A History of Roman Literature by Charles Thomas Cruttwell
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Charles Thomas Cruttwell >> A History of Roman Literature
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CHAPTER II.
THE REIGNS OF CALIGULA, CLAUDIUS, AND NERO (37-68 A.D.).
1. POETS.
We have grouped these three emperors under a single heading because the
shortness of the reigns of the two former prevented the formation of any
special school of literature. It is otherwise with the reign of Nero. To
this belongs a constellation of some of the most brilliant authors that
Rome ever produced. And they are characterised by some very special
traits. Instead of the depression we noticed under Tiberius we now observe
a forced vivacity and sprightliness, even in dealing with the most awful
or serious subjects, which is unlike anything we have hitherto met with in
Roman literature. It is quite different from the natural gaiety of
Catullus; equally so from the witty frivolity of Ovid. It is not in the
least meant to be frivolous; on the contrary it arises from an
overstrained earnestness, and a desire to say everything in the most
pointed and emphatic form in which it can be said. To whatever school the
writers belong, this characteristic is always present. Persius shows it as
much as Seneca; the historians as much as the rhetors. The only one who is
not imbued with it is the professed wit Petronius. Probably he had
exhausted it in conversation; perhaps he disapproved of it as a corrupt
importation of the Senecas.
The emperors themselves were all _literati_. CALIGULA, it is true, did not
publish, but he gave great attention to eloquence, and was even more
vigorous as an extempore speaker than as a writer. His mental derangement
affected his criticism. He thought at one time of burning all the copies
of Homer that could be got at; at another of removing all the statues of
Livy and Virgil, the one as unlearned and uncritical, the other as verbose
and negligent. One is puzzled to know to which respectively these
criticisms refer. We do not venture to assign them, but translate
literally from Suetonius. [1]
CLAUDIUS had a brain as sluggish as Caligula's was over-excitable;
nevertheless he prosecuted literature with care, and published several
works. Among these was a history, beginning with the death of Julius
Caesar, in forty-three volumes, [2] an autobiography in eight, [3] "magis
inepte quam ineleganter scriptum;" a learned defence of Cicero against
Asinius Gallus's invective, besides several Greek writings. His
philological studies and the innovations he tried to introduce have been
referred to in a former chapter. [4]
NERO, while a young man before his accession, tried his powers in nearly
every department of letters. He approached philosophy, but his prudent
mother deterred him from a study which might lead him to views "above his
station as a prince." He next turned to the old orators, but here his
preceptor Seneca intervened, Tacitus insinuates, with the motive of
turning him from the best models to an admiration of his own more
seductive style. Nero declaimed frequently in public, and his poetical
effusions seem to have possessed some real merit. At the first celebration
of the festival called _Neroniana_ he was crowned with the wreath of
victory. His most celebrated poem, the one that drew down on him the irony
of Juvenal, was the _Troica_, in which perhaps occurred the _Troiae
Halosis_ which this madman recited in state over the burning ruins of
Rome, and which is parodied with subtle mockery in Petronius. Other poems
were of a lighter cast and intended to be sung to the accompaniment of the
harp. These were the crowning scandal of his imperial vagaries in the eyes
of patriotic Romans. "With our prince a fiddler," cries Juvenal, "what
further disgrace remains?" King Lewis of Bavaria and some other great
personages of our era would perhaps object to Juvenal's conclusion. With
all these accomplishments, however, Nero either could not or would not
speak. He had not the vigour of mind necessary for eloquence. Hence he
usually employed Seneca to dress up speeches for him, a task which that
polite minister was not sorry to undertake.
The earliest poet who comes before us is the unknown author of the
panegyric on Calpurnius Piso. It is an elegant piece of versification with
no particular merit or demerit. It takes pains to justify Piso for flute-
playing in public, and as Nero's example is not alleged, the inference is
natural that it was written before his time. There is no independence of
style, merely a graceful reflection from that of the Augustan poets.
We must now examine the circumstances which surrounded or produced the
splendid literature of Nero's reign. Such persons as from political
hostility to the government, or from disgust at the flagitious conduct by
which alone success was to be purchased, lived apart in a select circle,
stern and defiant, unsullied by the degradation round them, though
helpless to influence it for good. They consisted for the most part of
virtuous noblemen such as Paetus Thrasea, Barea, Rubellius Plautus, above
all, Helvidius Priscus, on whose uncompromising independence Tacitus loves
to dwell; and of philosophers, moral teachers and literati, who sought
after real excellence, not contemporary applause. The members of this
society lived in intimate companionship, and many ladies contributed their
share to its culture and virtuous aspirations. Such were Arria, the heroic
wife of Paetus, Fannia, the wife of Helvidius, and Fulvia Sisenna, the
mother of Persius. These held _reunions_ for literary or philosophical
discussions which were no mere conversational displays, but a serious
preparation for the terrible issues which at any time they might be called
upon to meet. It had long been the custom for wealthy Romans of liberal
tastes to maintain a philosopher as part of their establishment. Laelius
had shown hospitality both to Panaetius and Polybius; Cicero had offered a
home to Diodotus for more than twenty years, and Catulus and Lucullus had
both recognised the temporal needs of philosophy. Under the Empire the
practice was still continued, and though liable to the abuse of
charlatanism or pedantry, was certainly instrumental in familiarising
patrician families (and especially their lady members) with the great
thoughts and pure morality of the best thinkers of Greece. From scattered
notices in Seneca and Quintilian, we should infer that the philosopher was
employed as a repository of spiritual confidