me, Lycotas, if you can--each tusk was longer than our ploughshare. 

In its defence it may be urged that the very nature of the subjectdemands elaboration, and that the resulting picture has the merit ofbeing vivid despite its elaborate ingenuity. It is in this poem thatCalpurnius is seen at his best. Elsewhere his love for minute andelaborate description is merely wearisome. It would be hard, forinstance, to find a more tiresomely circuitous method of claiming to bean authority on sheep-breeding than (ii. 36)--

 me docet ipsa Pales cultum gregis, ut niger albae terga maritus ovis nascenti mutet in agna quae neque diversi speciem servare parentis possit et ambiguo testetur utrumque colore. 

 Pales herself teaches me how to breed my flocks and tells me how the black ram transforms the fleece of the white ewe in the lamb that comes to birth, that cannot reproduce the colour of its sire, so different from that of its dam, and by its ambiguous hue testifies to either parent. 

It is difficult to give a poetic description of the act ofrumination, but

 et matutinas revocat palearibus herbas (iii. 17)

 And recalls to its dewlaps the grass of its morning's meal. 

is needlessly grotesque. And the vain struggle to give life to old andoutworn themes leads to laboured lines such as (iii. 48)--

 non sic destricta marcescit turdus oliva, non lepus extremas legulus cum sustulit uvas, ut Lycidas domina sine Phyllide tabidus erro. 

 Not so does the thrush pine when the olives are plucked, not so does the hare pine when the vintager has gathered the last grapes, as I, Lycidas, droop while I roam apart from my mistress Phyllis. 

Calpurnius yields little to compensate for such defects. He meanders onthrough hackneyed pastoral landscapes haunted by hackneyed shepherds. Itis only on rare occasions that a refreshing glimmer of poetry revivesthe reader. In lines such as (ii. 56)--

 si quis mea vota deorum audiat, huic soli, virides qua gemmeus undas fons agit et tremulo percurrit lilia rivo inter pampineas ponetur faginus ulmos;

 If any of the gods hear my prayer, to his honour, and his alone, shall his beechwood statue be planted amid my vine-clad elms, where the jewelled stream rolls its green wave and with rippling water runs through the lilies. 

or, in the pleasant description of the return of spring (v. 16), vere novo, cum iam tinnire volueres incipient nidosque reversa lutabit hirundo, protinus hiberno pecus omne movebis ovili. Tune etenim melior vernanti germine silva pullat et aestivas reparabilis incohat umbras, tune florent saltus viridisque renascitur annus, [383]

 When spring is young and the birds begin to pipe once more, and the swallow returns to plaster its nest anew, then move all your flock from its winter fold. For then the wood sprouts in fresh glory with its spring shoots and builds anew the shades of summer, then all the glades are bright with flowers and the green year is born again. 

we seem to catch a glimpse of the real countryside; but for the mostpart Calpurnius paints little save theatrical and _maniéré_ miniatures. Of such a character is the clever and not unpleasing description of thetame stag in the sixth eclogue (30). He shows a pretty fancy and nomore. 

The metre is like the language, easy, graceful, and correct. But thepauses are poorly managed; the rhythm is unduly dactylic; the versetrips all too lightly and becomes monotonous. 

The total impression that we receive from these poems is one ofinsignificance and triviality. The style is perhaps less rhetorical andobscure than that of most writers of the age; as a result, these poemslack what is often the one saving grace of Silver Latin poetry, itsextreme cleverness. To find verse as dull and uninspired, we must turnto Silius Italicus or the _Aetna_. 

 * * * * *

The two short poems contained in a MS. At Einsiedeln and distinguishedby the name of their place of provenance are also productions of theNeronian age. The first, in the course of a contest of song betweenThamyras and Ladas, with a third shepherd, Midas, as arbiter, setsforth the surpassing skill of Nero as a performer on the _cithara_. [384]The second celebrates the return of the Golden Age to the world nowunder the beneficent guidance of Nero. Neither poem possesses theslightest literary importance; both are polished but utterly insipidexamples of foolish court flattery. The author is unknown. An ingenioussuggestion[385] has been made that he is no other than Calpurnius Piso, the supposed Meliboeus of Calpurnius Siculus. The second of theseeclogues begins, 'Quid tacitus, Mystes?' The fourth eclogue ofCalpurnius Siculus begins (Meliboeus loquitur), 'Quid tacitus, Corydon?'Is Meliboeus speaking in person and quoting his own poem? It may be so, but the evidence is obviously not such as to permit any feeling ofcertainty. 

But it is at least probable that the poet had access to the court and hadbeen praised by Nero. Such is the most plausible interpretation of apassage in the first eclogue, where Ladas, in answer to Thamyras, whoclaims the prize on the ground that his song shall be of Caesar, replies(16, 17):

 et me sidereo respexit Cynthius ore laudatamque chelyn iussit variare canendo. [386]

 On me, too, has the Cynthian god cast his starry glance and bidden me accompany the lyre he praised with diverse song. 

Whether the author be Piso or another, the poems do him small credit. 

The _Panegyricus in Pisonem_ remains to be considered. Attributed toVergil by one MS. , [387] to Lucan by another, [388] the poem is certainlyby neither. Quite apart from stylistic evidence, which is convincingagainst its attribution to Lucan, it is almost certain that the name ofLucan has been wrongly inserted for that of Vergil. That it is not byVergil would be clear from the very inferior nature of the verse, but itcan further be shown that the Piso addressed is the Calpurnius Piso ofthe reigns of Claudius and Nero to whom we have alluded above. If theaccount of Piso given by Tacitus be compared with the characteristicsdescribed in the _Panegyricus_, it will be found that both alike referin strong terms to his eloquence in the law courts so readily exercisedin defence of accused persons, and also to his affability and capacityfor friendship. [389] Further, we have the evidence of a scholium onJuvenal as to his skill in the game of draughts. [390] He played so wellthat crowds would throng to see him. One of the chief points mentionedin the _Panegyricus_ is the skill of Piso at the same game. [391] Nor isit a mere casual allusion; on the contrary, the writer treats thisportion of his eulogy with even greater elaboration than the rest. Therecan, therefore, be little doubt as to the date of the poem. It isaddressed to Calpurnius Piso after his rise to fame (i. E. During thelatter portion of the principate of Claudius, or during the earlier partof the reign of Nero). The poet prays that Piso may be to him whatMaecenas was to Vergil. It is hardly possible for a poem of this type topossess any real interest for others than the recipient of the flatteryand its author. But in this case the poet has done his work well. Theflattery never becomes outrageous and is expressed in easy flowing verseand graceful diction. At times the language is genuinely felicitous. Anygreat man might be proud to receive such a tribute as (129)--

 tu mitis et acri asperitate carens positoque per omnia fastu inter ut aequales unus numeraris amicos, obsequiumque doces et amorem quaeris amando. 

 Mild is thy temper and free from sharp harshness. Thou layest aside thy pride in thy every act, and among thy friends thou art counted a friend and equal, thou teachest men to follow thee and seekest to be loved by loving. 

There is, moreover, little straining after effect and little realobscurity. The difficulties of the description of Piso'sdraught-playing are due to our ignorance of the exact nature of thegame. [392] The actual language is at least as lucid as Pope's famousdescription of the game of ombre in _The Rape of the Lock_. The verseis of the usual post-Augustan type, showing strongly the primaryinfluence of Vergil modified by the secondary influence of Ovid. It islight and easy and not ill-suited to its subject. It has distinctaffinities, both in metre and diction, with the verse of CalpurniusSiculus, and may be by the same hand; but the resemblance is not soclose as to afford anything approaching positive proof. Minor poets, lacking all individuality, the victims and not the controlling forcesof the tendencies of the age, are apt to resemble one another. Thereare, however, two noteworthy passages which point strongly to theidentity of the author of the _Panegyricus_ with the Bucolic poet. Theformer, addressing Piso as his patron (246), says:

 mea vota si mentem subiere tuam, memorabilis olim tu mihi Maecenas tereti cantaberé versu. 

 If my prayers reach thy mind, thou shalt be sung of as Maecenas in my slender verse, and future ages shall tell of thy glory. 

The latter, addressing his patron Meliboeus and begging him to commendhim to Caesar, exclaims (iv. 152):

 o mihi quae tereti decurrent carmina versu tunc, Meliboee, meum si quando montibus istis (i. E. At Rome) dicar habere larem. 

 O how shall my songs trip in slender verse then, Meliboeus, if ever men shall say of me 'He has a house on yonder mountain'. 

Is it a mere coincidence, a plagiarism, or a direct allusion? There isno certainty, but the coincidence is--to say the least--suggestive. Ifthe identity of authorship be assumed as correct, it is probable thatthe eclogues are the later production. To place one's patron among the_dramatis personae_ of an eclogue argues a nearer intimacy than thewriting of a formal panegyric. That the poet is more at home as apanegyrist than as a writer of idylls does not affect the question. Insuch an age such a result was to be expected. 

III

THE ILIAS LATINA

Latin poetry may almost be said to have begun with Livius Andronicus'translation of the _Odyssey_ into the rude Saturnian metre. Thistranslation had great vogue as a school book. But the _Iliad_ remaineduntranslated, and it was only natural that later authors should trytheir hand upon it. Translations were produced in Republican times byCn. Matius[393] and Ninnius Crassus, [394] but neither work attained toany popularity. 

With the growth of the knowledge of Greek and its increasing use as amedium of instruction in the schools on the one hand, and the appearanceof Vergil and the rise of the Aeneas saga on the other, the demand for atranslation of the _Iliad_ naturally became less. The Silver Age arrivedwith the problem unsolved. It was a period when writers abounded whowould have been better employed on translation than on any attempt atoriginal work. Further, in spite of the general knowledge of Greek, atranslation of Homer would have its value in the schools both as ahandbook for the subject-matter and as a 'crib '. 

Three works of the kind seem to have been produced between the reigns ofTiberius and Nero. 

Attius Labeo[395] translated not only the _Iliad_ but also the _Odyssey_into hexameters. But it was a poor performance. It was a baldly literaltranslation, paying small attention to the meaning of the original. [396]Persius pours scorn upon it, and one verse has survived to confirm ourworst suspicions[397]--

 crudum manduces Priamum Priamique pisinnos. 

Polybius, the well-known freedman of Claudius, also produced a work, which is praised by Seneca as having introduced Homer and Vergil to ayet larger public than they already enjoyed, and as preserving the charmof the original in an altered form. [398] As Polybius had dealt withVergil as well as Homer, it may be conjectured that the work praised bySeneca was a prose paraphrase. Lastly, there is the _Ilias Latina_, which has been preserved to the present day. It is written in gracefulhexameter verse, and is an abridgement rather than a translation. Itconsists of 1, 070 lines, of which the first five books in fact claim alittle more than half. The author wearied of his task and finished offthe remaining nineteen books in summary fashion. While the twenty-secondoccupies as much as sixty lines, the abridgements of the thirteenth andseventeenth are reduced to a meagre seven and three lines respectively. 

That such work is of small importance is obvious. It must have beenuseless from its birth save as a handbook for the schools, and even forthis purpose its value must have been greatly impaired by its lack ofproportion. Its survival can only be accounted for on the assumptionthat it was written and employed as a textbook. In fact, during theMiddle Ages, when the original was a sealed book, there is definiteevidence that it was so used. [399] The work is trivial, but might wellhave been worse. The language is clear and often vigorous, and there isan easy grace about the verse which shows that the author was a man ofculture, knowing his Vergil well and his Ovid better. The date cannot beproved with certainty, but there can be no doubt that it was writtenbefore the death of Nero. 

The lines (899), quem (Aenean) nisi servasset magnarum rector aquarum ut profugus laetis Troiam repararet in arvis, augustumque genus claris submitteret astris, non carae gentis nobis mansisset origo, Unless the ruler of the mighty deep had preserved Aeneas to found in exile a new Troy in happier fields, and beget a line of princes to shine among the stars, the stock of the race we love would not have endured to bless us. 

can only have been written under the Julian Dynasty. 

The work is clearly post-Ovidian and must therefore be attributed to theprincipates of Tiberius, Gaius, Claudius, or Nero. Further evidence ofdate is entirely wanting. No meaning can be attached to the headingPindarus found in certain MSS. [400] There is, however, an interestingthough scarcely more fruitful problem presented by the possibleexistence of two acrostics in the course of the poem. [401] The initialletters of the first nine lines spell the name 'Italices', while thelast eight lines yield the word 'scqipsit'. Baehrens, by a not veryprobable alteration in the eighth line, procures the name 'Italicus', while a slighter and more natural change yields 'scripsit' at theclose. [402] Further, a late MS. Gives Bebius Italicus as the name of theauthor. [403] On these grounds the poem has been attributed to SiliusItalicus. But Martial makes no reference to the existence of this workin any of his references to Silius, and indeed suggests that Silius onlytook to writing poetry after his withdrawal from public life. [404] Thiswould make the poem post-Neronian, which, as we have seen, is mostimprobable. Further, the style of the verse is very different from thatof the _Punica_. When, over and above these considerations, it isremembered that the acrostics can only be produced by emendation of thetext, the critic has no course open to him but to abandon theattribution to Silius and to give up the problem of the acrostics as anunprofitable curiosity of literature. 

IV

LOST MINOR POETS

In addition to the poets of whom we have already treated as writingunder the Julian Dynasty there must have been many others of whom chanceor their own insignificance has deprived us. But few names havesurvived, [405] and only two of these lost poets merit mention here, theerotic poet Lentulus Gaetulicus and the lyric writer Caesius Bassus. 

Gnaeus Cornelius Lentulus Gaetulicus was consul in 26 A. D. , [406] and forten years was legatus in Upper Germany, where his combination offirmness and clemency won him great popularity. [407] He conspiredagainst Caligula while holding this command, and was put to death. [408]Pliny the younger speaks of him as the writer of sportive and lasciviouserotic verse, and Martial writes of him in very similar terms. [409] Hismistress was named Caesennia, and was herself a poetess. [410] It ispossible that the poems in the Greek Anthology under the title [Greek:Gaitoulikou][411] may be from his pen, but the only fragment of hisLatin poems which survives is from a work in hexameters, and describesthe geographical situation of Britain. [412]

More important is the lyric poet Caesius Bassus, [413] whose loss is themore to be regretted because of the very scanty remains of Roman lyricverse that have survived to modern times. Statius attempted with butindifferent success to imitate the Sapphics and Alcaics of Horace, whilethe plays of Seneca provide a considerable quantity of lyric choruses ofvarying degrees of merit. But of lyric writers pure and simple there isscarcely a trace. That they existed we know from Quintilian. If we maytrust him, certain of his contemporaries[414] attained to considerabledistinction in this branch of poetry--that is to say, they surpassed allRoman lyric poets subsequent to Horace. But when all is said, it isscarcely possible to go beyond Quintilian's emphatic statement, that ofRoman lyricists Horace alone repays reading. If any other name deservesmention it is that of Caesius Bassus, but he is inferior to Quintilian'sown contemporaries. Caesius Bassus is best known to us as the editor ofthe satires of Persius. The sixth satire is actually addressed to him:

 admovit iam bruma foco te, Basse, Sabino? iamne lyra et tetrico vivunt tibi pectine chordae? mire opifex numeris veterum primordia vocum atque marem strepitum fidis intendisse Latinae, mox iuvenes agitare iocos et pollice honesto egregius lusisse senex. [415]

 Has winter made you move yet to your Sabine fireside, dear Bassus? Are your lyre and its strings and the austere quill that runs over them yet in force? Marvellous artist as you are at setting to music the primitive antiquities of our language, the manly utterance of the Latian harp, and then showing yourself excellent in your old age at wakening young loves and frolicking over the chords with a virtuous touch. CONINGTON. 

The only information yielded by this passage is that Bassus had aSabine villa, that he was already advanced in years, that he affected'the simple and manly versification of antiquity', and that he dealtalso with erotic themes. But few other facts are known to us. He wrotea treatise on metre--a portion of which has been preserved to thepresent day, [416] and he perished at his Campanian villa in 79 A. D. , during the great eruption of Vesuvius. [417] The fragments of verseenshrined in his metrical treatise suggest that he wrote in a largevariety of metres, [418] but they may be no more than examples inventedsolely to illustrate metres unfamiliar in Latin. The one quotation thatis explicitly made from his lyrical poems is, curiously enough, ahexameter line. As to his literary merits or defects, it is nowimpossible even to guess. 

CHAPTER VII

THE EMPERORS FROM VESPASIAN TO TRAJAN AND MINOR POETS

I

THE EMPERORS AND POETS WHOSE WORKS ARE LOST

After the death of Nero and the close of the Civil War a happier era, both for literature and the world at large, was inaugurated by theaccession of Vespasian in 69 A. D. A man of low birth and of littleculture, he yet had a true appreciation of art and literature. Of hisown writing we know nothing save that he left behind him memoirs. [419]But we have abundant evidence that he showed himself a liberal patron ofthe arts. He gave rich rewards to poets and sculptors, [420] effected allthat was possible to repair the great loss of works of art occasioned bythe burning of the Capitol, [421] and did what he could for the stage, perhaps even attempting to revive the legitimate drama. [422] Above all, he set aside a large sum annually for the support of Greek and Latinprofessors of rhetoric, [423] the first instance in the history of Romeof State endowment of education. Against this we must set his expulsionfrom Italy of philosophers and astrologers, an intemperate andpresumably ineffective act, prompted by reasons of State and probablywithout any appreciable influence on literature. [424] His sons, however, had received all the advantages of the highest education. Of Titus'(79-81 A. D. ) achievements in literature we have no information save thathe aspired to be both orator and poet. The language used in praise ofhis efforts by Pliny the elder, our one authority on this point, is soextravagant as to be virtually meaningless. [425] Of the literaryexploits of his brother Domitian (81-96 A. D. ) there is more to be said. It pleased him to lay claim to distinction both in prose and verse. [426]His only prose work of which any record remains was a treatise on thecare of the hair;[427] his own baldness rankled in his mind and turnedthe _calvus Nero_ of Juvenal into a hair specialist. As to his poems itis almost doubtful if he ever wrote any. He professed an enthusiasm forpoetry, an art which, according to Suetonius, he had neglected in hisyouth and despised when he came to the throne. But Quintilian, ValeriusFlaccus, and Martial[428] all load him with praise of various degrees offulsomeness, though, reading between the lines of Quintilian, it is easyto see that Domitian's output must have been exceedingly small. Theevidence of these three authors goes to show that he had contemplated, perhaps even begun, an epic on the achievements of his brother Titus inthe Judaic War. Whether these _caelestia carmina belli_, as Martialcalls them, ever existed, save in the imagination of courtiers andservile poets, there is nothing to show. If they did exist there seemsno reason to regret their loss. 

Domitian's chief service to literature, if indeed it was a true service, was the establishment of the Agon Capitolinus in 86, a quinquennialfestival at which prizes were awarded not only for athletics andchariot-racing, but for declamations in verse and prose, [429] and theinstitution of a similar, though annual, contest at his own palace onthe Alban Mount, which took place as often as the great festival ofMinerva, known as the Quinquatria, came round. [430] But his interest inliterature was only superficial; he had no originality and read nothingsave the memoirs and edicts of Tiberius. [431] His capricious crueltyextended itself to artists and authors;[432] twice (in 89 and 93 A. D. ), following his father's example, he banished philosophers and astrologersfrom Rome;[433] the crime of having written laudatory biographies of theStoics Thrasea and Helvidius Priscus brought Arulenus Rusticus andHerennius Senecio to their deaths. [434] But Domitian's tyranny hadlittle effect on _belles-lettres_, however adverse it may have been tofree-spoken philosophy, rhetoric, or history. Valerius Flaccus, Silius, Statius, and Martial, all wrote during his reign, and the works of thelast-named poet and Quintilian give ample evidence of widespreadliterary activity. The minor poet replenished the earth, and the prizesfor literature awarded at the Agon Capitolinus and the festival of theAlban Mount must have been a real stimulus to writing, even though thetype of literature produced by such a stimulus may have been scarcelyworth producing. The worst feature of the poetry of the time is thealmost incredibly fulsome flattery to which the tyranny of Domitian gaverise. As a compensation we have in the two succeeding reigns the bitingsatire of Juvenal and Tacitus, rendered all the keener by its longsuppression under the last of the Flavian dynasty. 

But, however impossible it may have been to write really effectivesatire during the Flavian dynasty, of poets there was no lack. It was, moreover, under the Flavians that there sprang up that reaction towardsa saner style to which we have already referred as finding itsexpression in the Ciceronianism of Quintilian, and to a lesser degree inthe Vergilianism of Valerius, Statius, and Silius. Of lesser luminariesthere were enough and to spare. Serranus and Saleius Bassus are bothwarmly commended by Quintilian for their achievements in Epic. Theformer died young, before his powers had ripened to maturity, but showedgreat soundness of style and high promise. [435] Of SaleiusQuintilian[436] says, 'He had a vigorous and poetic genius, but it wasnot mellowed by age. ' That is to say, he died young, like Serranus. Inthe _Dialogus_ of Tacitus he is spoken of as the best of men and themost finished of poets. He won Vespasian's favour and received a giftfrom him of five hundred thousand sesterces. His poems brought him nomaterial profit; both Tacitus and Juvenal emphasize this point:

 contentus fama iaceat Lucanus in hortis marmoreis; at Serrano tenuique Saleio gloria quantalibet quid erit, si gloria tantum est. [437]

Statius' father, a distinguished teacher of rhetoric at Naples, hadwritten a poem on the burning of the Capitol in 69 A. D. , and was onlyprevented by death[438] from singing the great eruption of Vesuvius. Arruntius Stella of Patavium, [439] the friend of Statius and Martial, wrote elegies to his wife Violentilla. Turnus, [440] like Juvenal the sonof a freedman, attained considerable success as a satirist, while thetwo distinguished soldiers, Verginius Rufus[441] and VestriciusSpurinna, [442] wrote light erotic verse and lyrics respectively. Inaddition to these there are a whole host of minor poets mentioned byStatius and Martial. In fact the writing of verse was the mostfashionable occupation for the leisure time of a cultivated gentleman. 

With Nerva and Trajan the happiest epoch of the principate set in. Nerva(96-98 A. D. ) sprung from a line of distinguished jurists, was celebratedby Martial as the Tibullus of his time, [443] and is praised by theyounger Pliny for the excellence of his light verses. [444] Trajan, hissuccessor (98-117 A. D. ), though a man of war, rather than a man ofletters, wrote a history of the Dacian wars, [445] and possessed--as hisletters to Pliny testify--a remarkable power of expressing himselftersely and clearly. He was, like Vespasian, a generous patron torhetoric and education, [446] and the founder of the important libraryknown as the _Bibliotheca Ulpia_. [447] But the great service which heand his predecessor rendered to literature was, as Pliny and Tacitusbear eloquent witness, the gift of freedom. This did more for prose thanfor poetry, save for one important fact--it was the means of enrichingthe world with the satires of Juvenal. If the quantity of the literaturesurviving from the principates of Nerva and Trajan is small, its qualityis unmistakable. Pliny the younger, Tacitus, and Juvenal form a triowhose equal is to be found at no other period of the post-Augustanprincipate, while the letters of Pliny give proof of the existence of ahighly cultivated society devoted to literature of all kinds. Poets werenumerous even if they were not good. Few names, however, survive, andthose have but the slightest interest for us. It will suffice to mentionthree of them: Passennus Paulus, Sentius Augurinus, and the youngerPliny. With the dramatic poets, Pomponius Bassulus and VergiliusRomanus, we have already dealt. [448] Pliny shall speak for himself andhis friends. 

'Passennus Paulus, ' he writes, [449] 'a distinguished Roman knight ofgreat learning, is a writer of elegies. This runs in the family; for heis a fellow townsman of Propertius and indeed counts him among hisancestors. ' In a later letter[450] he speaks with solicitude of hisfailing health, and goes on to describe the characteristics of his work. 'In his verse he imitates the ancients, paraphrases them, and reproducesthem, above all Propertius, from whom he traces his descent. He is aworthy scion of the house, and closely resembles his great ancestor inthat sphere in which he of old excelled. If you read his elegies youwill find them highly polished, possessed of great sensuous charm, andquite obviously written in the house of Propertius. He has latelybetaken himself to lyric verse, and imitates Horace with the same skillwith which he has imitated Propertius. Indeed, if kinship counts foranything in the world of letters, you would deem him Horace's kinsman aswell. ' Pliny concludes with a warm tribute to Passennus' character. Thepicture is a pleasant one, but it is startling and significant to findPliny awarding such praise to one who was frankly imitative, if he wasnot actually a plagiarist. [451]

Pliny is not less complimentary to Sentius Augurinus. 'I have beenlistening, ' he writes, [452] 'to a recitation given by Sentius Augurinus. It gave me the greatest pleasure, and filled me with the utmostadmiration for his talent. He calls his verses "trifles" (_poematia_). Much is written with great delicacy, much with great elevation of style;many of the poems show great charm, many great tenderness; not a few arehoney-sweet, not a few bitter and mordant. It is some time sinceanything so perfect has been produced. ' The next clause, however, betrays the reason, in part at any rate, for Pliny's admiration. In thecourse of his recitation he had produced a small hendecasyllabic poem inpraise of Pliny's own verses. Pliny proceeds to quote it with everyexpression of gratification and approval. It is certainly neatly turnedand well expressed, but it is such as any cultivated gentleman who hadread his Catullus and Martial might produce, and can hardly have been ofinterest to any one save Augurinus and Pliny. Pliny was, in fact, withall his admirable gifts, one of the principal and most amiable membersof a highly cultivated mutual admiration society. He was a poet himself, though only a few lines of the poems praised by Augurinus have survivedto undergo the judgement of a more critical age. Pliny has, however, given an interesting little sketch of his poetical career in the fourthletter of the seventh book. 'I have always had a taste for poetry, ' hetells his friend Pontius; 'nay, I was only fourteen when I composed atragedy in Greek. What was it like? you ask. I know not; it was called atragedy. Later, when returning from my military service, I wasweather-bound in the island of Icaria, and wrote elegiac poems in Latinabout that island and the sea, which bears the same name. I haveoccasionally attempted heroic hexameters, but it is only quite recentlythat I have taken to writing hendecasyllables. You shall hear of theirorigin and of the occasion which gave them birth. Some writings ofAsinius Gallus were being read aloud to me in my Laurentine villa; inthese works he was comparing his father with Cicero; we came upon anepigram of Cicero dedicated to his freedman Tiro. Shortly after, aboutnoon--for it was summer--I retired to take my siesta, and finding that Icould not sleep, I began to reflect how the very greatest orators havetaken delight in composing this style of verse, and have hoped to winfame thereby. I set my mind to it, and, quite contrary to myexpectations after so long desuetude, produced in an extremely shortspace of time the following verses on that very subject which hadprovoked me to write. '

Thirteen hexameter verses follow of a mildly erotic character. They arenot peculiarly edifying, and are certainly very far from being poetry. He continues:

'I then turned my attention to expressing the same thoughts in elegiacverse; I rattled these off at equal speed, and wrote some additionallines, being beguiled into doing so by the fluency with which I wrotethe metre. On my return to Rome I read the verses to my friends. Theyapproved. Then in my leisure moments, especially when travelling, Iattempted other metres. Finally, I resolved to follow the example ofmany other writers and compose a whole separate volume in thehendecasyllabic metre; nor do I regret having done so. For the book isread, copied, and even sung; even Greeks chant my verses to the sound ofthe _cithara_ or the lyre; their passion for the book has taught them touse the Latin tongue. ' It was this volume of hendecasyllables aboutwhich Pliny displays such naïve enthusiasm that led Augurinus to comparePliny to Calvus and Catullus. Pliny's success had come to himcomparatively late in life; but it emboldened him to the composition ofanother volume of poems[453] in various metres, which he read to hisfriends. He cites one specimen in elegiacs[454] which awakens no desirefor more, for it is fully as prosy as the hexameters to which we havealready referred. Of the hendecasyllables nothing survives, but Plinytells us something as to their themes and the manner of theircomposition. [455] 'I amuse myself by writing them in my leisure momentsat the bath or in my carriage. I jest in them and make merry, I play thelover, I weep, I make lamentation, I vent my anger, or describesomething or other now in a pedestrian, now in a loftier vein. ' As thislittle catalogue would suggest, these poems were not always toorespectable. The good Pliny, like Martial, thinks it necessary toapologize[456] for his freedom in conforming to the fashionable licenceof his age by protesting that his muse may be wanton, but his life ischaste. We can readily believe him, for he was a man of kindly heart andhigh ideals, whose simple vanity cannot obscure his amiability. But itis difficult to believe that the loss of his poetry is in any way aserious loss to the world. [457] We have given Pliny the poet more spacethan is his due; our excuse must be the interest of his engagingself-revelations. 

In spite of Pliny's enthusiasm for his poet friends, there is no reasonto suppose that the reign of Trajan saw the production of any poetry, save that of Juvenal, which even approached the first rank. With theaccession of Hadrian we enter on a fresh era, characterized by the riseof a new prose style and the almost entire disappearance of poetry. Romehad produced her last great poet. The _Pervigilium Veneris_ and a fewslight but beautiful fragments of Tiberianus are all that illumine thedarkness till we come upon the interesting but uninspired elegiacs ofRutilius Namatianus, the curiously uneven and slipshod poetry ofAusonius, and the graceful, but cold and lifeless perfection of theheroic hexameters of Claudian. 

II

SULPICIA

Poetesses were not rare at Rome during the first century of our era; the_scribendi cacoethes_ extended to the fair sex sufficiently, at anyrate, to evoke caustic comment both from Martial[458] and Juvenal. [459]By a curious coincidence, the only poetesses of whose work we have anyrecord are both named Sulpicia. The elder Sulpicia belongs to an earlierage; she formed one of the Augustan literary circle of which her uncleMessala was the patron, and left a small collection of elegiac poemsaddressed to her lover, and preserved in the same volume as theposthumous poems of Tibullus, to whose authorship they were for longattributed. [460]

The younger Sulpicia was a contemporary of the poet Martial, and, likeher predecessor, wrote erotic verse. Frank and outspoken as was theearlier poetess, in this respect at least her namesake far surpassedher. For the younger Sulpicia's plain-speaking, if we may judge fromthe comments of ancient writers[461] and the one brief fragment of herlove-poems that has survived, [462] was of a very different characterand must at least have bordered on the obscene. But her work attractedattention; her fame is associated with her love for Calenus, a lovethat was long[463] and passionate. She continued to be read even in thedays of Ausonius and Sidonius Apollinaris. Martial compares her withSappho, and her songs of love seem to have rung true, even though theirfrankness may have been of a kind generally associated with passions ofa looser character. [464] If, as a literal interpretation ofMartial[465] would lead us to infer, Calenus was her husband, the poemsof Sulpicia confront us with a spectacle unique in ancientliterature--a wife writing love-poems to her husband. Her language camefrom the heart, not from book-learning; she was a poetess such asMartial delighted to honour. 

 omnes Sulpiciam legant puellae, uni quae cupiunt viro placere; omnes Sulpiciam legant mariti, uni qui cupiunt placere nuptae. Non haec Colchidos adserit furorem, diri prandia nec refert Thyestae; Scyllam, Byblida nec fuisse credit: sed castos docet et probos amores, lusus delicias facetiasque. Cuius carmina qui bene aestimarit, nullam dixerit esse nequiorem, nullam dixerit esse sanctiorem[466]. 

 Read your Sulpicia, maidens all, Whose husband shall your sole love be; Read your Sulpicia, husbands all, Whose wife shall reign, and none but she. No theme for her Medea's fire, Nor orgy of Thyestes dire; Scylla and Byblis she'd deny, Of love she sang and purity, Of dalliance and frolic gay; Who should have well appraised her lay Had said none were more chaste than she, Yet fuller none of amorous glee. A. E. STREET. 

Although the thought of what _procacitas_[467] may have meant in a ladyof Domitian's reign raises something of a shudder, and although it is tobe feared that Martial, when he goes on to say (loc. Cit. )

 tales Egeriae iocos fuisse udo crediderim Numae sub antro, Such sport I ween Egeria gave To Numa in his spring-drenched cave. A. E. STREET. 

had that in his mind which would have scandalized the pious lawgiver ofRome, we may yet regret the loss of poems which, if Martial's languageis not merely the language of flattery, may have breathed a fresher andfreer spirit than is often to be found in the poets of the age. Catullusand Sappho would seem to have been Sulpicia's models, but her poems haveleft so little trace behind them that it is impossible to speak withcertainty. As to their metre we are equally ill-informed. The fragmentof two lines quoted above is in iambic _senarii_. If we may believe theevidence[468] of a satirical hexameter poem attributed to Sulpicia, shealso wrote in hendecasyllables and scazons. The genuineness of this poemis, however, open to serious doubt. It consists of seventy hexametersdenouncing the expulsion of the philosophers by Domitian, and is knownby the title of _Sulpiciae satira_. [469] That it purports to be by thepoetess beloved of Calenus is clear from an allusion to theirpassion. [470] Serious doubts have, however, been cast upon itsgenuineness. It is urged that the work is ill-composed, insipid, andtasteless, and that it contains not a few marked peculiarities indiction and metre, together with more than one historical inaccuracy. The inference suggested is that the poem is not by Sulpicia, but atleast two centuries later in date. It may readily be admitted that thepoem is almost entirely devoid of any real merit, that its diction isobscure and slovenly, its metre lame and unimpressive. But the criticsof the poem are guilty of great exaggeration. [471] Many of its worstdefects are undoubtedly due to the exceedingly corrupt state of thetext; further, it is hard to see what interest a satire directed againstDomitian would possess centuries after his death, nor is it easy toimagine what motive could have led the supposed forger to attribute hiswork to Sulpicia. The balance of probability inclines, though veryslightly, in favour of the view that the work is genuine. This isunfortunate; for the perusal of this curious satire on the hypothesis ofits genuineness appreciably lessens our regret for the loss ofSulpicia's love poetry and arouses serious suspicion as to the veracityof Martial. It must, however, in justice be remembered that it does notfollow that Sulpicia was necessarily a failure as a lyric writer becauseshe had not the peculiar gift necessary for satire. The absence of thetraining of the rhetorical schools from a woman's education might wellaccount for such a failure. At the worst, Sulpicia stands as aninteresting example of the type of womanhood at which Juvenal levelledsome of his wildest and most ill-balanced invective. 

CHAPTER VIII

VALERIUS FLACCUS

The political tendency towards retrenchment and reform that marks thereign of Vespasian finds its literary parallel in a reaction against therhetoric of display that culminated in Seneca and Lucan. This movementis most strongly marked in the prose of Quintilian and the _Dialogus_ ofTacitus, but finds a faint echo in the world of poets as well. The threeepic poets of the period--Valerius Flaccus, Statius, and SiliusItalicus--though they, too, have suffered much from their rhetoricaltraining, are all clear followers of Vergil. They, like theirpredecessors, find it hard to say things naturally, but they do not tothe same extent go out of their way with the deliberate intention ofsaying things unnaturally. [472] We may condemn them as phrase-makers, though many a modern poet of greater reputation is equally open to thecharge. But their phrase-making has not the flamboyant quality of theNeronian age. If it is no less wearisome, it is certainly lessoffensive. They do not lack invention; their mere technical skill isremarkable; they fail because they lack the supreme gifts of insight andimagination. 

Valerius Flaccus chose a wiser course than Lucan and Silius Italicus. Heturned not to history, but to legend, for his theme; and the story ofthe Argonauts, on which his choice lighted, possessed one inestimableadvantage. Well-worn and hackneyed as it was, it possessed the secret ofeternal youth. 'Age could not wither it nor custom stale its infinitevariety. ' The poorest of imitative poetasters could never have made itwholly dull, and Valerius Flaccus was more than a mere poetaster. 

Of his life and position little is known. His name is given by the MSS. As Gaius Valerius Flaccus Setinus Balbus. [473] The name Setinus suggeststhat he may have been a native of Setia. As there were three Setias, onein Italy and two in Spain, this clue gives us small help. It has beensuggested[474] that the peculiarities of his diction are due to hisbeing of Spanish origin. But we have no evidence as to the nature ofSpanish Latin, while the authors of known Spanish birth, who found famein the Silver Age--Seneca, Lucan, Martial, Quintilian, Columella--showno traces of their provenance. No more helpful is the view that he isone Flaccus of Patavium, the poet-friend to whom two of Martial'sepigrams are addressed. [475] For Martial's acquaintance was poor and isexhorted to abandon poetry as unlucrative, whereas Valerius Flaccus hadsome social standing and, not improbably, some wealth. From the openingof the _Argonautica_ we learn that he held the post of _quindecimvirsacris faciundis_. [476] But there our knowledge of the poet ends, savefor one solitary allusion in Quintilian, the sole reference to Valeriusin any ancient writer. In his survey of Latin literature[477] he says_multum in Valerio Flacco nuper amisimus_. The work of Quintilian havingbeen published between the years 93 and 95 A. D. , the death of ValeriusFlaccus may be placed about 90 A. D. 

The poem seems to have been commenced shortly after the capture ofJerusalem in 70 A. D. At the opening of the first book[478] Valeriusaddresses Vespasian in the conventional language of courtly flatterywith appropriate reference to his voyages in northern seas during hisservice in Britain, a reference doubly suitable in a poem which islargely nautical and geographical. He excuses himself from taking theobvious subject of the Jewish war on the ground that that theme isreserved for the inspired pen of Domitian. It is for him to describeTitus, his brother, dark with the dust of war, launching the fires ofdoom and dealing destruction from tower to tower along the ramparts ofJerusalem. [479] The progress of the work was slow. By the time the thirdbook is reached we find references to the eruption of Vesuvius thatburied Pompeii and Herculaneum in 79 A. D. , [480] while in the twoconcluding books there seem to be allusions to Roman campaigns in theDanube lands, perhaps those undertaken by Domitian in 89 A. D. [481] Atline 468 of the eighth book the poem breaks off suddenly. It is possiblethat this is due to the ravages of time or to the circumstances of thecopyist of our archetype, but consideration of internal evidence pointsstrongly to the conclusion that Valerius died with his work uncompleted. 

Not only do the words of Quintilian (l. C. ) suggest a poet who left agreat work unfinished, but the poem itself is full of harshnesses andinconsistencies of a kind which so slow and careful a craftsman wouldassuredly have removed had the poem been completed and received itsfinal revision. [482] These blemishes leave us little room for doubt. Thepoem that has come down to us is a fragment lacking the _limae labor_. Like the _Thebais_ of Statius and the _Aeneid_ itself, the work wasprobably planned to fill twelve books. The poem breaks off with themarriage of Medea and Jason on the Isle of Peuce at the mouth of theDanube, where they are overtaken by Medea's brother Absyrtus, who hascome in anger to reclaim his sister and take vengeance on the strangerwho has beguiled her. It is clear that the Argonauts[483] were, as inApollonius Rhodius, to escape up the Danube and reach another sea. InApollonius they descended from the head waters of the Danube by somemythical river to the Adriatic; it is in the Adriatic that Absyrtus isencountered and slain; it is in Phaeacia that Jason and Medea aremarried. In Valerius both these incidents take place in the Isle ofPeuce, at the Danube's mouth. The inference is that Valeriuscontemplated a different scheme for his conclusion. It has been pointedout[484] that a mere 'reproduction of Apollonius' episodes could nothave occupied four books'; and it is suggested that Valerius definitelybrought his heroes into relation to the various Italian places[485]connected with the Argonautic legend, while he may even, as a complimentto Vespasian, [486] have brought them back 'by way of the North Sea pastBritain and Gaul'. This ingenious conjectural reconstruction has someprobability, slight as is the evidence on which it rests. Valerius wasalmost bound to give his epic a Roman tinge. More convincing, however, is the suggestion of the same critic[487] that the poem was designed toexceed the scope of the epic of Apollonius and to have included thedeath of Pelias, the malignant and usurping uncle, who, to get rid ofJason, compels him to the search of the golden fleece. To theretribution that came upon him there are two clear references[488] andonly the design to describe it could justify the introduction of thesuicide of Jason's parents at the outset of the first book, a suicide towhich they are driven to avoid death at the hands of Pelias. 

The scope of the unwritten books is, however, of little importance incomparison with the execution of the existing portion of the poem. TheArgonaut Saga has its weaknesses as a theme for epic. It is tooepisodic, it lacks unity and proportion. Save for the struggle inColchis and the loves of Jason and Medea, there is little deep humaninterest. These defects, however, find their compensation in thevariety and brilliance of colour, and, in a word, the romance that isinseparable from the story. The scene is ever changing, each day bringsa new marvel, a new terror. Picturesqueness atones for lack of epicgrandeur. For that reason the theme was well suited to the Silver Age, when picturesqueness and rich invention of detail predominated at theexpense of poetic dignity and kindling imagination. In many waysValerius does justice to his subject, in spite of the initialdifficulty with which he was confronted. Apollonius Rhodius had madethe story his own; Varro of Atax had translated Apollonius: both in itsGreek and Latin forms the story was familiar to Roman readers. It washard to be original. 

Much as Valerius owes to his greater predecessor, he yet succeeds inshowing no little originality in his portrayal of character andincident, and in a few cases in his treatment of plot. [489] In oneparticular indeed he has markedly improved on his model; he has madeJason, the hero of his epic, a real hero; conventional he may be, but hestill is a leader of men. In Apollonius, on the other hand, he plays acuriously inconspicuous part; he is, in fact, the weakest feature of thepoem; he is in despair from the outset, and at no point shows genuineheroic qualities; he is at best a peerless wooer and no more. Here, however, he is exalted by the two great battles of Cyzicus and Colchis;it is in part his prowess in the latter battle that wins Medea's heart. In this connexion we may also notice a marked divergence from Apolloniusas regards the plot. Aeetes has promised Jason the fleece if he will aidhim against his brother Perses, who is in revolt against him with a hostof Scythians at his back. Jason aids him, does prodigies of valour, andwins a glorious victory. Aeetes refuses the reward. This act oftreachery justifies Jason in having recourse to Medea's magic arts andin employing her to avenge him on her father. In Apollonius we find avery different story. The sons of Phrixus, who, to escape the wrath ofAeetes, have thrown in their lot with the Argonauts, urge Jason toapproach Medea; they themselves work upon the feelings of their mother, Chalciope, till she seeks her sister Medea--already in love with Jasonand only too ready to be persuaded--and induces her to save her nephews, whose fate is bound up with that of the strangers. This incident iswholly absent from Valerius Flaccus, with the result that the loves ofJason and Medea assume a somewhat different character. Jason's conductbecomes more natural and dignified. Medea, on the other hand, is shownin a less favourable light. In the Greek poet she has for excuse thedesire to save her sister from the loss of her sons, which gives herhalf a right to love Jason. In the Latin epic she is without excuse, unless, indeed, the hackneyed supernatural machinery, [490] put in motionto win her for Jason, can be called an excuse. This crude employment ofthe supernatural leaves Valerius small room for the subtle psychologicalanalysis wherein the Greek excels, and this, coupled with the love ofthe Silver Age for art magic, tends to make Medea--as in Seneca--asorceress first, a woman after. In Apollonius she is barbaric, unsophisticated, a child of nature; in Valerius she is a figure of thestage, not without beauty and pathos, but essentially melodramatic. 

But Apollonius had concentrated all his powers upon Medea, and dwarfsall his other characters, Jason not excepted. It is Medea alone thatholds our interests. The little company of heroes embarked on unsailedseas and beset with strange peril are scarcely more than a string ofnames, that drop in and out, as though the work were a ship's log ratherthan an epic. In Valerius, though he attempts no detailed portraiture, they are men who can at least fight and die. He has, in a word, a bettergeneral conception as to how the story should be told; he is lessperfunctory, and strives to fill in his canvas more evenly, whereasApollonius, although by no means concise, leaves much of his canvascovered by sketches of the slightest and most insignificant character. In the Greek poem, though half the work is consumed in describing thevoyage to Colchis, the first two books contain scarcely anything of realpoetic interest, if we except the story of Phineus and the Harpies, afew splendid similes, and two or three descriptive passages, as brief asthey are brilliant. In Valerius, on the contrary, there is abundance ofstirring scenes and rich descriptive passages before the Argonauts reachtheir goal. His superiority is particularly noticeable at the outset ofthe poem. Apollonius plunges _in medias res_ and fails to give anadequate account of the preliminaries of the expedition. He has nobetter method of introducing us to his heroes than by giving us a drearycatalogue of their names. Valerius, too, has his catalogue, but later;we are not choked with indigestible and unpalatable fare at the veryopening of the feast. And though both authors take five hundred lines toget their heroes under way, Valerius tells us far more and in far betterlanguage; Apollonius does not find his stride till the second book, andforgets that it is necessary to interest the reader in his charactersfrom the very beginning. 

But though in these respects Valerius has improved on his predecessor, and though his work lacks the arid wastes of his model, he is yet anauthor of an inferior class, and comes ill out of the comparison. For hehas little of the rich, almost oriental, colouring of Apollonius at hisbest, lacks his fire and passion, and fails to cast the same glamour ofromance about his subject. While the Dido and Aeneas of Vergil are insome respects but a pale reflection of the Medea and Jason ofApollonius, the loves of Jason and Medea in Valerius are fainter still. His heroine is not the tragic figure that stands out in lines of firefrom the pages of Apollonius. His lovers' speeches have a certain beautyand tenderness of their own, but they lack the haunting melody and theresistless passion that make the Rhodian's lines immortal. And while toa great extent he lacks the peculiar merits of the Greek, [491] hepossesses his most serious blemish, the blemish that is so salient acharacteristic of both Alexandrian and Silver Latin literature, thepassion for obscure learning. A good example is the huge, though mostingenious, catalogue of the tribes of Scythia at the opening of thesixth book, with its detailed inventory of strange names and customs, and its minute descriptions of barbaric armour. His love of learninglands him, moreover, in strange anachronisms. We are told that theColchians are descended from Sesostris;[492] the town of Arsinoe isspoken of as already in existence; Egypt is already connected with thehouse of Lagus. [493]

In addition, Valerius possesses many of the faults from which Apolloniusis free, but with which the post-Augustan age abounds. The dangerousinfluence of Seneca has, it is true, decayed; we are no longer floodedwith epigram or declamatory rhetoric. Rhetoric there is, and rhetoricthat is not always effective;[494] but it is rather a perversion of therhetoric of Vergil than the descendant of the brilliant rant of Lucanand Seneca. From the gross lack of taste and humour that characterizesso many of his contemporaries he is comparatively free, though hisdescription of the historic 'crab' caught by Hercules reaches the utmostlimit of absurdity:

 laetus et ipse Alcides: Quisnam hos vocat in certamina fluctus? dixit, et, intortis adsurgens arduus undis, percussit subito deceptum fragmine pectus, atque in terga ruens Talaum fortemque Eribotem et longe tantae securum Amphiona molis obruit, inque tuo posuit caput, Iphite, transtro. (iii. 474-80. )

 Alcides gladdened in his heart and cried: 'Who challenges these waves to combat?' and as he rose against those buffeting waves, sudden with broken oar he smote his baffled breast, and, falling headlong back, o'erthrows Talaus and brave Eribotes and far-off Amphion, that never feared so vast a bulk should fall on him, and laid his head against thy thwart, O Iphitus. 

This unheroic episode is a relic of the comic traditions associatedwith Hercules, traditions which obtrude themselves from time to time inserious and even tragic surroundings. [495] Apollonius describes thesame incident[496] with the quiet humour that so strangely tinges theworks of the pedants of Alexandria. Valerius, on the other hand, haslost touch with the broad comedy of these traditions, and his attemptto be humorous only succeeds in making him ridiculous. [497]

His worst fault, however, lies in his obscurity and preciosity ofdiction. The error lies not so much in veiling simple facts under anepigram, as in a vain attempt to imitate the 'golden phrases' of Vergil. The strange conglomeration of words with which Valerius so often vexeshis readers resembles the 'chosen coin of fancy' only as the formlessdesigns of the coinage of Cunobelin resemble the exquisite staters ofMacedon from which they trace their descent. It requires more than acasual glance to tell that (i. 411)

 it quem fama genus non est decepta Lyaei Phlias inmissus patrios de vertice crines

means that Phlias was 'truly reported the son of Bacchus with streaminglocks like to his sire's'; or that (vi. 553)

 Argus utrumque ab equis ingenti porrigit arvo

signifies no more than that the victims of Argus covered a large spaceof ground when they fell. [498] How miserable is such a phrase comparedwith the [Greek: keito megas megal_osti] of Homer! And though there isless serious obscurity, nothing can be more awkward than the notinfrequent inversion of the natural order of words that we find inphrases such as _nec pereat quo scire malo_ (vii. 7). [499]

Of mere preciosity and phrase-making without any special obscurityexamples abound. [500] Pelion sinks below the horizon (ii. 6)--

 iamque fretis summas aequatum Pelion ornos. 

A fight at close quarters receives the following curious description(ii. 524)--

 iam brevis et telo volucri non utilis aer. 

A spear flying through the air and missing its mark is a _volnus raptumper auras_ (iii. 196). More startling than these is the picture of acharge of trousered barbarians (vi. 702)--

 improba barbaricae procurrunt tegmina plantae. 

One more peculiarity remains to be noticed. Here and there in the_Argonautica_ we meet with a strange brevity and compression resultingnot from the desire to produce phrases of curious and original texture, but rather from a praiseworthy though misdirected endeavour to beconcise. The most remarkable example is found in the first book, whereMopsus, the official prophet of the expedition, falls into a trance andbeholds a vision of the future (211):

 heu quaenam aspicio! nostris modo concitus ausis aequoreos vocat ecce deos Neptunus et ingens concilium. Fremere et legem defendere cuncti hortantur. Sic amplexu, sic pectora fratris, Iuno, tene; tuque o puppem ne desere, Pallas: nunc patrui nunc flecte minas. Cessere ratemque accepere mari. Per quot discrimina rerum expedior! subita cur pulcher harundine crines velat Hylas? unde urna umeris niueosque per artus caeruleae vestes? unde haec tibi volnera, Pollux? quantus io tumidis taurorum e naribus ignis! tollunt se galeae sulcisque ex omnibus hastae et iam iamque umeri. Quem circum vellera Martem aspicio? quaenam aligeris secat anguibus auras caede madens? quos ense ferit? miser eripe parvos, Aesonide. Cerno et thalamos ardere iugales. 

 Alas! what do I see! Even now, stirred by our daring, lo! Neptune calls the gods to a vast conclave. They murmur, and one and all urge him to defend his rights. Hold as thou holdest now, Juno, hold thy brother in thine embrace: and thou, Pallas, forsake not our ship: now, even now, appease thy brother's threats. They have yielded: they give Argo entrance to the sea. Through what perils am I whirled along! Why does fair Hylas veil his locks with a sudden crown of reeds? Whence comes the pitcher on his shoulder and the azure raiment on his limbs of snow? Whence, Pollux, come these wounds of thine? Ah! what a flame streams from the widespread nostrils of the bulls. Helmets and spears rise from every furrow, and now see! shoulders too! What warfare for the fleece do I see? Who is it cleaves the air with winged snakes, reeking with slaughter? Whom smites she with the sword? Ah! son of Aeson, hapless man, save thy little ones. I see, too, the bridal chamber all aflame. 

These lines form a kind of abridgement or _précis_ of the whole_Argonautica_, or even more, for we can hardly believe that the schemeof it included the murder of Medea's children and her vengeance on thehouse of Creon[501]. They are also far too obscure to be interesting toany save a highly-trained literary audience, while their extremecompression could only be justified by their having been primarilydesigned for recitation in a dramatic and realistic manner withsuitable pauses between the different visions. [502] A yet worse andless excusable example of this peculiar brevity is the jerky andprosaic enumeration of Medea's achievements in the black art(vi. 442)--

 mutat agros fluviumque vias; suus alligat ingens cuncta sopor, recoquit fessos aetate parentes, datque alias sine lege colus. 

 She changes crops of fields and course of rivers. [At her bidding] deep clinging slumber binds all things; fathers outworn with age she seethes to youth again, and to others she gives new span of life against fate's ordinance. 

The attempt to be concise and full[503] at one and the same time fails, and fails inevitably. 

But for all these faults Valerius Flaccus offends less than any of theSilver Latin writers of epic. He rants less and he exaggerates less;above all, he has much genuine poetic merit. He has been strangelyneglected, both in ancient[504] and modern times, and unduly depreciatedin the latter. There has been a tendency to rank him with SiliusItalicus, whereas it would be truer criticism to place him close toStatius, and not far below Lucan. He is more uneven than the former, hasa far less certain touch, and infinitely less command of his instrument. He has less mastery of words, but a more kindling and penetratingimagination. His outlines are less clear, but more suggestive. He hasless rhetoric; beneath an often obscure diction he reveals a greatersimplicity and directness of thought, and he has been infinitely morehappy in his theme. Only the greatest of poets could achieve a genuinesuccess with the Theban legend, only the worst of poets could reduce thevoyage of the Argonauts to real dullness. On the other hand, in an ageof _belles-lettres_ such as the Silver Age, and by the majority ofscholars, whose very calling leads them to set a perhaps abnormally highvalue on technical skill, Statius is almost certain to be preferred toValerius. About the relative position of Lucan there is no doubt. He isincomparably the superior of Valerius, both in genius and intellect. ButValerius never sins against taste and reason to the same extent, andthough he has less fire, possesses a finer ear for music and rhythm, andmore poetic feeling as distinct from rhetoric. Vergil was his master; ithas been said with a little exaggeration that Valerius stands in thesame relation to Vergil as Persius to Horace. This statement conveys buta half-truth. Valerius is as superior to Persius in technique as he isinferior in moral force and intellectual power. He is, however, full ofechoes from Vergil, [505] and if his verse has neither the 'ocean roll'of the greater poets, nor the same tenderness, he yet has something ofthe true Vergilian glamour. But he has weakened his hexameter bysuccumbing to the powerful influence of Ovid. His verse is polished andneat to the verge of weakness. Like Ovid, he shows a preference for thedactyl over the spondee, shrinks from elision, and does not understandhow to vary his pauses. [506] Too many lines close with a full-stop orcolon, and where the line is broken, the same pause often recurs againand again with wearisome monotony. In this respect Valerius, thoughnever monotonously ponderous like Lucan, compares ill with Statius. As acompensation, his individual lines have a force and beauty that iscomparatively rare in the _Thebais_. The poet who could describe asea-cave thus (iv. 179)--

 non quae dona die, non quae trahat aetheris ignem; infelix domus et sonitu tremibunda profundi, That receiveth never daylight's gifts nor the light of the heavenly fires, the home of gloom all a-tremble with the sound of the deep. 

is not to be despised as a master of metre. And whether forpicturesqueness of expression or for beauty of sound, lines such as(iii. 596)

 rursus Hylan et rursus Hylan per longa reclamat avia; responsant silvae et vaga certat imago, 'Hylas', and again 'Hylas', he calls through the long wilderness; the woods reply, and wandering echo mocks his voice. 

or (i. 291)

 quis tibi, Phrixe, dolor, rapido cum concitus aestu respiceres miserae clamantia virginis ora extremasque manus sparsosque per aequora crines!

 Phrixus, what grief was thine when, swept along by the swirling tide, thou lookedst back on the hapless maiden's face as she cried for thine aid, her sinking hands, her hair streaming o'er the deep. 

are not easily surpassed outside the pages of Vergil. But it is aboveall on his descriptive power that his claim to consideration rests. [507]For it is there that he finds play for his most remarkable gifts, hispower of suggestion of mystery, and his keen sense of colour. Thesegifts find their most striking manifestation in his description of theArgonauts' first night upon the waters. They

 were the first that ever burst Into that silent sea. 

All is strange to them. Each sight and sound has its element of terror:

 auxerat hora metus, iam se vertentis Olympi ut faciem raptosque simul montesque locosque ex oculis circumque graves videre tenebras. Ipsa quies rerum mundique silentia terrent astraque et effusis stellatus crinibus aether. Ac velut ignota captus regione viarum noctivagum qui carpit iter non aure quiescit, non oculis, noctisque metus niger auget utrimque campus et occurrens umbris maioribus arbor, haud aliter trepidare viri (ii. 38). 

 The dark hour deepened their fears when they saw heaven's vault wheel round, and the peaks and fields of earth snatched from their view, and all about them the horror of darkness. The very stillness of things and the deep silence of the world affright them, the stars and heaven begemmed with streaming locks of gold. And as one benighted in a strange place 'mid paths unknown pursues his devious journey through the night and finds rest neither for eye nor ear, but all about him the blackness of the plain, and the trees that throng upon him seen greater through the gloom, deepen his terror of the dark--even so the heroes trembled. 

There are few more vivid pictures in Latin poetry than that of thebenighted wanderer lost on some wide plain studded with clumps of treesthat seem to throng upon him in the gloom, seen greater through thedarkness. Not less imaginative, though less clear cut and precise, ishis picture of the underworld in the third book:

 est procul ad Stygiae devexa silentia noctis Cimmerium domus et superis incognita tellus, caeruleo tenebrosa situ, quo flammea numquam Sol iuga sidereos nec mittit Iuppiter annos. Stant tacitae frondes inmotaque silva comanti horret Averna iugo; specus umbrarumque meatus subter et Oceani praeceps fragor arvaque nigro vasta metu et subitae post longa silentia voces (iii. 398). 

 Far hence by the deep sunken silence of the Stygian night lies the Cimmerians' home, a land unknown to denizens of upper air, all dark with gloomy squalor. Thither the sun hath never driven his flaming car nor Jupiter sent forth his starry seasons. Silent are the leaves of its groves, and all along its leafy hill bristles unmoved Avernus' wood: thereunder are caverns, and the shades go to and fro; there Ocean plunges roaring to its fall, there are plains with dark fear desolate, and after long silences sudden voices thunder out. 

It is a more theatrical underworld than that of Vergil, and the pictureis not clearly conceived, but its very vagueness is impressive. The poetgives us, as it were, the scene for the enactment of some dim dream ofterror. He is equally at home in describing the happy calm of Elysium. Though the picture lacks originality, it has no lack of beauty:

 hic geminae infernum portae, quarum altera dura semper lege patens populos regesque receptat; ast aliam temptare nefas et tendere contra; rara et sponte patet, siquando pectore ductor volnera nota gerens, galeis praefixa rotisque cui domus aut studium mortales pellere curas, culta fides, longe metus atque ignota cupido; seu venit in vittis castaque in veste sacerdos. Quos omnes lenis plantis et lampada quassans progenies Atlantis agit. Lucet via late igne dei, donec silvas et amoena piorum deveniant camposque, ubi sol totumque per annum durat aprica dies thiasique chorique virorum carminaque et quorum populis iam nulla cupido (i. 833). 

 Here lie the twin gates of Hell, whereof the one is ever open by stern fate's decree, and through it march the peoples and princes of the world. But the other may none essay nor beat against its bars. Barely it opens and untouched by hand, if e'er a chieftain comes with glorious wounds upon his breast, whose halls were decked with helm and chariots, or who strove to cast out the woes of mankind, who honoured truth and bade farewell to fear and knew no base ambition. Then, too, it opens when some priest comes wearing sacred wreath and spotless robe. All such the child of Atlas leads along with gentle tread and waving torch. Far shines the road with the fire of the god until they come to the groves and plains, the pleasant mansions of the blest, where the sun ceases not, nor the warm daylight all the year long, nor dancing companies of heroes, nor song, nor all the innocent joys that the peoples of the earth desire no more. 

Many lines might be quoted that startle us with their unforeseenvividness or some unexpected blaze of colour; when the fleece of gold istaken from the tree where it had long since shone like a beacon throughthe dark, the tree sinks back into the melancholy night, tristesque super coiere tenebrae (viii. 120). 

At their bridal on the desolate Isle of Peuce under the shadow ofapproaching peril, Jason and Medea gleam star-like amid the company ofheroes (viii. 257):

 ipsi inter medios rosea radiante iuventa altius inque sui sternuntur velleris auro. 

 Themselves in their comrades' midst, bright with the rosy glow of youth, above them all, lie on the fleece of gold that they had made their own. 

This characteristic is most evident in the similes over which Valerius, like other poets of the age, would seem to have expended particularlabour. He scatters them over his pages with too prodigal a hand, andthey suffer at times from over-elaboration and ingenuity. [508] Desirefor originality has led him to such startling comparisons as thatbetween a warrior drawn from his horse and a bird snared by the limedtwig of the fowler, [509] surely as inappropriate a simile as was everframed. More distressing still is the maudlin pathos of the simile whichlikens Medea to a dog on the verge of madness. [510] But such grossaberrations are rare; against them may be set some of the freshest andmost beautiful similes in the whole range of Latin poetry. The silencethat follows on the wailing of the women of Cyzicus is like the silenceof Egypt when the birds that wintered there have flown to more temperatelands. 'And now they had paid due honour to their ashes; with wearyfeet, wives with their babes wandered away and the waves had rest, thewaves long torn by their wakeful lamentation, even as when the birds inmid-spring have returned to the north that is their home, and Memphisand their yearly haunt by sunny Nile are dumb once more'--

 qualiter Arctos ad patrias avibus medio iam vere revectis Memphis et aprici statio silet annua Nili (iii. 358). 

The beauty of Medea among her Scythian maidens is likened to that ofProserpine leading her comrades over Hymettus' hill or wandering withPallas and Diana in the Sicilian mountains--

 altior ac nulla comitum certante, prius quam palluit et viso pulsus decor omnis Averno (v. 346). 

 Taller than all her comrades and fairer than them all or ever she turned pale, and at the sight of Hell all beauty was banished from her face. 

The relief of the Argonauts, when at last they reach haven after theirfearful passage of the Symplegades, is like that of Theseus andHercules, when they have forced a way through the gates of hell to thelight of day once more. [511] Most remarkable of all is the strangeaccumulation of similes that describe the meeting of Jason and Medea. Medea is going through the silent night chanting a song of magic, whereat all nature trembles. At last, when she has come 'to the shadowyplace of the triune goddess', Jason shines forth before her in thegloom, 'as when in deepest night panic bursts on herd and herdsman, orshades meet blind and voiceless in the deep of Chaos; even so, in thedarkness of the night and of the grove, the two met astonied, likesilent pines or motionless cypress, ere yet the whirling breath of thesouth wind has caught and mingled their boughs'[512]--

 obvius ut sera cum se sub nocte magistris inpingit pecorique pavor, qualesve profundum per chaos occurrunt caecae sine vocibus umbrae; haut secus in mediis noctis nemorisque tenebris inciderant ambo attoniti iuxtaque subibant, abietibus tacitis aut immotis cyparissis adsimiles, rapidus nondum quas miscuit Auster (vii. 400). 

These similes suffer from sheer accumulation. [513] Taken individuallythey are worthy of many a greater poet. 

In his speeches Valerius is less successful, though rarely positivelybad. But with few exceptions they lack force and interest. At times, however, his rhetoric is effective, as in the speech of Mopsus (iii. 377), where he sets forth the punishment of blood-guiltiness, or in thefierce invective in which the Scythian, Gesander, taunts a Greek warriorwith the inferiority of the Greek race (vi. 323 sqq. ). This latterspeech is closely modelled on Vergil (_A. _ ix. 595 sqq. ), and althoughit is somewhat out of place in the midst of a battle, is not whollyunworthy of its greater model. But it is to the speeches of Jason andMedea that we naturally turn to form the estimate of the poet's masteryof the language of passion. These speeches serve to show us how far hefalls below Vergil (_A. _ iv) and Apollonius (bk. Iii). They offer anoble field for his powers, and it cannot be said that he rises to thefull height of the occasion. On the other hand, he does not actuallyfail. There is a note of deep and moving appeal in all that Medea saysas she gradually yields to the power of her passion, and the thought ofher father and her home fades slowly from her mind. 

 quid, precor, in nostras venisti, Thessale, terras? unde mei spes ulla tibi? tantosque petisti cur non ipse tua fretus virtute labores? nempe, ego si patriis timuissem excedere tectis, occideras; nempe hanc animam sors saeva manebat funeris. En ubi Iuno, ubi nunc Tritonia virgo, sola tibi quoniam tantis in casibus adsum externae regina domus? miraris et ipse, credo, nec agnoscunt hae nunc Aeetida silvae. Sed fatis sum victa tuis; cape munera supplex nunc mea; teque iterum Pelias si perdere quaeret, inque alios casus alias si mittet ad urbes, heu formae ne crede tuae. 

'"Why, "' she cries (vii. 438), '"why, I beseech thee, Thessalian, camestthou ever to this land of ours? Whence hadst thou any hope of me? Andwhy didst thou seek these toils with faith in aught save thine ownvalour? Surely hadst thou perished, had I feared to leave my father'shalls--aye, and so surely had I shared thy cruel doom. Where now is thyhelper Juno, where now thy Tritonian maid, since I, the queen of analien house, have come to help thee in thy need? Aye, even thyself thoumarvellest, methinks, nor any more does this grove know me for Aeetes'daughter. Nay, 'twas thy cruel fate overcame me; take now, poorsuppliant, these my gifts, and, if e'er again Pelias seek to destroythee and send thee forth to other cities, ah! put not too fond trust inthy beauty!"' Yet again, before she puts the saving charms into hishands, she appeals to him (452):

 si tamen aut superis aliquam spem ponis in istis, aut tua praesenti virtus educere leto si te forte potest, etiam nunc deprecor, hospes, me sine, et insontem misero dimitte parenti. Dixerat; extemploque (etenim matura ruebant sidera, et extremum se flexerat axe Booten) cum gemitu et multo iuveni medicamina fletu non secus ac patriam pariter famamque decusque obicit. Ille manu subit, et vim conripit omnem. Inde ubi facta nocens, et non revocabilis umquam cessit ab ore pudor, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Pandentes Minyas iam vela videbat se sine. Tum vero extremo percussa dolore adripit Aesoniden dextra ac submissa profatur: sis memor, oro, mei, contra memor ipsa manebo, crede, tui. Quando hinc aberis, die quaeso, profundi quod caeli spectabo latus? sed te quoque tangat cura mei quocumque loco, quoscumque per annos; atque hunc te meminisse velis, et nostra fateri munera; servatum pudeat nec virginis arte. Hei mihi, cur nulli stringunt tua lumina fletus? an me mox merita morituram patris ab ira dissimulas? te regna tuae felicia gentis, te coniunx natique manent; ego prodita obibo. 

'"If thou hast any hope of safety from these goddesses, that are thinehelpers, or if perchance thine own valour can snatch thee from the jawsof death, even now, I pray thee, stranger, let me be, and send me backguiltless to my unhappy sire. " She spake, and straightway--for now thestars outworn sank to their setting, and Bootes in the furthest heightof heaven had turned him towards his rest--straightway she gave thecharms to the young hero with wailing and with lamentation, as thoughtherewith she cast away her country and her own fair fame and honour. 'And then, 'when her guilt was accomplished and the blush of shame hadpassed from her face for evermore, ' she saw as in a vision (474) 'theMinyae spreading their sails for flight without her. Then in truthbitter anguish laid hold of her spirit, and she grasped the right handof the son of Aeson and humbly spake: "Remember me, I pray, for I, believe me shall forget thee never. When thou art hence, where on allthe vault of heaven shall I bear to gaze? Ah! do thou too, where'er thouart, through all the years ne'er let the thought of me slip from thyheart. Remember how thou stood'st to-day, tell of the gifts I gave, andfeel no shame that thou wast saved by a maiden's guile. Alas! why streamno tears from thine eyes? Knowest thou not that the death I havedeserved waits me at my father's hand? For thee there waits a happyrealm among thine own folk, for thee wife and child; but I must perishdeserted and betrayed. "'[514]

All this lacks the force and passion of the corresponding scene inApollonius. This Medea could never have cried, 'I am no Greek princess, gentle-souled, '[515] nor have prayed that a voice from far away or awarning bird might reach him in Iolcus on the day when he forgot her, orthat the stormwind might bear her with reproaches in her eyes to standby his hearth-stone and chide him for his forgetfulness and ingratitude. The Medea of Apollonius has been softened and sentimentalized by theRoman poet. Valerius knows no device to clothe her with power, save bythe narration of her magic arts (vii. 463-71; viii. 68-91). Yet she hasa charm of her own; and it needed true poetic feeling to draw even theMedea of Valerius Flaccus. 

In no age would Valerius have been a great poet, but under happiercircumstances he would have produced work that would have ranked highamong literary epics. As it is, there is no immeasurable distancebetween the _Argonautica_ and works such as the _Gerusalemme liberata_, or much of _The Idylls of the King_. He is a genuine poet whose geniuswas warped by the spirit of the age, stunted by the inherentdifficulties besetting the Roman writer of epic, overweighted by hisadmiration of his two great predecessors, Ovid and Vergil. He isobscure, he is full of echoes, he staggers beneath a burden of uselesslearning, he overcrowds his canvas and strives in vain to put the breathof life into bones long dry; in addition, his epic suffers from the lackof the reviser's hand. And yet, in spite of all, his characters aresometimes more than lay-figures, and his scenes more than merestage-painting. He has the divine fire, and it does not always burn dim. Others have greater cunning of hand, greater force of intellect, andhave won a higher place in the hierarchy of poets. He--though, likethem, he lacks the 'fine madness that truly should possess a poet'sbrain'--yet gives us much that they cannot give, and sees much that theycannot see. With Quintilian, though with altered meaning, we too may say_multum in Valerio Flacco amisimus_. 

CHAPTER IX

STATIUS

Our information as to the life of P. Papinius Statius is drawn almostexclusively from his minor poems entitled the _Silvae_. He was born atNaples, his father was a native of Velia, came of good family, [516] andby profession was poet and schoolmaster. The father's school was atNaples, [517] and, if we may trust his son, was thronged with pupils fromthe whole of Southern Italy. [518] He had been victorious in many poeticcontests both in Naples and in Greece. [519] He had written a poem on theburning of the Capitol in 69 A. D. , had planned another on the eruptionof Vesuvius in 79 A. D. , but apparently died with the workunfinished. [520] It was to his father that our poet attributed all hissuccess as a poet. It was to him he owed both education and inspiration, as the _Epicedion in patrem_ bears pathetic witness (v. 3. 213):

 sed decus hoc quodcumque lyrae primusque dedisti non volgare loqui et famam sperare sepulcro. 

 Thou wert the first to give this glory, whate'er it be, that my lyre hath won; thine was the gift of noble speech and the hope that my tomb should be famous. 

The _Thebais_ was directly due to his prompting (loc. Cit. , 233):

 te nostra magistro Thebais urgebat priscorum exordia vatum; tu cantus stimulare meos, tu pandere facta heroum bellique modos positusque locorum monstrabas. 

 At thy instruction my Thebais trod the steps of elder bards; thou taughtest me to fire my song, thou taughtest me to set forth the deeds of heroes and the ways of war and the position of places. 

The poet-father lived long enough to witness his son well on the way toestablished fame. He had won the prize for poetry awarded by his nativetown, the crown fashioned of ears of corn, chief honour of theNeapolitan Augustalia. [521] Early in the reign of Domitian he hadreceived a high price from the actor Paris for his libretto on thesubject of Agave, [522] and he had already won renown by his recitationsat Rome, [523] recitations in all probability of portions of the_Thebais_[524] which he had commenced in 80 A. D. [525] But it was nottill after his father's death that he reached the height of his fame byhis victory in the annual contest instituted by Domitian at his Albanpalace, [526] and by the completion and final publication in 92 A. D. Ofhis masterpiece, the _Thebais_. [527] This poem was the outcome of twelveyears' patient labour, and it was on this that he based his claim toimmortality. [527] He had now made himself a secure position as theforemost poet of his age. His failure to win the prize at thequinquennial Agon Capitolinus in 94 A. D. Caused him keen mortification, but was in no way a set-back to his career. [528] By this time he hadalready begun the publication of his _Silvae_. The first book waspublished not earlier than 92 A. D. , [529] the second and third betweenthat date and 95 A. D. The fourth appeared in 95 A. D. , [530] the fifth isunfinished. There is no allusion to any date later than 95 A. D. , noindication that the poet survived Domitian (d. 96 A. D. ). These facts, together with the fragmentary state of his ambitious _Achilleis_, begunin 95 A. D. , [531] point to Statius having died in that year, or at leastearly in 96 A. D. He left behind him, beside the works already mentioned, a poem on the wars of Domitian in Germany, [532] and a letter to oneMaximus Vibius, which may have served as a preface to the_Thebais_. [533] He had spent the greater portion of his life either atRome, Naples, or in the Alban villa given him by Domitian. In his latteryears he seems to have resided almost entirely at Rome, though he musthave paid not infrequent visits to the Bay of Naples. [534] But in 94A. D. , whether through failing health or through chagrin at his defeat inthe Capitoline contest, he retired to his native town. [535] He hadmarried a widow named Claudia, [536] but the union was childless; towardsthe end of his life he adopted the infant son of one of his slaves, [537]and the child's premature death affected him as bitterly as though ithad been his own son that died. Of his age we know little; but in the_Silvae_ there are allusions to the approach of old age and the declineof his physical powers. [538] He can scarcely have been born later than45 A. D. , and may well have been born considerably earlier. His life, asfar as we can judge, was placid and uneventful. The position of hisfather seems to have saved him from a miserable struggle for hislivelihood, such as vexed the soul of Martial. [539] There is nothingvenal about his verse. If his flattery of the emperor is fulsome almostbeyond belief, he hardly overstepped the limits of the path dictated bypolicy and the custom of the age; his conduct argues weakness ratherthan any deep moral taint. In his flattery towards his friends andpatrons his tone is, at its worst, rather that of a social inferior thanof a mere dependent. [540] And underlying all the preciosity andexaggeration of his praises and his consolations, there is a genuinewarmth of affection that argues an amiable character. And this warmth offeeling becomes unmistakable in the _epicedia_ on his father and hisadopted son, and again in the poem addressed to his wife. The feeling isgenuine, in spite of the suggestion of insincerity created by theartificiality of his language. No less noteworthy is his enthusiasm forthe beauties of his birthplace, which shines clear through all theobscure legends beneath which he buries his topography. [541] Thesequalities, if any, must be set against his lack of intellectual power;his mind is nimble and active, but never strong either in thought oremotion: of sentiment he has abundance, of passion none. Considering thecorruption of the society of which he constituted himself the poet, andof which there are not a few glimpses in the _Silvae_, despite thetinselled veil that is thrown over it, the impression of Statius the manis not unpleasing: it is not necessary to claim that it is inspiring. 

Of Statius the poet it is harder to form a clear judgement. Hismasterpiece, the _Thebais_, from the day of its publication down tocomparatively recent times, possessed an immense reputation. [542] Danteseems to regard him as second only to Vergil; and it was scarcely beforethe nineteenth century that he was dethroned from his exalted position. Before the verdict of so many ages one may well shrink from passing anunfavourable criticism. That he had many of the qualifications of agreat poet is undeniable; his technical skill is extraordinary; hisvariety of phrase is infinite; his colouring is often brilliant. Andeven his positive faults, the faults of his age, the crowding of detail, the rhetoric, the bombast, offend rather by their quantity than quality. Alone of the epic[543] writers of his age he rarely raises a derisivelaugh from the irreverent modern. Again, his average level is high, higher than that of any post-Ovidian poet. And yet that high level isdue to the fact that he rarely sinks rather than that he rises tosublime heights. His brilliant metre, always vivacious and vigorous, seldom gives us a line that haunts the memory; and therefore, though itseasy grace and facile charm may for a while attract us, we soon weary ofhim. He lacks warmth of emotion and depth of colour. In this respect hehas been not inaptly compared to Ovid. Ovid said of Callimachus _quamvisingenio non valet, arte valet_. [544] Ovid's detractors apply the epigramto Ovid himself. This is unjust, but so far as such a comprehensivedictum can be true of any distinguished writer, it is true of Statius. 

Scarcely inferior to Ovid in readiness and fertility, he ranks far belowthe earlier writer in all poetic essentials. Ovid's gifts are similarbut more natural; his vision is clearer, his imagination morepenetrating. 'The paces of Statius are those of the _manège_, not ofnature';[545] he loses himself in the trammels of his art. He lacks, asa rule, the large imagination of the poet; and though his detail mayoften please, the whole is tedious and disappointing. Merivale sums himup admirably:[546] 'Statius is a miniature painter employed on theproduction of a great historic picture: every part, every line, everyshade is touched and retouched; approach the canvas and examine it withglasses, every thread and hair has evidently received the utmost careand taken the last polish; but step backwards and embrace the wholecomposition in one gaze, and the general effect is confused from want ofbreadth and largeness of treatment. '

He was further handicapped by his choice of a subject. [547] The Thebanlegend is unsuitable for epic treatment for more reasons than one. Inthe first place the story is unpleasant from beginning to end. Horroraccumulates on horror, crime on crime, and there are but threecharacters which evoke our sympathy, Oedipus, Jocasta, and Antigone. These characters play only subsidiary parts in the story of theexpedition of the Seven against Thebes, round which the Theban epicturns. The central characters are almost of necessity the odiousbrothers Eteocles and Polynices: Oedipus appears only to curse his sons. Antigone and Jocasta come upon the scene only towards the close in abrief and futile attempt to reconcile the brothers. The deeds and deathsof the Argive chiefs may relieve the horror and at times excite oursympathy, but we cannot get away from the fact that the story isultimately one of almost bestial fratricidal strife, darkened by theawful shadow of the woes of the house of Labdacus. The old Greek epicassigned great importance to the character of Amphiaraus[548] persuadedby his false wife, Eriphyla, to go forth on the enterprise that shouldbe his doom; it has even been suggested that he formed the centralcharacter of the poem. If this suggestion be true--and its truth isexceedingly doubtful--we are confronted with what was in reality only afalse shift, the diversion of the interest from the main issues of thestory to a side issue. The _Iliad_ cannot be quoted in his defence;there we have an episode of a ten years' siege, which in itselfpossesses genuine unity and interest. But the Theban epic comprises thewhole story of the expedition of the seven chieftains, and it is idle tomake Amphiaraus the central figure. In any case the prominence given tothe fortunes of the house of Labdacus by the great Greek dramatists, andthe genius with which they brought out the genuinely dramatic issues ofthe legend, had made it impossible for after-comers to take any save theLabdacidae for the chief actors in their story. And so from Antimachusonward Polynices and Eteocles are the tragic figures of the epic. 

To give unity to this story all our attention must be concentrated onThebes. The enlistment of Adrastus in the cause of Polynices must bedescribed, and following this the gathering of the hosts of Argos. Butwhen once the Argive demands are rejected by Thebes, the poet's chiefaim must be to get his army to Thebes with all speed, and set it inbattle array against the enemy. Once at Thebes, there is plenty of roomfor tragic power and stirring narrative. First comes the ineffectualattempt of Jocasta to reconcile her scarce human sons; then comes thebattle, with the gradual overthrow of the chieftains of Argos, theturning of the scale of battle in favour of Thebes by the sacrifice ofMenoeceus, and last the crowning combat between the brothers. There, from the artistic standpoint, the story finds its ending. It couldnever have been other than forbidding, but it need not have lackedpower. Unfortunately, precedent did not allow the story to end there. The Thebans forbid burial to the Argive dead; Antigone transgresses theedict by burying her brother Polynices, and finds death the reward ofher piety; Theseus and the Athenians come to Adrastus' aid, defeat theThebans, and bury the Argive dead, while as a sop to Argive feelingthey are promised their revenge in after years, when the children ofthe dead have grown to man's estate. If it were felt that the deadlystruggle between the two brothers closed the epic on a note ofunrelieved gloom and horror, there was perhaps something to be said forintroducing the story of Antigone's self-sacrifice, and closing on anote of tragic beauty. Unhappily, the story of Antigone involved theintroduction of material sufficient for one, if not two fresh epics inthe legend of the Athenian War and the triumphant return of Argos tothe conflict. Antimachus[549] fell into the snare. His vast _Thebais_told the whole story from the arrival of Polynices at Argos to thevictory of the Epigoni. Nor was he content with this alone, but mustneeds clog the action of his poem with long descriptions of thegathering of the host at Argos, and of their adventures on the march toThebes. And so it came about that he consumed twenty-four books ingetting his heroes to Thebes!

The precedent of Antimachus proved fatal to Statius. He did not, it istrue, run to such prolixity as his Greek predecessor; he eliminated thelegend of the Epigoni altogether, only alluding to it once in vague andgeneral terms; he succeeded in getting the story, down to the burial ofthe Argive dead, within the compass of twelve books of not inordinatelength. But it is possible to be prolix without being an Antimachus, and the prolixity of Statius is quite sufficient. The Argives do notreach Thebes till half-way through the seventh book, [550] the brothersdo not meet till half-way through the eleventh book. The result is thatthe compression of events in the last 300 lines of the eleventh bookand in the last book is almost grotesque; for these 1, 100 lines containthe death of Jocasta, the banishment of Oedipus, the flight of theArgives, the prohibition to bury the Argive dead, the arrival of thewives of the vanquished, the devotion of Antigone and Argia, the wifeof Polynices, their detection and sentencing to death, the arrival ofthe Athenians under Theseus, the defeat and death of Creon, and theburial of the fallen. The effect is disastrous. As we have seen, thisappendix to the main story of the feud between the brothers cannot forma satisfactory conclusion to the story. Treated with the perfunctorycompression of Statius, it becomes flat and ineffective; even thereader who finds Statius at his best attractive is tempted to throwdown the _Thebais_ in disgust. 

It is perhaps in his concluding scenes that we see Statius at his worst, but his capacity for irrelevance and digression is an almost equallyserious defect. That he should use the conventional supernaturalmachinery is natural and permissible, though tedious to the modernreader, who finds it hard to sympathize with outworn literaryconventions. But there are few epics where divine intervention iscarried to a greater extent than in the _Thebais_. [551] And not contentwith the intervention of the usual gods and furies, on two occasionsStatius brings down frigid abstractions from the skies in the shape ofVirtus[552] and Pietas. [553] Again, while auguries and prophecies play alegitimate part in such a work, nothing can justify, and only thepassion of the Silver Age for the supernatural can explain, theprotraction of the scenes of augury at Thebes and Argos to 114 and 239lines respectively. Equally disproportionate are the catalogues of theArgive and the Theban armies, making between them close on 400lines. [554] Nor is imitation of Vergil the slightest justification forintroducing a night-raid in which Hopleus and Dymas are but palereflections of Nisus and Euryalus, [555] for expending 921 lines over thedescription of the funeral rites and games in honour of the infantOpheltes, [556] or putting the irrelevant history of the heroism ofCoroebus in the mouth of Adrastus, merely that it may form a parallel tothe tale of Hercules and Cacus told by Evander. [557] Worst of all is theenormous digression, [558] consuming no less than 481 lines, whereHypsipyle narrates the story of the Lemnian massacre. And yet this ishardly more than a digression in the midst of a digression. The Argivearmy are marching on Thebes. Bacchus, desirous to save his native town, causes a drought in the Peloponnese. The Argives, on the verge of death, and maddened with thirst, come upon Hypsipyle, the nurse of Opheltes, the son of Lycurgus, King of Nemea. Hypsipyle leaves her charge to showthem the stream of Langia, which alone has been unaffected by thedrought, and so saves the Argive host. She then at enormous lengthnarrates to Adrastus the story of her life, how she was daughter ofThoas, King of Lemnos, and how, when the women of Lesbos slew theirmankind, she alone proved false to their hideous compact, and saved herfather. After describing the arrival of the Argonauts at Lemnos, and heramour with Jason, to whom she bore two sons, she tells how she wasbanished from Lesbos on the discovery that Thoas, her father, stilllived, how she was captured by pirates, and twenty long years since soldinto slavery to Lycurgus. This prodigious narration finished, it isdiscovered that a serpent sacred to Jupiter has killed Opheltes. Lycurgus, hearing the news, would have slain Hypsipyle, but she isprotected by the Argives whom she has saved. Then follows the burial ofOpheltes--henceforth known as Archemorus--and his funeral games. 

Now it is not improbable that the story of Opheltes and Hypsipyleoccurred in the old cyclic poem. [559] But that scarcely justifiesStatius in devoting the whole of the fifth and sixth books and some 200lines of the fourth to the description of an episode so alien to themain interest of the poem. But if we cannot justify these copiousdigressions and irrelevances we can explain them. The _Thebais_ waswritten primarily for recitation; many of these episodes which arehopelessly superfluous to the real story are admirably designed for thepurpose of recitation. The truth is that Statius had many qualificationsfor the writing of _epyllia_, few for writing epic on a large scale. Hehas therefore sacrificed the whole to its parts, and relies onbrilliance of description to catch the ear of an audience, rather thanon sustained epic dignity and ordered development of his story. Butalthough he cannot give real unity to his epic, he succeeds, by dint ofhis astonishing fluency and his mastery over his instrument, in giving aspecious appearance of unity. The sutures of his story are welldisguised and his inconsistencies of no serious importance. He fails asan epic writer, but he fails gracefully. 

It is, however, possible for an epic to be structurally ineffective andyet possess high poetic merit. Statius' episodes do not cohere; how farhave they any splendour in their isolation? The answer to the questionmust be on the whole unfavourable. The reasons for this are diverse. Inthe first place the characters for the most part fail to live. Statiuscan give us a vivid impression of the outward semblance of a man; we seeParthenopaeus and Atys, we see Jocasta and Antigone, we see the struggleof Eteocles and Polynices vividly enough. But we see them as strangers, standing out, it is true, from the crowd in which they move, but stillwholly unknown to us. We cannot differentiate Polynices and Eteoclessave that the latter, from the very situation in which he finds himself, is necessarily the more odious of the two; Polynices would have shownhimself the same, had the fall of the lot given him the first year ofkingship. Jocasta and Antigone, Creon and Menoeceus, Hypsipyle andLycurgus, play their parts correctly enough, but they do not live, norpeople our brain with moving images. We are told that they behaved insuch and such a way under such and such circumstances; we are told, andadmit, that such conduct implies certain moral qualities, but Statiusdoes not make us feel that his characters possess such qualities. Thereason for this lies partly in the fact that they all speak the samebrilliant rhetoric, [560] partly in the fact that Statius lacks thedirect sincerity of diction that is required for the expression ofstrong and poignant emotion. Anger he can depict; anger suffers lessthan other emotions from rhetoric. Hence it is that he has succeeded indrawing the character of Tydeus, whose brutality is redeemed fromhideousness by the fact that it is based on the most splendid physicalcourage, and fired by strong loyalty to his comrade and sometime foePolynices. His accents ring true. When he has gone to Thebes to pleadPolynices' cause, and his demands have been angrily refused by Eteocles, who concludes by saying (ii. 449), nec ipsi, si modo notus amor meritique est gratia, patres reddere regna sinent, Nor will the fathers of the city, if they but know the love I bear them or if they have aught of gratitude, allow me to give back the kingship. 

Tydeus will hear no more, but breaks in with a cry of fury (ii. 452):

 'reddes, ' ingeminat 'reddes; non si te ferreus agger ambiat aut triplices alio tibi carmine muros Amphion auditus agat, nil tela nec ignes obstiterint, quin ausa luas nostrisque sub armis captivo moribundus humum diademate pulses. Tu merito; ast horum miseret, quos sanguine viles coniugibus natisque infanda ad proelia raptos proicis excidio, bone rex. O quanta Cithaeron funera sanguineusque vadis, Ismene, rotabis! haec pietas, haec magna fides! nec crimina gentis mira equidem duco: sic primus sanguinis auctor incestique patrum thalami; sed fallit origo: Oedipodis tu solus eras, haec praemia morum ac sceleris, violente, feres! nos poscimus annum; sed moror. ' haec audax etiamnum in limine retro vociferans iam tunc impulsa per agmina praeceps evolat. 

 'Thou shalt give it back, ' he cries, 'thou shalt give it back. Though thou wert girdled with a wall of bronze, or Amphion's voice be heard and with a new song raise triple bulwarks about thee; fire and sword should not save thee from the doom of thy daring, and, struck down by our swords, thy diadem should smite the ground as thou fallest dying, our captive. Thus shouldst _thou_ have thy desert; but _these_ I pity, whose blood thou ratest lightly, and whom thou snatchest from their children and their wives to give them over to death, thou virtuous king. What vast slaughter, Cithaeron, and thou, Ismenus, shalt thou see whirl down thy blood-stained shallows. This is thy piety, this thy true faith! nor marvel I at the crimes of such a race: 'twas for this that thou hadst such an author of thy being, for this thy father's marriage-bed was stained with incest. But thou art deceived as to thine own birth and thy brother's; thou alone wast begotten of Oedipus, that shall be the reward for thy nature and thy crime, fierce man. We ask but for a year! But I tarry over long. ' These words he shouted back at him while he still lingered on the threshold; then headlong burst through the crowd of foemen and sped away. 

As he is here, so is he always, unwavering in decision, prompt of speechand of action. Caught in ambush, ill-armed and solitary, by thetreacherous Thebans, as he returns from his futile embassy, he neverhesitates; he seizes the one point of vantage, crushes his foes, andwhen he speaks, speaks briefly and to the point. He spares the last ofhis fifty assailants and sends him back to Thebes with a message ofdefiance, brief, natural, and manly (ii. 697):

 quisquis es Aonidum, quem crastina munere nostro manibus exemptum mediis Aurora videbit, haec iubeo perferre duci: cinge aggere portas, tela nova, fragiles aevo circum inspice muros, praecipue stipare viros densasque memento multiplicare acies! fumantem hunc aspice late ense meo campum: tales in bella venimus. 

 Whoe'er thou art of the Aonides, whom to-morrow's dawn shall see saved from the world of the dead by my boon, I bid thee bear this message to thy chief: 'Raise mounds about the gates, forge new weapons, look to your walls that crumble with years, and above all be mindful to marshal thick and multiply thine hosts! Behold this plain smoking with the work of my sword. Such men are we when we enter the field of battle. '

On his return to Argos he bursts impetuously into the palace, cryingfiercely for war. [561] When Lycurgus would slay Hypsipyle for herneglect of her nursling, he saves her. [562] She has preserved the Argivearmy, and Tydeus, if he never forgives an enemy, never forgets a friend. He alone defeats the entreaties of Jocasta[563] and launches the hostsof Argos into battle; and when his own doom is come, he dies as he hadlived, _impiger, iracundus, inexorabilis_; he has no thought forhimself; he cares nought for due burial (viii. 736):

 non ossa precor referantur ut Argos Aetolumve larem; nec enim mihi cura supremi funeris: odi artus fragilemque hunc corporis usum, desertorem animi. 

 I ask not that my bones be borne home to Argos or Aetolia; I care not for my last rites of funeral; I hate these limbs and this frail tenement, my body, that fails my spirit in its hour of need. 

His one thought is for vengeance on the dead body of the man who hasslain him[564] and for the victory of his comrades in arms. 

Only one other of the heroes has any real existence, the prophetAmphiaraus. Statius does not give him the prominence that he held in theoriginal epic, and misses a noble opportunity by almost ignoring thedramatic story of Eriphyla and the necklace that won her to persuade herhusband to go forth to certain death. But the heroic warrior priest ofApollo, who knows his doom and yet faces it fearlessly, could not failto be a picturesque figure, and at least in the hour of his deathStatius has done him full justice. Apollo, disguised as a mortal, mountsthe chariot of Amphiaraus and drives him through the midst of thebattle, dealing destruction on this side and that (vii. 770):

 tandem se famulo summum confessus Apollo 'utere luce tua longamque' ait, 'indue famam, dum tibi me iunctum mors inrevocata veretur. Vincimur: immites scis nulla revolvere Parcas stamina; vade, diu populis promissa voluptas Elysiis, certe non perpessure Creontis imperia aut vetito nudus iaciture sepulcro. ' ille refert contra, et paulum respirat ab armis: 'olim te, Cirrhaee pater, peritura sedentem ad iuga (quis tantus miseris honor?) axe trementi sensimus; instantes quonam usque morabere manes? audio iam rapidae cursum Stygis atraque Ditis flumina tergeminosque mali custodis hiatus. Accipe commissum capiti decus, accipe laurus, quas Erebo deferre nefas. Nunc voce suprema, si qua recessuro debetur gratia vati, deceptum tibi, Phoebe, larem poenasque nefandae coniugis et pulchrum nati commendo furorem. ' desiluit maerens lacrimasque avertit Apollo. 

 At length Apollo revealed himself to his servant. 'Use, ' he said, 'the light of life that is left thee and win an age of fame while thy doom still unrepealed shrinks back in awe of me. The foemen conquer: thou knowest the cruel fates never unravel the threads they weave: go forward, thou, the promised darling of the peoples of Elysium; for surely thou shalt ne'er endure the tyranny of Creon, or lie naked, denied a grave. ' He answered, pausing awhile from the fray: 'Long since, lord of Cirrha, the trembling axle told me that 'twas thou sat'st by my doomed steeds. Why honourest thou a wretched mortal thus? How long wilt thou delay the advancing dead? Even now I hear the course of headlong Styx, and the dark streams of death, and the triple barking of the accursed guard of hell. Take now thine honours bound about my brow, take now the laurel crown I may not bear down unto Erebus: now with my last utterance, if aught of thanks thou owest thy seer that now must pass away, to thee I trust my wronged hearth, the doom of my accursed wife, and the noble madness of my son (Alcmaeon). ' Apollo leapt from the car in grief and strove to hide his tears. 

An earthquake shakes the plain; the warriors shrink frombattle in terror at the thunder from under-ground; when(816)--

 ecce alte praeceps humus ore profundo dissilit, inque vicem timuerunt sidera et umbrae. Illum ingens haurit specus et transire parantes mergit equos; non arma manu, non frena remisit: sicut erat, rectos defert in Tartara currus respexitque cadens caelum campumque coire ingemuit, donec levior distantia rursus miscuit arva tremor lucemque exclusit Averno. 

 Lo! the earth gaped sheer and deep with vast abyss, and the stars of heaven and the shades of the dead trembled with one accord: a vast chasm drew him down and swallowed his steeds as they made ready to leap the gulf: he loosed not the grip on rein or spear, but, as he was, carried his car steadfast to Tartarus, and, as he fell, gazed up to heaven and groaned to see the plain close above him, till a lighter shock once more united the gaping fields and shut out the light from hell. 

Here we see Statius at his highest level, whether in point of metre, diction, or poetic imagination. 

Of the other characters there is little to be said. For all the wealthof detail that Statius has lavished on them, they are featureless. Adrastus is a colourless and respectable old king, strongly reminiscentof Latinus. Capaneus and Hippomedon are terrific warriors of giganticstature and truculent speech, but they are wholly uninteresting. Argiaand Jocasta are too rhetorical, Antigone too slight a figure to bereally pathetic; Oedipus can do little save curse, which he does withsome rhetorical vigour; but the gift of cursing hardly makes acharacter. Parthenopaeus, however, is a pathetic figure; he is anArcadian, the son of Atalanta, a mere boy whom a romantic ambition hashurried into war ere his years were ripe for it. His dying speech istouching, though it errs on the side of triviality and mere prettiness(ix. 877):

 at puer infusus sociis in devia campi tollitur (heu simplex aetas!) moriensque iacentem flebat equum; cecidit laxata casside vultus, aegraque per trepidos exspirat gratia visus, * * * * * ibat purpureus niveo de pectore sanguis. Tandem haec singultu verba incidente profatur: 'labimur, i, miseram, Dorceu, solare parentem. Illa quidem, si vera ferunt praesagia curae, aut somno iam triste nefas aut omine vidit. Tu tamen arte pia trepidam suspende diuque decipito; neu tu subitus neve arma tenenti veneris, et tandem, cum iam cogere fateri, dic: "Merui, genetrix, poenas invita capesse; arma puer rapui, nec te retinente quievi, nec tibi sollicitae tandem inter bella peperci. Vive igitur potiusque animis irascere nostris, et iam pone metus. Frustra de colle Lycaei anxia prospectas, si quis per nubila longe aut sonus aut nostro sublatus ab agmine pulvis: frigidus et nuda iaceo tellure, nec usquam tu prope, quae vultus efflantiaque ora teneres. Hunc tamen, orba parens, crinem"--dextraque secandum praebuit--"hunc toto capies pro corpore crinem, comere quem frustra me dedignante solebas. Huic dabis exsequias, atque inter iusta memento, ne quis inexpertis hebetet mea tela lacertis dilectosque canes ullis agat amplius antris. Haec autem primis arma infelicia castris ure, vel ingratae crimen suspende Dianae. "'

 But the boy fell into his comrades' arms and they bore him to a place apart. Alas for his tender years! As he died, he wept for his fallen horse: his face drooped as they unbound his helmet, and a fading grace passed faintly o'er his quivering visage. . . . 

 The purple blood flowed from his breast of snow. At length he spake these words through sobs that checked his utterance: 'My life is falling from me; go, Dorceus, comfort my unhappy mother: she indeed, if care and sorrow can give foreknowledge, has seen my woeful fate in dreams or through some omen; yet do thou with loving art keep her terrors in suspense and long hold back the truth; and come not upon her suddenly, nor when she hath a weapon in her hands; but when at last the truth must out, say: "Mother, I deserved my doom; I am punished, though my punishment break thy heart. I rushed to arms too young, and abode not at home when thou wouldst restrain me: nor had I any pity for thine anguish in the day of battle. Live on then, and keep thine anger for my headstrong courage and fear no more for me. In vain thou gazest from the Lycaean height, if any sound perchance may be borne from far to thine ear through the clouds, or thine eye have sight of the dust raised by our homeward march. I lie cold upon the bare earth, and thou art nowhere nigh to hold my head as my lips breathe farewell. Yet, childless mother, take this lock of hair"-- and in his right hand he stretched it out to be cut away--"take this poor lock in place of my whole body, this lock of that hair which thou didst tire in my despite. To it shalt thou give due burial and remember this also as my due; let no man blunt my spears with unskilful cast, nor any more drive the hounds I loved through any caverned glen. But this mine armour, whose first battle hath brought disaster, burn thou, or hang it to be a reproach to Dian's ingratitude. "'

When we have said that Parthenopaeus is almost too young to have beenaccepted as a leader, or have performed the feats of war assigned tohim, we have said all that can be said against this beautiful speech. Parthenopaeus is for the _Thebais_ what Camilla is for the _Aeneid_, though he presents at times hints both of Pallas and Euryalus. But heis little more than a child, and fails to carry the conviction orawaken the deep emotion excited by the Amazon of Vergil. [565]

Statius then, with a few striking exceptions, fails in his portrayalof life and character. On the whole--one says it with reluctance inview of his brilliant variety, his boundless invention, his wealth ofimagery--the same is true of his descriptions. The picture is toocrowded; he has not the unerring eye for the relevant or salientpoints of a scene. Skilful and faithful touches abound, but, as in thecase of certain pre-Raphaelite pictures, extreme attention to detailcauses him to miss the full scenic effect. He is not sufficiently theimpressionist; he cannot suggest--a point in which he presents a strongcontrast to Valerius Flaccus. And too many of his incidents, in spiteof ingenious variation of detail, are but echoes of Vergil. Thefoot-race and the archery contest at the funeral games of Archemorus, together with the episode of Dymas and Hopleus, [566] to which we havealready referred, are perhaps the most marked examples of thisunfortunate characteristic. We are continually saying to ourselves aswe read the _Thebais_, 'All this has been before!' We weary at timesof the echoes of Homer in Vergil, and the combats that stirred us inthe _Iliad_ make us drowsy in the _Aeneid_. Homer knew what fightingwas from personal experience, or at least from being in touch withwarriors who had killed their man. Vergil had come no nearer thesethings than 'in the pages of a book '. Statius is yet one removefurther from the truth than Vergil. He is tied hand and foot by hisintimate acquaintance with previous poetic literature. If he is lessthe victim of the schools of rhetoric than many post-Augustan writers, he is more than most the victim of the poetic training of the schools. But with all these faults there are passages which surprise us by theireffectiveness. It would be hard to imagine anything more vigorous andexciting than the fight of Tydeus ambushed by his fifty foes. Theopening passage is splendidly successful in creating the requisiteatmosphere (ii. 527):

 coeperat umenti Phoebum subtexere palla Nox et caeruleam terris infuderat umbram. Ille propinquabat silvis et ab aggere celso scuta virum galeasque videt rutilare comantes, qua laxant rami nemus adversaque sub umbra flammeus aeratis lunae tremor errat in armis. Obstipuit visis, ibat tamen, horrida tantum spicula et inclusum capulo tenus admovet ensem. Ac prior unde, viri, quidve occultatis in armis?' non humili terrore rogat. Nec reddita contra vox, fidamque negant suspecta silentia pacem. 

 Night began to shroud Phoebus with her humid pall and shed her blue darkness o'er the earth. He drew nigh the forest, and from a high knoll espied the gleam of warriors' shields and plumed helmets, where the boughs of the wood left a space, and in the shadow before him the quivering fire of the moonbeam played o'er their brazen armour. Dumbstruck at what he saw, he yet pursued his way, only he made ready for the fight his bristling javelins and the sword sheathed to its hilt. He was the first to speak: 'Whence come ye?' he asked, in fear, yet haughty still. 'And why hide ye thus armoured for the fray?' There came no answer, and their ominous silence told him no peace nor loyalty was there. 

The fight that follows, though it occupies more than 160 lines, isintensely rapid and vigorous; indeed it is the one genuinely excitingcombat in Latin epic, and forms a refreshing contrast to thepseudo-Homeric or pseudo-Vergilian combats before the walls of Thebes. In no other portion of the _Thebais_ does Statius attain to suchsuccess, with the exception of the passage already quoted descriptive ofthe death of Amphiaraus. But there are other passages of sustainedmerit, such as the vigorous description of the struggle of Hippomedonwith the waters of Ismenus and Asopus. [5671] While it is notparticularly interesting to those acquainted with the correspondingpassage in the _Iliad_, it would be unjust to deny the gifts of vigourand invention to the Latin poet's imitation. 

It is, however, rather in smaller and more minute pictures that Statiusas a rule excels. The picture of the baby Opheltes left by his nurse ispretty enough (iv. 787):

 at puer in gremio vernae telluris et alto gramine nunc faciles sternit procursibus herbas in vultum nitens, caram modo lactis egeno nutricem plangore ciens iterumque renidens et teneris meditans verba inluctantia labris miratur nemorum strepitus aut obvia carpit aut patulo trahit ore diem nemorisque malorum inscius et vitae multum securus inerrat. 

 But the child, lying face downward in the bosom of the vernal earth, now as he crawls in the deep herbage lays low the yielding grass; now cries for his loved nurse athirst for milk, and then, all smiles again, with infant lips frames words in stumbling speech, marvels at the sounds of the woods, gathers what lies before him, or open-mouthed drinks in the day; and knowing naught of the dangers of the woods, with ne'er a care in life, roams here and there. 

Fine, too, in a different way is the sinister picture of Eteocles leftsole king in Thebes (i. 165):

 quis tunc tibi, saeve, quis fuit ille dies, vacua cum solus in aula respiceres ius omne tuum cunctosque minores et nusquam par stare caput?

 Ah! what a day was that for thee, fierce heart, when, sitting alone amid thy courtiers, thy brother gone from thee, thou sawest thyself enthroned above all men, with all things in thy power, without a peer. 

Less poetical, but scarcely less effective, is the description of thecompact between the brothers (i. 138):

 alterni placuit sub legibus anni exsilio mutare ducem. Sic iure maligno fortunam transire iubent, ut sceptra tenentem foedere praecipiti semper novus angeret heres. Haec inter fratres pietas erat, haec mora pugnae sola nec in regem perduratura secundum. 

 It was resolved that in alternate years the king should quit his throne for exile. Thus with baneful ordinance they bade fortune pass from one to the other, that he who held the sceptre on these brief terms should ever be vexed by the thought of his successor's coming. Such was the brothers' love, such the sole bond that kept them from conflict, a bond that should not last till the kingship changed. 

But far beyond all other portraits in Statius is the description ofJocasta as she approaches the Argive camp on her mission ofreconciliation (vii. 474):

 ecce truces oculos sordentibus obsita canis exsangues Iocasta genas et bracchia planctu nigra ferens ramumque oleae cum velleris atri nexibus, Eumenidum velut antiquissima, portis egreditur magna cum maiestate malorum. 

 Lo! Jocasta, her white hair streaming unkempt over her wild eyes, her cheeks all pale, her arms bruised by the beating of her anguished hands, bearing an olive-branch hung with black wool, came forth from the gates in semblance like to the eldest of the Eumenides, in all the majesty of her many sorrows. 

In this last line we have one of the very few lines in Statius thatattain to real grandeur. In the lack of such lines, and in the lack ofreal breadth of treatment lies Statius' chief defect as a narrator. Allthat dexterity can do he does; but he lacks the supreme gifts, theselective eye and the penetrating imagination of the great poet. 

Of his actual diction and ornament little need be said. Without beingprecisely straightforward, he is not, as a rule, obscure. But hislanguage gradually produces a feeling of oppression. He can be read inshort passages without this feeling; the moment, however, the readertakes his verse in considerable quantities, the continued, though onlyslight, over-elaboration of the work produces a feeling of strain. Throughout there runs a vein of artificiality which ultimately gives theimpression of insincerity. He can turn out phrases of the utmost nicety. Nothing can be more neatly turned than the description of the feelingsof Antigone and Ismene on the outbreak of the war (viii. 614):

 nutat utroque timor, quemnam hoc certamine victum, quem vicisse velint: tacite praeponderat exsul;

 Their fears incline this way and that: whom would they have the conqueror in the strife, whom the vanquished? All unconfessed the exile has their prayers. 

or than the line describing the parting of the Lemnian women from theArgonauts, their second husbands (v. 478):

 heu iterum gemitus, iterumque novissima nox est. 

 Alas! once more the hour of lamentation is near, once more is come the last night of wedded sleep. 

But this neatness often degenerates into preciosity, _bellator campus_means a field suitable for battle (viii. 377). Nisus, the king ofMegara, with the talismanic purple lock, becomes a _senex purpureus_ (i. 334); an embrace is described by the words _alterna pectora mutant_ (v. 722); a woman nearing her time is one _iustos cuius pulsantia mensesvota tument_ (v. 115). We have already noted a similar tendency inValerius Flaccus; such phrase-making is not a badge of any one poet, itis a sign of the times. In the case of Statius there is perhaps lessobscurity and less positive extravagance than in any of hiscontemporaries, but whether as regards description or phrase-making, there is always a suspicion of his work being pitched--if the phrase ispermissible--a tone too high. This is, perhaps, particularly noticeablein his similes. They are very numerous, and he has obviously expendedgreat trouble over them. But, with very few exceptions, they arefailures. The cause lies mainly in their lack of variety. There are, forinstance, no less than sixteen similes drawn from bulls, twelve fromlions, six from tigers. [568] None of these similes show any closeobservance of nature, and in any case the poetic interest of bulls, lions, and tigers is far from inexhaustible. It is less reprehensiblethat twenty similes should be drawn from storms, which have a morecogent interest and greater picturesque value. But even here Statius hasovershot the mark. This lack of variety testifies to a real dearth ofpoetic imagination, and this failing is noticeable also in theexecution. There is rarely a simile containing anything that awakenseither imagination, emotion, or thought. Still, to give Statius his due, there _are_ exceptions, such as the simile comparing Parthenopaeus, seenin all his beauty among his comrades, to the reflections of the eveningstar outshining the reflections of the lesser stars in the waveless sea(vi. 578):

 sic ubi tranquillo perlucent sidera ponto vibraturque fretis caeli stellantis imago, omnia clara nitent, sed clarior omnia supra Hesperus exsertat radios, quantusque per altum aethera, caeruleis tantus monstratur in undis. 

 So when the stars are glassed in the tranquil deep and the reflection of the starry sky quivers in the waves, all the stars shine clear, but clearer than all doth Hesperus send forth his rays; and as he gleams in the high heavens, even so bright do the blue waters show him forth. 

The comparison is. A little strained and far-fetched. The reflection ofstars in the sea is not quite so noticeable or impressive as Statiuswould have us believe. But there is real beauty both in the conceptionand the execution of the simile. Of more indisputable excellence is thecomparison in the eleventh book (443), where Adrastus, flying fromThebes in humiliation and defeat, is likened to Pluto, when he firstentered on his kingdom of the underworld, his lordship over thestrengthless dead--

 qualis demissus curru laevae post praemia sortis umbrarum custos mundique novissimus heres palluit, amisso veniens in Tartara caelo. 

 Even as the warden of the shades, the third heir of the world, when he entered on the realm that the unkind lot had given him, leapt from his car and turned pale, for heaven was lost and he was at the gate of hell. 

The picture is Miltonic, and Pluto is for a brief moment almost ananticipation of the Satan of _Paradise Lost_. 

The metre, like that of Valerius Flaccus, draws its primaryinspiration from Vergil, but has been strongly influenced by the_Metamorphoses_ of Ovid. There are fewer elisions in Statius than inVergil, and more dactyls. [569] He is, however, less dactylic thanValerius Flaccus and Ovid. In his management of pauses he is far moresuccessful than any epic writer, with the exception of Vergil. As aresult, he is far less monotonous than Ovid, Lucan, or Valerius. Theone criticism that can be levelled against him is that his verse, while possessing rapidity and vigour, is not sufficiently adapted tothe varying emotions that his story demands, and that it shows aconsequent lack of nobility and stateliness. For the _Silvae_ hismetre is admirably adapted. It is light and almost sprightly, and thepoet can let himself go. He was not blind to the requirements of theepic metre even if he did not satisfy them, and in his lighter versethere is a notable increase of fluency and ease. 

The _Thebais_ is a work whose value it is difficult to estimate. Itsundeniable merits are never quite such that we can accord itwhole-hearted praise; its cleverness commands our wonder, while itsdefects are not such as to justify a sweeping condemnation. But it mustbe remembered that epic must be very good if it is to avoid failure, andit is probable that there are few works on which such skill and labourhave been expended without any proportionate success. An attempt hasbeen made in the preceding pages to indicate the main reasons for thefailure of the _Thebais_. One more reason may perhaps be added here. Over and above the poet's lack of originality and the highest poeticimagination, over and above his distracting echoes and hisartificiality, there is a lack of moral fire and insight about the poem. Statius gives us but a surface view of life. He had never plumbed thedepths of human passion nor realized anything of the mystery of theworld. His reader never derives from him the consciousness, that he sooften derives from Vergil, of a 'deep beyond the deep, and a heightbeyond the height'. He has neither the virtues of the mystic nor of therealist. Ultimately, life is for him a pageant with intervals forsentimental threnodies and rhetorical declamation. 

The same qualities characterize the _Achilleis_ and still more the_Silvae_. The _Achilleis_ was to have comprised the whole life ofAchilles. Only the first book and 167 lines of the second were composed. They tell how Thetis endeavoured to withhold Achilles from the TrojanWar by disguising him as a girl and sending him to Scyros, how he becamethe lover of Deidamia, the king's daughter, was discovered by the wilesof Ulysses, and set forth on the expedition to Troy. The fragment is notunpleasant reading, but contains little that is noteworthy. [570] Thestyle is simpler, less precious, and less rhetorical than that of the_Thebais_. But it lacks the vigour as well as many of the faults of theearlier poem. There is nothing to make us regret that the poet diedbefore its completion; there is something to be thankful for in the factthat he did not live to challenge direct comparison with Homer. 

The _Silvae_, on the other hand, is a work of considerable interest. The meaning of the word _silva_, in the literary sense, is 'rawmaterial' or 'rough draft'. It then came to be used to mean a workcomposed at high speed on the spur of the moment, differing in fact butlittle from an improvisation. [571] That these poems correspond to thisdefinition will be seen from Statius' preface to book i: 'hos libellos, qui mihi subito calore et quadam festinandi voluptate fluxerunt. . . . Nullum ex illis biduo longius tractum, quaedam et in singulis diebuseffusa. ' There are thirty-two poems in all, divided into five books. The fifth is incomplete; and, if we may judge from the unfinished stateof its preface, was published after the author's death. The poems areextremely varied in subject, and to a lesser degree in metre, hendecasyllables, alcaics, and sapphics being found as well ashexameters. They comprise poems in praise of the appearance and theachievements of Domitian, [572] consolations to friends and patrons forthe loss of relatives or favourite slaves, [573] lamentations of thepoet or his friends for the death of dear ones, [574] letters on varioussubjects, [575] thanksgivings for the safety of friends, [576] andfarewells to them on their departure, [577] descriptions of villas andthe like built by his acquaintances, [578] an epithalamium, [579] an odecommemorating the birthday of Lucan, [580] the description of astatuette of Hercules, [581] poems on the deaths of a parrot and alion, [582] and a remarkable invocation to Sleep. [583] One and all, these poems show abnormal cleverness. These slighter subjects were farbetter suited to the poet's powers. His miniature painting was inplace, his sprightly and dexterous handling of the hexameter and thehendecasyllable could be more profitably employed. Yet here, too, hisartificiality is a serious blemish, his lamentations for the loss ofthe _pueri delicati_ of friends do not, and can hardly be expected to, ring true, and the same blemish affects even the poems where he lamentshis own loss. Further, the poems addressed to Domitian are fulsome tothe verge of nausea;[584] the beauty of the emperor is such that allthe great artists of the past would have vied with one another indepicting his features; his eyes are like stars; his equestrian statueis so glorious that at night (i. 1. 95)

 cum superis terrena placent, tua turba relicto labetur caelo miscebitque oscula iuxta. Ibit in amplexus natus fraterque paterque et soror: una locum cervix dabit omnibus astris. 

 When heaven takes its joy of earth, thy kin shall leave heaven and glide down to earth and kiss thee face to face. Thy son and sister, thy brother and thy sire, shall come to thy embrace; and about thy sole neck shall all the stars of heaven find a place. 

The poem on the emperor's sexless favourite, Earinus, can scarcely bequoted here. Without being definitely coarse, it succeeds in being oneof the most disgusting productions in the whole range of literature. The emperor who can accept flattery of such a kind has certainlyqualified for assassination. The lighter poems are almost distressinglytrivial, and it is but a poor excuse to plead that such triviality wasimposed by the artificial social life of the day and the jealoustyranny of Domitian. Moreover, the tendency to preciosity, which waskept in check in the _Thebais_ by the requirements of epic, here hasfull play. The death of a boy in his fifteenth year is described asfollows (ii. 6, 70):

 vitae modo cardine adultae nectere temptabat iuvenum pulcherrimus ille cum tribus Eleis unam trieterida lustris. 

 Come now to the turning-point where boyhood becomes manhood, he, the fairest of youths, was on the point of linking three olympiads (twelve years) with a space of three years. 

Writers of elegiac verse are addressed as (i. 2. 250)

 'qui nobile gressu extremo fraudatis opus'. 

 Ye that cheat the noble march of your verse of its last stride. 

A new dawn is expressed by an astounding periphrasis (iv. 6. 15):

 ab Elysiis prospexit sedibus alter Castor et hesternas risit Tithonia mensas. 

 Castor in turn looked forth from the halls of Elysium and Tithonus' bride made merry over yesterday's feasts. [Castor and Pollux lived on alternate days. ]

There is, in fact, no limit in these poems to Statius' luxuriance infar-fetched and often obscure mythological allusions. In spite, however, of such cardinal defects as these, the _Silvae_ present a brilliantthough superficial picture of the cultured society of the day andcontain much that is pretty, and something that is poetic. [585] Take, for instance, the poem in which the poet writes to console AtediusMelior for the death of his favourite Glaucias, a _puer delicatus_. Thework is hopelessly clever and hopelessly insincere. Statius exaggeratesat once the charms of the dead boy and the grief of Atedius and himself. But at the conclusion he works up an old commonplace into a very prettypiece of verse. He has been describing the reception of Glaucias in theunderworld (ii. 1. 208):

 hic finis rapto! quin tu iam vulnera sedas et tollis mersum luctu caput? omnia functa aut moritura vides: obeunt noctesque diesque astraque, nee solidis prodest sua machina terris. Nam populos, mortale genus, plebisque caducae quis fleat interitus? hos bella, hos aequora poscunt; his amor exitio, furor his et saeva cupido, ut sileam morbos; hos ora rigentia Brumae, illos implacido letalis Sirius igni, hos manet imbrifero pallens Autumnus hiatu. Quicquid init ortus, finem timet. Ibimus omnes, ibimus: immensis urnam quatit Aeacus ulnis. Ast hic quem gemimus, felix hominesque deosque et dubios casus et caecae lubrica vitae effugit, immunis fatis. Non ille rogavit, non timuit meruitve mori: nos anxia plebes, nos miseri, quibus unde dies suprema, quis aevi exitus incertum, quibus instet fulmen ab astris, quae nubes fatale sonet. 

 Such is the rest thy lost darling has won. Come, soothe thine anguish and lift up thy head that droops with woe. Thou seest all things dead or soon to die. Day and night and stars all pass away, nor shall its massive fabric save the world from destruction. As for the tribes of earth, this mortal race, and the death of multitudes all doomed to pass away, why bewail them? Some war, some ocean, demands for its prey: some die of love, others of madness, others of fierce desire, to say naught of pestilence: some winter's freezing breath, others the baleful Sirius' cruel fire, others again pale autumn, gaping with rainy maw, awaits for doom: all that hath birth must tremble before death: we all must go, must go: Aeacus shakes the urn of fate in his vast arms. But this child, whom we bewail, is happy, and has escaped the power of men and gods, the strokes of chance, and the slippery paths of our dark life: fate cannot touch him: he did not ask, nor fear, nor deserve to die. But we poor anxious rabble, we miserable men, know not whence our last day shall come, what shall be the end of life, for whom the thunderbolt shall bring death from the starry sky, nor what cloud shall roar forth our doom. 

There is nothing great about such work, but it is a neat and eleganttreatment of a familiar theme, while the phrase _non ille rogavit, nontimuit meruitve mori_ has a pathos worthy of a better cause. [586] Farmore suited, however, to the genius of Statius, with its lack ofinspiration, its marvellous polish, and its love of minutiae, are thedescriptions of villas, temples, baths, and works of art in which he sofrequently indulges. The poem on the statuette of Hercules (ii. 6) is awonder of cunning craftsmanship, the poems on the baths of Etruscus, the villa of Vopiscus at Tibur, and of Pollius at Surrentum, for alltheir exaggeration and affectation, reveal a genuine love for thebeauties of art and nature. It is true that he shows a preference fornature trimmed by the hand of man, but his pleasure is genuine and itsexpression often delicate. Who would not delight to live in a housesuch as Pollius had built at Sorrento (ii. 2. 45)?--

 haec domus ortus aspicit et Phoebi tenerum iubar; illa cadentem detinet exactamque negat dimittere lucem, cum iam fessa dies et in aequora montis opaci umbra cadit vitreoque natant praetoria ponto. Haec pelagi clamore fremunt, haec tecta sonoros ignorant fluctus terraeque silentia malunt. * * * * * quid mille revolvam culmina visendique vices? sua cuique voluptas atque omni proprium thalamo mare, transque iacentem Nerea diversis servit sua terra fenestris. 

 One chamber looks to the east and the young beam of Phoebus; one stays him as he falls and will not part with the expiring light, when the day is outworn and the shadow of the dark mount falls athwart the deep, and the great castle swims reflected in the glassy sea. These chambers are full of the sound of ocean, those know not the roaring waves, but rather love the silence of the land. . . . Why should I recount thy thousand roofs and every varied view? Each has a joy that is its own: each chamber has its own sea, and each several window its own tract of land seen across the sea beneath. 

We cannot, perhaps, share his enthusiasm in the minute description thatfollows of the coloured marbles used in the decoration of the house, andhis panegyric of Pollius leaves us cold, but we quit the poem with apleasant impression of the Bay of Naples and of the poet who loved it sowell. It recalls in its way the charming, if over-elaborate andexaggerated, landscapes of the younger Pliny in his letters on thesource of the Clitumnus and on his Tuscan and Laurentine villas. [587]But it is in two poems of a very different kind that the _Silvae_ reachtheir high-water mark. The _Genethliacon_ _Lucani_, despite itsartificial form and the literary conventions with which it isoverloaded, reveals a genuine enthusiasm for the dead poet, and iscouched in language of the utmost grace and verse of extraordinarymelody; the hendecasyllables of Statius lack the poignant vigour of theCatullan hendecasyllables, but they have a music of their own which isscarcely less remarkable. [588] The lament of Calliope for her lostnursling will hold its own with anything of a similar kind produced bythe Silver Age (ii 7. 88):

 'o saevae nimium gravesque Parcae! o numquam data longa fata summis! cur plus, ardua, casibus patetis? cur saeva vice magna non senescunt? sic natum Nasamonii Tonantis post ortus obitusque fulminatos angusto Babylon premit sepulcro. Sic fixum Paridis manu trementis Peliden Thetis horruit cadentem. Sic ripis ego murmurantis Hebri non mutum caput Orpheos sequebar sic et tu (rabidi nefas tyranni!) iussus praecipitem subire Lethen, dum pugnas canis arduaque voce das solatia grandibus sepulcris, (o dirum scelus! o scelus!) tacebis. ' sic fata est leviterque decidentes abrasit lacrimas nitente plectro. 

 'Ah! fates severe and all too cruel! O life that for our noblest ne'er is long! Why are earth's loftiest most prone to fall? Why by hard fate do her great ones ne'er grow old? Even so the Nasamonian Thunderer's son like lightning rose, like lightning passed away, and now is laid in a narrow tomb at Babylon. So Thetis shuddered, when the son of Peleus fell transfixed by Paris' coward hand. So I, too, by the banks of murmuring Hebrus followed the head of Orpheus that could not cease from song. So now must thou--out on the mad tyrant's crime!--go down untimely to the wave of Lethe, and while thou singest of war and with lofty strain givest comfort to the sepulchres of the mighty, --O infamy, O monstrous infamy!--art doomed to sudden silence. ' So spake she, and with gleaming quill wiped away the tears that gently fell. 

But more beautiful as pure poetry, and indeed unique in Latin, is thewell-known invocation to Sleep (v. 4):

 crimine quo merui iuvenis, [589] placidissime divum, quove errore miser, donis ut solus egerem, Somne, tuis? tacet omne pecus volucresque feraeque et simulant fessos curvata cacumina somnos, nec trucibus fluviis idem sonus; occidit horror aequoris, et terris maria acclinata quiescunt. Septima iam rediens Phoebe mihi respicit aegras stare genas; totidem Oetaeae Paphiaeque revisunt lampades et totiens nostros Tithonia questus praeterit et gelido spargit miserata flagello. Unde ego sufficiam? non si mihi lumina mille quae sacer alterna tantum statione tenebat Argus et haud umquam vigilabat corpore toto. At nunc heus! aliquis longa sub nocte puellae bracchia nexa tenens ultro te, Somne, repellit: inde veni! nec te totas infundere pennas luminibus compello meis (hoc turba precetur laetior): extremo me tange cacumine virgae (sufficit) aut leviter suspenso poplite transi. 

 By what crime, O Sleep, most gentle of gods, or by what error, have I, that am young, deserved--woe's me!--that I alone should lack thy blessing? All cattle and birds and beasts of the wild lie silent; the curved mountain ridges seem as though they slept the sleep of weariness, and wild torrents have hushed their roaring. The waves of the deep have fallen and the seas, reclined on earth's bosom, take their rest. Yet now Phoebe returning gazes for the seventh time on my sleepless weary eyes. For the seventh time the lamps of Oeta and Paphos (i. E. Hesperus and Venus) revisit me, for the seventh time Tithonus' bride sweeps over my complaint and all her pity is to touch me with her frosty scourge. How may I find strength to endure? I needs must faint, even had I the thousand eyes which divine Argos kept fixed upon his prey in shifting relays (so only could he wake, nor watched he ever with all his body). But now--woe's me!--another, his arms locked about his love, spurneth thee from him all the long night. Leave him, O Sleep, for me. I bid thee not sweep upon my eyes with all the force of thy fanning pinions. That is the prayer of happier souls than I. Touch me only with the tip of thy wand--that shall suffice--or lightly pass over my head with hovering feet. 

Here Statius far surpasses himself. Had all else that he wrote beenmerely mediocre, this one short poem would have given him a claim on thegrateful memory of posterity. The note it strikes is one that has neverbeen heard before in Latin poetry and is never heard again. We havewavered before as to Statius' title to the name of true poet; thisshould turn the balance in his favour. Great he is not for a moment tobe called; Lucan, with all his faults, stands high above him; ValeriusFlaccus, aided largely by his happier choice of subject, is in somerespects his superior; but for finish, dexterity, and fluency, Statiusis unique among the post-Augustans. Just as an actor who has acquired aperfect mastery of all the tricks and technique of the stage maysometimes cheat us into believing him to be a great actor, though inreality neither intellect, presence, nor voice qualify him for such highpraise, so it is with Statius. His facility and cunning workmanship holdus amazed, and at times the reader is on the verge of yielding up hissaner judgement before such charm. But the revulsion of feeling comesinevitably. Statius had not learned the art of concealing his art. Theunreality of his work soon makes itself felt, and his skill becomes intime little better than a weariness and a mockery. 

CHAPTER X

SILIUS ITALICUS

Titus Catius Silius Italicus[590] is best known to us as the author ofthe longest and worst of surviving Roman epics. But by a strange ironyof fate we have a fuller knowledge of his life and character than isgranted us in the case of any other poet of the Silver Age, with theexception of Seneca and Persius. His social position, his personalcharacter, his cultured and artistic tastes, rather than any meritpossessed by his verse, have won him a place in the picture-gallery ofPliny the younger. [591] We would gladly sacrifice the whole of the'obituary notice' transmitted to us by the kindly garrulity of Pliny, for a few more glimpses into the life of Juvenal, or even of ValeriusFlaccus, but the picture is interesting and even attractive, and awakensfeelings of a less unfriendly nature than are usually entertained forthe plodding poetaster who had the misfortune to write the seventeenbooks of _Punica_. 

Silius was born in the year 25 or 26 A. D. [592]; of his family and placeof birth we know nothing. [593] He first appears in the unpleasing guiseof a 'delator' in the reign of Nero, in the last year of whoseprincipate he filled the position of consul (68 A. D. ). 

In the 'year of the four emperors' (69 A. D. ) he is found as the friendand counsellor of Vitellius;[594] his conduct, we are told, was wise andcourteous. He subsequently won renown by his admirable administration ofthe province of Asia, and then retired from the public gaze to theseclusion of a life of study. [595] The amiability and virtue whichmarked the leisure of his later years wiped out the dark stain that hadbesmirched his youth. 'Men hastened to salute him and to do him honour. When not engaged in writing, he would pass the day in learned conversewith the friends and acquaintances--no mere fortune-hunters--whocontinually thronged the chambers where he would lie for long hours uponhis couch. His verses, which he would sometimes submit to the judgementof the critics by giving recitations, show diligence rather than genius. The increasing infirmities of age led him to forsake Rome for Campania;not even the accession of a new princeps induced him to quit hisretirement. It is not less creditable to Caesar to have permitted thanto Silius to have ventured on such a freedom. He was a connoisseur evento the verge of extravagance. He had several country houses in the samedistrict, and often abandoned those which he already possessed, if somenew house chanced to catch his fancy. He had a large library, and a finecollection of portraits and statues, and was an enthusiastic admirer ofworks of art which he was not fortunate enough to possess. He keptVergil's birthday with greater care than his own, especially when he wasat Naples, where he would visit the poet's tomb with all the venerationdue to the temple of a god. ' He died[596] in his Neapolitan villa ofself-chosen starvation. His health had failed him. He was afflicted byan incurable tumour, and ran to meet death with a fortitude that nothingcould shake. 'His life was happy and prosperous to his last hour; hisone sorrow was the death of his younger son; the elder (and better) ofhis sons, who survives him, has had a distinguished career, and has evenreached the consulate. ' From Epictetus[597] we gather, what we mightinfer from the manner of his death, that he was a Stoic. FromMartial, [598] who addresses him in the interested language of flatteryas the leading orator of his day, and as the maker of immortal verse, welearn that he was the proud possessor of the Tusculan villa of Cicero, and that he actually owned the tomb of the poet whom he loved so well. 

Silius' life is more interesting than his verse. Like Lucan, he electedto write historical epic, and in his choice of a subject was undoubtedlywiser than his younger contemporary. For instead of selecting a periodso dangerously recent as the civil strife in which the republicperished, he went back to the Second Punic War, to a time sufficientlyremote to permit of greater freedom of treatment and to enable him toavoid the peril of unduly republican ecstasies. In making this choice hewas in all probability influenced by his reverence for Vergil. He, too, would sing of Rome's rise to greatness, would write a truly nationalepic on the great theme which Vergil so inimitably foreshadowed in thedying words of the Carthaginian queen, would link the most stirringyears of Rome's history with the past, just as Vergil had linked theepic of Rome's founder to the greatness of the years that were to come. Ennius had been before him, but he might well aspire to remodel anddevelop the rude annalistic work of the earlier poet. [599] The brillianthistory of Livy, with its vivid battle-scenes and its sonorous speeches, was a quarry that might provide him with the richest material. Unhappily, less wise than Lucan, he made the fatal mistake of adoptingthe principles set forth by Eumolpus, the dissolute poet in the novel ofPetronius. [600]

The intrusion of the mythological method into historical epic isdisastrous. It is barely tolerable in the pseudo-historical epic ofTasso. In the military narrative of Silius it is monstrous andinsufferable. His reverence for Vergil led him to control, or attempt tocontrol, every action of the war by divine intervention. 

Juno reappears in her old rôle as the implacable enemy of Rome. It isshe that kindles Hannibal's hatred for Rome, causes the outbreak of thewar, [601] and, disguised as the lake-god Trasimenus, spurs him on toRome. [602] It is at her instigation that Anna Perenna kindles him tofresh effort by the news that Fabius Cunctator is no longer in commandagainst him, [603] that Somnus moderates his designs after Cannae. [604]It is Juno that conceals the Carthaginian forces in a cloud atCannae, [605] and that rescues Hannibal from the fury of Scipio atZama. [606] Against Juno is arrayed Venus, the protector of the sons ofAeneas. She persuades her husband Vulcan to dry up the Trebia, whoseflood threatens the Romans with yet greater disaster than they havealready suffered, [607] she unnerves and demoralizes the Punic army bythe luxury of Capua. [608] Minerva and Mars play minor parts, the formerfavouring Carthage, the latter Rome. [609] Nothing is gained by thisdreary and superannuated mechanism, while the poem is yet furtherhampered by the other encumbrances of epic commonplace. 

The _Thebais_ of Statius is full of episodes that only find a placebecause Vergil had borrowed similar episodes from Homer. But the_Thebais_ is a professedly mythological epic, and Statius commands alight touch and brilliant colours. The reader merely groans when theheavy-handed Silius introduces his wondrously engraven shield, [610] hisfuneral games, [611] his Amazon, [612] his dismal catalogues, [613] hisNekuia. [614] In the latter episode, he even introduces the VergilianSibyl of Cumae; it is a redeeming feature that Scipio does not make a'personally conducted tour' through the nether world; such a directchallenge to the Sixth Aeneid was perhaps impossible for so true a loverof Vergil as Silius. The Homeric method of necromancy is wiselypreferred, and the Sibyl reveals the past and future of Rome as thespirits pass before them. But there are no illuminating flashes ofimagination; the best feature of the episode is an uninspired and frigidappropriateness. Nothing serves better than the failure of Silius toshow at once the daring and the genius of Vergil, when he ransacked thewealth of Homer and

 from a greater Greek Borrowed as beautifully as the moon The fire o' the sun. 

Apart from these unintelligent plagiarisms and vexatious absurdities, the actual form and composition of the work show some skill. The poetpasses from scene to scene, from battle to battle, with ease andassurance in the earlier books. It is only with the widening of thearea of conflict that the work loses its connexion. The earlier andless important exploits of the elder Scipios were wisely dismissed ina few words. [615] The poet avoided the mistake of undue scrupulosityin respect of chronology and makes no attempt to pose as a scientificmilitary historian. But it is a serious defect that he should fail toshow the significance of the successful 'peninsular campaign' of theyounger Scipio. Here, as in the descriptions of the siege of Syracuse, the reader is haunted by the feeling that these great events areregarded as merely episodic. Even the thrilling march of Hasdrubal, ending in the dramatic catastrophe of the Metaurus, is hardly givenits full weight. There is more true historical and dramaticappreciation in Horace's

 Karthagini iam non ego nuntios mittam superbos: occidit, occidit spes omnis et fortuna nostri nominis Hasdrubale interempto

than in all the ill-proportioned verbiage of Silius. The task of settingforth the course of a conflict that flamed all over the WesternMediterranean world was not easy, and Silius' failure wasproportionately great. Nay--if it be not merely the hallucination of aweary reader--he seems to have tired of his task. The first twelve bookstake us no further than Hannibal's appearance before the walls of Rome, and the war is summarily brought to a close in the last five books, although these, it should be noted, are by no means free from irrelevantmatter. The last three books above all are jejune and perfunctory, andit has been suggested that they lack the final revision that the rest ofthe work had received. Be this as it may, the result of the inadequatetreatment of the close of the war is that the reader lays down the poemwith no feeling of the greatness of Rome's triumph. 

Yet even with these faults of composition, a genuine poet might havewrought a great work from the rough ore of history. The scene isthronged with figures as remarkable and inspiring as history affords. There is the fierce irresistible Hannibal, the sagacious Fabius, theelder Scipios, tragic victims of disaster, the younger Scipio, gloriouswith the light of victory as the clouds of defeat are rolled away, Hasdrubal hurled to ruin at the supreme crisis of the war, Marcellus thevictorious, beleaguered[616] and beleaguerer, the ill-starred Paulus, the Senate of Rome that thanked the fugitive Varro because he had notdespaired of the republic, [617] and above all the gigantic figure ofRome herself, unshaken, indomitable, triumphant. These are no dry bonesthat the breath of the poet alone should make them live. They breatheimmortal in the prose of Livy, in the verse of Silius they are vain'shadows of men foredone'. The Hannibal of Silius is not the dazzlingvillain of Livy, the incarnation of military daring and 'Punic faith'. Mistaken patriotism does not lead Silius to blacken the character ofRome's great antagonist; he strives to do him justice; he is as true apatriot, as chivalrous[618] a warrior, as any of the Roman leaders. Buthe does not live; he is merely the stock warrior of epic, and hisexploits fail to compel belief. 

Fabius, the least romantic, though not the least interesting figure inthe war, stands forth more clearly. The prosaic Silius is naturally mostsuccessful with his most prosaic hero. The younger Scipio is theembodiment of _pietas_, an historical Aeneas, without his prototype'smost distressing weaknesses, but with all his dullness, and lacking thehalo of legend and the splendour of the founder of the race to glorifyhim. Paulus has the merit of true courage, and his consciousness of hiscolleague's folly invests him with a certain pathos. He makes the bestdeath of any Silian warrior, and deserves the eulogy passed on him byHannibal. The rest are lay-figures, with even less individuality andlife. Silius failed to depict character. He fails, too, to show any truesense of the political greatness of Rome. The genius of Rome and thegenius of Carthage are never confronted or contrasted; the greatness ofRome in defeat, the scenes of Rome agonizing in the grip of unexpecteddisaster, are never brought home to the reader with the least degree ofvividness. The great battles are described at tedious length[619] andrendered ridiculous by the lavish introduction of Homeric singlecombats. If Silius is rarely bombastic or rendered absurd by thegrossness of his exaggeration, he yet fails to see what Lucan sawplainly--that for the author of a military historical epic, it is theissues of the war, big with the fate of generations to come, the temperof the combatants, the character of the chief actors, that are thereally interesting elements. Almost alone of Silver Latin poets he showsno real gifts of rhetoric and epigram, no virtuosity of diction, nobrilliance of description. We lack the declamation of Lucan, theapostrophes on the issues of the war, the vivid character-sketches ofthe generals, the political enthusiasm, the thunder of the oratory ofgeneral and statesman. The battle-speeches of Livy, whose glow andvigour half atone for their theatricality, have been made use of bySilius, but find only a feeble echo in his lifeless verse. Nothingstands out sharply defined; the epic lacks impetus and has no salientpoints; outlines are blurred in an unpoetic haze. The history of Tacitushas been described as history 'seen by lightning flashes'. Such shouldbe the history of historical epic. In its stead Silius presents us witha confused welter of archaistic battle, learned allusion, and epiccommonplace. 

'Aequalis liber est, Cretice, qui malus est, ' cries Martial[620] to afriend. The epigram would apply to the __Punica_. There is scarcely apassage in the whole work that reveals genuine poetic imagination. Silius is free from many of the faults of his contemporaries, the faultsthat spring from aspirations towards originality. He is content to be animitator. In his style, as in his composition, Vergil is an obsession. But the echoes are muffled or unmusical. Gifted with ease and fluencyand--for his age--comparative lucidity of diction, Silius has no trueear for music, nor true eye for beauty. His verse moves naturally butheavily. He is the most spondaic poet[621] of his age, and the spondaicrhythm is not alleviated by artistic variety of pause or judicious useof elision. Lucan is heavy, but he hits hard and is weighty in the bestsense. Silius rolls on lumbering and unperturbed, never rising orfalling. He has all the faults of Ovid, and, in spite of his labouredimitation, none of the merits of Vergil. Nothing can kindle him. Themost heroic and the most tragic of all the stories of the struggle forthe empire of the western world is that of Regulus, the famous captiveof Carthage in the first Punic War. [622] The episode is skilfully andnaturally introduced. The story is told by an aged veteran of the firstPunic War to a descendant of Regulus, who has fled wounded from the routof Trasimene. Silius succeeds in making one of the noblest stories inhistory lifeless and dull. The narration opens with the description of amelodramatic struggle between Regulus and a monstrous serpent in Africa, scarcely an harmonious prelude for the simple and solemn climax of thehero's life, his return to his home to fix 'the Senate's wavering will', his departure unmoved to Carthaginian captivity, with the certainty ofdeath and torture before him. Silius treats this tragic episode simplyand severely; there is nothing to offend the taste, but there is equallynothing to move the heart; the description is merely dull; it lacks thefire of life and the finer imagination. Here, again, we turn for reliefto Horace with his brief but incomparable

 atqui sciebat quae sibi barbarus tortor pararet, non aliter tamen dimovit obstantes propinquos et populum reditus morantem quam si clientum longa negotia diiudicata lite relinqueret, tendens Venefranos in agros aut Lacedaemonium Tarentum (iii. 5. 49). 

Take the corresponding passage in Silius. Regulus concludes his speechto the Senate as follows (vi. 485):

 exposcunt Libyes nobisque dedere haec referenda, pari libeat si pendere bellum foedere et ex aequo geminas conscribere leges. Sed mihi sit Stygios ante intravisse penates talia quam videam ferientes pacta Latinos, haec fatus Tyriae sese iam reddidit irae, nec monitus spernente graves fidosque senatu Poenorum dimissa cohors. Quae maesta repulsa ac minitans capto patrias properabat ad oras. Prosequitur volgus, patres, ac planctibus ingens personat et luctu campus. Revocare libebat interdum et iusto raptum retinere dolore. 

 'The Libyans ask whether you will cease from war on equal terms and draw up a treaty wherein each side keeps its own. They bid me bring back your reply. But may I sooner enter the gates of hell than see the Latins make such a compact!' He spake, and yielded himself back once more to the mercies of the Tyrian's hate: the Senate spurned not his words of weight, his loyal warning. The Punic embassy was dismissed. Cast down at their rebuff, and threatening their captive, they hastened homeward to their native shores. The people, the fathers, follow them: the whole vast plain resounds with weeping and beating of breasts, and ever and again they strove to recall the hero and with just grief to retain him as he was snatched away from them. 

Criticism is needless. One passage is in the grand style, the other isnot; one is mere verse-making, the other the purest poetry. Silius hasnothing of _curiosa felicitas_ or even of the more common gift of vaguesensuous charm. Even on such hackneyed themes as the choice of Hercules, with Scipio playing the part of Hercules, he fails to rise to theconventional prettiness of which even a Calpurnius Siculus would havebeen capable. Virtue and pleasure are rendered equally unattractive, andwe pity Scipio for having to make the choice. With the other poets ofthe age it is easy to select passages to illustrate their characteristicmerits and defects. But from the dull monotony of Silius it is hard tochoose. He does not read well even in selections. Apart from the generalabsurdity of the conception of the poem he is rarely grotesque. Histaste is chastened by his love of Vergil, and the absence of genuinerhetorical power saves him from dangerous exuberance. The tricks ofrhetoric are there, but the edge of his wit is dull, and he has no speednor energy. For similar reasons he never attains sublimity. There arefaint traces of the _Romana gravitas_ in lines such as

 iamque tibi veniet tempus quo maxima rerum nobilior sit Roma mails (iii. 584). 

 And the time shall come when Rome, the greatest thing in all the world, shall be yet more ennobled by her woes. 

The idea that the trials of Rome shall be as a 'refiner's fire' has acertain grandeur, but the expression of the idea is commonplace. Thesame is true of the elaboration of the Vergilian _parcere subiectis_, where the poet describes Marcellus' clemency to the vanquishedSyracusans, and makes brief allusion to the unhappy death of Archimedes(xiv. 673):

 sic parcere victis pro praeda fuit et sese contenta nec ullo sanguine pollutis plausit Victoria pennis. Tu quoque ductoris lacrimas, memorande, tulisti, defensor patriae, meditantem in pulvere formas nec turbatum animi tanta feriente ruina. 

 So mercy toward the conquered took the place of rapine, and Victory was content with herself and clapped her wings unstained by any blood. Thou, too, immortal sage, defender of thy country, didst win the meed of the conqueror's tears, thou whom ruin smote down, all unmoved, as thou broodedst o'er figures traced in the dust. 

To find Silius at his best--not a very exalted best--we must turn to thepassage where he depicts the feelings of Hannibal on finding the body ofPaulus on the field of Cannae (x. 513):

 quae postquam aspexit, geminatus gaudia ductor Sidonius 'Fuge, Varro, ' inquit 'fuge, Varro, superstes, dum iaceat Paulus. Patribus Fabioque sedenti et populo consul totas edissere Cannas. Concedam hanc iterum, si lucis tanta cupido est, concedam tibi, Varro, fugam. At, cui fortia et hoste me digna haud parvo caluerunt corda vigore, funere supremo et tumuli decoretur honore. Quantus, Paule, iaces! qui tot mihi milibus unus maior laetitiae causa est. Cum fata vocabunt, tale precor nobis salva Karthagine letum. ' * * * * * 'i decus Ausoniae, quo fas est ire superbas (572) virtute et factis animas. Tibi gloria leto iam parta insigni. Nostros Fortuna labores versat adhuc casusque iubet nescire futuros. ' haec Libys, atque repens crepitantibus undique flammis aetherias anima exultans evasit in auras. 

 When this he saw, the Sidonian chief was filled with double joy and cried, 'Fly, Varro, fly and survive defeat; enough that Paulus lieth low! Go, consul, tell all the tale of Cannae to the fathers, to laggard Fabius, to the people. If so thou long'st to live, I will grant thee, Varro, to flee once more as thou fleest to-day. But let him, whose heart was bold and worthy to be my foe, and all aflame with mighty valour, be honoured with the last rites of burial and all the honour of the tomb. How great, Paulus, art thou in the death! Thy fall alone gives greater cause for joy than the fall of so many thousands. Such, when the fates shall summon me, such I pray be my fate, so Carthage stand unshaken. ' . . . 'Go, Ausonia's glory, where the souls of those whom valour and noble deeds make proud may go. _Thou_ hast won great glory by thy death. For _us_, Fortune still tosses us to and fro in weltering labour and forbids us to see what chance the future hath in store. ' So spake the Libyan, and straightway from the crackling flame the exulting spirit soared skyward through the air. 

The picture of the soul of Paulus soaring heavenward from the funeralpyre, exultant at the honour paid him by his great foe, is the nearestapproach to pure poetic imagination in the whole weary length of the_Punica_. [623] But the pedestrian muse of Silius is more at home in theingenious description of the manoeuvres and counter-manoeuvres of Fabiusand Hannibal in the seventh book; the similes with which the passagecloses are hackneyed, but their application is both new and clever:

(vii. 91) iam Fabius tacito procedens agmine et arte bellandi lento similis, praecluserat omnes fortunaeque hostique vias. Discedere signis haud licitum summumquc decus, quo tollis ad astra imperil, Romane, caput, parere docebat * * * * *(123) cassarum sedet irarum spectator et alti celsus colle iugi domat exultantia corda infractasque minas dilato Marte fatigat sollers cunctandi Fabius, ceu nocte sub atra munitis pastor stabulis per ovilia clausum impavidus somni servat pecus: effera saevit atque impasta truces ululatus turba luporum exercet morsuque quatit restantia claustra. Inritus incepti movet inde atque Apula tardo arva Libys passu legit ac nunc valle residit conditus occulta, si praecipitare sequentem atque inopinata detur circumdare fraude; nunc nocturna parat caecae celantibus umbris furta viae retroque abitum fictosque timores adsimulat, tum castra citus deserta relicta ostentat praeda atque invitat prodigus hostem: qualis Maeonia passim Maeandrus in ora, cum sibi gurgitibus flexis revolutus oberrat. Nulla vacant incepta dolis: simul omnia versat miscetque exacuens varia ad conamina mentem, sicut aquae splendor radiatus lampade solis dissultat per tecta vaga sub imagine vibrans luminis et tremula laquearia verberat umbra. 

 Now Fabius advanced, leading his host in silence and--such was his cunning--like to a laggard in war; so closed he all the paths whereby fortune or the foe might fall on him. No soldier might quit the standards, and he taught that the height of glory, even that glory, Roman, that raises thine imperial head to the stars, was obedience. . . . Fabius sits high on the mountain slopes watching the foeman's rage and tames his impetuous ardour, humbles his threats, and, with skilful delay, postpones the day of battle and wears out his patience: as when through the darkness of the night a shepherd, fearless and sleepless in his well-guarded byre, keeps his flock penned within the fold: without, the wolf-pack, fierce and famished, howls fiercely, and with its teeth shakes the gates that bar its entrance. Baffled in his enterprise, the Libyan departs thence and slowly marches across the Apulian fields and pitches his camp deep in a hidden vale, if perchance he may hurl the Roman to ruin as he follows in his track and surround him by hidden guile. Now he prepares a midnight ambush in some dark pass beneath the shelter of the gloom, and falsely feigns retreat and fear; then, swiftly leaving his camp and booty, he displays them to the foe, and lavishly invites a raid. Even as on Maeonian shores Maeander with winding channel turns upon himself and wanders far and wide, now here, now there. Naught he attempts, but has some guile in it. He weighs every scheme, sharpens his mind for divers exploits, and blends contrivance with contrivance, even as the gleam of water lit by the sun's torch dances through a house quivering, and the reflected beam goes wandering and lashes the roof with tremulous reflection. 

There is in this passage nothing approaching real excellence, but itsdexterity may reasonably command some respect. It is dexterity of whichSilius has little to show. He is well-read in history and its bastardsister mythology. At his best he can string together his incidents withsome skill, and he makes use of his learning in the accepted fashion ofhis day. [624] The poem is deluged with proper names and learnedaetiology, though he has no conception of that magical use of propernames and legendary allusions which is the secret of the masters ofliterary epic. [625]

But the absence of any true poetic genius makes him the most tedious ofLatin authors, and his unenviable reputation is well deserved. For thepoetry of the struggle with Carthage for the

 plumed troops and the big wars That make ambition virtue, for 'all quality, pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war', wemust go to the inspired prose of Livy. 

And yet it is well that the _Punica_ should have been preserved. It iswell to know that as France has its _Henriade_ and England its _Madoc_, so Rome had its _Punica_. It is our one direct glimpse into the work ofthat cultured society, devastated by the 'scribendi caccethes', asJuvenal puts it, or, from the point of view of the facile Pliny, adornedby the number of its poets. [626] The _Punica_ have won an immortalityfar other than that prophesied for them by Martial, [627] but they showus the work of a cultured Roman gentleman of his day, who, if he hadsmall capacity, had a high enthusiasm for letters, who had diligence ifhe had not genius, and was possessed by a love for the supreme poet inwhose steps he followed, a passion so sincere that it may win from hisscanty readers at least a partial forgiveness for the inadequacy of hisimitation and for the suffering inflicted on all those who have essayedthe dreary adventure of reading the seventeen books that bear his name. 

CHAPTER XI

MARTIAL

Marcus Valerius Martialis, like Quintilian, Seneca, and Lucan, was aSpaniard by birth, and, unlike those writers, never became thoroughlyreconciled to life at Rome. He was born at Bilbilis, [628] a small townof Hispania Tarraconensis. The exact year of his birth is uncertain; butas the tenth book of his epigrams, written between 95 and 98 A. D. , contains a reference (24) to his fifty-seventh birthday, he must havebeen born between 38 and 41 A. D. His birthday was the 1st of March, afact to which he owes his name Martialis. [629] Of the position of hisparents, Valerius Fronto and Flaccilla, [630] we have no evidence. Thatthey were not wealthy is clear from the circumstances of their son. Butthey were able to give him a regular literary education, [631] although, unlike his fellow-countrymen whom we have mentioned above, he waseducated in his native province. But the life of a provincial did notsatisfy him. Conscious, perhaps, of his literary gifts, he went, in 64A. D. , [632] like so many a young provincial, to make his fortune at Rome. There he attached himself as client to the powerful Spanish family ofthe Senecas, and found a friendly reception also in the house ofCalpurnius Piso. [633] But fortune was against him; as he wascongratulating himself on his good luck in starting life at Rome undersuch favourable auspices, the Pisonian conspiracy (65 A. D. ) failed, andhis patrons fell before the wrath of Nero. [634] His career must becommenced anew. Of his life from this point to the reign of Domitian weknow little. But this much is certain, that he endured all theindignities and hardships of a client's life, [635] and that he chosethis degrading career in preference to the active career of the Romanbar. He had no taste for oratory, and rejected the advice of his friendGaius[636] and his distinguished compatriot Quintilian to seek alivelihood as an advocate or as a politician. 'That is not life!' hereplies to Quintilian:

 vivere quod propero pauper nec inutilis annis, da veniam: properat vivere nemo satis. Differat hoc patrios optat qui vincere census atriaque immodicis artat imaginibus (ii. 90. 3). 

His ideals and ambitions were low, and his choice had, as we shall see, a degrading effect upon his poetry. He chose rather to live on suchmodest fortune as he may have possessed, on the client's dole, and suchgifts as his complimentary epigrams may have won from his patrons. Thesegifts must have been in many cases of a trifling description, [637] butthey may occasionally have been on a more generous scale. At any rate, by the year 94 A. D. , we find him the possessor of a little farm atNomentum, [638] and a house on the Quirinal. [639] Although he mustpresumably have written a considerable quantity of verse in his earlieryears, it is not till 80 A. D. That he makes an appearance on the stageof literature. In that year the Flavian amphitheatre was consecrated bythe Emperor Titus, and Martial celebrated the fact by the publication ofhis first book, the _Spectaculorum Liber_. It is of small literaryvalue, but it was his first step on the ladder of fame. Titus conferredon him the _ius trium liberorum_, although he seems not to have enteredon the enjoyment of this privilege till the reign of Domitian. [640] Hethus first came in touch with the imperial circle. From this timeforward we get a continual stream of verse in fulsome praise of Domitianand his freedman. But his flattery met with small reward. There are manypoems belauding the princeps, but few that thank him. The most that heacquired by his flattery was the honorary military tribunate and hiselevation to the equestrian order. [641] Of material profit he gotlittle, [642] save such as his improved social position may haveconferred on him indirectly. 

Four years after the publication of the _Spectaculorum Liber_ (i. E. Later in 84 and 85)[643] he published two books, the thirteenth andfourteenth, composed of neat but trifling poems on the presents (Xeniaand Apophoreta) which it was customary to give at the feast of theSaturnalia. From this point his output was continuous and steady, as thefollowing table will show:[644]

I, II. 85 or early in 86. III. 87 or early in 88. IV. December (Saturnalia) 88. V. Autumn, 89. VI. Summer or Autumn, 90. VII. December, 92. VIII. 93. IX. Summer, 94. X. 1. December, 95. X. 2. 98. XI. 97. XII. Late in 101. 

His life during this period was uneventful. He lived expensively andcontinually complains of lack of funds and of the miseries of a client'slife. Once only (about 88) the discomfort of his existence seems to haveinduced him to abandon Rome. He took up his residence at Forum Cornelii, the modern Imola, but soon returned to Rome. [645] It was not till 98that he decided to leave the capital for good and to return to hisSpanish home. A new princeps was on the throne. Martial had associatedhis work too closely with Domitian and his court to feel at his easewith Nerva. He sent the new emperor a selection from his tenth andeleventh books, which we may, perhaps, conjecture to have beenexpurgated. He denounced the dead Domitian in a brilliant epigram whichmay have formed part of that selection, but which has only beenpreserved to us by the scholiast on Juvenal (iv. 38):

 Flavia gens, quantum tibi tertius abstulit heres! paene fuit tanti non habuisse duos. 

 How much thy third has wronged thee, Flavian race! 'Twere better ne'er to have bred the other brace. ANON. 

But he felt that times were changed and that there was no place now forhis peculiar talent for flattery (x. 72. 8):

 non est hic dominus sed imperator, sed iustissimus omnium senator, per quem de Stygia domo reducta est siccis rustica Veritas capillis. Hoc sub principe, si sapis, caveto verbis, Roma, prioribus loquaris. 

 an emperor Is ours, no master as of yore, Himself the Senate's very crown Of justice, who has called from down In her deep Stygian duress The hoyden Truth, with tangled tress. Be wise, Rome, see you shape anew Your tongue; your prince would have it true. A. E. STREET. 

Let flattery fly to Parthia. Rome is no place for her (ib. 4). Martialhad made his name: he was read far and wide throughout the Empire. [646]He could afford to retire from the city that had given him much fame andmuch pleasure, but had balanced its gifts by a thousand vexations andindignities. Pliny assisted him with journey-money, and after athirty-four years' sojourn in Italy he returned to Bilbilis to live alife of _dolce far niente_. The kindness of a wealthy friend, a Spanishlady named Marcella, [647] gave him an estate on which he lived incomfort, if not in affluence. He published but one book in Spain, thetwelfth, written, he says in the preface, in a very few days. He livedin peace and happiness, though at times he sighed for the welcome of thepublic for whom he had catered so long, [648] and chafed under the lackof sympathy and culture among his Spanish neighbours. [649] He died in104. 'Martial is dead, ' says Pliny, 'and I am grieved to hear it. He wasa man of genius, with a shrewd and vigorous wit. His verses are full ofpoint and sting, and as frank as they are witty. I provided him withmoney for his journey when he left Rome; I owed it to my friendship forhim, and to the verses which he wrote in my honour'--then follows Mart. X. 20--'Was I not right to speed him on his way, and am I not justifiedin mourning his death, seeing that he wrote thus concerning me? He gaveme what he could, he would have given more had he been able. And yetwhat greater gift can one man give another than by handing down his nameand fame to all eternity. I hear you say that Martial's verses will notlive to all eternity? You may be right; at any rate, he hoped for theirimmortality when he wrote them' (Plin. _Ep. _ iii. 21). 

Of Martial's character we shall have occasion to speak later. Thereis nothing in the slight, but generous, tribute of Pliny that has tobe unsaid. 

Of the circles in which he moved his epigrams give us a brilliantpicture; of his exact relations with the persons whom he addresses it ishard to speak with certainty. Many distinguished figures of the dayappear as the objects of his flattery. There are Spaniards, Quintilian, Lucinianus Maternus and Canius Rufus, all distinguished men of letters, the poets Silius Italicus, Stertinius Avitus, Arruntius Stella, theyounger Pliny, the orator Aquilius Regulus, Lentulus Sura, the friend ofTrajan, the rich knights, Atedius Melior, and Claudius Etruscus, thesoldier Norbanus, and many others. With Juvenal also he seems to haveenjoyed a certain intimacy. Statius he never mentions, although he musthave moved in the same circles. [650] His intimates--as might beexpected--are for the most part, as far as we can guess, of lower rank. There are the centurions Varus and Pudens, Terentius Priscus hiscompatriot, Decianus the Stoic from the Spanish town of Emerita, theself-sacrificing Quintus Ovidius, Martial's neighbour at Nomentum and afellow-client of Seneca, and, above all, Julius Martialis. His enemiesand envious rivals are attacked and bespattered with filth in many anepigram, but Martial, true to his promise in the preface to his firstbook, conceals their true names from us. 

Of his _vie intime_ he tells us little. As far as we may judge, he wasunmarried. It is true that several of his epigrams purport to beaddressed to his wife. But two facts show clearly that this lady iswholly imaginary. Even Martial could not have spoken of his wife in suchdisgusting language as, for instance, he uses in xi. 104, while inanother poem (ii. 92) he clearly expresses his intention not to marry:

 natorum mihi ius trium roganti Musarum pretium dedit mearum solus qui poterat. Valebis, uxor, non debet domini perire munus. 

The honorary _ius trium liberorum_ had given him, he says, all thatmarriage could have brought him. He has no intention of making theemperor's generosity superfluous by taking a wife. He preferred theuntrammelled life of a bachelor. So only could he enjoy the pleasureswhich for him meant 'life '. He is neither an impressive nor a veryinteresting figure. He has many qualities that repel, even if we do nottake him too seriously; and though he may have been a pleasant and inmany respects most amiable companion, he has few characteristics thatarrest our attention or compel our respect. More will be said of hisvirtues and his vices in the pages that follow. It is the artist ratherthan the man that wakens our interest. 

In Martial we have a poet who devoted himself to the one class of poetrywhich, apart from satire, the conditions of the Silver Age werequalified to produce in any real excellence--the epigram. In a periodwhen rhetorical smartness and point were the predominant features ofliterature, the epigram was almost certain to flourish. But Roman poetsin general, and Martial in particular, gave a character to the epigramwhich has clung to it ever since, and has actually changed thesignificance of the word itself. 

In the best days of the Greek epigram the prime consideration was notthat a poem should be pointed, but that it should be what is summed upin the untranslatable French epithet _lapidaire_; that is to say, itshould possess the conciseness, finish, and relevance required for aninscription on a monument. Its range was wide; it might express thelover's passion, the mourner's grief, the artist's skill, the cynic'slaughter, the satirist's scorn. It was all poetry in miniature. Point isnot wanting, but its chief characteristics are delicacy and charm. 'Nogood epigram sacrifices its finer poetical substance to the desire ofmaking a point, and none of the best depend on having a point atall. '[651] Transplanted to the soil of Italy the epigram changes. Theless poetic Roman, with his coarse tastes, his brutality, his tendencyto satire, his appreciation of the incisive, wrought it to his own use. In his hands it loses most of its sensuous and lyrical elements andmakes up for the loss by the cultivation of point. Above all, it becomesthe instrument of satire, stinging like a wasp where the satirist pureand simple uses the deadlier weapons of the bludgeon and the rapier. 

The epigram must have been exceedingly plentiful from the very dawn ofthe movement which was to make Rome a city of _belles-lettres_. It isthe plaything of the dilettante _littérateur_, so plentiful under theempire. [652] Apart from the work of Martial, curiously few epigrams havecome down to us; nevertheless, in the vast majority of the very limitednumber we possess the same Roman characteristics may be traced. In thenon-lyrical epigrams of Catullus, in the shorter poems of the _AppendixVergiliana_, there is the same vigour, the same coarse humour, the samepungency that find their best expression in Martial. Even in theepigrams attributed to Seneca in the _Anthologia Latina_ [653] somethingof this may be observed, though for the most part they lack the personalnote and leave the impression of mere juggling with words. It is in thislast respect, the attention to point, that they show most affinity withMartial. Only the epigrams in the same collection attributed toPetronius[654] seem to preserve something of the Greek spirit of beautyuntainted by the hard, unlovely, incisive spirit of Rome. 

Martial was destined to fix the type of the epigram for the future. Forpure poetry he had small gifts. He was endowed with a warm heart, a reallove for simplicity of life and for the beauties of nature. But he hadno lyrical enthusiasm, and was incapable of genuine passion. He enteredheartwhole on all his amatory adventures, and left them withindifference. Even the cynical profligacy of Ovid shows more capacityfor true love. At their best Martial's erotic epigrams attain to acertain shallow prettiness, [655] for the most part they do not riseabove the pornographic. And even though he shows a real capacity forfriendship, he also reveals an infinite capacity for cringing orimpudent vulgarity in his relations with those who were merely patronsor acquaintances. His needy circumstances led him, as we shall see, tocontinual expressions of a peevish mendicancy, while the artificialityand pettiness of the life in which he moved induced an excessivetriviality and narrowness of outlook. 

He makes no great struggle after originality. The slightness of histhemes and of his _genre_ relieved him of that necessity. Some of hisprettiest poems are mere variations on some of the most famous lyricsof Catullus. [656] He pilfers whole lines from Ovid. [657] Phrase afterphrase suggests something that has gone before. But his plagiarism iseffected with such perfect frankness and such perfect art, that itmight well be pardoned, even if Martial had greater claims to be takenseriously. As it is, his freedom in borrowing need scarcely be takeninto account in the consideration of our verdict. At the worst hiscrime is no more than petty larceny. With all his faults, he has giftssuch as few poets have possessed, a perfect facility and a perfectfinish. Alone of poets of the period he rarely gives the impression oflabouring a point. Compared with Martial, Seneca and Lucan, Statius andJuvenal are, at their worst, stylistic acrobats. But Martial, howeversilly or offensive, however complicated or prosaic his theme, handleshis material with supreme ease. His points may often not be worthmaking; they could not be better made. Moreover, he has a perfect ear;his music may be trivial, but within its narrow limits it isfaultless. [658] He knows what is required of him and he knows his ownpowers. He knows that his range is limited, that his sphere iscomparatively humble, but he is proud to excel in it. He has theartist's self-respect without his vanity. 

His themes are manifold. He might have said, with even greater truththan Juvenal, 'quidquid agunt homines, nostri est farrago libelli. ' Hedoes not go beneath the surface, but almost every aspect of thekaleidoscopic world of Rome receives his attention at one time oranother. His attitude is, on the whole, satirical, though his satire isnot inspired by deep or sincere indignation. He is too easy in hismorals and too good-humoured by temperament. He is often insulting, butthere is scarcely a line that breathes fierce resentment, while hisalmost unparalleled obscenity precludes the intrusion of any genuineearnestness of moral scorn in a very large number of his satiricepigrams. On these points he shall speak for himself; he makes noexacting claims. 

'I hope, ' he says in the preface to his first book, 'that I haveexercised such restraint in my writings that no one who is possessed ofthe least self-respect may have cause to complain of them. My jests arenever outrageous, even when directed against persons of the meanestconsideration. My practice in this respect is very different from thatof early writers, who abused persons without veiling their invectiveunder a pseudonym. Nay more, their victims were men of the highestrenown. My _jeux d'esprit_ have no _arrières-pensées_, and I hope thatno one will put an evil interpretation on them, nor rewrite my epigramsby infusing his own malignance into his reading of them. It is ascandalous injustice to exercise such ingenuity on what another haswritten. I would offer some excuse for the freedom and frankness of mylanguage--which is, after all, the language of epigram--if I weresetting any new precedent. But all epigrammatists, Catullus, Marsus, Pedo, Gaetulicus, have availed themselves of this licence of speech. But if any one wishes to acquire notoriety by prudish severity, andrefuses to permit me to write after the good Roman fashion in so muchas a single page of my work, he may stop short at the preface, or evenat the title. Epigrams are written for such persons as derive pleasurefrom the games at the Feast of Flowers. Cato should not enter mytheatre, but if he does enter it, let him be content to look on at thesport which I provide. I think I shall be justified in closing mypreface with an epigram

 TO CATO

 Once more the merry feast of Flora's come, With wanton jest to split the sides of Rome; Yet come you, prince of prudes, to view the show. Why come you? merely to be shocked and go?'

He reasserts the kindliness of his heart and the excellence of hisintentions elsewhere:

 hunc servare modum nostri novere libelli; parcere personis, dicere de vitiis (x. 33). 

 For in my verses 'tis my constant care To lash the vices, but the persons spare. HAY. 

Malignant critics _had_ exercised their ingenuity in the manner which hedeprecated. [659] Worse still, libellous verse had been falselycirculated as his:

 quid prodest, cupiant cum quidam nostra videri si qua Lycambeo sanguine tela madent, vipereumque vomant nostro sub nomine virus qui Phoebi radios ferre diemque negant? (vii. 12. 5). 

 But what does't avail, If in bloodfetching lines others do rail, And vomit viperous poison in my name, Such as the sun themselves to own do shame? ANON. , 1695. 

In this respect his defence of himself is just. When he writes in a veinof invective his victim is never mentioned by name. And we cannot assertin any given case that his pseudonyms mask a real person. He may do nomore than satirize a vice embodied and typified in an imaginarypersonality. 

He is equally concerned to defend himself against the obvious charges ofprurience and immorality:

 innocuos censura potest permittere lusus: lasciva eat nobis pagina, vita proba[660] (i. 4. 7). 

 Let not these harmless sports your censure taste! My lines are wanton, but my life is chaste. ANON. , seventeenth century. 

This is no real defence, and even though we need not take Martial at hisword, when he accuses himself of the foulest vices, there is not theslightest reason to suppose that chastity was one of his virtues. InJuvenal's case we have reason to believe that, whatever his weaknesses, he was a man of genuinely high ideals. Martial at his best shows himselfa man capable of fine feeling, but he gives no evidence of moralearnestness or strength of character. On the other hand, to give him hisdue, we must remember the standard of his age. Although he is lavishwith the vilest obscenities, and has no scruples about accusingacquaintances of every variety of unnatural vice, it must be pointed outthat such accusations were regarded at Rome as mere matter for laughter. The traditions of the old _Fescennina locutio_ survived, and with thedecay of private morality its obscenity increased. Caesar's veteranscould sing ribald verses unrebuked at their general's triumph, versesunquotably obscene and casting the foulest aspersions on the characterof one whom they worshipped almost as a god. Caesar could inviteCatullus to dine in spite of the fact that such accusations formed thematter of his lampoons. Catullus could insert similar charges againstthe bridegroom for whom he was writing an _epithalamium_. The writing ofPriapeia was regarded as a reputable diversion. Martial's defence of hisobscenities is therefore in all probability sincere, and may haveapproved itself to many reputable persons of his day. It was a defencethat had already been made in very similar language by Ovid andCatullus, [661] and Martial was not the last to make it. But the factthat Martial felt it necessary to defend himself shows that a body ofpublic opinion--even if not large or representative--did exist whichrefused to condone this fashionable lubricity. Extenuating circumstancesmay be urged in Martial's defence, but even to have conformed to thestandard of his day is sufficient condemnation; and it is hard to resistthe suspicion that he fell below it. His obscenities, though couched inthe most easy and pointed language, have rarely even the grace--if graceit be--of wit; they are puerile in conception and infinitely disgusting. 

It is pleasant to turn to the better side of Martial's character. Nowriter has ever given more charming expression to his affection for hisfriends. It is for Decianus and Julius Martialis that he keeps thewarmest place in his heart. In poems like the following there is nodoubting the sincerity of his feeling or questioning the perfection ofits expression:

 si quis erit raros inter numerandus amicos, quales prisca fides famaque novit anus, si quis Cecropiae madidus Latiaeque Minervae artibus et vera simplicitate bonus, si quis erit recti custos, mirator honesti, et nihil arcano qui roget ore deos, si quis erit magnae subnixus robore mentis: dispeream si non hic Decianus erit (i. 39). 

 Is there a man whose friendship rare With antique friendship may compare; In learning steeped, both old and new, Yet unpedantic, simple, true; Whose soul, ingenuous and upright, Ne'er formed a wish that shunned the light, Whose sense is sound? If such there be, My Decianus, thou art he. PROFESSOR GOLDWIN SMITH

Even more charming, if less intense, is the exhortation to JuliusMartialis to live while he may, ere the long night come that knowsno waking:

 o mihi post nullos, Iuli, memorande sodales, si quid longa fides canaque iura valent, bis iam paene tibi consul tricensimus instat, et numerat paucos vix tua vita dies. Non bene distuleris videas quae posse negari, et solum hoc ducas, quod fuit, esse tuum. Exspectant curaeque catenatique labores: gaudia non remanent, sed fugitiva volant. Haec utraque manu complexuque adsere toto: saepe fluunt imo sic quoque lapsa sinu. Non est, crede mihi, sapientis dicere 'vivam '. Sera nimis vita est crastina: vive hodie (i. 15). 

 Friend of my heart--and none of all the band Has to that name older or better right: Julius, thy sixtieth winter is at hand, Far-spent is now life's day and near the night. Delay not what thou would'st recall too late; That which is past, that only call thine own: Cares without end and tribulations wait, Joy tarrieth not, but scarcely come, is flown. Then grasp it quickly firmly to thy heart, -- Though firmly grasped, too oft it slips away;-- To talk of living is not wisdom's part: To-morrow is too late: live thou to-day! PROFESSOR GOLDWIN SMITH

Best of all is the retrospect of the long friendship which has unitedhim to Julius. It is as frank as it is touching:

 triginta mihi quattuorque messes tecum, si memini, fuere, Iuli. Quarum dulcia mixta sunt amaris sed iucunda tamen fuere plura; et si calculus omnis huc et illuc diversus bicolorque digeratur, vincet candida turba nigriorem. Si vitare voles acerba quaedam et tristes animi cavere morsus, nulli te facias nimis sodalem: gaudebis minus et minus dolebis (xii. 34). [662]

 My friend, since thou and I first met, This is the thirty-fourth December; Some things there are we'd fain forget, More that 'tis pleasant to remember. Let for each pain a black ball stand, For every pleasure past a white one, And thou wilt find, when all are scanned, The major part will be the bright one. He who would heartache never know, He who serene composure treasures, Must friendship's chequered bliss forego; Who has no pain hath fewer pleasures. PROFESSOR GOLDWIN SMITH

He does not pour the treasure of his heart at his friend's feet, asPersius does in his burning tribute to Cornutus. He has no treasure ofgreat price to pour. But it is only natural that in the poems addressedto his friends we should find the statement of his ideals of life:

 vitam quae faciunt beatiorem, iucundissime Martialis, haec sunt: res non parta labore sed relicta; non ingratus ager, focus perennis; lis numquam, toga rara, mens quieta; vires ingenuae, salubre corpus; prudens simplicitas, pares amici, convictus facilis, sine arte mensa; nox non ebria sed soluta curis. Non tristis torus et tamen pudicus; somnus qui faciat breves tenebras: quod sis esse velis nihilque malis; summum nec metuas diem nee optes (x. 47). 

 What makes a happy life, dear friend, If thou would'st briefly learn, attend-- An income left, not earned by toil; Some acres of a kindly soil; The pot unfailing on the fire; No lawsuits; seldom town attire; Health; strength with grace; a peaceful mind; Shrewdness with honesty combined; Plain living; equal friends and free; Evenings of temperate gaiety: A wife discreet, yet blythe and bright; Sound slumber, that lends wings to night. With all thy heart embrace thy lot, Wish not for death and fear it not. PROFESSOR GOLDWIN SMITH. 

This exquisite echo of the Horatian 'beatus ille qui procul negotiis'sets forth no very lofty ideal. It is frankly, though restrainedly, hedonistic. But it depicts a life that is full of charm and free fromevil. Martial, in his heart of hearts, hates the Rome that he depictsso vividly. Rome with its noise, its expense, its bustling snobbery, its triviality, and its vice, where he and his friend Julius wastetheir days:

 nunc vivit necuter sibi, bonosque soles effugere atque abire sentit, qui nobis pereunt et imputantur (v. 20. 11). 

 Dead to our better selves we see The golden hours take flight, Still scored against us as they flee. Then haste to live aright. PROFESSOR GOLDWIN SMITH

He longs to escape from the world of the professional lounger and theparasite to an ampler air, where he can breathe freely and find rest. Heis no philosopher, but it is at times a relief to get away from therarified atmosphere and the sense of strain that permeates so much ofthe aspirations towards virtue in this strange age of contradictions. 

Martial at last found the ease and quiet that his soul desired in hisSpanish home:

 hic pigri colimus labore dulci Boterdum Plateamque (Celtiberis haec sunt nomina crassiora terris): ingenti fruor inproboque somno quem nec tertia saepe rumpit hora, et totum mihi nunc repono quidquid ter denos vigilaveram per annos. Ignota est toga, sed datur petenti rupta proxima vestis a cathedra. Surgentem focus excipit superba vicini strue cultus iliceti, * * * * * sic me vivere, sic iuvat perire. (xii. 18. 10). 

 Busy but pleas'd and idly taking pains, Here Lewes Downs I till and Ringmer plains, Names that to each South Saxon well are known, Though they sound harsh to powdered beaux in town. None can enjoy a sounder sleep than mine; I often do not wake till after nine; And midnight hours with interest repay For years in town diversions thrown away. Stranger to finery, myself I dress In the first coat from an old broken press. My fire, as soon as I am up, I see Bright with the ruins of some neighbouring tree. * * * * * Such is my life, a life of liberty; So would I wish to live and so to die. HAY. 

Martial has a genuine love for the country. Born at a time when detaileddescriptions of the charms of scenery had become fashionable, and thecultivated landscape at least found many painters, he succeeds farbetter than any of his contemporaries in conveying to the reader hissense of the beauties which his eyes beheld. That sense is limited, butexquisite. It does not go deep; there is nothing of the almost mysticalbackground that Vergil at times suggests; there is nothing of thefeeling of the open air and the wild life that is sometimes wafted to usin the sensuous verse of Theocritus. But Martial sees what he seesclearly, and he describes it perfectly. Compare his work with theaffected prettiness of Pliny's description of the source of theClitumnus or with the more sensuous, but over-elaborate, craftsmanshipof Statius in the _Silvae_. Martial is incomparably their superior. Hespeaks a more human language, and has a far clearer vision. Both Statiusand Martial described villas by the sea. We have already mentionedStatius' description of the villa of Pollius at Sorrento; Martial shallspeak in his turn:

 o temperatae dulce Formiae litus, vos, cum severi fugit oppidum Martis et inquietas fessus exuit curas, Apollinaris omnibus locis praefert. * * * * * hic summa leni stringitur Thetis vento: nec languet aequor, viva sed quies ponti pictam phaselon adiuvante fert aura, sicut puellae lion amantis aestatem mota salubre purpura venit frigus. Nec saeta longo quaerit in mari praedam, sed a cubili lectuloque iactatam spectatus alte lineam trahit piscis. * * * * * frui sed istis quando, Roma, permittis? quot Formianos imputat dies annus negotiosis rebus urbis haerenti? o ianitores vilicique felices! dominis parantur ista, serviunt vobis[663] (x. 30). 

 O strand of Formiae, sweet with genial air, Who art Apollinaris' chosen home When, taking flight from his task-mistress Rome, The tired man doffs his load of troubling care. * * * * * Here the sea's bosom quivers in the wind; 'Tis no dead calm, but sweet serenity, Which bears the painted boat before the breeze, As though some maid at pains the heat to ban, Should waft a genial zephyr with her fan. No fisher needs to buffet the high seas, But whiles from bed or couch his line he casts, May see his captive in the toils below. * * * * * But, niggard Rome, thou giv'st how grudgingly! What the year's tale of days at Formiae For him who tied by work in town must stay? Stewards and lacqueys, happy your employ, Your lords prepare enjoyment, you enjoy. A. E. STREET. 

These are surely the most beautiful _scazons_[664] in the Latin tongue;the metre limps no more; a master-hand has wrought it to exquisitemelody; the quiet undulation of the sea, the yacht's easy gliding overits surface, live before us in its music. Even more delicate is thehomelier description of the gardens of Julius Martialis on the slopes ofthe Janiculum. It is animated by the sincerity that never fails Martialwhen he writes to his friend:

 Iuli iugera pauca Martialis hortis Hesperidum beatiora longo Ianiculi iugo recumbunt: lati collibus imminent recessus et planus modico tumore vertex caelo perfruitur sereniore et curvas nebula tegente valles solus luce nitet peculiari: puris leniter admoventur astris celsae culmina delicata villae. Hinc septem dominos videre montes et totam licet aestimare Romam, Albanos quoque Tusculosque colles et quodcumque iacet sub urbe frigus (iv. 64). 

 Martial's few acres, e'en more blest Than those famed gardens of the West, Lie on Janiculum's long crest; Above the slopes wide reaches hang recessed. The level, gently swelling crown Breathes air from purer heavens blown; When mists the hollow valleys drown 'Tis radiant with a light that's all its own. The clear stars almost seem to lie On the wrought roof that's built so high; The seven hills stand in majesty, And Rome is summed in one wide sweep of eye. Tusculan, Alban hills unfold, Each nook which holds its store of cold. A. E. STREET. 

Such a picture is unsurpassed in any language. [665] Statius, with allhis brilliance, never came near such perfect success; he lackssincerity; he can juggle with words against any one, but he neverlearned their truest and noblest use. 

There are many other themes beside landscape painting in which the_Silvae_ of Statius challenge comparison with the epigrams of Martial. Both use the same servile flattery to the emperor, both celebrate thesame patrons, [666] both console their noble friends for the loss ofrelatives, or favourite slaves; both write _propemptica_. Even in themost trivial of these poems, those addressed to the emperor, Statius iseasily surpassed by his humbler rival. His inferiority lies largely inthe fact that he is more ambitious. He wrote on a larger scale. When theinfinitely trivial is a theme for verse, the epigrammatist has theadvantage of the author of the more lengthy _Silvae_. Perfect neatnessvanquishes dexterous elaboration. Moreover, if taste can be said toenter into such poems at all, Martial errs less grossly. EvenDomitian--one might conjecture--may have felt that Statius' flattery was'laid on with a trowel'. Martial may have used the same instrument, buthad the art to conceal it. [667] There are even occasions where hisflattery ceases to revolt the reader, and where we forget the object ofthe flattery. In a poem describing the suicide of a certain Festus hesucceeds in combining the dignity of a funeral _laudatio_ with thesubtlest and most graceful flattery of the princeps:

 indignas premeret pestis cum tabida fauces, inque suos voltus serperet atra lues, siccis ipse genis flentes hortatus amicos decrevit Stygios Festus adire lacus. Nec tamen obscuro pia polluit ora veneno aut torsit lenta tristia fata fame, sanctam Romana vitam sed morte peregit dimisitque animam nobiliore via. Hanc mortem fatis magni praeferre Catonis fama potest; huius Caesar amicus erat (i. 78). 

 When the dire quinsy choked his guiltless breath, And o'er his face the blackening venom stole, Festus disdained to wait a lingering death, Cheered his sad friends and freed his dauntless soul. No meagre famine's slowly-wasting force, Nor hemlock's gradual chillness he endured, But like a Roman chose the nobler course, And by one blow his liberty secured. His death was nobler far than Cato's end, For Caesar to the last was Festus' friend. HODGSON (slightly altered). 

The unctuous dexterity of Statius never achieved such a master-stroke. 

So, too, in laments for the dead, the superior brevity and simplicity ofMartial bear the palm away. Both poets bewailed the death of Glaucias, the child favourite of Atedius Melior. Statius has already been quotedin this connexion; Martial's poems on the subject, [668] though not quiteamong his best, yet ring truer than the verse of Statius. And Martial'sepitaphs and epicedia at their best have in their slight way an almostunique charm. We must go to the best work of the Greek Anthology tosurpass the epitaph on Erotion (v. 34):

 hanc tibi, Fronto pater, genetrix Flaccilla, puellam oscula commendo deliciasque meas, parvola ne nigras horrescat Erotion umbras oraque Tartarei prodigiosa canis. Inpletura fuit sextae modo frigora brumae, vixisset totidem ni minus illa dies. Inter tam veteres ludat lasciva patronos et nomen blaeso garriat ore meum. Mollia non rigidus caespes tegat ossa nec illi, terra, gravis fueris: non fuit illa tibi. 

 Fronto, and you, Flaccilla, to you, my father and mother, Here I commend this child, once my delight and my pet, So may the darkling shades and deep-mouthed baying of hellhound Touch not with horror of dread little Erotion dear. Now was her sixth year ending, and melting the snows of the winter, Only a brief six days lacked to the tale of the years. Young, amid dull old age, let her wanton and frolic and gambol, Babble of me that was, tenderly lisping my name. Soft were her tiny bones, then soft be the sod that enshrouds her, Gentle thy touch, mother Earth, gently she rested on thee! A. E. STREET. 

Another poem on a like theme shows a different and more fantastic, butscarcely less pleasing vein (v. 37):

 puella senibus dulcior mihi cycnis, agna Galaesi mollior Phalantini, concha Lucrini delicatior stagni, cui nec lapillos praeferas Erythraeos nec modo politum pecudis Indicae dentem nivesque primas liliumque non tactum; quae crine vicit Baetici gregis vellus Rhenique nodos aureamque nitellam; fragravit ore quod rosarium Paesti, quod Atticarum prima mella cerarum, quod sucinorum rapta de manu gleba; cui conparatus indecens erat pavo, inamabilis sciurus et frequens phoenix, adhuc recenti tepet Erotion busto, quam pessimorum lex amara fatorum sexta peregit hieme, nec tamen tota, nostros amores gaudiumque lususque. 

 Little maiden sweeter far to me Than the swans are with their vaunted snows, Maid more tender than the lambkins be Where Galaesus by Phalantus flows; Daintier than the daintiest shells that lie By the ripples of the Lucrine wave; Choicer than new-polished ivory That the herds in Indian jungles gave; Choicer than Erythrae's marbles white, Snows new-fallen, lilies yet unsoiled: Softer were your tresses and more bright Than the locks by German maidens coiled: Than the finest fleeces Baetis shows, Than the dormouse with her golden hue: Lips more fragrant than the Paestan rose, Than the Attic bees' first honey-dew, Or an amber ball, new-pressed and warm; Paled the peacock's sheen in your compare; E'en the winsome squirrel lost his charm, And the Phoenix seemed no longer rare. Scarce Erotion's ashes yet are cold; Greedily grim fate ordained to smite E'er her sixth brief winter had grown old-- Little love, my bliss, my heart's delight. A. D. INNES. 

Through all the playful affectations of the lines we get the portrait ofa fairy-like child, light-footed as the squirrel, golden-haired and fairas ivory or lilies. [669] Martial was a child-lover before he was a manof letters. 

Beautiful as these little poems are, there is in Martial little trace offeeling for the sorrows of humanity in general. He can feel for hisintimate friends, and his tears are ready to flow for his patron'ssorrows. But the general impression given by his poetry is that of acertain hardness and lack of feeling, of a limited sympathy, and anunemotional temperament. It is a relief to come upon a poem such as thatin which he describes a father's poignant anguish for the loss of hisson (ix. 74):

 effigiem tantum pueri pictura Camoni servat, et infantis parva figura manet. Florentes nulla signavit imagine voltus, dum timet ora pius muta videre pater. 

 Here as in happy infancy he smiled Behold Camonus--painted as a child; For on his face as seen in manhood's days His sorrowing father would not dare to gaze. W. S. B. 

or to find a sudden outbreak of sympathy with the sorrows of the slave(iii. 21):

 proscriptum famulus servavit fronte notata, non fuit haec domini vita sed invidia. [670]

 When scarred with cruel brand, the slave Snatched from the murderer's hand His proscript lord, not life he gave His tyrant, but the brand. PROFESSOR GOLDWIN SMITH. 

Of the _gravitas_ or dignity of character specially associated with Romehe shows equally few traces. His outlook on life is not sufficientlyserious, he shows little interest in Rome of the past, and has nothingof the retrospective note so prominent in Lucan, Juvenal, or Tacitus; helives in and for the present. He writes, it is true, of the famoussuicide of Arria and Caecina Paetus, [671] of the death of Portia thewife of Brutus, [672] of the bravery of Mucius Scaevola. [673] But in noneof these poems does he give us of his best. They lack, if not sincerity, at least enthusiasm; emotion is sacrificed to point. He is out ofsympathy with Stoicism, and the suicide doctrinaire does not interesthim. 'Live while you may' is his motto, 'and make the best ofcircumstances. ' It is possible to live a reasonably virtuous lifewithout going to the lengths of Thrasea:

 quod magni Thraseae consummatique Catonis dogmata sic sequeris salvus ut esse velis, pectore nec nudo strictos incurris in enses, quod fecisse velim te, Deciane, facis. Nolo virum facili redimit qui sanguine famam; hunc volo, laudari qui sine morte potest (i. 8). 

 That you, like Thrasea or Cato, great, Pursue their maxims, but decline their fate; Nor rashly point the dagger to your heart; More to my wish you act a Roman's part. I like not him who fame by death retrieves, Give me the man who merits praise and lives. HAY. 

The sentiment is full of common sense, but it is undeniably unheroic. Martial is not quixotic, and refuses to treat life more seriously thanis necessary. Our complaint against him is that he scarcely takes itseriously enough. It would be unjust to demand a deep fund ofearnestness from a professed epigrammatist dowered with a gift of humourand a turn for satire. But it is doing Martial no injustice to style himthe laureate of triviality. For his satire is neither genial norearnest. His kindly temper led him to avoid direct personalities, buthis invective is directed against vice, not primarily because it iswicked, but rather because it is grotesque or not _comme il faut_. Hishumour, too, though often sparkling enough, is more often strained andmost often filthy. Many of his epigrams were not worth writing, bywhatever standard they be judged. [674] The point is hard to illustrate, since a large proportion of his inferior work is fatuously obscene. Butthe following may be taken at random from two books:

 Eutrapelus tonsor dum circuit ora Luperci expingitque genas, altera barba subit (vii. 83). 

 Eutrapelus the barber works so slow, That while he shaves, the beard anew does grow. ANON. , 1695. 

 invitas ad aprum, ponis mihi, Gallice, porcum. Hybrida sum, si das, Gallice, verba mihi (viii. 22). 

 You invite me to partake of a wild boar, you set before me a home-grown pig. I'm half-boar, half-pig, if you can cheat me thus. 

 pars maxillarum tonsa est tibi, pars tibi rasa est, pars volsa est. Unum quis putet esse caput? (viii. 47). 

 Part of your jaws is shaven, part clipped, part has the hair pulled out. Who'd think you'd only one head?

 tres habuit dentes, pariter quos expuit omnes, ad tumulum Picens dum sedet ipse suum; collegitque sinu fragmenta novissima laxi oris et adgesta contumulavit humo. Ossa licet quondam defuncti non legat heres: hoc sibi iam Picens praestitit officium (viii. 57). 

 Picens had three teeth, which he spat out altogether while he was sitting at the spot he had chosen for his tomb. He gathered in his robe the last fragments of his loose jaw and interred them in a heap of earth. His heir need not gather his bones when he is dead, Picens has performed that office for himself. 

 summa Palatini poteras aequare Colossi, si fieres brevior, Claudia, sesquipede (viii. 60). 

 Had you been eighteen inches shorter, Claudia, you would have been as tall as the Colossus on the Palatine. 

Without wishing to break a butterfly on the wheel, we may well quoteagainst Martial the remark made in a different context to aworthless poet:

 tanti non erat esse te disertum (xii. 43). 

 'Twas scarce worth while to be thus eloquent. 

There is much also which, without being precisely pointless or silly, istoo petty and mean to be tolerable to modern taste. Most noticeable inthis respect are the epigrams in which Martial solicits the liberalityof his patrons. The amazing relations existing at this period betweenpatron and client had worked a painful revolution in the manners andtone of society, a revolution which meant scarcely less than thepauperization of the middle class. The old sacred and almost feudal tieuniting client and patron had long since disappeared, and had beenreplaced by relations of a professional and commercial character. Wealthwas concentrated in comparatively few hands, and with the decrease ofthe number of the patrons the throng of clients proportionatelyincreased. The crowd of clients bustling to the early morning_salutatio_ of the patronus, and struggling with one another for the_sportula_ is familiar to us in the pages of Juvenal and receives freshand equally vivid illustration from Martial. The worst results of theseunnatural relations were a general loss of independence of character anda lamentable growth of bad manners and cynical snobbery. The patron, owing to the increasingly heavy demands upon his purse, naturally tendedto become close-fisted and stingy, the needy client too often wasgrasping and discontented. The patron, if he asked his client to dine, would regale him with food and drink of a coarser and inferior qualityto that with which he himself was served. [675] The client, on the otherhand, could not be trusted to behave himself; he would steal the tablefittings, make outrageous demands on his patron, and employ every act ofservile and cringing flattery to improve his position. [676] The poorpoet was in a sense doubly dependent. He would stand in the ordinaryrelation of _cliens_ to a _patronus_, and would be dependent also forhis livelihood on the generosity of his literary patrons. For, in spiteof the comparative facilities for the publication and circulation ofbooks, he could make little by the public sale of his works, and livingat Rome was abnormally expensive. The worst feature of all was that sucha life of servile dependence was not clearly felt to be degrading. Itwas disliked for its hardship, annoyance, and monotony, but the clienttoo often seems to have regarded it as beneath his dignity to attempt toescape from it by industry and manly independence. 

As a result of these conditions, we find the pages of Martial full ofallusions to the miserable life of the client. His skill does not failhim, but the theme is ugly and the historical interest necessarilypredominates over the literary, though the reader's patience is at timesrewarded with shrewd observations on human nature, as, for instance, thebitter expression of the truth that 'To him that hath shall be given'--

 semper pauper eris, si pauper es, Aemiliane; dantur opes nullis nunc nisi divitibus (v. 81);

 Poor once and poor for ever, Nat, I fear, None but the rich get place and pension here. N. B. HALHEAD. 

or the even more incisive

 pauper videri Cinna vult: et est pauper (viii. 19). 

But we soon weary of the continual reference to dinners and parasites, to the snobbery and indifference of the rich, to the tricks of toadyismon the part of needy client or legacy hunter. It is a mean world, andthe wit and raillery of Martial cannot make it palatable. Without amoral background, such as is provided by the indignation of Juvenal, the picture soon palls, and the reader sickens. Most unpleasing of allare the epigrams where Martial himself speaks as client in a languageof mingled impertinence and servility. His flattery of the emperor wemay pass by. It was no doubt interested, but it was universal, andMartial's flattery is more dexterous without being either more or lessoffensive than that of his contemporaries. His relations towards lessexalted patrons cannot be thus easily condoned. He feels no shame inbegging, nor in abusing those who will not give or whose gifts are notsufficient for his needs. His purse is empty; he must sell the giftsthat Regulus has given him. Will Regulus buy?

 aera domi non sunt, superest hoc, Regule, solum ut tua vendamus munera: numquid emis? (vii. 16). 

 I have no money, Regulus, at home. Only one thing is left to do--sell the gifts you gave me. Will you buy?

Stella has given him some tiles to roof his house; he would like acloak as well:

 cum pluvias madidumque Iovem perferre negaret et rudis hibernis villa nataret aquis, plurima, quae posset subitos effundere nimbos, muneribus venit tegula missa tuis. Horridus ecce sonat Boreae stridore December: Stella, tegis villam, non tegis agricolam (vii. 36). [677]

 When my crased house heaven's showers could not sustain, But flooded with vast deluges of rain, Thou shingles, Stella, seasonably didst send, Which from the impetuous storms did me defend: Now fierce loud-sounding Boreas rocks doth cleave, Dost clothe the farm, and farmer naked leave? ANON. , 1695. 

This is not the way a gentleman thanks a friend, nor can modern tasteappreciate at its antique value abuse such as--

 primum est ut praestes, si quid te, Cinna, rogabo; illud deinde sequens ut cito, Cinna, neges. Diligo praestantem; non odi, Cinna, negantem: sed tu nec praestas nec cito, Cinna, negas (vii. 43). 

 The kindest thing of all is to comply: The next kind thing is quickly to deny. I love performance nor denial hate: Your 'Shall I, shall I?' is the cursed state. 

The poet's poverty is no real excuse for this petulant mendicancy. [678]He had refused to adopt a profession, [679] though professionalemployment would assuredly have left him time for writing, and no onewould have complained if his output had been somewhat smaller. Instead, he chose a life which involved moving in society, and was necessarilyexpensive. We can hardly attribute his choice merely to the love of hisart. If he must beg, he might have done so with better taste and someshow of finer feeling. Macaulay's criticism is just: 'I can make largeallowance for the difference of manners; but it can never have been_comme il faut_ in any age or nation for a man of note--an accomplishedman--a man living with the great--to be constantly asking for money, clothes, and dainties, and to pursue with volleys of abuse those whowould give him nothing. '

In spite, however, of the obscenity, meanness, and exaggeratedtriviality of much of his work, there have been few poets who couldturn a prettier compliment, make a neater jest, or enshrine the trivialin a more exquisite setting. Take the beautifully finished poem toFlaccus in the eighth book (56), wherein Martial complains that timeshave altered since Vergil's day. 'Now there are no patrons andconsequently no poets'--

 ergo ego Vergilius, si munera Maecenatis des mihi? Vergilius non ero, Marsus ero. 

 Shall I then be a Vergil, if you give me such gifts as Maecenas gave? No, I shall not be a Vergil, but a Marsus. 

Here, at least, Martial shows that he could complain of his poverty withdecency, and speak of himself and his work with becoming modesty. Ortake a poem of a different type, an indirect plea for the recall of anexile (viii. 32):

 aera per tacitum delapsa sedentis in ipsos fluxit Aratullae blanda columba sinus, luserat hoc casus, nisi inobservata maneret permissaque sibi nollet abire fuga. Si meliora piae fas est sperare sorori et dominum mundi flectere vota valent, haec a Sardois tibi forsitan exulis oris, fratre reversuro, nuntia venit avis. 

 A gentle dove glided down through the silent air and settled even in Aratulla's bosom as she was sitting. This might have seemed but the sport of chance had it not rested there, though undetained, and refused to part even when flight was free. If it is granted to the loving sister to hope for better things, and if prayers can move the lord of the world, this bird perchance has come to thee from Sardinia's shore of exile to announce the speedy return of thy brother. 

Nothing could be more conventional, nothing more perfect in form, morefull of music, more delicate in expression. The same felicity is shownin his epigrams on curiosities of art or nature, a fashionable and, itmust be confessed, an easy theme. [680] Fish carved by Phidias' hand, alizard cast by Mentor, a fly enclosed in amber, are all givenimmortality:

 artis Phidiacae toreuma clarum pisces aspicis: adde aquam, natabunt (iii. 35). 

 These fishes Phidias wrought: with life by him They are endowed: add water and they swim. PROFESSOR GOLDWIN SMITH. 

 inserta phialae Mentoris manu ducta lacerta vivit et timetur argentum (iii. 41). 

 That lizard on the goblet makes thee start. Fear not: it lives only by Mentor's art. PROFESSOR GOLDWIN SMITH. 

 et latet et lucet Phaethontide condita gutta, ut videatur apis nectare clusa suo. Dignum tantorum pretium tulit illa laborum: credibile est ipsam sic voluisse mori (iv. 32). 

 Here shines a bee closed in an amber tomb, As if interred in her own honey-comb. A fit reward fate to her labours gave; No other death would she have wished to have. MAY. 

Always at home in describing the trifling amenities of life, he is athis best equally successful in dealing with its trifling follies. Anacquaintance has given his cook the absurd name of Mistyllos in allusionto the Homeric phrase [Greek: mistyllon t' ora talla]. Martial's commentis inimitable:

 si tibi Mistyllos cocus, Aemiliane, vocatur, dicatur quare non Taratalla mihi? (i. 50). 

He complains of the wine given him at a dinner-party with a finishedwhimsicality:

 potavi modo consulare vinum. Quaeris quam vetus atque liberale? Prisco consule conditum: sed ipse qui ponebat erat, Severe, consul (vii. 79). 

 I have just drunk some consular wine. How old, you ask, and how generous? It was bottled in Priscus' consulship: and he who set it before me was the consul himself. 

Polycharmus has returned Caietanus his IOU's. 'Little good will that doyou, and Caietanus will not even be grateful':

 quod Caietano reddis, Polycharme, tabellas, milia te centum num tribuisse putas? 'debuit haec' inquis. Tibi habe, Polycharme, tabellas et Caietano milia crede duo (viii. 37). 

 In giving back Caietanus his IOU's, Polycharmus, do you think you are giving him 100, 000 sesterces? 'He owed me that sum, ' you say. Keep the IOU's and lend him two thousand more!

Chloe, the murderess of her seven husbands, erects monuments to theirmemory, and inscribes _fecit Chloe_ on the tombstones:

 inscripsit tumulis septem scelerata virorum 'se fecisse' Chloe. Quid pote simplicius? (ix. 15). 

 On her seven husbands' tombs she doth impress 'This Chloe did. ' What more can she confess? WRIGHT. 

Vacerra admires the old poets only. What shall Martial do?

 miraris veteres, Vacerra, solos nec laudas nisi mortuos poetas. Ignoscas petimus, Vacerra: tanti non est, ut placeam tibi, perire (viii. 69). 

 Vacerra lauds no living poet's lays, But for departed genius keeps his praise. I, alas, live, nor deem it worth my while To die that I may win Vacerra's smile. PROFESSOR GOLDWIN SMITH. 

All this is very slight, _merae nugae_; but even if the humour be not ofthe first water, it will compare well with the humour of epigrams of anyage. Martial knows he is not a great poet. [681] He knows, too, that hiswork is uneven:

 iactat inaequalem Matho me fecisse libellum: si verum est, laudat carmina nostra Matho. Aequales scribit libros Calvinus et Vmber: aequalis liber est, Cretice, qui malus est (vii. 90). 

 Matho makes game of my unequal verse; If it's unequal it might well be worse. Calvinus, Umber, write on one dead level, The book that's got no up and down's the devil!

If there are thirty good epigrams in a book, he is satisfied (vii. 81). His defence hardly answers the question, 'Why publish so many?' butshould at least mollify our judgement. Few poets read better inselections than Martial, and of few poets does selection give soinadequate an idea. For few poets of his undoubted genius have left sucha large bulk of work which, in spite of its formal perfection, ismorally repulsive or, from the purely literary standpoint, uninteresting. But he is an important figure in the history ofliterature, for he is the father of the modern epigram. Alone of SilverLatin poets is he a perfect stylist. He has the gift of _felicitas_ tothe full, but it is not _curiosa_. Inferior to Horace in all otherpoints, he has greater spontaneity. And he is free from the faults ofhis age. He is no _virtuoso_, eaten up with self-conscious vanity; heattempts no impossible feats of language; he is clear, and uses hismythological and geographical knowledge neatly and picturesquely; but hemakes no display of obscure learning. 'I would please schoolmasters, ' hesays, 'but not _qua_ schoolmasters' (x. 21. 5). So, too, he complains ofhis own education:

 at me litterulas stulti docuere parentes: quid cum grammaticis rhetoribusque mihi? (ix. 73. 7). 

 My learning only proves my father fool! Why would he send me to a grammar school? HAY. 

As a result, perhaps, of this lack of sympathy with the education of hisday, we find that, while he knows and admires the great poets of thepast, and can flatter the rich poetasters of the present, his bent iscuriously unliterary. He gives us practically no literary criticism. Itis with the surface qualities of life that he is concerned, with itspleasures and its follies, guilty or innocent. He has a marvellouslyquick and clear power of observation, and of vivid presentation. He isin this sense above all others the poet of his age. He either does notsee or chooses to ignore many of the best and most interesting featuresof his time, but the picture which he presents, for all itsincompleteness, is wider and more varied than any other. We both hatehim and read him for the sake of the world he depicts. 'Ugliness isalways bad art, and Martial often failed as a poet from his choice ofsubject. '[682] There are comparatively few of his poems which we readfor their own sake. Remarkable as these few poems are, the mainattraction of Martial is to be found not in his wit or finish, so muchas in the vividness with which he has portrayed the life of thebrilliant yet corrupt society in which his lot was cast. It lives beforeus in all its splendour and in all its squalor. The court, with itsatmosphere of grovelling flattery, its gross vices veiled and trickedout in the garb of respectability; the wealthy official class, withtheir villas, their favourites, their circle of dependants, men ofculture, wit, and urbanity, through all which runs, strangelyintermingled, a vein of extreme coarseness, vulgarity, and meanness; thelounger and the reciter, the diner-out and the legacy-hunter; theclients struggling to win their patrons' favour and to rise in thesocial scale, enduring the hardships and discomfort of a sordid lifeunillumined by lofty ideals or strength of will, a life that under coldnorthern skies would have been intolerable; the freedman and the slave, with all the riff-raff that support a parasitic existence on the vicesof the upper classes; the noise and bustle of Rome, its sleeplessnights, its cheerless tenements, its noisy streets, loud with the soundof traffic or of revelry; the shows in the theatre, the races in thecircus, the interchange of presents at the Saturnalia; the pleasant lifein the country villa, the simplicity of rural Italy, the sights andsounds of the park and the farm-yard; and dimly seen beyond all, theprovinces, a great ocean which absorbs from time to time the rulers ofRome and the leaders of society, and from which come faint and confusedechoes of frontier wars; all are there. It is a great pageant lackingorder and coherence, a scene that shifts continually, but never lacksbrilliance of detail and sharply defined presentment. Martial was thechild of the age; it gave him his strength and his weakness. If we hatehim or despise him, it is because he is the faithful representative ofthe life of his times; his gifts we cannot question. He practised a formof poetry that at its best is not exalted, and must, even more thanother branches of art, be conditioned by social circumstance. Within itslimited sphere Martial stands, not faultless, but yet supreme. 

CHAPTER XII

JUVENAL

Our knowledge of the life of the most famous of Roman satirists isstrangely unsatisfactory. Many so-called lives of Juvenal have come downto us, but they are confused, contradictory, inadequate, andunreliable. [683] His own work and allusions in other writers help us butlittle in our attempt to reconstruct the story of the poet's life. 

Only by investigating the dates within which the satires seem to fall isit possible to arrive at some idea of the dates within which falls thelife of their author. The satires were published in five books atdifferent times. The first book (1-5), which is full of allusions to thetyranny of Domitian, cannot have been published before 100 A. D. , sincethe first satire contains an allusion to the condemnation of MariusPriscus, [684] which took place in that year. The fifth book (13-16)must, from references in the thirteenth and fifteenth[685] satires tothe year 127, have been published not much later than that date. Thepublication of the satires falls, therefore, between 100 and 130. 

With these data it is possible to approach the question of the dates ofJuvenal's birth and death. The main facts to guide us are the statementsof the best of the biographies that he did not begin to write satiretill on the confines of middle age, that even then he delayed topublish, and that he died at the age of eighty. [686] The inference isthat he was born between 50 and 60 A. D. , and died between 130 and 140A. D. [687]

As to the facts of his life we are on little firmer ground. Butconcerning his name and birthplace there is practical certainty. Decimus Junius Juvenalis[688] was born at Aquinum, [689] a town ofLatium, and is said to have been the son or adopted son of a richfreedman. His education was of the usual character, literary andrhetorical, and was presumably carried out at Rome. [690] He acquiredthus early in youth a taste for rhetoric that never left him. For he issaid to have practised declamation up till middle age, not with a viewto obtaining a position as professor of rhetoric or as advocate, butfrom sheer love of the art. [691] It is probable that he combined hispassion for rhetoric with service as an officer in the army. Not onlydoes he show considerable intimacy in his satires with a soldier'slife, [692] but interesting external evidence is afforded by aninscription discovered near Aquinum. It runs:

 C_ERE_RI. SACRVM D. _IV_NIVS. IVVENALIS_TRIB_. COH. _I_. DELMATARVMII. _VIR_. QVINQ. FLAMEN DIVI. VESPASIANI VOVIT. DEDICAV_ITQ_VESVA PEC. [693]

If this inscription refers, as well it may, to the poet, it will followthat he served as tribune of the first Dalmatian cohort, probably inBritain, [694] held high municipal office in his native town, and waspriest of the deified Vespasian. But the _praenomen_ is wanting in theoriginal, and the inscription may have been erected not by the satiristbut by one of his kinsfolk. That he spent the greater portion of hislife at Rome is evident from his satires. Of his friends we know little. Umbricius, Persicus, Catullus, and Calvinus[695] are mere names. OfQuintilian[696] he speaks with great respect, and may perhaps havestudied under him; of Statius he writes with enthusiasm, but there is noevidence that he had done more than be present at that poet'srecitations. [697] Martial, however, was a personal friend, and writesaffectionately of him and to him in three of his epigrams. [698] UnlikeMartial, whose life was a continual struggle against poverty, Juvenal, though he had clearly endured some of the discomforts and degradationsinvolved by a client's attendance on his rich _patronus_, was a man ofsome means, possessing an estate at Aquinum, [699] a country house atTibur, [700] and a house at Rome. [701] At what date precisely he began towrite is uncertain. We are told that his first effort was a brief poemattacking the actor Paris, which he afterwards embodied in the seventhsatire. But it was long before he ventured to read his satires even tohis intimate friends. [702] This suggests that portions, at any rate, ofthe satires of the first book were composed during the reign ofDomitian. [703] Juvenal had certainly every reason for concealing theirexistence till after the tyrant's death. The first satire was probablywritten later to form a preface to the other four, and the whole bookmay have been published in 101. It is noteworthy, however, that Martial, writing to him in that year, mentions merely his gifts as a declaimer, and seems not to know him as a satirist. The second book, containingonly the sixth satire, was probably published about 116, since itcontains allusions to earthquakes in Asia and to a comet boding ill toParthia and Armenia (l. 407-12). Such a comet was visible in Rome inthe autumn of 115, on the eve of Trajan's campaign against Parthia, while in December an earthquake did great damage to the town of Antioch. The third book (7-9) opens with an elaborate compliment to Hadrian asthe patron of literature at Rome. As Hadrian succeeded to the principatein 117 and left Rome for a tour of the provinces in 121, this book mustfall somewhere between our dates. The fourth book (10-12) contains noindication as to its date, but must lie between the publication of thethird book and of the fifth (after 127). Beyond these facts it is hardlypossible to go in our reconstruction of the poet's life. As far as maybe judged it was an uneventful career save for one great calamity. Theancient biographies assert that Juvenal's denunciation of actorsembodied in the seventh satire offended an actor who was the favouriteof the princeps. They are supported by Apollinaris Sidonius, [704] whospeaks of Juvenal as the 'exile-victim of an actor's anger', and byJohannes Malala. [705] The latter writer, with certain of the ancientbiographies, identifies the actor with Paris, the favourite of Domitian;others, again, say that the poet was banished by Nero[706]--a manifestlyabsurd statement--others by Trajan, [707] while our best authorityasserts that he was eighty years old when banished, and that he died ofgrief and mortification. [708] The place of exile is variously given. Most of the biographies place it in Egypt, the best of them assertingthat he was given a military command in that province. [709] Othersmention Britain, [710] others the Pentapolis of Libya. [711] Amid suchdiscrepancies it is impossible to give any certain answer. But it iscertain that the actor who caused Juvenal's banishment was not Paris, who was put to death by Domitian as early as 83, and almost equallycertain that Domitian is guiltless of the poet's exile. It is, however, possible that he was banished by Trajan or Hadrian, though it wouldsurprise us to find Trajan, for all the debauchery of his private life, so far under the influence of an actor[712] as to sacrifice a Romancitizen to his displeasure; while as regards Hadrian it is noteworthythat the very satire said to have offended the _pantomimus_ contains aneloquent panegyric of that emperor. Further, it is hard to believe thestory that Juvenal was banished to Egypt at the advanced age of eightyunder the pretext of a military command. The problem is insoluble. [713]The most that can be said is that the persistence of the tradition givesit some claim to credibility, though the details handed down to us arewholly untrustworthy, and probably little better than clumsy inferencesfrom passages in the satires. 

The scope of Juvenal's work and the motives that spur him are set forthin the first satire. He is weary of the deluge of trivial and mechanicalverse poured out by the myriad poetasters of the day:

 Still shall I hear and never quit the score, Stunned with hoarse Codrus' Theseid, o'er and o'er? Shall this man's elegies and t'other's play Unpunished murder a long summer's day? . . . Since the world with writing is possest, I'll versify in spite; and do my best To make as much waste-paper as the rest. [714]

He will write in a different vein from his rivals. Satire shall be histheme. In such an age, when virtue is praised and vice practised, theage of the libertine, the _parvenu_, the forger, the murderer, it ishard not to write satire. 'Facit indignatio versum!'[715] he cries. 'Allthe daily life of Rome shall be my theme':

 quidquid agunt homines votum timor ira voluptas gaudia discursus nostri est farrago libelli. [716]

 What human kind desires and what they shun, Rage, passion, pleasure, impotence of will, Shall this satirical collection fill. DRYDEN. 

Never was vice so rampant; luxury has become monstrous; the rich lordlives in pampered and selfish ease, while those poor mortals, hisclients, jostle together to receive the paltry dole of the _sportula_;that is all the help they will get from their patron:

 No age can go beyond us; future times Can add no further to the present crimes. Our sons but the same things can wish and do; Vice is at stand and at the highest flow. Thou, Satire, spread thy sails, take all the winds that blow. [717]

And yet the satirist must be cautious; the days are past when a Luciliuscould lash Rome at his will:

 When Lucilius brandishes his pen And flashes in the face of guilty men, A cold sweat stands in drops on every part, And rage succeeds to tears, revenge to smart. Muse, be advised; 'tis past considering time, When entered once the dangerous lists of rhyme; Since none the living villains dare implead, Arraign them in the persons of the dead. [718]

No better preface has ever been written; it gives a perfect summary ofthe motives, the objects, and the methods of the poet's work in languagewhich for vigour and brilliance he never surpassed. The closing linesshow us his literary parentage. It is Lucilius who inspires him; it isthe fierce invective of the father of Roman satire that appeals to him. Lucilius had scourged Rome, when the inroads of Hellenism and orientalluxury, the fruits of foreign conquest, were beginning to makethemselves felt. To Juvenal it falls to denounce the triumph of thesecorroding influences. He has nothing of the almost pathetic philosophicdetachment of Persius, nor of the easy-going compromise of Horace. Hedoes not palter with problems of right and wrong, nor hesitate over hismoral judgements; casuistry is wholly alien to his temper. It isindignation makes the verse, and from this fact, together with hisrhetorical training, his chief merits and his chief failings spring. Heintroduces no novelty into satire save the almost unvarying bitternessand ferocity of his tone. Like Horace and Persius, he employs thedactylic hexameter to the exclusion of other metres, while, owing in themain to his taste for declamation, he is far more sparing in the use ofthe dialogue-form than either of his predecessors. 

Before further discussing his general characteristics, it is necessaryto take a brief survey of the remaining satires. The second and ninthare savage and, as was almost inevitable, obscene denunciations ofunnatural vice. In the third, the most orderly in arrangement and themost brilliant in execution of all his satires, he describes all thedangers and horrors of life at Rome. Umbricius, a friend of the poet, isleaving the city. It is no place for a man of honour; it has become acity for Greeks; the worthless and astute _Graeculus_ is everywherepredominant, and, stained though he be with a thousand vices, hasoutwitted the native-born, and, by the arts of the panderer and theflatterer, has made himself their master. The poor are treated likeslaves. Houses fall, or are burned with fire. Sleep is impossible, soloud with traffic are the streets. By day it is scarcely safe to walkabroad for fear of being crushed by one of the great drays that throngthe city; by night there are the lesser perils of slops and brokencrockery cast from the windows, the greater perils of roisterers andthieves. Rome is no place for Umbricius. He must go. 

The fourth satire opens with a violent attack on the _parvenu_Egyptian Crispinus, so powerful at the court of Domitian, and goes onby a somewhat clumsy transition to tell the story of the huge turbotcaught near Ancona and presented to the emperor. So large was it thata cabinet council must needs be called to decide what should be donewith it. This affords excuse for an inimitable picture of Domitian'sservile councillors. At last it is decided that the turbot is to beserved whole and a special dish to be constructed for it. 'Ah! why, 'the poet concludes, 'did not Domitian devote himself entirely to suchtrifles as these?'

In the fifth satire Juvenal returns to the subject of the hardshipsand insults which the poor client must endure. He pictures the hostsitting in state with the best of everything set before him and servedin the choicest manner, while the unhappy client must be content withfood and drink of the coarsest kind. Virro, the rich man, does thisnot because he is parsimonious, but because the humiliation of hisclient amuses his perverted mind. But the satirist does not spare theclient, whose servile complaisance leads him to put up with suchtreatment. 'Be a man!' he cries, 'and sooner beg on the streets thandegrade yourself thus. '

The sixth satire, the longest of the collection, is a savagedenunciation of the vices of womankind. The various types of femaledegradation are revealed to our gaze with merciless and often revoltingportrayal. The unchastity of woman is the main theme, but ranked withthe adulteress and the wanton are the murderess of husband or of child, the torturer of the slave, the client of the fortune-teller or theastrologer, and even the more harmless female athlete and blue-stocking. For vigour and skill the satire ranks among Juvenal's best, but it ismarred by wanton grossness and at times almost absurd exaggeration. 

The seventh satire deals with the difficulties besetting a literarycareer. It opens with a dexterous compliment to Hadrian; the poetqualifies his complaints by saying that they apply only to the past. The accession of Hadrian has swept all the storm-clouds from theauthor's sky. But in the unhappy days but lately passed away, thepoet's lot was most miserable. His work brings him no livelihood; hispatron's liberality goes but a little way. The historian is in no lessparlous plight. The advocate makes some show of wealth, but it is, as arule, the merest show; only the man already wealthy succeeds at thebar; many a struggling lawyer goes bankrupt in the struggle toadvertise himself and push his way. The teacher of rhetoric and theschool-master receive but a miserable fee, yet they have all thedrudgery of discipline and all the responsibility of moulding thecharacters of the young placed upon their shoulders. They are expectedto be omniscient, and yet they starve. 

The eighth satire treats the familiar theme that without virtue birth isof small account. Many examples of the degeneracy of the aristocracy aregiven, some trivial, some grave, but above all the satirist denouncesthe cruelty and oppression of nobly-born provincial governors. Heconcludes in his noblest vein in praise of the great plebeians of thepast, Cicero, Marius, the Decii, and Servius Tullius. It is in deeds, not in titles, that true nobility lies. Better be the son of Thersitesand possess the valour of Achilles, than live the life of a Thersitesand boast Achilles for your sire. 

The eighth satire may be regarded as the presage of a distinct change oftype. Instead of the vivid pictures of Roman life and the almostdramatic representation of vice personified, Juvenal seems to turn forinspiration to the scholastic declamation which had fascinated hisyouth. Moral problems are treated in a more abstract way, and the oldfierce onset of indignation, though it has by no means disappeared, seems to have lost something of its former violence. There are alsotraces of declining powers, a greater tendency to digression, a lack ofconcentration and vigour, and even of dexterity of language. But thechange is due in all probability not merely to advance in years nor tothe calming and mellowing influence of old age, but also to a changethat was gradually passing over the Roman world. The material for savagesatire was appreciably less. Evil in its worst forms had triumphed underDomitian. With Nerva, Trajan, and Hadrian virtue began slowly anduncertainly to reclaim part of her lost dominions. 

The fourth book opens with the famous tenth satire on the vanity ofhuman wishes. What should man pray for? The theme is hackneyed and thetreatment shows no special originality. But the thought is elevated, therhetoric superb, and the verse has a resounding tread such as is onlyfound in Persius and Juvenal among the later poets of Rome. 'What shallman pray for?' Power? Think of Sejanus, Pompey, Demosthenes, Cicero! Toeach one greatness brought his doom. Think of Hannibal and Alexander, how they, and with them all their high schemings, came to die; Longlife? What? Should we pray to outlive our bodily powers, to bewail thedeath of our nearest and dearest, to fall from the high place where oncewe stood? Beauty? Beauty is beset by a thousand perils in these viledays, and rarely do beauty and chastity go hand in hand. Rather thanpray for boons like these, 'entrust thy fortune to the gods above, ' or, if pray thou must, stand confined To health of body and content of mind; A soul that can securely death defy, And count it nature's privilege to die; Serene and manly, hardened to sustain The load of life and exercised in pain: Guiltless of hate and proof against desire, That all things weighs and nothing can admire; That dares prefer the toils of Hercules, To dalliance, banquet, and ignoble ease. The path to peace is virtue; what I show, Thyself may freely on thyself bestow; Fortune was never worshipped by the wise, But, set aloft by fools, usurps the skies. [719]

In the eleventh satire we drop from these splendid heights of rhetoric;to a declamatory invitation to dinner, which affords occasion for adenunciation of the extravagant indulgence in the pleasures of the tableand for the praise of the good old days when Romans clave to the simplelife. The dinner to which Juvenal invites his friend will be of simplefare simply served--

 You'll have no scandal when you dine. But honest talk and wholesome wine. 

And instead of lewd dance and song, a slave shall read aloud Homer andHomer's one rival, Vergil. 

The twelfth satire opens with a thanksgiving for the escape of a friend, Catullus, from a great storm at sea, and ends with a denunciation oflegacy hunters, the connecting link between these somewhat remote themesbeing that Juvenal, at any rate, is disinterested in his joy at hisfriend's escape. 

The thirteenth and fourteenth satires deal with more abstract themes, the pangs of the guilty conscience and the importance of parentalexample. In the first, Juvenal consoles his friend, Calvinus, who hasbeen defrauded of a sum of money. The loss, he says, is small, and, after all, honesty is rare nowadays. Men have so little care for thegods that they shrink from no perjury. Besides, what is such losscompared with the many worse crimes that darken life. Why thirst forrevenge? It is the doctrine of the common herd. Philosophy teachesotherwise. The torment of conscience will be a worse penalty than anyyou can inflict, and at last justice will claim its own. In the nextsatire, to emphasize the value of parental example, the poet illustrateshis point from the vice of avarice, and finally, forgetting his originaltheme, lashes the avaricious man in words such as would never suggestthat the question of parental example had been raised at all. It isnoteworthy that throughout these two satires the poet draws hisillustrations from the themes of the schools rather than from the scenesof contemporary life. 

In the fifteenth satire, however, he returns to depict and discussactual occurrences, but in how altered and strange a manner. His themeis a case of cannibalism in Egypt, [720] the result of a collisionbetween religious fanatics of neighbouring townships. The aged poetspurs himself into one last fury against the hated Oriental, regardlessof the fact that the denunciation of cannibalism to a civilized audiencemust necessarily be insipid. Last comes a fragment expatiating bitterlyon the shameful advantages of a military career. The unhappy civilianassaulted by a soldier cannot get redress, for the case must be heard incamp before a bench of soldiers. The soldier, on the other hand, can getsummary settlement of all his disputes, and alone of Romans is exemptfrom the _patria potestas_, can control his earnings and bequeath themto whom he will. At this point the satire breaks off abruptly, and wehave no means of judging the extent of the loss. It is a strikingreversion to his earlier manner. Once more the satire takes the form ofa series of sketches from actual life. 

Both of these satires, notably the fifteenth, show a marked falling offalike in style and matter. Both, in fact, have been branded as spurious, the latter from times as early as those of the scholia. But there is noreal ground for such a suspicion. Both satires have all thecharacteristics of Juvenal, excepting only the vigour and brilliance ofhis earlier days. No poet's powers are proof against the advance of oldage, and there is no vein of poetry more exhausting or more easilyexhausted than satire. And, as has already been remarked, there aresigns of a falling away before these satires are reached. Even thefamous tenth satire, for all its indisputable greatness, does not demandor reveal, such special gifts of style and observation as the first andthird. It is less in touch with actual life: it is a theme from theschools, and the illustrations, effective as they are, are as trite asthe theme itself. Were it his only work, the tenth satire would giveJuvenal high rank among Roman poets: it will always, thanks to thebrilliance of its rhetoric and the wide applicability of its moral, behis most popular work: it is not his highest achievement. 

It will have been obvious from this brief survey that the themes chosenby Juvenal are for the most part of a commonplace nature. It couldhardly be otherwise. Satire, to be effective, must choose obviousthemes. But in some respects the treatment of them is surprisinglycommonplace. There is little freshness or originality about Juvenal'sway of thinking. His morality is neither satisfying nor profound. Hisideal is the old narrow Roman republican ideal of a chaste, vigorous, and unluxurious life, wherein publicity is for man alone, while woman isconfined to the cares of the family and the household; the ideal of asociety wholly Italian and free-born, untainted by the importations ofGreece and Asia; of a state stern and exclusive, though just andmerciful, sparing the subject and beating down the proud. The nobilityof this ideal is not to be denied, but it is inadequate because it iswholly unpractical. There is no denying that the emancipation of womenhad led to gross evils, some of them imperilling the very existence ofthe State; nor can it be doubted that much of the Greek influence hadbeen wholly for the bad, and that in many cases the introduction of thecults of the East served merely to cloak debauchery. The rich freedman, also, for whom Juvenal reserves his bitterest shafts, was often ofvicious and degraded character and had risen to power by repulsivemeans. But there is another side to the picture, the existence of whichJuvenal sometimes, by his vehemence, seems to deny. The freedman classsupplied some of the most valuable of civil servants, and many must havebeen worthy of their emancipation and of their rise to power. [721] Therewas a higher Hellenism, which Juvenal ignored. The intellectualmovements of the Empire still found their chief source in Greece, andthe great Sophistic movement was already setting in, as a result ofwhich Greek literature was to revive and the Greek language to supersedethe Latin as the chief vehicle of literary expression even at Romeitself. The greater freedom accorded to women had its compensations; inspite of Juvenal, woman does not become worse or less attractive becauseshe is cultured and well educated, and if there was much dissipation anddebauchery in the high society of his day, even high society containedmany noble women of fine intellect and pure character. The spread ofRoman citizenship and the breaking down of the old exclusive traditionwere potent factors for good in the history of civilization. It may beurged in Juvenal's defence that satire must necessarily deal with thedarker side of life, that his silence as to the better and more hopefulelements in society does not mean that he ignored them, and that it isabsurd to attack a satirist because he is not a scientific socialhistorian. All this is true; but it is possible to have plenty ofmaterial for the bitterest satire and to indict gross and rampant vicewithout leaving the impression that the life of the day has no redeemingelements, without generalizing extravagantly from the vices of onesection of society, even though that section be large and influential. The weakness of Juvenal is that he is too retrospective, both in hispraise and in his blame. He dare not satirize the living, but willattack the dead. But it would be wrong to assume that in the dead healways attacks types of the living. There is always the impression thathe is in reality attacking the first century rather than the second, thereigns of Nero and Domitian rather than the society governed by Trajanand Hadrian. He had lived through a night of terror and would notrecognize the signs of a new dawn. Directing his attention tooexclusively on Rome itself and on the past, he forgets the larger worldand the future hope. It is to the impossible Rome of the past that heturns his eyes for inspiration. Hence comes his hatred, often merelyracial, for Greek and Asiatic importations, [722] hence his dislike andcontempt for the new woman. Moreover, he had lived on the fringe of highsociety and not in it; he had drunk in the bitterness of the client'slife, and had lived in the enveloping atmosphere of scandal that alwayssurrounds society for those who are excluded from it. A man of an acridand jealous temperament, easily angered and not readily appeased, heyields too lightly and indiscriminately to that indignation, which, hetells us, is the fountain-head of all he writes. Satire should besomething more than a wild torrent sweeping away obstacles great andsmall with one equal violence; it should have its laughing shallows andits placid deeps. But Juvenal's laughter rings harsh and wild, andwounds as deeply as his invective; he drives continually before thefierce gale of his spirit, and there are no calm havens where he mayrest and contemplate the ideal that so much denunciation implies. Heknows no gradations: all failings suffer beneath the same remorselesslash. The consul Lateranus has a taste for driving: bad taste, perhaps, yet hardly criminal. But Juvenal thunders at him as though he wereguilty of high treason (viii. 146):

 praeter maiorum cineres atque ossa volucri carpento rapitur pinguis Lateranus, et ipse, ipse rotam adstringit sufflamine mulio consul, nocte quidem, sed Luna videt, sed sidera testes intendunt oculos. Finitum tempus honoris cum fuerit, clara Lateranus luce flagellum sumet et occursum numquam trepidabit amici iam senis. 

 See! by his great progenitor's remains Fat Lateranus sweeps, with loosened reins. Good Consul! he no pride of office feels, But stoops, himself, to clog his headlong wheels. 'But this is all by night, ' the hero cries, Yet the moon sees! yet the stars stretch their eyes Pull on your shame!--A few short moments wait, And Damasippus quits the pomp of state: Then, proud the experienced driver to display, He mounts the chariot in the face of day, Whirls, with bold front, his grave associate by, And jerks his whip, to catch the senior's eye. GIFFORD. 

Elsewhere (i. 55-62) the 'horsy' youth is spoken of as worse than thehusband who connives at his wife's dishonour and pockets the reward ofher shame. Among the monstrous women of the sixth satire we come with ashock of surprise upon the learned lady (434):

 illa tamen gravior, quae cum discumbere coepit laudat Vergilium, periturae ignoscit Elissae, committit vates et comparat, inde Maronem atque alia parte in trutina suspendit Homerum. 

 But of all plagues the greatest is untold; The book-learned wife, in Greek and Latin bold; The critic dame, who at her table sits, Homer and Virgil quotes and weighs their wits, And pities Dido's agonizing fits. DRYDEN. 

She figures strangely among the poisoners and adulteresses. Juvenal ismisogynist by temperament as well as by conviction. Nero is a matricidelike Orestes, but--

 in scaena numquam cantavit Orestes, Troica non scripsit. Quid enim Verginius armis debuit ulcisci magis aut cum Vindice Galba, quod Nero tam saeva crudaque tyrannide fecit? (viii. 220). 

 Besides, Orestes in his wildest mood Sung on no public stage, no Troics wrote. -- This topped his frantic crimes! This roused mankind! For what could Galba, what Virginius find, In the dire annals of that bloody reign, Which called for vengeance in a louder strain? GIFFORD. 

It is almost a crime to be a foreigner. The Greek is a liar, a baseflatterer, a monster of lust, a traitor, a murderer. [723] The Jew is thesordid victim of a narrow and degrading superstition. [724] The Orientalis the defilement of Rome; worst of all are the Egyptians;[725] theyeven eat each other. The freedman, the _nouveau riche_, the_parvenu_[726] are hated with all a Roman's hatred. The old patriotismof the city state is not yet merged in the wider imperialism. It isbitter to hear one of alien blood say 'Civis Romanus sum'. 

This strange violence and lack of proportion are due in part to thepoet's rhetorical training, which had warped still further a naturallybiased temperament. He had been taught and loved to use the language ofhyperbole. And he had lived through the principate of Domitian; it wasthat above all else which made him cry _difficile est saturam nonscribere_. To this same tendency to exaggeration may be in partattributed the extreme grossness of so much of his work. It is true thatvices flaunted themselves before his eyes that it would be hard tosatirize without indecency. There is excuse to some extent for thesecond, sixth, and ninth satires. But even there Juvenal oversteps themark and is often guilty of coarseness for coarseness' sake. It is easyto plead the custom of the age, [727] but it is doubtful whether suchpleading affords any real palliation for a writer who sets out to be amoralist. It is easy in an access of admiration to say that Juvenal isnever prurient: but it is hard to be genuinely convinced that such astatement is true, or that Juvenal's coarseness is never more than mereplain speaking. [728]

For not a few readers, this tenseness of language, this violence ofjudgement, and this occasional unclean handling of the unclean, makeJuvenal an exhausting and a depressing poet to read in any largequantity at a time. Worse still, they lead the reader at times toharbour doubts as to the genuineness of Juvenal's indignation. Suchdoubts are not in reality justifiable. Juvenal sometimes goads himselfinto inappropriate frenzies and sometimes betrays a suspiciously closeacquaintance with the most disgusting details of the worst vices of theage. But though he had something of the unreality of the rhetorician, and though his character may, perhaps, not have been free from seriousblemish, he is never a hypocrite; nor, though he paints exclusively thedarkest side of society, is there the least reason to accuse him ofculpable misrepresentation of actual facts. He has selected thematerial most suited to his peculiar genius: we may complain of hisprinciple of selection, and of his tendency to generalize. There ourcriticism must end. 

These defects are largely the defects of his qualities and may bereadily forgiven. We have Pliny the younger and the inscriptions tomodify his sombre picture. When all is said, Juvenal had a matchlessfield for satire and matchless gifts, against which his defects will notweigh in the balance for a moment. His unrivalled capacity fordeclamation, for mordant epigram and scathing wit, more than compensatefor his often ill-balanced ferocity; the extraordinary vividness of hispictures of the life of Rome makes up for lack of perspective andproportion, the richness and variety of his imagination for its toofrequent superficiality, the vigour and trenchancy of his blows for theabsence of the rapier thrust, the fervour of his teaching for its lackof breadth and depth. These qualities make him the greatest of thesatirists of Rome, if not of the world. 

It is, perhaps, his vividness that makes the most immediate impression. It would be hard to find in any literature a writer with such a power tomake the scenes described live before his readers. The salient featuresof a scene or character are seized at once. [729] There is no irrelevantdetail; the picture may be crowded, but it is never obscure; if there isa fault it is that the colouring is sometimes too crude and glaring toplease. But before such word-painting as the description of Domitian'sprivy council criticism is dumb:

 nec melior vultu quamvis ignobilis ibat Rubrius, offensae veteris reus atque tacendae. * * * * * Montani quoque venter adest abdomine tardus, et matutino sudans Crispinua amomo quantum vix redolent duo funera, saevior illo Pompeius tenui iugulos aperire susurro, et qui vulturibus servabat viscera Dacis Fuscus marmorea meditatus proelia villa, et cum mortifero prudens Veiento Catullo, qui numquam visae flagrabat amore puellae, grande et conspicuum nostro quoque tempore monstrum, caecus adulator, dirusque a ponte satelles dignus Aricinos qui mendicaret ad axes blandaque devexae iactaret basia raedae (iv. 104). 

 Rubrius, though not, like these, of noble race, Followed with equal terror in his face; * * * * * Montanus' belly next, and next appeared The legs on which that monstrous pile was reared. Crispinus followed, daubed with more perfume, Thus early! than two funerals consume. Then bloodier Pompey, practised to betray, And hesitate the noblest lives away. Then Fuscus, who in studious pomp at home, Planned future triumphs for the arms of Rome. Blind to the event! those arms a different fate, Inglorious wounds and Dacian vultures wait. Last, sly Veiento with Catullus came, Deadly Catullus, who at beauty's name Took fire, although unseen: a wretch, whose crimes Struck with amaze even those prodigious times. A base, blind parasite, a murderous lord, From the bridge-end raised to the council-board, Yet fitter still to dog the traveller's heels, And whine for alms to the descending wheels. GIFFORD. 

Figure after figure they live before us, till the procession culminateswith the crowning horror of the blind delator, L. Valerius CatullusMessalinus. Equally vivid is Juvenal's description of places. There isthe rude theatre of the country town with its white-robed audience _ennégligé_:--

 ipsa dierum festorum herboso colitur si quando theatro maiestas tandemque redit ad pulpita notum exodium, cum personae pallentis hiatum in gremio matris formidat rusticus infans, aequales habitus illic similesque videbis orchestram et populum, clari velamen honoris sufficiunt tunicae summis aedilibus albae (iii. 172). 

 Some distant parts of Italy are known, Where none but only dead men wear a gown, On theatres of turf, in homely state, Old plays they act, old feasts they celebrate; * * * * * The mimic yearly gives the same delights; And in the mother's arms the clownish infant frights. Their habits (undistinguished by degrees) Are plain alike; the same simplicity Both on the stage and in the pit you see. In his white cloak the magistrate appears; The country bumpkin the same livery wears. DRYDEN. 

There is the poor gentleman's garret high on the topmost story of sometottering _insula_, close beneath the tiles, where the doves nest:

 lectus erat Codro Procula minor, urceoli sex ornamentum abaci nec non et parvulus infra cantharus, et recubans sub eodem marmore Chiro iamque vetus graecos servabat cista libellos, et divina opici rodebant carmina mures (iii. 203). 

 Codrus had but one bed, so short to boot, That his short wife's short legs go dangling out His cupboard's head six earthen pitchers graced, Beneath them was his trusty tankard placed; And to support this noble plate, there lay A bending Chiron cast from honest clay; His few Greek books a rotten chest contained, Whose covers much of mouldiness complained; Where mice and rats devoured poetic bread, And on heroic verse luxuriously were fed. DRYDEN. 

There is the hurrying throng of the streets of Rome with all its dangersand discomforts:

 nobis properantibus opstat unda prior, magno populus premit agmine lumbos qui sequitur; ferit hic cubito, ferit assere duro alter, at hic tignum capiti incutit, ille metretam. Pinguia crura luto, planta mox undique magna calcor et in digito clavus mihi militis haeret. Nonne vides quanto celebretur sportula fumo? centum convivae, sequitur sua quemque culina. Corbulo vix ferret tot vasa ingentia, tot res inpositas capiti, quas recto vertice portat servulus infelix et cursu ventilat ignem. Scinduntur tunicae sartae modo, longa coruscat serraco veniente abies, atque altera pinum plaustra vehunt, nutant alte populoque minantur (iii. 243). 

 The press before him stops the client's pace; The crowd that follows crush his panting sides, And trip his heels; he walks not but he rides. One elbows him, one jostles in the shoal, A rafter breaks his head or chairman's pole; Stockinged with loads of fat town dirt he goes, And some rogue-soldier with his hob-nailed shoes Indents his legs behind in bloody rows. See, with what smoke our doles we celebrate! A hundred guests invited walk in state; A hundred hungry slaves with their Dutch-kitchens wait: Huge pans the wretches on their heads must bear, Which scarce gigantic Corbulo could rear; Yet they must walk upright beneath the load, Nay run, and running blow the sparkling flames abroad, Their coats from botching newly brought are torn. Unwieldy timber-trees in waggons borne, Stretched at their length, beyond their carriage lie, That nod and threaten ruin from on high. DRYDEN. 

Even in the later satires, where with the advance of age this pictorialgift begins to fail him and he tends to rely rather on brilliantrhetorical treatment of philosophical commonplaces, there are stillflashes of the old power. The well-known description of the fall ofSejanus in the tenth satire is in his best manner, while even thehumbler picture of the rustic family of primitive Rome in the fourteenthsatire shows the same firmness of touch, the same eye for vivid anddirect representation:

 saturabat glaebula talis patrem ipsum turbamque casae, qua feta iacebat uxor et infantes ludebant quattuor, unus vernula, tres domini, sed magnis fratribus horum a scrobe vel sulco redeuntibus altera cena amplior et grandes fumabant pultibus ollae (166). 

 For then the little glebe, improved with care, Largely supplied with vegetable fare, The good old man, the wife in childbed laid, And four hale boys, that round the cottage played, Three free-born, one a slave: while, on the board, Huge porringers, with wholesome pottage stored, Smoked for their elder brothers, who were now, Hungry and tired, expected from the plough. GIFFORD. 

His handling of the essential weapons of satire, scathing epigram, and impetuous rhetoric, contribute equally to his success. He hasthe capacity of branding a character with eternal shame in a fewterse trenchant lines. Who can forget the Greek adventurer of thethird satire?--

 grammaticus rhetor geometres pictor aliptes augur schoenobates medicus magus, omnia novit Graeculus esuriens; in caelum miseris, ibit (iii. 76);

 A cook, a conjurer, a rhetorician, A painter, pedant, a geometrician, A dancer on the ropes and a physician; All things the hungry Greek exactly knows, And bid him go to heaven, to heaven he goes. DRYDEN. 

or the summary of Domitian's reign with which he dates the story of thegigantic turbot?--

 cum iam semianimum laceraret Flavius orbem ultimus et calvo serviret Roma Neroni (iv. 37);

 When the last Flavius, drunk with fury, tore The prostrate world, which bled at every pore, And Rome beheld, in body as in mind, A bald-pate Nero rise to curse mankind. GIFFORD. 

or the curse upon the legacy-hunter Pacuvius?--

 vivat Pacuvius quaeso vel Nestora totum, possideat quantum rapuit Nero, montibus aurum exaequet, nec amet quemquam nec ametur ab ullo (xii. 128). 

 Health to the man! and may he thus get more Than Nero plundered! pile his shining store High, mountain high: in years a Nestor prove, And, loving none, ne'er know another's love! GIFFORD. 

Not less mordant in a different way is the savage and scepticalmelancholy of the conclusion of the second satire, where he contraststhe degenerate Roman, tainted by the foulest lusts, with the nobleRomans of the past, and even with the barbarians, newly conquered, onthe confines of empire (149):

 esse aliquos manes et subterranea regna et contum et Stygio ranas in gurgite nigras atque una transire vadum tot milia cumba nec pueri credunt, nisi qui nondum aere lavantur. Sed tu vera puta: Curius quid sentit et ambo Scipiadae, quid Fabricius manesque Camilli, quid Cremerae legio et Cannis consumpta iuventus, tot bellorum animae, quotiens hinc talis ad illos umbra venit? cuperent lustrari, si qua darentur sulpura cum taedis et si foret umida laurus. Illic heu miseri traducimur. Arma quidem ultra litora Iuvernae promovimus et modo captas Orcadas ac minima contentos nocte Britannos, sed quae nunc populi fiunt victoris in urbe, non faciuut illi quos vicimus. 

 That angry Justice formed a dreadful hell, That ghosts in subterranean regions dwell, That hateful Styx his sable current rolls, And Charon ferries o'er unbodied souls, Are now as tales or idle fables prized; By children questioned and by men despised. Yet these, do thou believe. What thoughts, declare, Ye Scipios, once the thunderbolts of war! Fabricius, Curius, great Camillus' ghost! Ye valiant Fabii, in yourselves an host! Ye dauntless youths at fatal Cannae slain! Spirits of many a brave and bloody plain! What thoughts are yours, whene'er with feet unblest, An unbelieving shade invades your rest? Ye fly, to expiate the blasting view; Fling on the pine-tree torch the sulphur blue, And from the dripping bay dash round the lustral dew. And yet--to these abodes we all must come, Believe, or not, these are our final home; Though now Ierne tremble at our sway, And Britain, boastful of her length of day; Though the blue Orcades receive our chain, And isles that slumber in the frozen main. But why of conquest boast? the conquered climes Are free, O Rome, from thy detested crimes. GIFFORD. 

In the same bitter spirit, Umbricius is made to cry:

 quid Romae faciam? mentiri nescio; librum, si malus est, nequeo laudare et poscere; motus astrorum ignoro; funus promittere patris nec volo nec possum; ranarum viscera numquam inspexi; ferre ad nuptam quae mittit adulter, quae mandat, norunt alii; me nemo ministro fur erit, atque ideo nulli comes exeo tamquam mancus et extinctae, corpus non utile, dextrae (iii. 41). 

 What's Rome to me, what business have I there? I who can neither lie nor falsely swear? Nor praise my patron's undeserving rhymes, Nor yet comply with him nor with his times? Unskilled in schemes by planets to foreshow, Like canting rascals, how the wars will go; I neither will nor can prognosticate To the young gaping heir his father's fate; Nor in the entrails of a toad have pried, Nor carried bawdy presents to a bride: For want of these town-virtues, thus alone I go conducted on my way by none; Like a dead member from the body rent, Maimed and unuseful to the government. DRYDEN. 

This bitterness Juvenal seasons at times with saturnine jests of a typethat is all his own. Virro gives rancid oil to his poor guests asdressing to their salad:

 illud enim vestris datur alveolis quod canna Micipsarum prora subvexit acuta, propter quod Romae cum Boccare nemo lavatur, quod tutos etiam facit a serpentibus atris (v. 88). 

 Such oil to you is thrown, Such rancid grease, as Afric sends to town; So strong that when her factors seek the bath, All wind and all avoid the noisome path. GIFFORD. 

When the blind _delator_, Catullus Messalinus, is summoned to give hisadvice concerning the gigantic turbot:

 nemo magis rhombum stupuit; nam plurima dixit in laevom conversus, at illi dextra iacebat belua. Sic pugnas Cilicis laudabat et ictus et pegma et pueros inde ad velaria raptos (iv. 119). 

 None dwelt so largely on the turbot's size, Or raised with such applause his wondering eyes; But to the left (O treacherous want of sight) He poured his praise;--the fish was on the right. Thus would he at the fencer's matches sit, And shout with rapture at some fancied hit; And thus applaud the stage machinery, where The youths were rapt aloft and lost in air. GIFFORD. 

Grimmest of all is the jest on the mushrooms set before Virro:

 vilibus ancipites fungi ponentur amicis, boletus domino, sed quales Claudius edit ante illum uxoris, post quem nihil amplius edit (v. 146). 

 You champ on spongy toadstools, hateful treat! Fearful of poisons in each bit you eat: He feasts secure on mushrooms, fine as those Which Claudius for his special eating chose, Till one more fine, provided by his wife, Finished at once his feasting and his life! GIFFORD. 

But Juvenal is not always bitter, nor always angry. His indignation isnever absent, but takes at times a graver and a nobler tone. At times hepreaches virtue directly, instead of doing so indirectly through thedenunciation of vice. He has no new secret of morality to reveal, nofresh lights to throw upon problems of conduct; his advice is obviousand straightforward; neither in form nor matter is there anythingparadoxical. He was no student of philosophy, [730] though naturallyfamiliar with the more important philosophic creeds and disposed bytemperament to fall in with the views of the stern Stoic school. Theconclusion of the tenth satire quoted above owes much to the Stoics. 'Leave the ordering of your fortunes to the powers above. Man is dearerto them than to himself. The wise man is free from all desire, all angerand all fear of death. '[731] 'Revenge is an unworthy and degradingpassion. '[732] 'Fate[733] and the revolution[734] of the stars in heavenrule all with unchanging law. ' All these maxims have their counterpartin the Stoic creed. But there is no need of the philosophy of theschools to guide man to the paths of virtue. 

 numquam aliud natura, aliud sapientia dicit (xiv. 321). 

 Nature and wisdom never are at strife. GIFFORD. 

Philosophy has its value, but the good man is no less good for not beinga philosopher:

 magna quidem, sacris quae dat praecepta libellis, victrix fortunae sapientia, ducimus autem hos quoque felices, qui ferre incommoda vitae nec iactare iugum vita didicere magistra (xiii. 19). 

 Wisdom, I know, contains a sovereign charm, To vanquish fortune or at least disarm: Blest they who walk in her unerring rule! Nor those unblest who, tutored in life's school, Have learned of old experience to submit, And lightly bear the yoke they cannot quit. GIFFORD. 

He agrees with the Stoics just because their practical teachingharmonizes so entirely with the old _virtus Romana_, that is his ideal. 

No more profound are his religious views: he hates the alien cults thatwork as insidious poison in the life of Rome; he rejects the picturesquelegends of the afterworld, bred of the fertile imagination of theGreeks. But he is no unbeliever:

 separat hoc nos a grege mutorum, atque ideo venerabile soli sortiti ingenium divinorumque capaces atque exercendis pariendisque artibus apti sensum a caelesti demissum traximus arce, cuius egent prona et terram spectantia. Mundi principio indulsit communis conditor illis tantum animas, nobis animum quoque, mutuus ut nos adfectus petere auxilium et praestare iuberet (xv. 142). 

 This marks our birth The great distinction from the beasts of earth! And therefore--gifted with superior powers And capable of things divine--'tis ours To learn and practise every useful art; And from high heaven deduce that better part, That moral sense, denied to creatures prone And downward bent, and found with man alone!-- For He, who gave this vast machine to roll, Breathed life in them, in us a reasoning soul: That kindred feelings might our state improve, And mutual wants conduct to mutual love. GIFFORD. 

God is over all and guides and guards the world, and has ordainedtorment of conscience and slow retribution for sin. [735] Yet Juvenaldoes not definitely reject the gods of his native land; nor do theseexalted beliefs cause him to refuse sacrifice to Jupiter, Juno, Minerva, and his household gods. [736] It is the creed, not of a theologian, butof a man with high ideals, a staunch patriotism, and a deep reverencefor the past. 

But this lack of profundity and philosophical training does not, as maybe inferred from passages already quoted, prevent him from beingintensely effective as a moral teacher. His platitudes are none theworse for not having a Stoic label and all the better for theirsimplicity and directness of expression. They do not reveal the hungerand thirst after righteousness that breathe from the lines of Persius, but they have at least an equal appeal to the plain man, and they arematchlessly expressed. His pleading against revenging the wrong done, ifnot on the very highest moral plane, possesses a grave dignity andbeauty that brings it straight home to the heart:

 at vindicta bonum vita iucundius ipsa. Nempe hoc indocti, quorum praecordia nullis interdum aut levibus videas flagrantia causis. * * * * * Chrysippus non dicet idem nec mite Thaletis ingenium dulcique senex vicinus Hymetto, qui partem acceptae saeva inter vincla cicutae accusatori nollet dare. Plurima felix paulatim vitia atque errores exuit omnes, prima docet rectum sapientia. Quippe minuti semper et infirmi est animi exiguique voluptas ultio. Continuo sic collige, quod vindicta nemo magis gaudet quam femina. Cur tamen hos tu evasisse putes, quos diri conscia facti mens habet attonitos et surdo verbere caedit occultum quatiente animo tortore flagellum? poena autem vehemens ac multo saevior illis quas et Caedicius gravis invenit et Rhadamanthus, nocte dieque suum gestare in pectore testem (xiii. 180). 

 'Revenge, ' they say, and I believe their words, 'A pleasure sweeter far than life affords. ' Who say? The fools, whose passions prone to ire At slightest causes or at none take fire. . . . . . . . . . Chrysippus said not so; Nor Thales, to our frailties clement still; Nor that old man, by sweet Hymettus' hill, Who drank the poison with unruffled soul, And, dying, from his foes withheld the bowl. Divine philosophy! by whose pure light We first distinguish, then pursue the right, Thy power the breast from every error frees And weeds out every error by degrees:-- Illumined by thy beam, revenge we find The abject pleasure of an abject mind, And hence so dear to poor, weak womankind. But why are those, Calvinus, thought to 'scape Unpunished, whom in every fearful shape Guilt still alarms, and conscience ne'er asleep Wounds with incessant strokes 'not loud but deep', While the vexed mind, her own tormentor, plies A scorpion scourge, unmarked by human eyes? Trust me, no tortures which the poets feign, Can match the fierce, the unutterable pain He feels, who night and day, devoid of rest, Carries his own accuser in his breast. GIFFORD. 

The same characteristics mark his praise of nobility of character asopposed to nobility of birth:

 tota licet veteres exornent undique cerae atria, nobilitas sola est atque unica virtus. Paulus vel Cossus vel Drusus moribus esto, hos ante effigies maiorum pone tuorum, praecedant ipsas illi te consule virgas. Prima mihi debes anima bona. Sanctus haberi iustitiaeque tenax factis dictisque mereris? adgnosco procerem; salve Gaetulice, seu tu Silanus, quocumque alio de sanguine, rarus civis et egregius patriae contingis ovanti (viii. 19). 

 Fond man, though all the heroes of your line Bedeck your halls, and round your galleries shine In proud display: yet take this truth from me, 'Virtue alone is true nobility. ' Set Cossus, Drusus, Paulus, then, in view, The bright example of their lives pursue; Let these precede the statues of your race, And these, when consul, of your rods take place, O give me inborn worth! Dare to be just, Firm to your word and faithful to your trust. Then praises hear, at least deserve to hear, I grant your claim and recognize the peer. Hail from whatever stock you draw your birth, The son of Cossus or the son of Earth, All hail! in you exulting Rome espies Her guardian power, her great Palladium rise. GIFFORD. 

This is rhetoric, but rhetoric of the noblest kind. Of pure poetrythere is naturally but little in Juvenal. Neither his temperament norhis subject would admit it. He had too keen an eye for the hideous andthe grotesque, too strong a passion for the declamatory style. Hence itis rather his brilliant sketches of a vicious society, his fieryoutbursts of rhetoric, his striking _sententiae_ that primarily impressthe reader:

 expende Hannibalem: quot libras in duce summo invenies? (x. 147). 

 Great Hannibal within the balance lay, And count how many pounds his ashes weigh. DRYDEN. 

 finem animae quae res humanas miscuit olim, non gladii, non saxa dabunt nec tela, sed ille Cannarum vindex et tanti sanguinis ultor anulus. I demens et saevas curre per Alpes, ut pueris placeas et declamatio fias (x. 163). 

 What wondrous sort of death has heaven designed For so untamed, so turbulent a mind? Nor swords at hand, nor hissing darts afar, Are doomed to avenge the tedious bloody war; But poison drawn through a ring's hollow plate, Must finish him--a sucking infant's fate. Go, climb the rugged Alps, ambitious fool, To please the boys, and be a theme at school. DRYDEN. 

 nemo repente fuit turpissimus (ii. 83). 

 For none become at once completely vile. GIFFORD. 

 summum crede nefas animam praeferre pudori et propter vitam vivendi perdere causas (viii. 83). Si natura negat, facit indignatio versum (i. 79). 

 Think it a crime no tears can e'er efface, To purchase safety with compliance base, At honour's cost a feverish span extend, And sacrifice for life, life's only end! GIFFORD. 

It is lines such as these that first rise to the mind at the mention ofJuvenal. But he was no mere declaimer. Here and there we may findphrases of the purest poetry and of the most perfect form. Far above allothers come the wonderful lines of the ninth satire:

 festinat enim decurrere velox flosculus angustae miseraeque brevissima vitae portio; dum bibimus, dum serta unguenta puellas poscimus, obrepit non intellecta senectus (ix. 126). 

 For youth, too transient flower! of life's short day The shortest part, but blossoms--to decay. Lo! while we give the unregarded hour To revelry and joy in Pleasure's bower, While now for rosy wreaths our brow to twine, While now for nymphs we call, and now for wine, The noiseless foot of time steals swiftly by, And, ere we dream of manhood, age is nigh! GIFFORD. 

Of a very different character, but of a beauty that is nothing lessthan startling in its sombre surroundings, is the blessing that heinvokes on the good men of old who 'enthroned the teacher in therevered parent's place'. 

 di maiorum umbris tenuem et sine pondere terram spirantesque crocos et in urna perpetuum ver, qui praeceptorem sancti voluere parentis esse loco (vii. 207). 

 Shades of our sires! O sacred be your rest, And lightly lie the turf upon your breast! Flowers round your urns breathe sweets beyond compare, And spring eternal shed its influence there! You honoured tutors, now a slighted race, And gave them all a parent's power and place. GIFFORD. 

The sensuous appeal of the 'fragrant crocus and the spring that dies notin the urn of death' is unique in Juvenal. This slender stream ofdefinitely poetic imagination reveals itself suddenly and unexpectedlyin strange forms and circumstances. At the close of the passage in thethird satire describing the perils of the Roman streets, Juvenalimagines the death of some householder in a street accident. All isbustle and business at home in expectation of his return:

 domus interea secura patellas iam lavat et bucca foculum excitat et sonat unctis striglibus et pleno componit lintea guto. Haec inter pueros varie properantur, at ille iam sedet in ripa taetrumque novicius horret porthmea nec sperat caenosi gurgitis alnum infelix nec habet quem porrigat ore trientem (iii. 261). 

 Meantime, unknowing of their fellow's fate, The servants wash the platter, scour the plate, Then blow the fire with puffing cheeks, and lay The rubbers and the bathing-sheets display, And oil them first, each handy in his way. But he for whom this busy care they take, Poor ghost! is wandering by the Stygian lake; Affrighted by the ferryman's grim face, New to the horrors of the fearful place, His passage begs, with unregarded prayer, And wants two farthings to discharge his fare. DRYDEN. 

Out of the grotesque there gradually looms the horror of death and thefriendless ghost sitting lost and homeless by the Stygian waters. 

That there is small scope in his work for such distinctively poeticimagination is not Juvenal's fault, nor can we complain of its absence. But in technical accomplishment he shows himself a writer of the firstrank. His treatment of the hexameter exactly suits his declamatory typeof satire. The conversational verse of Horace, with its easy-goingrambling gait, was unsuitable for the thunders of Juvenal's rhetoric. Something more massive in structure, more vigorous in movement, wasneeded as the vehicle of so much rhetoric and invective. The delicatetripping hexameter of contemporary epic was equally unsuitable. 

Unlike the majority of post-Augustan poets, Juvenal is almost untouchedby the Ovidian influence. As far as his metre has any ancestry, it isdescended from the Vergilian hexameter, though with the licence ofsatire it claims greater liberty in its treatment of pauses and ofelision. The post-Augustan poet with whom in this respect Juvenal hasgreatest affinity is Persius. For vigour and variety he far surpassesall other poets of the age; while even Persius, although at his best andin his more declamatory passages he is at least Juvenal's equal, doesnot maintain the same level of excellence, and his more frequentemployment of the traditional dialogue of satire gives him feweropportunities for striking metrical effect. 

As regards his diction Juvenal is equally remarkable. He has sufferedlittle from the schools of rhetoric and has gained much. He is pointedand clear, without being either obscure[737] or mechanical. There is novain striving after antithesis and no epigram for epigram's sake. Grotesque he is not seldom, but the grotesqueness is deliberate andeffective, and no mere affectation. 

His one serious weakness is his lack of constructive power and hisincapacity to preserve due proportion between the parts of his satires. The most glaring instances of this failing are to be found in thefourth, twelfth, and fourteenth satires, but except the third there ishardly a satire that can be regarded as wholly successful in point ofconstruction. This defect, it may be admitted, is less serious in satirethan in almost any other branch of literature. Such discursiveness wasjustified by the tradition and by the inherent nature of satire. ButJuvenal offends in this respect beyond due reason, and only hisextraordinary merits in other directions save him from the penalties ofthis failing. 

Juvenal is the last of the poets of the Silver Age, and the only one ofthem to whom the epithet 'great' can reasonably be applied. He is nofaultless writer, but he has genius and power, and has risen superior tothe besetting sins of the age. He is a rhetorician, it is true, but hechose a form of literature where his rhetoric could have legitimateplay. But he is no plagiarist or imitator; though, as in any other poet, we may find in him many traces and even echoes of his predecessors, heis in the best sense original. He is never a mere juggler in words andphrases, he is a true artist. Form and matter are indissolubly weldedand interfused one with another. And this is because, unlike otherwriters of the age, he has something to say. He is poet by inspiration, not by profession. His excessive pessimism, his tendency to bias andexaggeration, cannot on the worst estimate obscure his merits either asartist or moralist. His picture of society has large elements of truth, and we can no more blame him for his tendency to caricature than we canblame Hogarth. Satire, especially the satire of declamatory invective, must be one-sided, and the satirist must select the features of lifewhich he desires to denounce. And if this leads us at times intounpleasant places and among unpleasant people unpleasantly described, that does not justify us in denouncing the satirist. It must beremembered that the true satirist is not likely to be a man of perfectcharacter. He must have seen much and experienced much; if his characterhas in the process become not merely unduly embittered, but perhapssomewhat smirched, these failings may be redeemed by other qualities. And in the case of Juvenal they are so redeemed. 

He has not the lucid judgement of Horace nor the pure fervour ofPersius. He is more positive than the former, more negative than thelatter. But he has lived in a sense in which Persius never had, andpossesses the gift of direct and lucid expression; therefore, when hestrikes, he strikes home. He cannot, like Horace, 'play about the heartsof men, ' he will have nothing of compromise, he cannot and will notadapt himself to his environment. The doctrine of [Greek: m_eden agan], the _aurea mediocritas_, have no attractions for him. Hence his ideal isoften unpractical; 'the times were out of joint, ' and Juvenal was notprecisely the man to 'set them right'. But at least he sets forth anideal, that any honest man must admit to be noble. It is preciselybecause he is no casuist, because he hits hard and unsparingly, and istranslucently honest, and because his weapon is the most fervid andtrenchant rhetoric, that Juvenal is the most quoted and one of the mostpopular of Latin poets. He has contributed little to the thought of theworld, but he has taught men to hate iniquity. He does not rise to theheight of such an immortal saying as

 virtutem videant intabescantque relicta;

he is no philosopher, and his ideals have neither the exaltation nor thestimulating power of the Stoic ideal. But he unveils vice and folly, sothat men may fly from their utter hideousness, in such burning words asit has fallen to few poets to utter. He is 'dowered with the hate ofhate, the scorn of scorn'; had he possessed also the 'love of love', hemight have reached greater heights of pure poetry, but he would not havebeen Juvenal, and the world would have been the loser. 

INDEX OF NAMES

Abascantus 205 _n_, 299 _n_. Accius 12, 71, 89. Aeschylus 207 _n_, 212 _n_, 216 _n_. Aetna 140-6, 156. Afranius 12, 25. Agrippina 25, 74, 76. Antimachus 207 _n_, 209, 210. Antistius Sosianus 163 _n_, 164. Apollonius Rhodius 182 sqq. Aquilius Regulus 256. Arria 81, 275. Arrius Antoninus 173 _n_. Arulenus Rustieus 168. Asellius Sabinus 3. Asinius Pollio 18. Atedius Melior 205 _n_, 230, 256, 272. Attalus 32. Attius Labeo 160. Ausonius 174, 175. 

Bassus, Caesius 80-2, 163-5. Bassus, Saleius 19, 168, 169. Bathyllus 27. 

Caecilius 12. Caesar, C. Julius 103 sqq. , 263. Caesennia 163. Calenus 175. Caligula 4, 5, 31, 163. Callimachus 207. Calpurnius Piso 35, 99, 152, 156-9, 251. Calpurnius Siculus 137, 150-9, 245. Calpurnius Statura 80. Calvinus 289. Carinas Secundus 4. Cassius Rufus 256. Cato 37, 38, 58, 101, 103 sqq. , 262. Catullus, C. Valerius 2, 123 _n_, 176, 260, 261, 263. Catullus (writer of mimes) 24. Catullus (friend of Juvenal) 289, 297. Cicero 58, 172, 238. Claudia 204. Claudianus 174. Claudius 5, 25, 32, 36, 63. Claudius Agathurnus 80. Claudius Augustalis 146. Claudius Etruscus 205 _n_, 231, 256, 299 _n_. Clutorius Priscus 3. Codrus 291. Columella 137, 146-9, 180. Cornelius Severus 144. Cornutus 6, 79-82, 94, 95, 97, 267. Cremutius Cordus 2, 101. Crispinus (1) 205 _n_. ---- (2) 294. Curiatius Maternus 30. 

Decianus 257, 264. Demosthenes 128. Domitianus 19, 21, 25, 168, 176, 181, 203, 204, 228, 229, 252, 271, 287, 293, 296, 303, 305. 

Earinus 229. Einsiedeln Fragments 151, 156, 157. Ennius 12, 23. Epictetus 70, 238. Erotion 272. Euphorion 3. Euripides 45, 46, 74, 127, 207 _n_, 212 _n_, 216 _n_. 

Faustus 30. Flaccilla 251, 272. Flaccus (father of Persius) 79. Flaccus of Patavium 180, 281. Fronto (rhetorician) 35. Fronto (father of Martial) 251, 272. Fulgentius 134, 135. Fulvia Sisennia 79. 

Gaetulicus 163, 259, 261. Galba 25. Gallio L. Iunius 31. Glaucias 230, 272. 

Hadrianus 290, 291, 294, 296. Hecato 43 _n_. Helvidius Priscus 168. Herennius Senecio 168. Hesiod 12. Homer 4, 12, 160, 161, 188, 221, 227. Horatius 10-12, 71, 83, 84, 89, 91, 92, 123 _n_, 171, 191, 241, 244, 284, 293, 317, 320. Hyperides 128. 

Ilias Latina 22, 160-3. Italicus, Babius 163. Iulius Martialis 257, 264, 265, 270. Iuvenalis 21, 22, 91, 92, 121, 168, 169, 170, 174, 236, 245, 256, 260, 261, 263, 275, 278, 279, 287-320. 

Labienus 4. Latro 15 _n_. Lentulus Sura 256. Livilla 32, 33. Livius Andronicus 160. Livius, T. 4, 239, 242, 245. Lucanus 7, 8, 20-2, 28, 31, 80, 94, 97-124, 132, 179, 180, 187, 192, 221 _n_, 226, 229, 233, 235, 238, 239, 243, 244. 251, 260, 275. Lucian 27. Lucilius Iunior 144, 163 _n_. Lucilius (satirist) 10, 83, 89, 293. Lucinianus Maternus 256. Lucretius 123 _n_, 140, 143. Lynceus 207 _n_. 

Macrinus 80, 82. Marcella 255. Marius Priscus 287. Marsus, Domitius 259, 261, 281. Martialis 8 _n_, 134, 139, 163, 167, 169, 173-6, 180, 204, 238, 243, 250, 251-86, 289. Matius, Cn. 160. Maximus Vibius 204, 205. Mela, M. Annaeus 31, 36, 97. Meliboeus 152, 156-9. Memor, Scaevus 30. Menander 12. Messala, Vipstanus 16, 126. Montanus, Curtius 163 _n_. Mummius 24 _n_. Musonius Rufus 8. 

Naevius 12. Nero 6-8, 19, 20, 28, 33, 41, 43, 74-6, 89 _n_, 97, 98, 101, 102, 119, 125-7, 131 _n_, 132, 144, 151, 236, 251, 290, 291, 302. Nerva 21, 169, 170, 255, 296. Ninnius Crassus 160. Norbanus 256. Novatus, M. Annaeus 31, 30. Novius Vindex 205 _n_. 

Octavia 40, 41, 74-8. Ovidius 11, 12, 17 _n_, 29, 46, 71, 112, 123 _n_, 143, 144, 161, 192, 207, 221 _n_, 226, 259, 260, 263. 

Paccius 30. Pacuvius 12, 23, 71, 89. Paris, 28, 203, 291. Parthenius 8. Passennus Paulus Propertius Blaesus 170, 171. Passienus, Crispus 36. Patronius Aristocrates 80. Pedo, Albinovanus 259 _n_, 261. Persicus 289. Persius 20-2, 79-96, 160, 164, 191, 236, 267, 293, 318, 319. Pervigilium Veneris 174. Petronius Arbiter 16 _n_, 20, 103, 125-39, 239, 259. Phaedrus 3. Pindar 127. Piso, _see_ Calpurnius. Pisonem, Panegyricus in 156-9. Plato 127. Plautus 12, 23. Plinius (the younger) 20, 25, 163, 170-3, 232, 236, 245, 255, 268, 305. Plotius Grypus 205 _n_. Plutarch 94. Polla, Argentaria 100, 205 _n_. Pollius 231, 268. Polybius 4, 32, 161. Pompeius 37, 101, 102 sqq. Pomponius Bassulus 25, 170. Pomponius Secundus 29. Ponticus 207 _n_. Probus 79. Propertius 139, 170, 171. Pudens (friend of Martial) 257Pudens L. Valerius (boy-poet) 14 _n_. Pylades (1) 27. ---- (2) 291. 

Quintilianus 12, 16, 20, 25, 29, 35, 116, 164, 167-9, 179, 180, 251, 252, 256. Quintus Ovidius 257. 

Remmius Palaemon 17 _n_, 79. Rhianus 3. Rubrenus Lappa 30. Rutilius Gallicus 205 _n_. Rutilius Namatianus 174. 

Sappho 176. Scaurus, Mamercus 2. Seneca (the elder) 15, 31, 97. Seneca (the younger) 4, 5, 20, 31-78, 93, 94, 97, 115, 124, 132, 134, 144, 145, 161, 164, 179, 180, 185-7, 207 _n_, 221 _n_, 236, 251, 259, 260. Sentius Augurinus 170, 171. Serranus 168, 169. Servilius Nonianus 80. Severus, Cassius 4. Silius Italicus 20, 102, 123_n_, 145, 156, 163, 168, 179, 191, 236-50, 256. Silvinus 146. Sophocles 47 _n_, 127, 207 _n_, 216 _n_. Sotion 32. Statius (the elder) 169, 202, 203. Statius (the younger) 8 _n_, 20, 22, 28, 100, 123 _n_, 164, 167-9, 179, 191, 192, 202-35, 240, 260, 268, 270-2. Stella, Arruntius 169, 205 _n, _ 256, 280. Stertinius Avitus 256. Sulpicia (the elder) 174. Sulpicia (the younger) 174-8. Sulpicius Maximus 14 _n. _

Tacitus 20, 21, 121, 125, 127, 168, 169, 170, 179, 243, 275. Terentius 23. Theocritus 150, 268. Thrasea 34, 80, 168. Thucydides 128. Tiberianus 174. Tiberius 2-4, 25, 102. Tibullus 174. Titus 167, 181, 252. Traianus 21, 127, 169, 170, 256, 290, 291, 296. Triarius 15 _n. _Turnus 30, 169. 

Umbricius 289, 293, 294. 

Vacca 97. Vagellius 163 _n. _Valerius Flaccus 20, 123 _n, _ 167, 168, 179-201, 212 _n, _ 220, 226, 235, 236. Varius 29. Varro (Atacinus) 183. Varro (Reatinus) 127. Varus 257. Vergilius Maro 4, 11, 12, 17 _n, _ 20, 101, 102, 115, 123 _n, _ 130, 143, 144, 146, 147, 149, 150, 151, 153, 161, 179, 186, 187, 191, 193, 194, 198, 207 _n, _ 210, 211, 220 _n, _ 221, 226, 227, 237, 238-40, 243-5, 281. Vergilius Romanus 25, 170. Verginius Flavus 7. Verginius Rufus 169. Vespasianus 144, 166, 169, 170, 180. Vestricius Spurinna 169. Vopiscus 231. 

FOOTNOTES:

1. See Teuffel and Schwabe, § 272. 

2. Cf. Tac. _Ann_. I. 1. Velleius Paterculus is a good example ofthe servile historian. For an example of servile oratory of. Tac. _Ann_. Xvi. 28. 

3. Suet, _Tib_. 21. 

4. Dion. 1 vii. 22; Tac. _Ann_. Vi. 39; iv. 31. 

5. Tac. _Ann_. Iv. 34. 

6. Dion. Lviii. 24 [Greek: math_on oun touto ho Tiberios, eph' eaut_oitote to epos eir_esthai eph_e, Atreus dia t_en miaiphonian einaiprospoi_esamenos. ] Tac. _Ann_. Vi. 29. 

7. 'Pulsi tum Italia histriones, ' Tac. _Ann_. Iv. 14. 

8. III Prol. 38 sqq. , Epil. 29 sqq. 

9. Suet. _Tib_. 42. 

10. Tac. _Ann_. Iii. 49; Dion. Lvii. 20. 

11. Suet. _Tib_. 70

12. Suet. _Tib_. 71

13. Suet. _Tib_. 61

14. Suidas, s. V. [Greek: Kaisar Tiberios]. 

15. Suet. _Tib_. 70. 

16. Suet. _Tib. 70. _

17. Suet. _Cal. 53. _

18. Suet. _Cal. 53. _

19. Suet. _Cal. 16. _

20. Dion. _lix. 20. _

21. Suet. _Cal. 27. _

22. Dion. _lix. 19. _

23. Suet. _Cal. _ 34 'nullius ingenii minimaeque doctrinae'. 

24. Suet. _Cal. 20. _

25. For his writings generally of. Suet. _Claud. 41, 42. _

26. Tac. _Ann. Xiii. 43. _

27. Suet. _Claud. 33. _

28. For his writings generally of. Suet. _Claud. 41, 42. _

29. Suet _Claud. 11. _

30. Suet. _Claud. 41. This is borne out by the fragments of the speechdelivered at Lyons on the Gallic franchise. _C. I. L. 13, 1668. _

31. Suet. _Claud. 28. _

32. Sc. In the _Apocolocyntosis_. 

33. Suet. _Ner. 52. _

34. Suet. _Ner. 49_ 'qualis artifex pereo!'

35. Suet. _Ner. 52_; Tac. _Ann. Xiii. 3. _

36. Tac. _Ann. Xiv. 16. _

37. Suet. _Domit. 1_; Tac. _Ann. Xv. 49_; Suet. _Ner. 24. _

38. Mart, ix. 26. 9; Plin. _N. H. Xxxvii. 50. _

39. Persius is sometimes said to quote from the Bacchae. Cf. Schol. Pers. _Sat. I. 93-5, 99-102_. But see ch. In, p. 89. 

40. Juv. Viii. 221; Serv. Verg. _Georg. Iii. 36, Aen. V. 370. _

41. Dion. Lxii. 29. 

42. Dion. Lxii. 18; Suet. _Ner. 38_; Tac. _Ann. Xv. 39_. For fragmentsof his work see Baehrens, _Poet. Rom. Fragm. , p. 368. _

43. Suet, Ner. 10, 21. 

44. Philostr. _vit. Apoll_. Iv. 39 [Greek: ad_on ta tou Ner_onos mel_e. . . Ep_ege mel_e ta men ex Oresteias, ta d' ex Antigon_es, ta d'opothenoun t_on prag_odoumen_on aut_o kai _odas ekampten oposas Ner_onelugize te kai kak_os estrephen]. 

45. Suet. _vita Lucani_; see chapter on Lucan, p. 97. 

46. See chapter on Lucan, p. 98. 

47. Suet. _Luc_. ; Tac. _Ann_. Xv. 49. 

48. Suet. _Ner_. 39. 

49. It may be urged that the damage lies not in the loss of poetrysuppressed by the Emperor, but in the generation of a type of courtpoetry, examples of which survive in their most repulsive form in the_Silvae_ of Statius and the epigrams of Martial. The objection has itselement of truth, but only affects a very small and comparativelyunimportant portion of the poetry of the age. 

50. See Tacitus, _Dial. _ 28 sqq. On the moral training of a young Romanof his day. Also Juv. Xiv. 

51. After the death of the great Augustan authors Alexandrian eruditionbecomes yet more rampant. It was a great assistance to men ofsecond-rate poetical talent. 

52. Quint, i. 1. 12. 

53. Quint, i. 8. 3; Plin. _Ep. _ ii. 14. 

54. Quint, i. 9. 2; Cic. _Ep. Ad Fam. _ vi. 18. 5; Quint. I. 8. 6; Stat. _Silv. _ ii. 1. 114; Ov. _Tr. _ ii. 369. 

55. Cp. Wilkins, _Rom. Education_, p. 60. 

56. Op. Juv. Vii. 231-6; Suet. _Tib. _ 70. The result of this type ofinstruction is visible throughout the poets of the age, whereas Vergiland the best of the Greek Alexandrians had a true appreciation of thesensuous charm of proper names and legendary allusions, as in ourliterature had Marlowe, Milton, Keats, and Tennyson. Cp. Milton, _Paradise Lost_, Bk. 1:

 What resounds In fable or romance of Uther's son Begirt with British and Armoric knights; And all who since, baptised or infidel, Jousted in Aspramont or Montalban, Damasco, or Marocco, or Trebisond, Or whom Biserta sent from Afric shore, When Charlemain with all his peerage fell By Fontarabia. 

Or compare Tennyson's use of the names of Arthur's battles, 'AgnedCathregonion' and the 'waste sand-shore of Trath Treroit. '

57. Wilkins, _Roman Education_, p. 72. 

58. See Wilkins, op. Cit, p. 74. 

59. Wilkins, _Roman Education_, p. 75. 

60. The most striking instances of this precocity are Q. SulpiciusMaximus, who at the age of twelve and a half won the prize for Greekverse at the Agon Capitolinus A. D. 94 (cp. Kaibel, _Epigr_. Gr. 618), and L. Valerius L. F. Pudens, aged thirteen, who won the prize for Latinverse in A. D. 106. Cp. _C. I. L. _ ix. 286. 

61. For the importance attached to imitation sec Quint, x. 2. 

62. The Greek rhetoricians of this period lay great stress on theimportance of avoiding declamatory rhetoric. They belong to the Atticrevival. But the Attic revival never really 'caught on' at Rome; by thetime of Quintilian the mischief was done. 

63. Sen. _Suas_. 3. 

64. Ib. 7. 

65. Ib. 2. I subjoin the text of the last. The author is Triarius. ' 'Nonpudet Laconas ne pugna quidem hostium, sed fabula vinci? Magnum estalumnum virtutis nasci et Laconem: ad certam victoriam omnesremansissent: ad certam mortem tantum Lacones. Non est Sparta lapidibuscircumdata: ibi muros habet ubi viros. Melius revocabimus fugientestrecenos quam sequemur. Sed montes perforat, maria contegit. Nunquamsolido stetit superba felicitas et ingentium imperiorum magna fastigiaoblivione fragilitatis humanae conlapsa sunt. Scias licet non ad finempervenisse quae ad invidiam porducta sunt. Maria terrasque, rerumnaturam statione immutavit sua: moriamur trecenti, ut hic primuminvenerit quod mutare non posset. Si tam demens placiturum consiliumerat, cur non potius in turba fuginius?'

66. Latro is the author of the following treatment of the theme. 'Hocexspectastis ut capite demisso verecundia se ipsa antequam impellereturdeiceret? id enim decrat ut modestior in saxo esset quam in sacrariofuerat. Constitit et circumlatis in frequentiam oculis sanctissimumnumen, quasi parum violasset inter altaria, coepit in ipso quovindicabatur violare supplicio: hoc alterum damnatae incestum fuit, damnata est quia incesta erat, deiceta est quia damnata erat, repetendaest quia et incesta et damnata et deiceta est, dubitari potest quinusque eo deicienda sit, donec efficiatur propter quod deiecta est?patrocinium suum vocat pereundi infelicitatem. Quid tibi, importunamulier, precor nisi ut ne vis quidem deiceta pereas? "Invocavi, "inquit, "deos", statuta in illo saxo deos nominasti, et miraris si teiterum deici volunt? si nihil aliud, loco incestarum stetisti. ' Sen. _Cont_. I. 3. 

67. E. G. Sen. _Cont_. I. 7 'Liberi parentes alant aut vinciant: quidamalterum fratrem tyrannum occidit, alterum in adulterio deprehensumdeprecante patre interfecit. A piratis captas scripsit patri deredemptione. Pater piratis epistolam scripsit, si praecidissent manus, duplam se daturum. Piratae illum dimiserunt: patrem egentem non alit. '

68. For a brilliant description of the evils of the Roman system ofeducation see Tac. _Dial_. 30-5. See also p. 127 for the very similarcriticism of Petronius. 

69. Ce. 28-30. Cp. Also Quint, i. 2 1-8. 

70. The schoolmaster was not infrequently, it is to be feared, ofdoubtful character. Cp. The case of the famous rhetorician RemmiusPalaemon. Cp. Also Quint, i. 3. 13. 

71. C. 35. 

72. Tac. _Dial_. 26. 

73. The influence of rhetoric was of course large in the Augustan age. Vergil and still more Ovid testify to this fact. But the tone ofrhetoric was saner in the days of Vergil. Ovid, himself noinconsiderable influence on the poetry of the Silver Age, begins to showthe effects of the new and meretricious type of rhetoric that flourishedunder the anti-Ciceronian reaction, when the healthy influence of thegreat orators of a saner age began to give way before the inroads of thebrilliant but insincere epigrammatic style. This latter style wasfostered largely by the importance assigned to the _controversia_ and_suasoria_ as opposed to the more realistic methods of oratoricaltraining during the last century of the republic. 

74. See Mayor on Juv. Iii. 9. 

75. Cp. Juv. I. 1 sqq. , iii. 9. For the enormous part played in sociallife by recitations cp. Plin. _Ep_. I. 13, ii. 19, iv. 5, 27, v. 12, vi. 2, 17, 21, viii. 21. 

76. Cp. Especially the speeches of Lucan. 

77. For some very just criticism on this head cp. Quint, viii. 5. 25sqq. 

78. For amusing instances of rudeness on the part of members of theaudience ep. Sen. _Ep. _ cxxii. 11; Plin. _Ep. _ vi. 15. 

79. Petr. 83, 88-91, 115. Mart. Iii. 44. 10 'et stanti legis et legiscacanti. | in thermas fugio: sonas ad aurem. | piscinam peto: non licetnatare. | ad cenam propero: tenes euntem. | ad cenam venio: fugassedentem. | lassus dormio: suscitas iacentem. ' Cp. Also 3, 50 andpassim. Plin. _Ep. _ vi. 13; Juv. I. 1-21; iii. 6-9; vii. 39 sqq. 

80. Plin. _Ep. _ viii. 12. 

81. Suet. _Dom. _ 4. 

82. Tac. _Dial_. 35

83. See ch. V. 

84. There had always, it may be noted, existed an archaistic section ofliterary society. Seneca (_Ep. _ cxiv. 13), Persius (i. 76), and Tacitus(_Dial. _ 23) decide the imitators of the early poets of the republic. But virtually no trace of pronounced imitation of this kind is to beobserved in the poetry that has survived. Novelty and what passed fororiginality were naturally more popular than the resuscitation of thedead or dying past. 

85. Boissier, _L'Opposition sous les Césars_, p. 238. 

86. Macrobius (_Sat. _ 10. 3) speaks of a revival of the Atellan by acertain Mummius, but gives no indication of the date. 

87. Juv. Viii. 185. 

888. Suet. _Calig. _ 57; Joseph. _Ant. _ xix. 1. 13; Juv. Viii. 187. 

89. Mart. _de Spect. _ 7. 

90. Plutarch, _de Sollert. Anim. _ xix. 9. 

91. Suet. _Tib_. 45. 

92. Ib. _Ner_. 39. 

93. Ib. _Galb_. 13. 

94. Ib. _Dom_. 10. 

95. Ib. _Calig_. 27; _Nero_, I. C. ; Tac. _Ann_. Iv. 14. 

96. _C. I. L_. Ix. 1165. 

97. _Ep_. Vi. 21. 

98. Suet. _Ner_. II. 

999. Quint, xi. 3. 178. 

100. Juv. Iii. 93. 

101. X. 1, 99. 

102. Lucian, _de Salt_. 27. 

103. Suet. _Ner_. 24. 

104. Lucian, _de Salt_. 79. 

105. Suet. _ap. Hieronym_. (Roth, p. 301, 25). 

106. Plut. _Qu. Conv_. Vii. 8. 3; Sen. _Contr_. 3. Praef. 10. 

107. Lucian, op. Cit. , 37-61. 

108. Plut, _Qu. Conv_. Iv. 15. 17; Libanius (Reiske) iii, p. 381. 

109. Lucian, op. Cit. , 69 sqq. 

110. E. G. Pasiphae, Cinyras and Myrrha, Jupiter and Leda. Lucian, 1. C. ;Joseph. _Ant. Iud_. Xix. 1. 13; Juv. Vi. 63-6. 

111. For the effect of such dancing cp. The interesting stories told byLucian, op. Cit. , 63-6. Cp. Also Liban. , in, p. 373. For the importanceattached to gesture in ancient times see Quint. Xi. 3. 87 sqq. 

112. Story of Turnus; Suet, _Ner_. 54. Dido; Macrob. Sat. V. 17. 15. 

113. See p. 100. 

114. Juv. Vii. 92. 

115. For the general history of the pantomimus see Friedländer, _Sittengeschicht, _ II. In. 3, and Lucian, _de Saltatione_. 

116. Dion. Liv. 17; Tac. _Ann_. I. 54 and 77; Dion. Lvii. 14. 

117. Suet. _Ner_. 46. 

118. There is no clear proof of the performance on the Roman stage ofany tragedy in the strict sense of the word during the Silver Age. Thewords used e. G. In Dio Chrys. (19, p. 261: 23, p. 396), Lucian(_Nigrin_. 8), Libanius (iii, p. 265, Reiske) may refer merely to theperformance of isolated scenes. See note on Vespasian's attitude to thetheatre, p. 166. 

119. Pliny the elder wrote his life. Plin. _Ep_. Iii. 5. Cp. Also Tac. _Ann_. V. 8; xii. 28; Plin. _N. H_. Xiii. 83. 

120. Ribbeck, _Trag. Rom. Fr_. P. 268, fr. 1; p. 331 (ed. 3). 

121. _Ann_. Xi. 13. 

122. Charis, _Gr. Lat_. I. P. 125, 23; p. 137, 23. 

123. Tac. _Dial_. II. 

124. Ib. 2, 3. 

125. Ib. 3. 

126. Ib. 3. 

127. Ib. II. 

128. Juv. Vii. 12. 

129. Juv. Vii. 12. 

130. Ib. Vii. 72. 

131. He flourished in reign of Domitian. Schol. Vall. Luv. I. 20; Mart. Xi. 9 and 10; Donat. _Gramm. Lat_. Iv. P. 537, 17; Apollin. Sid. Ix. 266. 

132. In the fragment preserved by Donatus (Ribbeck, _Trag. Rom. Fr_. P. 269) the chorus address Hecuba under the name Cisseis. 'Fulgentiusexpos. Serm. Antiq. 25 (p. 119, 5, Helm) says _Memos_ (Schopen emendsto _Memor_) _in tragoedia Herculis ait: ferte suppetias optimicomites_. '

133. Xi. 2. 8. 

134. Mart. _i. _ 61, 7; _Poet. Lat. Min. _ iv. P. 62, 19, Bachrens. 

135. Tac. _Ann. _ xv. 73; xvi. 17. 

136. Tac. _Ann. _ xv. 73; xvi. 17. 

137. Sen. _ad Helv. De Cons. _ xix. 2. 

138. Sen. _ad Helv. _ 1. C. ; _Ep. _ lxxviii. 1. Dion. Cass. Lix. 19. 

139. 5 Dion. Cass. 1. C. 

140. Suet. _Calig. _ 53. See ch. I. P. 4. 

141. _Ep. _ cviii. 17 sqq. ; Hioronym. _ad ann. _ 2029. That he knew andnever lost his respect for the teaching of Pythagoras is shown by thefrequency with which he quotes him in the letters. 

142. _Ep. _ cviii. 3 sqq. 

143. Cp. The speech of Suillius, Tac. _Ann. _ xiii. 42; Dion. Cass. Lxi. 10. 

144. _ad Helv. De Cons. _ 6 sqq. 

145. _ad Polyb. De Cons. _

146. The _Apocolocyntosis_--almost undoubtedly by Seneca--hardly fallswithin the scope of this work. Such intrinsic importance as it possessesis due to the prose portions. In point of form it is an example of the_Menippean Satire_, that strange medley of prose and verse. The verseportions form but a small proportion of the whole and are insipid andlacking in interest. 

147. He was forbidden by Agrippina to give definite philosophicalinstruction. Cp. Suet. _Nero_, 52. 

148. Cp. _ad Ner. De Clem. _ ii. 2; Henderson, _Life of Nero_, Notes, p. 459. 

149. For what may be regarded as an academic _apologia pro vita sua_, cp. _Ep. _ 5; 17: 20; _de Ira_, in. 33; _de Const. Sap. _ 1-4, 10-13; _deVit. Beat. _ 17-28, &c. 

150. Dion. Cass. Lxi. 4. 5. 

151. Tac. _Ann_. Xvi. 28. 

152. This is Dion's view, lxi. 10. For an ingenious view of Seneca'scharacter see Ball, _Satire of Sen. On apotheosis of Claudius_, p. 34. 'It may be that Seneca cared less for the realization of highideals in life than for the formulation of the ideals as such. Sincerity and hypocrisy are terms much less worth controversy in someminds than others. '

153. Tac. _Ann. _ xv. 61-4. 

154. Quint, x. 1. 125-9. 

155. Fronto, p. 155, N. 

156. Quint, x. 1. 129. Over and above his writings on moral philosophywe possess seven books _ad Lucilium naturalium quaestionum. _

157. _Patruos duos_ more naturally, however, refers to Gallio and Mela, in which case Marcus is the son of Seneca himself. 

158. Cp. _P. L. M. _ iv. 15, 8; Plin. _N. H. _ xvi. 242. 

159. For these cp. _Ep. _ xiv. 13; ib. Civ. 29. 

160. E. G. 7l 'de Atho monte', 57 'de Graeciae ruina', 50 'de bonoquietae vitae', 47, 48 'morte omnes aequari', 25 'de spe'. 

161. There is, in fact, direct evidence that he wrote such verses. Plin. _Ep. _ v. 3. 5. 

162. Cp. P. 263. 

163. Cp. The not dissimilar situation in Sen. _Oed_. (936), whereOedipus meditates in very similar style, as to how he may expiate hisguilt. The couplet _vivere si poteris_, &c. , is nothing if not Senecan. 

164. Quint, viii. 3. 31 ('memini iuvenis admodum inter Pomponium acSenecam etiam praefationibus esse tractatum, an "gradus eliminet" intragoedia dici oportuisset') shows Seneca as critic of dramatic diction;there is no evidence to show what these _praefationes_ were, but they_may_ have been prefaces to tragedies. The _Medea_ (453) is cited byQuintilian ix. 2. 8. For later quotations from the tragedies, cp. Diomedes, _gr. Lat_. I. P. 511, 23; Terentianus Maurus, ibid. Vi. P. 404, 2672; Probus, ibid. Iv. P. 229, 22, p. 246, 19; Priscian, ibid. Ii. P. 253, 7 and 9; Tertullian, _de An_. 42, _de Resurr_. 1; Lactantius, _Schol. Stat. Theb_. Iv. 530. 

165. Cp. Also the iambic translation of Cleanthes, _Ep_. Cvii. 11:--

 duc, o parens celsique dominator poli, quocunque placuit: nulla parendi mora est. Adsum impiger. Fac nolle, comitabor gemens malusque patiar, facere quod licuit bono. Ducunt volentem fata, nolentem trahunt. 

166. Some of the more remarkable parallels have been collected by Nisard(_Études sur les poètes latins de la décadence_, i. 68-91), e. G. _Med_. 163 'qui nil potest sperare, desperet nihil'. _Ep_. V. 7 'desinestimere, si sperare desieris'. _Oed_. 705 'qui sceptra duro saevusimperio regit, timet timentes: metus in auctorem redit'. _Ep_. Cv. 4'qui timetur, timet: nemo potuit terribilis esse secure'. De Ira_, ii. 11 'quid quod semper in auctores redundat timor, nec quisquam metuituripse securus?'-_Oed_. 980 sqq. ; _de Prov_. V. 6 sqq. ; _Phoen_. 146, 53;_Ep_. Xii. 10; _de Prov_. Vi. 7; _Herc. F_. 463, 464; _Ep_. Xcii. 14. 

167. The arguments against the Senecan authorship are of little weight. It has been urged (a) that the MSS. Assign the author a _praenomen_Marcus. No Marcus Seneca is known, though Marcus was the _praenomen_ ofboth Gallio and Mela, and of Lucan. Mistakes of this kind are, however, by no means rare (cp. The 'Sextus Aurelius Propertius Nauta' of manyMSS. Of that poet: both 'Aurelius' and 'Nauta' are errors), (b) SidoniusApollinaris (ix. 229) mentions three Senecas, philosopher, tragedian, and epic writer (i. E. Lucan). But Sidonius lived in the fifth centuryA. D. , and may easily have made a mistake. Such a mistake actually occurs(S. A. Xxiii. 165) where he seems to assert that Argentaria Polla, Lucan's faithful widow, subsequently married Statius. The mistake asregards Seneca is probably due to a misinterpretation of Martial i. 61'duosque Senecas unicumque Lucanum facunda loquitur Corduba'. Not beingacquainted with the works of the elder Seneca the rhetorician, Sidoniusinvented a new author, Seneca the tragedian. 

168. See ch. On Octavia, p. 78. 

169. Leo, _Sen. Tragoed. _ i. 89-134. 

170. It is not even necessary to suppose with Leo that these were theearliest of the plays and that these metrical experiments were youthfulindiscretions which failed and were not repeated. Leo, i. P. 133. 

171. For a detailed treatment see Leo, i. P. 48. Melzer, _de H. OetaeoAnnaeano_, Chemnitz, 1890; _Classical Review_, 1905, p. 40, Summers. 

172. See p. 39 on relation of epigrams to dramas. 

173. _Ann_. Xiv. 52. 

174. See also note on p. 42 for Leo's ingenious, but inconclusive theoryfor the dates of the _Agamemnon_ and _Oedipus_. 

175. There is but one passage that can be held to afford the slightestevidence for a later date, _Med_. 163 'qui nil potest sperare, desperetnihil' seems to be an echo of _Ep_. V. 7 'sed ut huius quoque dieilucellum tecum communicem, apud Hecatonem nostrum inveni . . . "desines", inquit, "timere, si sperare desieris". ' This aphorism is quoted as newlyfound. The letters were written 62-5 A. D. This passage would thereforesuggest a very late date for the _Medea_. But Seneca had probably beenlong familiar with the works of Hecato, and the epigram is not of suchprofundity that it might not have occurred to Seneca independently. 

176. For comparative analyses of Seneca's tragedies and thecorresponding Greek dramas see Miller's _Translation of the Tragedies ofSeneca_, p. 455. 

177. The _Phaedra_ of Seneca is interesting as being modelled on thelost _Hippolytus Veiled_ of Euripides. Phaedra herself declares herpassion to Hippolytus, with her own lips reveals to Theseus thepretended outrage to her honour, and slays herself only on hearing ofthe death of Hippolytus. Cp. Leo, _Sen. Trag_. I. 173. The _Phoenissae_presents a curious problem. It is far shorter than any of the otherplays and has no chorus. It falls into two parts with little connexion. I. (_a_) 1-319. Oedipus and Antigone are on their way to Cithaeron. Oedipus meditates suicide and is dissuaded by Antigone. (_b_) 320-62. Anembassy from Thebes arrives begging Oedipus to return and stop thethreatened war between his sons. He refuses, and declares the intentionof hiding near the field of battle and listening joyfully to theconflict between his unnatural sons. II. The remaining portion, on theother hand, seems to imply that Oedipus is still in Thebes (553, 623), and represents a scene between Jocasta and her sons. It lacks aconclusion. These two different scenes can hardly have belonged to oneand the same play. They may be fragments of two separate plays, an_Oedipus Coloneus_ and a _Phoenissae_, or may equally well be twoisolated scenes written for declamation without ever having beenintended for embodiment in two completed dramas. Cp. Ribbeck, _Gesch. Röm. Dichtung_, iii. 70. 

178. _Sen. Trag. _ i. 161. 

179. Leo, op. Cit. , i. 166 sqq. 

180. 530-658. The _Oedipus_ is based on the _O. Rex_ of Sophocles, butis much compressed, and the beautiful proportions of the Greek are lost. In Seneca out of a total of 1, 060 lines 330 are occupied by the lyricmeasures of the chorus, 230 by descriptions of omens and necromancy. 

181. It is also to be noted that the nurse does not make use of thisdevice till after Hippolytus has left the stage, although to be reallyeffective her words should have been uttered while Hippolytus heldPhaedra by the hair. The explanation is, I think, that the play waswritten for recitation, not for acting. Had the play been acted, thenurse's call for help and her accusation of Hippolytus could have beenbrought in while Hippolytus was struggling with Phaedra. But beingwritten for recitation by a single person there was not room for thespeech at the really critical moment, and therefore it was insertedafterwards--too late. See p. 73. 

182. Similarly, Medea, being a sorceress, must be represented engaged inthe practice of her art. Hence lurid descriptions of serpents, darkinvocations, &c. (670-842). 

183. Seneca never knows when to stop. Undue length characterizesdeclamations and lyrics alike. 

184. As a whole the _Troades_ fails, although, the play beingnecessarily episodic, the deficiencies of plot are less remarkable. Butcompared with the exquisite _Troades_ of Euripides it is at onceexaggerated and insipid. 

185. Cp. Apul. _Met_. X. 3, where a step-mother in similar circumstancesdefends her passion with the words, 'illius (sc. Patris) enimrecognoscens imaginem in tua facie merito te diligo. '

186. This speech is closely imitated by Racine in his _Phèdre_. 

187. 2: Cp. Esp. 995-1006: the _agnosco fratrem_ of Thyestes is perhapsthe most monstrous stroke of rhetoric in all Seneca. Better, but equallyrevolting, are ll. 1096-1112 from the same play. 

188. For other examples of dialogue cp. Esp. _Medea_, 159-76, 490-529(perhaps the most effective dialogue in Seneca), _Thyestes_, 205-20; H. F. 422-38. For which see p. 62. 

189. _Pro M_. 61 'Fuit enim quidam summo ingenio vir, Zeno, cuiusinventorum aemuli Stoici nominantur: huius sententia et praeceptahuiusmodi: sapientem gratia nunquam moveri, nunquam cuiusquam delictoignoscere; neminem misericordem esse nisi stultum et levem: viri nonesse neque exorari neque placari: solos sapientes esse, sidistortissimi sint, formosos, si mendicissimi, divites, si servitutemserviant reges. ' &c. He goes on to put a number of cases where theStoic rules break down. 

190. Cp. Eurip. _Andr_. 453 sqq. 

191. For still greater exaggeration cp. _Phoen_. 151 sqq, ; _Oed_. 1020sqq. 

192. Cp. Sen. _Contr_. Ii. 5; ix. 4. 

193. Cp. Sen. _de Proc_. Iv. 6 'calamitas virtutis occasio est'. 

194. Cp. Sen. _Ep_. Xcii. 30, 31 'magnus erat labor ire in caelum'. 

195. Cp. Sen. _Ep_. Xcii. 16 sqq. 

196. _Ep_. Cviii. 24. 

197. Cp. _Macbeth_ ii. 2. 36, Macbeth does murder sleep, &c. For otherShakespearian parallels, cp. _Macbeth_, Canst thou not minister to amind diseased? _H. F. _ 1261 'nemo pollute queat | animo mederi. '_Macbeth_, I have lived long enough. . . . And that which should accompanyold age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not lookto have. _H. F. _ 1258 'Cur animam in ista luce detincam amplius |morerque nihil est; cuncta iam amisi bona, | mentem, arma, famam, coniugem, natos, manus. ' J. Phil. Vi. 70. Cunliffe, _Influence of Senecaon Elizabethan Tragedy_. 

198. An exception might be made in favour of the beautiful similedescribing Polyxena about to die, notable as giving one of the very fewallusions to the beauty of sunset to be found in ancient literature(_Troad_. 1137):

 ipsa deiectos gerit vultus pudore, sed tamen fulgent genae magisque solito splendet extremus decor, ut esse Phoebi dulcius lumen solet iamiam cadentis, astra cum repetunt vices premiturque dubius nocte vicina dies. 

Fine, too, are the lines describing the blind Oedipus (_Oed_. 971):

 attollit caput cavisque lustrans orbibus caeli plagas noctem experitur. 

199. Pp. 52 sqq. , 59. 

200. Cp. Eur. _H. F. _ 438 sqq. 

201. For further examples cp. _H. F. _ 5-18, _Troades_ 215-19. 

202. This terse stabbing rhetoric is characteristic of Stoicism; thesame short, jerky sentences reappear in Epictetus. Seneca is doubtlessinfluenced by the declamatory rhetoric of schools as well, but hisphilosophical training probably did much to form his style. 

203. Exceptions are so few as to be negligible. The effect of this ruleis aggravated by the fact that in nine cases out of ten the accent ofthe word and the metrical ictus 'clash', this result being obtained 'bymost violent elisions, such as rarely or never occur in the other feetof the verse'. Munro, J. Phil. 6, 75. 

204. The older and more rugged iambic survives in the fables ofPhaedrus, written at no distant date from these plays, if not actuallycontemporary. 

205. Cp. Leo, op. Cit. I. 166, 174. 

206. See p. 29. 

207. These horrors go beyond the crucifixion scene in the Laureolus (seep. 24), and the tradition of genuine tragedy was all against suchpresentation. As far as the grotesqueness and bombast of the plays go, the age of Nero might have tolerated them. We must remember thatseventeenth-century England enjoyed the brilliant bombast of Dryden(e. G. In _Aurungzebe_) and that the eighteenth delighted in the crudeabsurdities of such plays as _George Barnwell_. 

208. Cp. Also _Phaedra_ 707, where Hippolytus' words, 'en impudicumcrine contorto caput | laeva reflexi, ' can only be justified as insertedto explain to the hearers what they could not see. See also p. 48, note. 

209. They have been influenced by the pantomimus and the dramaticrecitation so fashionable in their day, inasmuch as they lack connexion, and, though containing effective episodes, are of far too loose atexture to be effective drama. 

210. See R. Fischer, _Die Kunstentwicklung der englischen Tragödie_; J. W. Cunliffe, _Influence of Seneca on Elizabethan Tragedy_; J. E. Manly, _Introductory Essay_ to Miller's _Translation of the Tragedies ofSeneca_. The Senecan drama finds its best modern development in thetragedies of Alfieri. Infinitely superior in every respect as are theplays of the modern dramatist, he yet reveals in a modified form not afew of Seneca's faults. There is often a tendency to bombast, anexaggeration of character, a hardness of outline, that irresistiblyrecall the Latin poet. 

211. The debt is as good as acknowledged, ll. 58 sqq. 

212. Ll. 310 sqq. 

213. L. 915. 

214. There is no direct evidence of the sex of the chorus in the_Octavia_. In Greek drama they would almost certainly have been women. 

215. The diction is wholly un-Senecan. There is no straining afterepigram; the dialogue, though not lacking point (e. G. The four lines185-8, or 451-60), does not bristle with it, and is far less rhetoricaland more natural. The chorus confines itself to anapaests, is simplerand far more relevant. The all-pervading Stoicism is the one point theyhave in common. 

216. The imitation of Lucan in 70, 71 'magni resto nominis umbra, ' isalso strong evidence against the Senecan authorship. 

217. _Probus, vita_. 'A. Persius Flaccus natus est pridie non. Dec. Fabio Persico, L. Vitellio coss. ' Hieronym. Ad ann. 2050=34 A. D. 'Persius Flaccus Satiricus Volaterris nascitur. ' Where nototherwise stated the facts of Persius' life are drawn from thebiography of Probus. 

218. Quint, vii. 4, 40; Tac. _Ann_. Xv. 71. 

219. Suet. _de Gramm_. 23. 

220. Bassus was many years his senior--addressed as _senex_ in Sat. Vi. 6, written late in 61 or early in 62 A. D. --and perished in the eruptionof Vesuvius, 79 A. D. Cp. Schol. _ad Pers_. Vi. 1. 

221. Lucan was five years his junior. Cp. P. 97. 

222. Cp. Tac. _Ann_. Xiv. 19; _Dial_. 23; Quint. X. 1. 102. 

223. This friendship lasted ten years, presumably the last ten ofPersius' life; cp. _Prob. Vit_. 

The second satire is addressed to Plotius Macrinus, who, according tothe scholiast, was a learned man, who 'loved Persius as his son, havingstudied with him in the house of Servilius Nonianus. '

224. See O. Jahn's ed. , p. 240. 

225. _Prob. Vit_. 'decessit VIII Kal. Dec. P. Mario, Afinio Gallio coss. 'Hieronym. Ad ann. 2078--62 A. D. 'Persius moritur anno aetatis XXVIII. '

226. _Prob. Vit_. 

227. Such at least is a plausible inference. Probus tells us that heused to travel abroad with Thrasea. It is a natural conjecture thatthese _hodoeporica_ were in the style of Horace's journey to Brundisium. 

228. Cp. Mart. I. 13; Plin. _Ep_. Iii. 16. She was the mother of thewife of Thrasea. 

229. This may mean that the last satire was actually incomplete, butthat the omission of a few lines at the end gave it an appearance ofcompletion; or that a few lines intended for the opening of a seventhsatire were omitted. 

230. So Probus. Cp. Also Quint. X. 1. 94 'multum et verae gloriaequamvis uno libro meruit. ' Mart. Iv. 29. 7. 

231. Hieronym. _in apol. Contra Rufin. _ i. 16 'puto quod puer legeris. . . Commentarios . . . Aliorum in alios, Plautum videlicet, Lucretium, Flaccum, Persium atque Lucanum. ' The high moral tone of the work, coupled perhaps with the smallness of its bulk, is in the mainresponsible for its survival. Scholia from different sources have comedown to us under the title of _Cornuti commentum_. Whether such a personas the commentator Cornutus existed or not is uncertain. The name mayhave been attached to the scholia merely to give them a spuriousimportance as though possessing the imprimatur of the friend and teacherof the poet. 

232. The choliambi are placed after the satires by two of the threebest MSS. , but before them by the scholia and inferior MSS. It isof little importance which we follow. But it seems probable thatProbus (see below) regarded the choliambi as a prologue. Such atleast is my interpretation of _sibi primo_ (i. E. In the prologue)_mox omnibus detrectaturus. _ The lines have rather more force if readfirst and not last. 

233. _Prob. Vit. _ 'sed mox ut a schola magistrisque devertit, lectoLucili libro decimo vehementer saturas componere studuit; cuius libriprincipium imitatus est, sibi primo, mox omnibus detrectaturus, cumtanta recentium poetarum et oratorum insectatione, ' &c. This can onlyrefer to the prologue and the first satire, and seems to point to itshaving been the first to be composed. According to the scholiast theopening line is taken from the first satire of Lucilius. 

234. Porphyr. _ad Hor. Sat. _ i. 10. 53 'facit autem Lucilius hoc cumalias tum vel maxime in tertio libro, . . . Et nono et decimo. 

235. Cp. Nettleship's note ad loc. , and Petron. 4. 

236. E. G. Dama, Davus, Natta, Nerius, Craterus, Pedius, Bestius. 

237. Instances might be almost indefinitely multiplied. The whole ofPers. I, but more especially the conclusion, is strongly influencedby Hor. _Sat. _ i. 10. Cp. Also Pers. Ii. 12, Hor. _Sat. _ ii. 5. 45;Pers. Iii. 66, Hor. _Ep. _ i. 18. 96; Pers. V. 10, Hor. _Sat. _ i. 4. 19, &c. , &c. 

238. I. 92-102. According to the scholiast the last four lines--

 torva Mimalloneis implerunt cornua bombis, et raptum vitulo caput ablatura superbo Bassaris et lyncem Maenas flexura corymbis euhion ingeminat, reparabilis adsonat echo (i. 99)--

are by Nero. But it is incredible that Persius should have had suchaudacity as openly to deride the all-powerful emperor. The same remarkapplies to other passages where the scholiast and some modern criticshave seen satirical allusions to Nero (e. G. Prologue and the whole ofSat. Iv). The only passage in which it is possible that there was acovert allusion to Nero is i. 121, which, according to the scholiast, originally ran _auriculas asini Mida rex habet_. Cornutus suppressed thewords _Mida rex_ and substituted _quis non_. For an ingenious defence ofthe view that Persius hits directly at Nero see Pretor, _Class. Rev_. , vol. Xxi, p. 72. 

239. I. 76 'Est nunc Brisaei quem venosus liber Acci, | sunt quosPacuviusque et verrucosa moretur | Antiopa, aerumnis corluctificabile fulta. '

240. The description of the self-indulgent man who, feeling ill, consults his doctor and then fails to follow his advice (iii. 88), is apossible exception. It is noteworthy that in Sat. Iv he addresses ayoung aspirant to a political career as though free political action wasstill possible at Rome. 

241. E. G. Iv. 41. 

242. But see below, p. 91. 

243. Prob. Vita Persii. 

244. Our chief authorities for Lucan's life are the 'lives' by Suetonius(fragmentary) and by Vacca (a grammarian of the sixth century). 

245. Vacca. 

246. Tac. _Ann. _ xvi. 17. 

247. Vacca. 

248. Vacca. 

249. The young Lucan is said to have formed a friendship with thesatirist at the school of Cornutus; Persius was some five years hissenior. _Vita Persii_ (p. 58, Bücheler). 

250. Suetonius and Vacca. The latter curiously treats this victory asone of the causes of Nero's jealousy. Considering that the poem was apanegyric of the emperor, and that it was Lucan's first step in theimperial favour, the suggestion deserves small credit. 

251. Sueton. There is an unfortunate hiatus in the Life by Suetonius, occurring just before the mention of the visit to Athens. As the textstands it suggests that the visit to Athens occurred after the victoryat the Neronia. Otherwise it would seem more probable that Lucan went toAthens somewhat earlier (e. G. 57 A. D. ) to complete his education. 

252. Sueton. , Vacca. 

253. Vacca; Tac. _Ann. _ xv. 49; Dion. Lxii. 29. 

254. Vacca. 

255. Suetonius. 

256. Suetonius. 

257. Sueton. ; Tac. _Ann. _ xv. 56. 

258. Vacca; Sueton. ; Tac. _Ann. _ xv. 70. Various passages in the_Pharsalia_ have been suggested as suitable for Lucan's recitation athis last gasp, iii. 638-41, vii. 608-15, ix. 811. 

259. Statius, in his _Genethliacon Lucani_ (_Silv. _ ii. 7. 54), seems toindicate the order of the poems:

 ac primum teneris adhuc in annis ludes Hectora Thessalosque currus et supplex Priami potentis aurum, et sedes reserabis inferorum; ingratus Nero duleibus theatris et noster tibi proferetur Orpheus, dices culminibus Remi vagantis infandos domini nocentis ignes, hinc castae titulum decusque Pollae iucunda dabis adlocutione. Mox coepta generosior iuventa albos ossibus Italis Philippos et Pharsalica bella detonabis. 

Cp. Also Vacca, 'extant eius complures et alii, ut Iliacon, Saturnalia, Catachthonion, Silvarum x, tragoedia Medea imperfecta, salticae fabulaexiv, et epigrammata (MSS. _appamata_ sive _ippamata_), prosae orationesin Octavium Sagittam et pro eo, de incendio Urbis, epistularum exCampania, non fastidiendi quidem omnes, tales tamen ut belli civilivideantur accessio. '

260. Vacca. 

261. See chapter on Statius. 

262. See chapter on Drama. 

263. Cp. Mart. , bks. Xiii and xiv. 

264. There are two fragments from the _Iliacon_, two from the _Orpheus_, one from the _Catachthonion_, two from the _Epigrammata_, together witha few scanty references in ancient commentators and grammarians: seePostgate, _Corp. Poet. Lat. _

265. Vacca, 'ediderat . . . Tres libros, quales videmus. '

266. Sueton. 'civile bellum . . . Recitavit ut praefatione quadem aetatemet initia sua comparans ausus sit dicere, "quantum mihi restat adCulicem". ' Cp. Also Stat, _Silv. _ ii. 7. 73:--

 haec (Pharsalia) primo iuvenis canes sub aevo ante annos Culicis Maroniani. 

Vergil was twenty-six when he composed the _Culex_. Cp. Ribbeck, _App. Verg. _ p. 19. 

267. Vacca, 'reliqui septem belli civilis libri locum calumniantibustanquam mendosi non darent; qui tametsi sub vero crimine non egentpatrocinio: in iisdem dici, quod in Ovidii libris praescribitur, potest:emendaturus, si licuisset, erat. '

268. See p. 4. 

269. Boissier, _L'Opposition sous les Césars (p. 279), sees somesignificance in the fact that the list of Nero's ancestors always stopsat Augustus. But there was no reason why the list should go further thanthe founder of the principate. It is noteworthy that Lucan's uncleSeneca wrote a number of epigrams in praise of the Pompeii and Cato. Thefamous lines, quis iustius induit arma scire nefas: magno se iudice quisque tuetur, victrix causa deis placuit, sed victa Catoni (i. 126), are supremely diplomatic. Without sacrificing his principles, Lucanavoids giving a shadow of offence to his emperor. 

270. See p. 116. 

271. Petron. , loc. Cit. 

272. V. 207, vii. 451, 596, 782, x. 339-42, 431. 

273. I. 143-57. 

274. Ii. 657 nil actum credens cum quid superesset agendum. 

275. V. 317 meruitque timeri non metuens. 

276. See Shelley, _Prometheus Unbound_, Preface. 

277. Vii. 45-150. 

278. Vii. 342. 

279. Vii. 647-727. 

280. Cp. The epigrams attributed to Seneca, _P. L. M. _ iv, _Anth. Lat. _ 7, 8, 9. 

281. The one exception is Curio, sec iv. 799. 

282. I. 185:

 ut ventum est parvi Rubiconis ad undas, ingens visa duci patriae trepidantis imago, clara per obscuram voltu maestissima noctem turrigero canos effundens vertice crines caesarie lacera nudisque adstare lacertis et gemitu permixta loqui: 'quo tenditis ultra? quo fertis mea signa, viri? si iure venitis, si cives, huc usque licet. '

283. Iii. 1:

 propulit ut classem velis cedentibus Auster incumbens mediumque rates movere profundum, omnis in Ionios spectabat navita fluctus; solus ab Hesperia non flexit lumina terra Magnus, dum patrios portus, dum litora numquam ad visus reditura suos tectumque cacumen nubibus et dubios cernit vanescere montes. 

284. V. 722-end. 

285. Vii. 6-44. 

286. Iii. 399-425. 

287. Iii. 399. 

288. Cp. Seneca, _Oed. _ 530 sqq. The description of a grove was part ofthe poetic wardrobe. Cp. Pers. I. 70. 

289. See p. 103. 

290. Iii. 509-762. For a still more grotesque fight, cp. Vi. 169-262;also ii. 211-20; iv. 794, 5. 

291. V. 610-53. Cp. Also ix. 457-71. 

292. Sir E. Ridley's trans. 

293. Sir E. Ridley's trans. 

294. Ix. 619-838. 

295. Ix. 946, 7. 

296. For examples of erudition, cp. Ix. Loc. Cit. , where the origin ofserpents of Africa is given, involving the story of Perseus and Medea, iv. 622 sqq. The arrival of Curio in Africa is signalized by a longaccount of the slaying of Antaeus by Hercules. 

297. I. 523-end. 

298. Ii. 67-220. 

299. Ii. 392-438. Cp. The geography of Thessaly, coupled with adescription of its witches, vi. 333-506. 

300. V. 71-236. 

301. Vi. 507-830. It is noteworthy, also, that incidents not necessarilyirrelevant in themselves are treated with a monstrous lack ofproportion, e. G. The siege of Massilia is not irrelevant; but it isgiven 390 lines (iii. 372-762), and Lucan forgets to mention that Caesarcaptured it. 

302. E. G. Iv. 799-end, vii. 385-459, 586-96, 617-46, 847-72, viii. 542-60, 793-end. 

303. Vii. 385-459. 

304. There is nothing in these last seven books that can be regarded asin any way written to please Nero, save the description of the nobledeath of Domitius Ahenobarbus, Nero's great-great-grandfather (vii. 597-616). On the contrary there are many passages which Lucan wouldhardly have written while he was enjoying court favour: e. G. Iv. 821-3, v. 385-402, vi. 809, vii. 694-6, x. 25-8. 

305. See p. 98. 

306. E. G. The two speeches of Cato quoted above. 

307. He is, moreover, very careless in his repetition of the same word, cp. I. 25, 27 urbibus, iii. 436, 441, 445 silva, &c. ; cp. Haskins, ed. Lxxxi. (Heitland's introd. )

308. He is far less dactylic than Ovid. For the relation between thevarious writers of epic in respect of metre, see Drobisch, _Versuch üb. Die Formen des lat. Hex. _ 140. The proportion of spondees in the firstfour feet of hexameters of Roman writers is there given as follows:Catullus 65. 8%, Silius 60. 6%, Ennius 59. 5%, Lucretius 57. 4%, Vergil 56%, Horace 55%, Lucan 54. 3%, Statius 49. 7%, Valerius 46. 2%, Ovid 45. 2%. 

309. Tac. _Ann. _ xvi. 18, 19 (Church and Brodribb's trans. ). 

310. C. 118 sq. 

311. Cc. 1-5. 

312. The first reference in literature to the _Satyricon_ is inMacrobius, in _Somn. Scip. _ i. 2, 8. 

313. Cc. 1-5. 

314. MS. Fortuna. 

315. MS. Dent. 

316. C. 83

317. Cp. Juv. _Sat. _ 7; Tac. _Dial. _ 9. 

318. C. 89. It has been suggested that this poem is a parody of Nero's_Troiae halosis_! But the poem shows _no_ signs of being a parody. It isobviously written in all seriousness. 

319. MS. _minor_, I suggest _minans_ as a possible solution of thedifficulty. 

320. C. 93. 

321. Cp. Also 128 and the spirited epic fragment burlesquely used in108. 

322. See p. 36. 

323. Baehrens, _P. L. M. _ iv. 74-89. 

324. Nos. 76 and 86. Cp. Fulg. _Mythol. _ i. I, p. 31; Lactant. _ad Stat. Theb. _ iii. 661; Fulg. _Mythol. _ iii. 9, p. 126. 

325. Baehrens, _P. L. M. _ iv. 90-100. 

326. Poitiers, 1579 A. D. 

327. Fulg. _Mythol. _ i. 12, p. 44. 

328. That the attribution to Petronius rests on the authority of thelost MS. Is a clear inference from Binet's words, cp. Baehrens, _P. L. M. _iv. 101-8, 'sequebantur ista, sed sine Petronii titulo, at priores illiduo Phalaecii vix alius fuerint quam Petronii. '

329. Baehrens, _P. L. M. _ iv. 101-8. 

330. See note 4. 

331. Petr. Cc. 14, 83; Baehrens, _P. L. M. _ iv. 120, 121. 

332. Cp. _Satyr_. 127, 131; _P. L. M. _ iv. 75; _S. _ 128; _P. L. M. _ iv. 121;_S. _ 108; _P. L. M. _ iv. 85; _S. _ 79, iv. 101. 

333. _P. L. M. _ iv. 75. 

334. _P. L. M. _ iv. 81. 

335. The MS. Is hopelessly corrupt at this point. I suggest _naidasalterna manu_ as a possible correction of the MS. _Iliadas armatass. Manus. _

336. _P. L. M. _ iv. 84. 

337. _P. L. M. _ iv. 85. 

338. Ib. 76. 

339. Ib. 82. 

340. Ib. 78. 

341. _P. L. M. _ iv. 99. Cp. Also 92 and 107. 

342. 569 sqq. 

343. 17-22, 43 sqq. He falls into the same error himself (203). 

344. 76 sqq. 

345. 88 sqq. 

346. 220 sqq. 

347. 96 sqq. 

348. 178 sqq. 

349. 400 sqq. 

350. 333 sqq. 

351. 294. 

352. So Ellis (_Corp. Poet. Lat. _, vol. Ii. Pref. ); Baehrens, _P. L. M. _ii. Pp. 29 sqq. 

353. Serv. _ad Verg. Aen. _ praef. Donatus, _vita Verg. _, p. 58 R('Scripsit etiam de qua ambigitur Aetnam'). 

354. Sen. _Nat. Quaest. _ iii. 26. 5. He also wrote in verse onphilosophical subjects; cp. Sen. _Ep. _ 24, 19-21. 

355. So Wernsdorf, von Jacob, Munro (edd. ), Wagler _de Aetna quaest. Crit. _, Berlin, 1884. 

356. Sen. _Nat. Quaest. _ iv. 2. 2. 

357. Sen. _Ep. _ 79. 5. 

358. So many Italian scholars of sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, among them Scaliger. 

359. Cornelius Severus wrote a poem on the Sicilian War of Octavian andSext. Pompeius; cp. Quint, x. L. 89. 

360. Cp. _Nat. Quaest. _ iii. 16. 4, _Aetna_, 302 and 303. But this maybe due to the fact that both Seneca and the author of _Aetna_ get theirinformation from the same source, perhaps Posidonius; cp. Sudhaus, introd. To his edition, p. 75. 

361. It is not improbable that in 293 sqq. The poet refers to themechanical Triton shown at the Naumachia on the Fucine Lake at afestival given by Claudius in honour of Nero's adoption in 50 A. D. 

362. 425-34. 

363. Baehrens would put the lower limit at 63 A. D. , the year in whichsevere earthquakes first indicated the reviving activity of Phlegraeanfields. But earthquakes, though often caused by volcanic action, do notnecessarily produce volcanoes. 

364. Viii. 16. 9; 10. 185. 

365. Iii. 3. 3 'his certe temporibus Nomentana regio celeberrima famaest illustris, et praecipue quam possidet Seneca, vir excellentisingenii atque doctrinae'. He is quoted by Pliny, not infrequently. Columella was an old man when he wrote; cp. 12 ad fin. 'nec tamen canisnatura dedit cunctarum rerum prudentiam'. 

366. Cp. _C. I. L. _ ix. 235 'L. Iunio L. F. Gal. Moderato Columellae Trib. Mil. Leg. VI. Ferratae'. That this refers to the poet is borne out bytwo facts. (1) Gades belonged to the Tribus Galeria. (2) At this datethe legio VI. Ferrata was stationed in Syria; cp. Col. Ii. 10. 18'Ciliciae Syriaeque regionibus ipse vidi'. 

367. Cp. I. 1. 7. He speaks as a practical farmer; cp. Ii. 8. 5; 9. 1;10. 11; iii. 9. 2; 10. 8, &c. He writes primarily for Italy, not forSpain; cp. Iii. 8. 5. 

368. Cp. X. Praef. : also ix. 16. 2, which tells us that Gallio, Seneca'sbrother, had added his entreaties. 

369. Xi. Praef. 

370. He also wrote a treatise against astrologers (cp. Xi. 1. 131) and atreatise on religious ceremonies connected with agriculture (cp. Ii. 21. 5). This latter work was perhaps never completed (cp. Ii. 21. 6). In anycase both treatises were lost. There survives a book on arboriculturewhich is not an isolated monograph, but portion of a larger work, atleast three books long, for it alludes to a 'primum volumen de cultuagrorum' (ad init. ). It probably consisted of four books, sinceCassiodorus (_div. Lect_. 28) speaks of the sixteen books of Columella. 

371. Siderei Maronis, 434. 

372. Cp. Esp. 196 sqq. 

373. Cp. 130 sqq. , 320 sqq. , 344 sqq. 

374. 102 sqq. 

375. 45-94. 

376. 29-34. 

377. 196 sqq. 

378. Tac. _Ann. _ xii. 58. 

379. M. Haupt, _Opusc. _ i. 391; Lachm. _Comm. On Lucret. _ 1855, p. 326Schenkl (ed. Calp. Sic. , p. Ix). 

380. Or _de laude Pisonis_. See Baehrens, _Poet. Lat. Min. _ iii. 1. Forthe question of authorship see p. 159. 

381. It was long believed that there were eleven, but the last foureclogues of the collection are shown by their style to be of later date, and there can be little doubt that the MSS. Which attribute them toNemesianus of Carthage are right. We know of a Nemesianus who livedabout 290 A. D. And wrote a _Cynegetica_, a portion of which survives. Comparison with these four eclogues shows a marked resemblance of style. 

382. Verg. _Ecl. _ vii. 1:

 forte sub arguta consederat ilice Daphnis, compulerantque greges Corydon et Thyrsis in unum, Thyrsis oves, Corydon distentas lacte capellas, ambo florentes aetatibus, Arcades ambo, et cantare pares et respondere parati. 

Calp. Ii. 1:

 intactam Crocalen puer Astacus et puer Idas, Idas lanigeri dominus gregis, Astacus horti, dilexere diu, formosus uterque nec impar voce sonans. 

The conclusion is borrowed from Vergil, _Ecl. _ iii. 108:

 non nostrum inter vos tantas componere lites. Et vitula tu dignus et hic et quisquis amores aut metuet dulces aut experietur amaros. Claudite iam rivos, pueri; sat prata biberunt. 

Calp. Ii. 95-100:

 'iam resonant frondes, iam cantibus obstrepit arbos: i procul, o Doryla, rivumque reclude canali et sine iam dudum sitientes irriget hortos' vix ea finierant, senior cum talia Thyrsis, 'este pares . . . '

383. Cp. Also v. 50 sqq. 

384. See Baehrens, _Poet. Lat. Min. _ vol. Iii. P. 60. The first poem isunfinished, the award of Midas being missing. 

385. Bücheler, _Rhein. Mus. _ xxvi. P. 235. 

386. So Bücheler, loc. Cit. _respexit_ is a mere conjecture:_corrumpit_, the MS. Reading, is meaningless, and no satisfactoryalternative has been suggested. The lines may merely refer to Apollo, but _et me_ suggests strongly that Ladas retorts, 'I, too, haveCaesar's favour. ' Cp. _L. _ 37, where _hic vester Apollo est!_ clearlyrefers to Nero. 

387. In a MS. At Lorsch, now lost; but used by Sechard for his editionof Ovid, Basle, 1527. 

388. In Parisinus 7647 (Florileg. ). Sec Baehrens, _P. L. M. _ i. P. 222. 

389. Tac. _Ann. _ xv. 48 'facundiam tuendis civibus exercebat, largitionem adversum amicos et ignotis quoque comi sermone etcongressu. '

390. Schol. Vall, _ad Iuv. _ v. 109 'in latrunculorum lusu tam perfectuset callidus, ut ad cum ludentem concurreretur. '

391. Cp. Ll. 190 sqq. 

392. Cp. Ll. 190 sqq. 

393. Baehrens, _Fragm. Poet. Rom. _ p. 281. 

394. Priscian, _Gr. Lat. _ i. 478. 

395. Persius derides a certain Labeo (i. 4) and a writer named Attius(i. 50) for his translation of _Iliad_. On this last passage thescholiast says, 'Attius Labeo poeta indoctus fuit illorum temporum, quiIliadem Homeri foedissime composuit. ' The names are found combined in aninscription from Corinth, Joh. Schmidt, _Mitt. Des deutsch. Archäol. Inst. In Athen_, vi (1882), p. 354. 

396. Schol. _ad Pers. _ i. 4 (p. 248, Jahn). 

397. Schol. _ad Pers. _ i. 4, ex cod. Io. Tillii Brionensis episc. , citedby El. Vinetus. 

398. Sen. _ad Polyb. De Cons. _ viii. 2, and xi. 5. 

399. Vualtherus Spirensis Vs. 93. X cent. (ed. Harster, Munich, 1878, p. 22). Eberhard Bethunensis, _Labyr. Tract. _ iii. 45. 

400. This apparent confusion between Homer and Pindar is first found inBenzo, episc. Albensis (_Monum. Germ. _ xi. 599) circa 1087. In HugoTrimbergensis (thirteenth century) Pindar is the translator: 'Homero, quem Pindarus philosophus fertur transtulisse. ' Cp. L. Müller, _Philol. _xv, p. 475. So, too, in Cod. Vat. Reg. 1708 (thirteenth and fourteenthcenturies); in Vat. Pal. 1611 (end of fourteenth century), he is styledPandarus. See Baehrens, _P. L. M. _ iii. 4. 

401. Seyffert, in Munk, _Geschichte der Röm. Litt. _ ii, p. 242. Bücheler, _Rhein. Mus. _ 35 (1880), p. 391. 

402. Baehrens (_P. L. M. _ iii) reads (7) _ut primum tulerant_ for _exquo pertulerant_. The corruption is unlikely, especially since thecorresponding line in the _Iliad_ (i. 6) begins [Greek: ex ou]. In line1065, for _quam cernis paucis . . . Remis_, he reads _remis quam cernis. . . Paucis_, a distinct improvement. Some of those who retain MSS. In(7) attempt to explain _Italice_ as a vocative or adverb. But _ex nihilonihil fit_. For a summary of these unprofitable and generally absurdspeculations, cp. Schanz, _Gesch. Röm. Lit. _ § 394. 

403. Vindobon. 3509 (fifteenth or sixteenth centuries). 

404. Mart. Vii. 63. 

405. Vagellius, Sen. _N. Q. _ vi. 2. 9. Antistius Sosianus, Tac. _Ann. _xiii. 28. C. Montanus, ib. Xvi. 28. 29. Lucilius junior, see p. 144. 

406. Tac. _Ann. _ iv. 46; _C. I. L. _ ii. 2093. 

407. Dion. Lix. 22; Tac. _Ann. _ vi. 30. 

408. Dion. Loc. Cit. ; Suet. _Claud. _ 9. 

409. Plin _Ep. _ v. 3. 5; Mart. I. Praef. 

410. Ap. Sid. _Ep. _ ii. 10. 6. 

411. V. 16; vi. 190, 331; vii. 71, 244, 245, 275, 354; xi. 409. 

412. Baehrens, _Poet. Rom. Fragm. _ p. 361. 

413. Quint, x. 1. 96 'at lyricorum Horatius fere solus legi dignus:. . . Siquem adicere velis, is erit Caesius Bassus, quem nuper vidimus; sed eumlonge praecedunt ingenia viventium'. 

414. E. G. Perhaps Martial, Sulpicia, and some of Pliny's poet friends, see pp. 170 sqq. 

415. See p. 80. 

416. See Teuffel and Schwabe, _Hist. Röm. Lit. _ § 304; Schanz, _Gesch. Röm. Lit. _ 384 a. 

417. Schol. _Pers. _ vi. 1. 

418. Ithyphallicum, Archebulium, Philicium, Paeonicum, Proceleusmaticum, Molossicum. Baehrens, _Poet. Röm. Fragm. _ p. 364. 

419. Ioseph. _vita_ 65. 

420. Suet. _Vesp. _ 17, 18. 

421. Ib. 8. 

422. Ib. 19 'vetera quoque acroamata revocaverat'. 

423. Ib. 18. 

424. Dion. Lxvi. 13, in 71 A. D. That this act was ineffectual is shownby Domitian's action in 89-93 A. D. 

425. Plin. _N. H. _ praef. 5 and 11. 

426. Suet. _Dom. _ 2; Tac. _Hist. _ iv. 86; Quint, x. 1. 91. 

427. Suet. _Dom. _ 18. 

428. Quint. Loc. Cit. ; Val. Fl. I. 12; Mart. V. 5. 7. 

429. Suet. _Dom. _ 4. 

430. 6 Stat. _Silv. _ iv. 2. 65, v. 3. 227. 

431. Suet. _Dom. _ 20. This may have been creditable to him as ruler ofthe empire, though Suetonius undoubtedly wishes us to regard Tiberius'memoirs as a manual of tyranny. 

432. Suet. _Dom. _ 10. 

433. Suet. Loc. Cit. ; Hieronym. Ad ann. 89 and 95 A. D. The latter dateis wrong: cp. Mommsen, _Hermes_, iii (1869), p. 84. 

434. Tac. _Agr. _ 2. 

435. Quint. X. 1. 89. There is no clear indication of his date, but heis coupled with Saleius Bassus by Juvenal (vii. 80), a fact whichsuggests that he belonged to the Flavian period. 

436. X. 1. 90. 

437. Juv. Vii. 79. 

438. Stat. _Silv. _ v. 3. 

439. Stat. _Silv. _ i. 2. 253; Mart. Iv. 6. 4, i. 7, vii. 14. 

440. Schol. Vall, _ad Iuv. _ i. 20; Mart. Xi. 10; Rut. Nam. I. 603;Schol. _Iuv. _ i. 71. For his brother Scaevus Memor see p. 30. 

441. Plin. _Ep. _ v. 3. 5, vi. 10. 4. 

442. Ib. Iii. 1. 11, ii. 7. 1

443. Mart. Viii. 70. 7. 

444. Plin. _Ep. _ v. 3. 5. 

445. Priscian, _Gr. Lat. _ ii, p. 205, 6. 

446. Plin. _Paneg. _ 47; _Ep. _ iii. 18. 5. 

447. Dion. Lxviii. 16; Gellius xi. 17. 1. 

448. See p. 25. Other names are Octavius Rufus, Plin. _Ep. _ i. 7;Titinius Capito, _C. I. L. _ 798, Plin. _Ep. _ i. 17. 3; viii. 12. 4;Caninius Rufus, Plin. _Ep. _ viii. 4. 1; Calpurnius Piso, Plin. _Ep. _ v. 17. 1. 

449. _Ep. _ vi. 15. 

450. _Ep. _ ix. 22. 

451. Gaius Passennus Paulus Propertius Blaesus was his full title. Hederives his chief interest from the fact that the inscription at Assisiwhich preserves his name is our most conclusive evidence for thebirthplace of Propertius. Haupt, opusc. I. P. 283, Leipz. (1875). 

452. _Ep. _ iv. 27. 

453. Viii. 21. 14. 

454. Vii. 9. 10. 

455. Iv. 14. 2. 

456. Iv. 14. 4. 

457. He also translated the Greek epigrams of Arrius Antoninus. Cp. _Ep. _ iv. 3. 3, and xviii. 1. One of these translations is preserved. Baehrens, _P. L. M. _ iv. 112. 

458. Ii. 90. 9. 

459. In the sixth Satire. 

460. See Schanz, _Gesch. Röm. Lit. _ § 284. 

461. Apoll. Sid. Ix. 261 'quod Sulpiciae iocos Thalia scripsitblandiloquum suo Caleno'. Auson. _Cento. Nupt. _, 4 'meminerint prurireopusculum Sulpiciae, frontem caperare'. Fulgentius, _Mythol. _ 1 (p. 4, Helm. ) 'Sulpicillae procacitas'

462. Schol. Vall, _ad Iuv. _ vi. 537, unde ait Sulpicia: si me cadurcis dissolutis fasciis nudam Caleno concubantem proferat. 

463. Mart. X. 38. 9:

 vixisti tribus, o Calene, lustris: aetas haec tibi tota computatur et solos numeras dies mariti. 

The first edition of Martial, Book x, was probably published in 95 A. D. If Sulpicia married Calenus at the age of 18-25, her birth willtherefore fall between 55 and 62 A. D. 

464. Cp. Mart. X. 38. 4-8. 

465. Cp. Mart. X. 38. 9-11. It is, of course, possible that _mariti_ isa euphemism. 

466. Mart. X. 35. 1. 

467. See Ap. Sid. Loc. Cit. 

468. Sulp. _Sat. _, lines 4, 5. 

469. _Raph. Volaterr. Comment. Urban. _ (fol. Lvi. 1506 A. D. ), 'hic (sc. At Bobbio) anno 1493 huiuscemodi libri reperti sunt. RutiliusNamatianus. Heroicum Sulpici carmen. ' The first edition was publishedin 1498, with the title _Sulpitiae carmina quae fuit Domitianitemporibus: nuper a Georgio Merula Allexandrino, cum aliis opusculisreperta. Queritur de statu reipublicae et temporibus Domitiani_. TheMS. Is now lost. 

470. Cp. Line 62. Domitian's edict seems to have threatened the securityof Calenus. In the lines which follow, Domitian's death and overthroware foretold. The poem, therefore, if genuine, must have been publishedsoon after Domitian's assassination in 96, though it may have beencomposed in part during his lifetime. 

471. The work is generally rejected as spurious. Bachrens (_P. L. M. _ v. P. 93, and _de Sulpiciae quae vocatur satira_, Jena, 1873) holds thatthe work is contemporary with Ausonius. Boot (_de Sulpiciae quae fertursatira_, Amsterdam, 1868) goes further, and regards the work as arenaissance forgery. He is followed by Bücheler. But there is no reasonto doubt the existence of the Bobbian MS. The metrical difficulties canbe remedied by emendation _palare_ for _palari_ (43) is a solecism, butmany verbs are found in both active and deponent forms, and _palare_ maybe a slip, or even an invention by analogy. _captiva_ (52) does not =the Italian _cattiva_ or the French _chétive_. The most that we can sayis that the work shows no resemblance to any extant contemporaryliterature. That does not necessarily prove it to be of later date. Theproblem cannot be answered with certainty. On the whole, to us thedifficulty of supposing it to be a late forgery seems greater than thedifficulty of supposing it to be by Sulpicia. 

472. An exception must be made of the _Silvae_ of Statius. 

473. Or Balbus Setinus. 

474. Schenkl, _Stud, zu V. F. _ 272. 

475. Mart. I. 61 and 76. 

476. I. 5:

 Phoebe mone, si Cymaeae mihi conscia vatis stat casta cortina domo. 

In _Cymaeae vatis_ there is an allusion to the custody of theSibylline books. 

477. X, 1. 90. 

478. I. 7-12. 

479. I. 13, 14:

 Solymo nigrantem pulvere fratrem spargentemque faces et in omni turre furentem. 

Domitian pretended to be a poet and connoisseur of poetry. See p. 167. 

480. Iii. 207:

 ut mugitor anhelat Vesvius, attonitas acer cum suscitat urbes

481. Vii. 645; viii. 228. If these allusions be to events of 89 A. D. They point to the view that the last two books were composed shortlybefore the poet's death, and confirm the opinion that the _Argonautica_was never finished. 

482. A few instances will suffice. In iii. 302 Jason asserts that seershad prophesied his father's death; this is nowhere else mentioned; onthe contrary, at the beginning of the second book, it is specially toldus that Juno concealed from Jason the fact of his father's death, whilein vii. 494 Jason speaks of him as still alive. In vii. 394 Venus isrepresented as leaving Medea in terror at the sound of her magic chant, while five lines later it is implied that she is still holding Medea'shand. In viii. 24 Jason goes to the grove of Mars to meet Medea and tosteal the fleece of gold; but no arrangement to this effect has beenmade between Jason and Medea at their previous meeting (vii. 516). Instances might be multiplied. See Schenkl, op. Cit. 12 sqq. ; Summers'_Study of Argonautica of Valerius Flaccus_, p. 2 sqq. The inconsistencywhich makes the _Argo_ to be at once the first ship and to meet manyother ships by the way is perhaps the most glaring, but itsrectification would have involved very radical alterations. 

483. Cp. Viii. 189:

 inde sequemur ipsius amnis iter, donec nos flumine certo perferat inque aliud reddat mare. 

484. Summers, op. Cit. 6. 

485. E. G. Argous Portus, Cales, the portico of the Argonauts at Rome. 

486. I. 7-12. 

487. Summers, p. 7. 

488. I. 806; ii. 4. 

489. Valerius was no slavish imitator of Apollonius. Some of hisincidents are new, such, as the rescue of Hesione (ii. 450 sqq. ). Manyof the incidents in Apollonius are omitted (e. G. Stymphalian birds, A. R. Ii. 1033, and the encounter with the sons of Phrixus, A. R. Ii. 1093). Other incidents receive a fresh turn. In both poets the Argonauts seetraces of the doom of Prometheus. But in A. He is still being devoured, in V. He is being freed by Hercules amid an earthquake. Again V. Oftenexpands or contracts an incident related by A. E. G. Contraction: Thelaunching of _Argo_, V. F. I. 184-91; A. R. I. 362-93. Expansion: Thestory of Lemnos V. Ii. 72-427; A. I. 591-884: here there is not muchdifference in length, but V. Tells us much more. The visit to Cyzicus, V. Iii. 1-361; A. I. 947-1064: note also that in V. The purification ofthe Argonauts, 362-459, takes the place of the irrelevant founding ofthe temple of Rhea on Dindymus, A. I. 1103 sqq. The debate as to whetherto abandon Hercules, who has gone in search of Hylas, V. Iii. 598-714;in A. The Argonauts sail without noticing the absence of Hercules andHylas, and the debate takes place at sea, A. I. 1273-1325. As a rule, however, V. Is longer than A. , partly owing to longer descriptions, partly owing to the greater complication of the plot at Colchis. On theother hand, there is much imitation of A. Cp. V. F. I. 255; A. R. I. 553;V. F. Iii. 565-97; A. I. 1261-72; V. F. Iv. 733; A. Ii. 774; V. F. V. 73-100; A. Ii. 911-929. 

490. In Apollonius the aid of Aphrodite and Eros is requisitioned tomake Medea fall in love with Jason, but there is no further conventionalsupernatural interference. In Valerius, Juno (v. 350, vi. 456-660, vii. 153-90) kindles Medea's passion with Venus's aid. In vii, 190 sqq. , Venus goes in person. 

491. As evidence for Apollonius' superiority cp. V. F. V. 329 sqq. ; A. R. Iii. 616 sq. ; V. F. Vii, 1-25; A. R. Iii. 771 sq. ; V. F v. 82-100; A. R. Ii. 911-21. 

492. V. 418. Cp. Apollon. Iv. 272; Herod, ii. 103; Strab. Xvi. 4. 4;Plin. _N. H. _ xxxiii, 52. 

493. Vi. 118. Cp. Also v. 423:

 Arsinoen illi tepidaeque requirunt otia laeta Phari. 

494. Cp. Vii. 35 sqq. 

495. As, for instance, in the _Alcestis_ of Euripides and Callimachus'Hymn to Artemis. 

496. A. R. I. 1167 [Greek: d_e tot anochliz_on tetr_echotos oidmatosolkous | messothen axen eretmon atar tryphos allo men autos | amph_ochersin ech_on pese dochmios, allo de pontos | klyze palirrothioisipher_on. Ana d' hezeto sig_e | paptain_on cheires gar a_etheon_eremeousai]. 

497. Cp. Also V. F. Iv. 682-5; viii. 453-7. 

498. For obscurity cp. Also iii. 133-7, 336-7; vii. 55. 

499. Valerius is fond of such inversions, especially in the case ofparticles, pronouns, &c. ; cp. V. 187 _iuxta_; ii. 150 _sed_; vi. 452_quippe_; vi. 543 _sed_. 

500. Cp. I. 436-8; ii. 90; iii. 434; vi. 183, 260-4. 

501. See p. 183. 

502. The passage may conceivably be only a rough draft, cp p. 197 note. 

503. Cp. Also i. 130-48, 251-4. 

504. There is little evidence that he had any influence on posterity, though there may be traces of such influence in Hyginus and the OrphicArgonautica. Of contemporaries Statius and Silius seem to have read himand at times to imitate him. See Summers, pp. 8, 9. Blass, however (_J. F. Phil. Und Päd. _ 109, 471 sqq. ), holds that Valerius imitates Statius. 

505. Cp. V. F. I. 833 sqq. ; _Aen. _ vi. 893, 660 sqq. , 638 sqq. ; V. F. I. 323; A. Viii. 560 sqq. ; V. F. Vi. 331; A. Ix. 595 sqq. ; V. F. Iii. 136;A. Xii. 300 sqq. ; V. F. Viii. 358; A. X. 305; V. F. Vi. 374; A. Xi. 803. See Summers, pp. 30-3. His echoes from Vergil are perhaps more obviousin some respects than similar echoes in Statius, owing to the fact thathe had a more Vergilian imagination than Statius, and lacked the extremedexterity of style to disguise his pilferings. But in his generaltreatment of his theme he shows far greater originality; this is perhapsdue to the fact that the Argonaut saga is not capable of being'Aeneidized' to the same extent as the Theban legend. But let Valeriushave his due. He is in the main unoriginal in diction, Statius incomposition. 

506. Cp. Summers, p. 49. See also note, p. 123. 

507. Cp. Beside the passages quoted below iii. 558 sqq. , 724, 5; iv. 16-50, 230, 1; v. 10-12; vii. 371-510, 610, 648-53. 

508. One is tempted at times to account for the profusion and lack ofspontaneity of similes in poets of this age by the supposition that theykept commonplace books of similes and inserted them as they thought fit. 

509. Vi. 260:

 qualem populeae fidentem nexibus umbrae siquis avem summi deducat ab aere rami, ante manu tacita cui plurima crevit harundo; illa dolis viscoque super correpta sequaci inplorat ramos atque inrita concitat alas. 

510. Vii. 124:

 sic adsueta toris et mensae dulcis erili, aegra nova iam peste canis rabieque futura, ante fugam totos lustrat queribunda penates. 

511. Iv. 699:

 discussa quales formidine Averni Alcides Theseusque comes pallentia iungunt oscula vix primas amplexi luminis oras. 

512. This simile is a free translation from Apollonius, iii. 966[Greek: t_o d' aneo kai anaudoi ephestasan all_eloisin, | h_e drusinh_e makr_esin eeidomenoi elat_esin, | ai te parasson ek_eloi enourresin erriz_ontai, | n_enemiae meta d' autis upo mip_es anemoio |kitumenai omad_esan apeiriton _os ara t_oge | mellon alisphthenchasthai upo pnoi_esin Er_otos. ] Valerius has compressed the lastthree lines into _rapidus nondum quas miscuit Auster_. The effective_miscuit_ conveys nearly as much as the longer and not less beautifulversion in the Greek. 

513. This accumulation is probably due to the lack of revision. _obvius . . . Pavor_ fits the context ill and is curiously reminiscentof I. 392 ('iam stabulis gregibusque pavor strepitusque sepulcrisinciderat'), while II. 400-2 would probably have been considerablyaltered had the poem undergone its final correction. There are otherindications of the unfinished character of the work to be found inthis passage (p. 181, note). 

514. Cp. Also viii. 10, where Medea bids farewell to her home. 'O myfather, would thou mightest give me now thy last embrace, as I fly toexile, and mightest behold these my tears. Believe me, father, I lovenot him I follow more than thee: would that the stormy deep mightwhelm us both. And mayest thou long hold thy realm, grown old inpeace and safety, and mayest thou find thy children that remain moredutiful than me. '

515. Ap. Rh. Iii. 1105 sqq. ; cp. Also Murray on Apollonius in his_History of Greek Literature_, p. 382. 

516. _Silv. _ v. 3. 116 sqq. 

517. Ib. 146 sqq. 

518. Ib. 163. 

519. Ib. 141. 

520. Ib. 195-208. This passage suggests that the elder Statius died soonafter 79 A. D. On the other hand, he probably lived some years longer asthe _Thebais_, inspired and directed by him, was not begun till 80 A. D. He must, however, have died before 89 A. D. , the earliest date assignableto Statius' victory at the Alban contest. 

521. _Silv. _ v. 3. 225. 

522. Juv. Vii. 86. Paris had fallen from imperial favour by 83 A. D. Dio. Lxvii. 3. 1. 

523. _Silv. _ v. 3. 215. 

524. Juv. Vii. 82. 

525. _Silv. _ v. 3. 227. The subject of his prize recitation was thetriumph of Domitian over the Germans and Dacians; i. E. After 89 A. D. 

526. Praef. _Silv. _ i. 'pro Thebaide quamvis me reliquerit timeo. ' Thefirst book of the _Silvae_ was published in 92 A. D. For the time takenfor its composition and the poet's anticipations of immortality see_Th. _ xii. 811 sqq. 

527. See previous note. 

528. _Silv. _ iii. 5. 28, v. 3. 232. The Agon Capitolinus was institutedin 86 A. D. The contests falling in Statius' lifetime are those of 86, 90, 94 A. D. As his failure is always mentioned after the Alban victory, 94 A. D. Would seem the most probable date. 

529. Rutilius Gallicus had just died when the first book was published;cp. Praef. , bk. I. This took place in 92 A. D. ; cp. _C. I. L. _ v. 6988, vi. 1984. 8. _Silv. _ iv. 1 celebrates Domitian's seventeenth consulate(95 A. D. ). 

530. See previous note. 

531. Such at least is a legitimate inference from the fact that it isnot mentioned before the fourth and fifth books of the _Silvae_; cp. Iv. 4. 94, iv. 7. 23, v. 2. 163. 

532. Written probably in 95 A. D. Statius promises such a work in_Silv. _ iv. 4. 95. Four lines are quoted from it in G. Valla's scholiaon Juv. Iv. 94:

 lumina: Nestorei mitis prudentia Crispi et Fabius Veiento (potentem signat utrumque purpura, ter memores implerunt nomine fastos), et prope Caesareae confinis Acilius aulae. 

533. Praef. _Silv. _ iv 'Maximum Vibium et dignitatis et eloquentiaenomine a nobis diligi satis eram testatus epistula quam ad illum deeditione Thebaidos meae publicavi. '

534. Witness poems such as the Villa Surrentina Pollii. _Silv. _ii. 2. 3, 1. 

535. _Silv. _ iii. 5. 13. 

536. Praef. _Silv. _ iii. And iii. 5. He was married soon after beginningthe _Thebais_, i. E. About 82 A. D. (cp. _S. _ iii. 5. 35). Claudia had adaughter by her first husband, iii. 5. 52-4. 

537. V. 5. 72-5. 

538. Iii. 5. 13, iv. 4. 69, v. 2. 158. It is worth noting how late inlife all his best work was done, i. E. 80-95 A. D. 

539. The well-known passage of Juvenal, vii. 86 ('cum fregit subselliaversu, esurit, intactam Paridi nisi vendit Agaven'), as has been pointedout, is only Juvenal's exaggerated way of saying that the _Thebais_brought Statius no material gain. The family was not, however, rollingin wealth; cp. V. 3. 116 sqq. 

540. His friendships do not throw much light on his life, though theyshow that he moved in high circles. Rutilius Gallicus (i. 4) had had adistinguished career and rose to be _praefectus urbis_; ClaudiusEtruscus (i. 5), originally a slave from Smyrna, had risen to theimperial post _a rationibus_; Abascantus (v. 1) held the office known as_ab epistulis_; Plotius Grypus (iv. 9) came of senatorial family;Crispinus (v. 2) was the son of Vettius Bolanus, Governor of Britain andafterwards of Asia; Vibius Maximus (iv. 7) became praefect of Egyptunder Trajan; Polla Argentaria (ii. 7) was the widow of Lucan; ArruntiusStella (i. 2) was a poet, and rose to the consulship. Most of thesepersons must have been possessed of strong literary tastes. Some arementioned by Martial, e. G. Stella, Claudius Etruscus, Polla Argentaria. Atedius Melior and Novius Vindex were also friends of the two poets. Both must have moved in the same circles, yet neither ever mentions theother. They were probably jealous of one another and on bad terms. 

541. E. G. Ii. 2. Cp. Also i. 3. 64-89. 

542. Dante regards him also as a Christian. This compliment was paid bythe Middle Ages to not a few of the great classical authors. It was noteven a fatal obstacle to have lived before the birth of Christ. Cicero, for instance, was believed to have been a Christian. The description ofthe Altar of Mercy at Athens (_Th. _ xii. 493) has been regarded as aspecial reason for the Christianizing of Statius: cp. Verrall, _Oxfordand Cambridge Review_, No. 1; Arturo Graf, _Roma nella memoria del medioevo_, vol. Ii, ch. 17. 

543. This statement does not, however, apply to the _Silvae_. 

544. Ov. _Am_. I. 15. 14. 

545. Merivale, _Rom. Emp_. Viii. 80, 1. 

546. Merivale, _Rom. Emp_. Viii. 80, 1. 

547. The sources for his story were the old Cyclic poem, the later epicof Antimachus, the plays of Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, thatdraw their plots from the Theban cycle of legend. The material thusgiven him he worked over in the Vergilian manner, remoulding incidentsor introducing fresh episodes in such a fashion as to provide preciseparallels to many episodes in the _Aeneid_. He also drew certain hintsfrom the _Phoenissae_ and _Oedipus_ of Seneca: for details see Legras, _Étude sur la Thébaide de Stace_, part i, ch. 2, part ii, chh. 1 and 2. The subject had been treated also by one Ponticus, the friend ofPropertius (Prop. I. 7. 1, Ov. _Tr_. Iv. 10. 47) and possibly by Lynceus(Prop. Ii. 34). 

548. Legras, _Les Légendes Théb. _, ch. Iii. 4. The [Greek: Amphiaraouexelasis] mentioned by Suidas s. V. [Greek: Hom_eros] is sometimesidentified with the _Thebais_; but it is more probably merely thetitle of a book of that epic. Still the fact that the [Greek: Amph. Exel. ] is given such prominence by Suidas does lend some support tothe view that he was the chief character of the epic. He is certainlythe most tragic figure. 

549. Porphyr. Ad Hor. _A. P. _ 146. 

550. Vergil had given six books to the wanderings of Aeneas; Statiusmust give six to the preparation and march of the Thebans!

551. See Legras, op. Cit. , pp. 183 ff. 

552. X. 632. 

553. Xi. 457. Cp. Also the strange and stilted description of the caveof sleep, x. 84, where Quies, Oblivio, Ignavia, Otium, Silentium, Voluptas, and even Labor and Amor are to be found. But with theexception of Amor these abstract personages are inventions of Statius. Virtus and Pietas had temples at Rome. 

554. Iv. 32-308; vii. 250-358. 

555. X. 262-448. 

556. Vi. 1-921. Two other funerals are to be found, in. 114-217, xii. 22-104. 

557. _Th. _ i. 557 sqq. ; Verg. _Aen. _ viii. 190 sqq. 

558. V. 17-498: with this compare the version of the story given byValerius Maccus, ii. 78-305; except in point of brevity there is littleto choose between the two versions. But it is not a digression inValerius, and it is told at less inordinate length. The versions differmuch in detail, and Statius owes little or nothing to Valerius. 

559. Op. Legras, _Les légendes Thébaines_, ch. Ii. 4, Welcker, _Ep. Cycl. _ ii. 350. The story was well known. Aeschylus probably treated itin his [Greek: Nemea, ] Euripides certainly in his [Greek: ypsipel_e]. The legend gives the origin of the Nemean games. 

560. The speeches in the _Thebais_, though they lack variety, arealmost always exceedingly clever and quite repay reading; see esp. I. 642; iii. 59, 151, 348; iv. 318; vi. 138; vii. 497, 539; ix. 375; xi. 155, 677, 708. 

561. Iii. 348. 

562. V. 660. 

563. Vii. 538. 

564. Viii. 751. Tydeus bites the severed head of Melanippus to thebrain, thereby losing the gift of immortality that Pallas was hasteningto bring him. The incident is revolting, but Statius has merely followedthe old legend recorded by Aesch. _Sept. _ 587; Soph. _Fr. _ 731; Eurip. _Fr. _ 357. 

565. Cp. In this context Atalanta's beautiful lament on his departurefor the war, iv. 318. 

566. Every book, however, abounds in echoes of Vergil, both in matterand diction; e. G. _Aen. _ vii. 475, Allecto precipitates the war bymaking Ascanius kill a tame stag. _Theb. _ vii. 562, an Erinnys bringsabout the war by causing the death of two pet tigers sacred to Bacchus. _Aen. _ xi. 591, Diana orders one of her nymphs to kill the slayer ofCamilla. _Theb. _ ix. 665, she tells Apollo that the slayer ofParthenopaeus shall perish by her arrows, for which see _Th. _ ix. 875. Cp. Also _Th. _ ii. 205; _Aen. _ iv. 173, 189; _Th. _ ii. 162; _Aen. _ xi. 581. The passage previously referred to concerning the exploits of Dymasand Hopleus is especially noteworthy as openly challenging comparisonwith Vergil; cp. X. 445. For verbal imitations cp. _Aen. _ v. 726, 7;_Th. _ ii. 115; _Aen. _ i. 106; _Th. _ v. 366; _Aen. _ vii. 397; _Th. _ iv. 379, &c. It is no defence to urge that the ancients held different viewson plagiarism, that Vergil and Ovid pilfered from their predecessors. For _they_ made their appropriations their own, and set the stamp oftheir genius upon what they borrowed. And, further, the process ofborrowing cannot continue indefinitely. The cumulative effect ofprogressive plagiarism is distressing. For Statius' imitation of otherLatin poets, notably Lucan, Seneca, and Ovid, see Legras, op. Cit. , i. 2. Such imitations, though not very rare, are of comparatively smallimportance. 

567. Ix. 315 sqq. 

568. Statius is imitating early Greek epic. That might excuse him ifthese similes possessed either truth or beauty. 

569. See p. 123, note. 

570. I. 841-85 gives a good idea of the _Achilleis_ at its best. Thepassage describes the unmasking of the disguised Achilles. 

571. Quint, x. 3. 17. 

572. _Silv. _ i. 1. 6; iii. 4; iv. 1. 2, 3. 

573. Ii. 1. 6; iii. 3. 

574. V. 1. 3, 5. 

575. Iii. 5; iv. 4. 5, 7; v. 2. 

576. I. 4. 

577. Iii. 2. 

578. I. 3. 5; ii. 2; iii. 1. 

579. I. 2. 

580. Ii. 7. 

581. Iv. 6. 

582. Ii. 4. 5. 

583. V. 4. 

584. Cp. Also the extravagant dedication of the _Thebais_. 

585. It is hard to select from the _Silvae_. Beside, those poems fromwhich quotations are given, iii. 5, v. 3 and 5 are best worth reading. But the average level is high. The Sapphic and Alcaic poems (iv. 5 and7) and the hexameter poems in praise of Domitian (i. 1, iii. 4, iv. 1and 2) are the least worth reading. 

586. The poem on the death of his father (v. 3) shows genuine depth offeeling, but its elaborate artificiality is somewhat distressing, considering the theme. (The same is true to a less degree of v. 5. ) V. 3must be, in portions at any rate, the earliest of the _Silvae_, for (l. 29) the poet states that his father has been dead but three months. Butit records (ll. 219-33) events which took place long after that time(i. E. Victory at Alba and failure at Agon Capitolinus). The poem musthave been rewritten in part, ll. 219-33 at least being later additions. The inconsistency between these lines and line 29 is probably due to thepoet having died before revising bk. V for publication. 

587. Viii. 8; ii. 17; v. 6. 

588. With Statius, as with Martial, the hendecasyllable always beginswith a spondee. The Alcaics of iv. 5 and Sapphics of iv. 7 call for nospecial comment. They are closely modelled on Horace. The two poems failbecause they are prosy and uninteresting, not through any fault of themetre, but it may be that Statius felt his powers hampered by anunfamiliar metre. 

589. If _iuvenis_ be taken to refer to Statius, the poem must be anearly work or depict an imaginary situation. The alternative is to takeit as a vocative referring to Sleep. 

590. _C. I. L. _ vi. 1984. 9, in the 'fasti sodalium AugustaliumClaudialium'. In MSS. Pliny and Tacitus, he is Silius Italicus, inMartial simply Silius or Italicus. 

591. Plin. _Ep. _ iii. 7. In the description of his life which follows, Pliny is the authority, where not otherwise stated. 

592. Pliny writes in 101 A. D. To record Silius' death. Silius was overseventy-five when he died. 

593. _Italicus_ might suggest that he came from the Spanish town of_Italica_. But Martial, who addresses him in several epigrams of almostservile flattery, would surely have claimed him as fellow-countryman hadthis been the case. 

594. Pliny, loc. Cit. ; Tac. _Hist. _ iii. 65. 

595. His poem was already planned in 88; cp. Mart. Iv. 14 (published 88A. D. ). Some of it was already written in 92; cp. _legis_, M. Vii. 62(published 92 A. D. ). But the allusion to Domitian, iii. 607, must havebeen inserted after that date, while xiv. 686 points to the close ofNerva's principate. Statius, _Silv. _ iv. 7. 14 (published 95 A. D. ) seemsto imitate Silius:

 Dalmatae montes ubi Dite viso pallidus fossor redit erutoque concolor auro. 

Sil. I. 233 'et redit infelix effosso concolor auro. ' The last fivebooks, compressed and markedly inferior to i-xii, may have been leftunrevised. 

596. In 101 A. D. At the age of seventy-five. 

597. Epict. _diss. _ iii. 8. 7. 

598. Mart. Xi. 48:

 Silius haec magni celebrat monumenta Maronis, iugera facundi qui Ciceronis habet. Heredem dominumque sui tumulive larisve non alium mallet nec Maro nec Cicero. 

That it was the Tusculanum and not the Cumanum of Cicero that Siliuspossessed is an inference from _C. I. L. _ xix. 2653, found at Tusculum:'D. M. Crescenti Silius Italicus Collegium salutarem. '

599. Enn. _Ann. _ vii, viii, ix. 

600. Sec p. 103. 

601. I. 55. 

602. Iv. 727. 

603. Viii. 28. 

604. X. 349. 

605. Ix. 484. 

606. Xvii. 523. 

607. Iv. 675. 

608. Xi. 387. 

609. Ix. 439. 

610. Ii. 395. 

611. Xvi. 288. 

612. Ii. 36. 

613. Iii. 222 and viii. 356. 

614. Xiii. 395. 

615. E. G. The Funeral Games, the choice of Scipio (xv. 20), the Nekuia. 

616. At Nola. 

617. Cp. X. 628 'quod . . . Laomedontiadum non desperaverit urbi'. Thetasteless _Laomedontiadum_ as a learned equivalent for _Romanorum_ ischaracteristic. Silius has the _Aeneid_ in his mind when he chooses thisword: his literary proclivities lead him astray; where he should be moststrong he is most feeble. 

618. _Vide infra_ for his treatment of Paulus' dead body after Cannae. 

619. Trebia, iv. 480-703; Trasimene, v. 1-678; Cannae, ix. L78-x. 578. 

620. Mart, vii. 90. 

621. See p. 123, note. 

622. Bk. Vi. 

623. Xii. 212-67, where the death of Cinyps clad in Paulus' armour isdescribed, are pretty enough, but too frankly an imitation of Vergil tobe worth quoting. The simile 247-50 is, however, new and quitepicturesque. 

624. Sights of Naples, xii. 85; Tides at Pillars of Hercules, iii. 46; Legend of Pan, xiii. 313; Sicily, xiv. 1-50; Fabii, vii. 20;Anna Perenna, viii. 50; Bacchus at Falernum, vii. 102; Trasimenus, v. Ad init. 

625. See note on p. 13. 

626. Plin. _Ep. _ i. 13. 

627. Mart. Vii. 63. 

628. On the modern Cerro de Bambola near the Moorish town of ElCalatayud. 

629. Cp. Ix. 52, x. 24, xii. 60. 

630. Cp. V. 34. 

631. Ix. 73. 7. 

632. In x. 103. 7, written in 98 A. D. , he tells us that it isthirty-four years since he left Spain. 

633. Iv. 40, xii. 36. 

634. He is found rendering poetic homage to Polla, the wife of Lucan, aslate as 96 A. D. , x. 64, vii. 21-3. For his reverence for the memory ofLucan, cp. I. 61. 7; vii. 21, 22; xiv. 194. 

635. Cp. His regrets for the ease of his earlier clienthood and thegenerosity of the Senecas, xii. 36. 

636. Ii. 30; cp. 1. 5:

 is mihi 'dives eris, si causas egeris' inquit. Quod peto da, Gai: non peto consilium. 

637. Vide his epigrams _passim_. 

638. Xiii. 42, xiii. 119. Perhaps the gift of Seneca, cp. Friedländer onMart. I. 105. 

639. Ix. 18, ix. 97. 7, x. 58. 9. 

640. Such is the most plausible interpretation of iii. 95. 5, ix. 97. 5:

 tribuit quod Caesar uterque ius mihi natorum (uterque, i. E. Titus and Domitian). 

641. Iii. 95, v. 13, ix. 49, xii. 26. 

642. Iii. 95. 11, vi. 10. 1. 

643. Xiii. 4 gives Domitian his title of Germanicus, assumed afterwar with Chatti in 84; xiv. 34 alludes to peace; no allusion tosubsequent wars. 

644. I, II. Perhaps published together. This would account for length ofpreface. II. Largely composed of poems referring to reigns of Vespasianand Titus. Reference to Domitian's censorship shows that I was notpublished before 85. There is no hint of outbreak of Dacian War, whichraged in 86. 

III. Since bk. IV contains allusion to outbreak of revolt ofAntonius Saturninus towards end of 88 (11) and is published at Rome, whereas III was published at _Cornelii forum_ (1), III probablyappeared in 87 or 88. 

IV. Contains reference to birthday of Domitian, Oct. 24 (1. 7), andseems then to allude to _ludi saeculares_ (Sept. 88). Reference tosnowfall at Rome (2 and 13) suggests winter. Perhaps therefore publishedin _Saturnalia_ of 88. 

V. Domitian has returned to Italy (1) from Dacian War, but there is noreference to his triumph (Oct. 1, 89 A. D. ). Book therefore probablypublished in early autumn of 89. 

VI. Domitian has held his triumph (4. 2 and 10. 7). Julia (13) is dead(end of 89). Book probably published in 90, perhaps in summer. Friedländer sees allusion to Agon Capitolinus (Summer, 90) in vi. 77. 

VII. 5-8 refer to Domitian's return from Sarmatic War. He has not yetarrived. These epigrams are among last in book. He returned in January93. His return was announced as imminent in Dec. 92. 

VIII. 21 describes Domitian's arrival; 26, 30, and others deal withfestivities in this connexion. 65 speaks of temple of Fortuna Redux andtriumphal arch built in Domitian's honour. They are mentioned as ifcompleted. 66 speaks of consulate of Silius Italicus' son beginningSept. 1, 93. 

IX. 84 is addressed to Appius Norbanus Maximus, who has been six yearsabsent from Rome. He went to Upper Germany to crush Antonius Saturninusin 88. 35 refers to Agon Capitolinus in summer of 94. 

X. Two editions published. We possess later and larger. Cp. X. 2. 70. 1suggests a year's interval between IX and X. X, ed. 1 was thereforeperhaps published in Dec. 95. X, ed. 2 has references to accession ofTrajan, Jan. 25, 98 A. D. (6, 7 and 34). Martial's departure for Spainis imminent. 

XI. 1 is addressed to Parthenius, executed in middle of 97 A. D. Xii. 5refers to a selection made from X and XI, perhaps from presentation toNerva; cp. Xii. 11. 

XII. In preface Martial apologizes for three years' silence (1. 9) frompublication of X. Ed. 2. Xii. 3. 10 refers to Stella's consulship, Oct. 101 or 102. Three years' interval points to 101. It was published latein the year; cp. 1 and 62. Some epigrams in this book were written atRome. But M. Says that it was written _paucissimis diebus_. This mustrefer only to Spanish epigrams, or the book must have been enlargedafter M. 's death. 

For the whole question see Friedländer Introd. , pp. 50 sqq. 

645. Iii. 1 and 4. 

646. Cp. Xi. 3. 

647. Xii. 21, xii. 31. There is no reason to suppose with some criticsthat she was his wife. 

648. Xii. Praef. 'civitatis aures quibus adsueveram quaero. '

649. Ib. 'accedit his municipalium robigo dentium. '

650. See p. 271. It is hard to avoid the conclusion that this silencewas due to dislike or jealousy. 

651. Mackail, _Greek Anthol_. , Introd. , p. 5. 

652. Domitius Marsus was famous for his epigrams, as also Calvus, Gaetulicus, Pedo, and others. 

653. See p. 36. 

654. See p. 134. 

655. The best of his erotic poems is the pretty vi. 34, but it is farfrom original; cp. The last couplet:

 nolo quot (sc. Basia) arguto dedit exorata Catullo Lesbia; pauca cupit qui numerare potest. 

656. Cp. Cat. 5 and 7; Mart. Vi. 34; Cat. 2 and 3; Mart. I. 7 and 109(it is noteworthy that this last poem has itself been exquisitelyimitated by du Bellay in his poem on his little dog Peloton). 

657. Cp. Ov. _Tr. _ ii. 166; Mart. Vi. 3. 4; Ov. _F. _ iii. 192; Mart, vi. 16. 2; Ov. _A. _ i. 1. 20; Mart. Vi. 16. 4; Ov. _Tr. _ i. 5. 1, iv. 13. 1;Mart, i. 15. 1. His imitations of other poets are not nearly so marked. There are a good many trifling echoes of Vergil, but little wholesaleborrowing. A very large proportion of the parallel passages cited byFriedländer are unjust to Martial. No poet could be original judged bysuch a test. 

658. There is little of any importance to be said about Martial's metre. The metres most often employed are elegiac, hendecasyllabic, and thescazon. In the elegiac he is, on the whole, Ovidian, though he isnaturally freer, especially in the matter of endings both of hexameterand pentameter. He makes his points as well, but is less sustainedlypointed. His verse, moreover, has greater variety and less formalsymmetry than that of Ovid. On the other hand his effects are lesssparkling, owing to his more sparing use of rhetoric. In thehendecasyllabic he is smoother and more polished. It invariably openswith a spondee. 

659. Cp. Vii. 72. 12, x. 3. 

660. Cp. Vii. 12. 9, iii. 99. 3. 

661. Catull. Xvi. 5; Ov. _Tr. _ ii. 354; Apul. _Apol. _ 11; Auson. 28, _cento nup. _; Plin. _Ep. _ vii. 8. 

662. We might also quote the beautiful

 extra fortunam est quidquid donatur amicis: quas dederis solas semper habebis opes (v. 42). 

 What thou hast given to friends, and that alone, Defies misfortune, and is still thine own. PROFESSOR GOLDWIN SMITH. 

But the needy poet may have had some _arrière-pensée_. We do not know towhom the poem is addressed. 

663. Cp. The description of the villa of Faustinus, iii. 58. 

664. Their only rival is the famous Sirmio poem of Catullus. 

665. Even Tennyson's remarkable poem addressed to F. D. Maurice fails toreach greater perfection. 

666. E. G. Arruntius Stella and Atedius Melior. Cp. P. 205. 

667. Cp. The poems on the subject of Earinus, Mart. Ix. 11, 12, 13, andesp. 16; Stat. _Silv. _ iii. 4. 

668. Mart. Vi. 28 and 29. 

669. The remaining lines of the poem are tasteless and unworthy of theportion quoted, and raise a doubt as to the poet's sincerity in theparticular case. But this does not affect his general sympathy forchildhood. 

670. 101 provides an instance of Martial's sympathy for his own slaves. Cp. 1. 5:--

 ne tamen ad Stygias famulus descenderet umbras, ureret implicitum cum scelerata lues, cavimus et domini ius omne remisimus aegro; munere dignus erat convaluisse meo. Sensit deficiens mea praemia meque patronum dixit ad infernas liber iturus aquas. 

671. I. 13. 

672. I. 42. 

673. I. 21. He is perhaps at his best on the death of Otho (vi. 32):

 cum dubitaret adhuc belli civilis Enyo forsitan et posset vincere mollis Otho, damnavit multo staturum sanguine Martem et fodit certa pectora tota manu. Sit Cato, dum vivit, sane vel Caesare maior: dum moritur, numquid maior Othone fuit?

 When doubtful was the chance of civil war, And victory for Otho might declare; That no more Roman blood for him might flow, He gave his breast the great decisive blow. Caesar's superior you may Cato call: Was he so great as Otho in his fall? HAY. 

674. It is to be noted that even in the most worthless of his epigramshe never loses his sense of style. If childish epigrams are to be givento the world, they cannot be better written. 

675. Cp. Juv. 5; Mart. Iii. 60, vi. 11, x. 49; Plin. _Ep_. Ii. 6. 

676. V. 18. 6. 

677. This is doubly offensive if addressed to the poor Cinna ofviii. 19. Cp. The similar vii. 53, or the yet more offensive viii. 33 and v. 36. 

678. More excusable are poems such as x. 57, where he attacks one Gaius, an old friend (cp. Ii. 30), for failing to fulfil his promise, or theexceedingly pointed poem (iv. 40) where he reproaches Postumus, an oldfriend, for forgetting him. Cp. Also v. 52. 

679. See p. 252. 

680. Cp. The elaborate and long-winded poem of Statius on astatuette of Hercules (_Silv. _ iv. 6) with Martial on the samesubject, ix. 43 and 44. 

681. Cp. Viii. 3 and 56. 

682. Bridge and Lake, Introd. , _Select Epigrams of Martial_. 

683. The ancient biographies of the poet all descend from the samesource: their variations spring largely from questionable or absurdinterpretations of passages in the satires themselves. The best of them, if not their actual source, is the life found at the end of the codexPithoeanus, the best of the MSS. Of Juvenal. It was in all probabilitywritten by the author of the scholia Pithoeana--to whom Valla, on theauthority of a MS. Now lost, gave the name of Probus--and dates from thefourth or fifth century. 

684. L. 41. Cp. Plin. _Ep. _ ii. 11. 

685. Xiii. 17 'sexaginta annos Fonteio consule natus'. Xv. 27 'nuperconsule Iunco'. 

686. _Vita_ 1 (O. Jahn ed. ): 1 a (Dürr, _Das Leben Juvenals_). A lifecontained in Cod. Barberin. Viii. 18 (fifteenth century), says _IuniusIuvenalis Aquinas Iunio Iuvenale patre, matre vero Septumuleia exAquinati municipio, Claudio Nerone et L. Antistio consulibus_ (55 A. D. )_natus est; sororem habuit Septumuleiam, quae Fuscino nupsit. _ This maybe mere invention on the part of a humanist of the fifteenth century. The life contains many improbabilities and the MS. Is of suspiciouslylate date. But see Dürr, p. 28. 

687. _Vitae_ 2 and 3 'oriundus temporis Neronis Claudii imperatoris'. _Vit. _ 4 'decessit sub Antonino Pio'. 

688. So Cod. Paris. 9345; Vossian. 18 and 64; Bodl. (Canon Lat. 41);Schol. Pith, ad _vit. _ 1. 

689. So all ancient biographies except 1. In _Sat. _ iii, Umbricius, addressing Juvenal, speaks of _tuum Aquinum_: cp. Also the inscriptionfound near Aquinum and quoted later. 

690. This is only conjecture, but the son of a rich citizen of Aquinumwould naturally be sent to Rome for his education. For his rhetoricaleducation cp. I. 15-17. 

691. _Vita_ 1. 

692. Cp. Especially the whole of xvi; also i. 58, ii. 165, iii. 132, vii. 92, xiv. 193-7. 

693. _C. I. L. _ x. 5382. 

694. _C. I. L. _ vii, p. 85; Hübner, _Rhein. Mus. _ xi (1857), p. 30;_Hermes_, xvi (1881), p. 566. 

695. Satt. 3, 11, 12, 13. Trebius in 5 is perhaps an imaginarycharacter. 

696. Vi. 75, 280, vii. 186. 

697. Vii, 82. 

698. Mart. Vii. 24, 91, xii. 18. 

699. Vi. 57. 

700. Xi. 65. 

701. Xi. 190, xii. 87. 

702. _Vita_ 1. 

703. There are, however, allusions to Domitian as dead in ii. 29-33, iv. 153. 

704. Ap. Sid. Ix. 269. 

705. Joh. Mal. _Chron. _ x, p. 341, _Chilm. _

706. _Vita_ 7. Schol. Ad vii. 92. 

707. _Vita_ 6. 

708. _Vitae_ 1, 2, 4, 7. Perhaps an inference from _Sat. _ xv. 45. 

709. See 708. 

710. _Vitae_ 5 and 6. If the inscription (see p. 288) refers to thepoet, this view has further support. 

711. Joh. Mal. , loc. Cit. 

712. Trajan had, however, a favourite in the _pantomimus_ Pylades. Dio. Cass. Ixviii. 10. 

713. The simplest suggestion is that Juvenal was at some time banished, that the reason for his banishment was forgotten and supplied byconjecture. Cp. Friedländer's ed. , p. 44. There is no real evidence toprove that Juvenal was ever in Egypt or Britain. His topography in_Sat. _ xv is faulty, and allusion to the oysters of Richborough (_ostreaRutupina_, iv. 141) would be possible even in a poet who had nevervisited Britain. 

714. I. 1-3, 17, 18 (Dryden's translation). 

715. I. 79. 

716. Ib. 85. 

717. Ib. 147-50. 

718. I. 165-71. 

719. X. 356-66 (Dryden's translation). 

720. There is nothing in this satire to suggest that Juvenal had or hadnot visited Egypt. The legend of his banishment to Egypt may be true, but it is quite as likely that this satire caused the scholiast tolocalize his traditional exile in Egypt. The theme of cannibalism wassometimes dealt with by the rhetoricians. Cp. Quintilian, _Decl. _ 12. 

721. E. G. Claudius Etruscus, who held the imperial secretaryship offinance under Nero and Vespasian, and Abascantus, the secretary _abepistulis_ to Domitian. Stat. _Silv. _ iii. 3, v. 1. 

722. For a fine picture of the exclusive Roman spirit, cp. _Leprocurateur de Judée_, by Anatole France in _L'Étui de nacre_. 

723. Iii. 60-125. 

724. Xiv. 96 sqq. 

725. I. 130 sqq, and the whole of xv. Above all, he hates the EgyptianCrispinus, cp. Iv. 2. 

726. I. 102 sqq. 

727. For the tradition of coarseness see chapter on Martial, p. 263. 

728. It has been pointed out that the epigrams of Martial addressed toJuvenal are disfigured by gross obscenities. It is, however, a littleunfair to make Juvenal responsible for his friend's observations. 

729. The sixth satire abounds throughout its great length with sketchesof the most appalling clearness and power, though they tend to crudenessof colour and are few of them suitable for quotation. 

730. Xiii. 120 sqq. 

731. X. 346 sqq. 

732. Xiii. 180. 

733. Ix. 32, xii. 63. 

734. Vii. 194 sqq. , ix. 33. 

735. Xiii. 192-249. 

736. Xii. 3-6, 89 sqq. 

737. Such obscurity as he presents is due almost entirely to the factthat we have lost the key to his topical allusions. He has a strongaffection for ingenious periphrases (e. G. V. 139, vi. 159, x. 112, xii. 70), but they are as a rule effective and amusing.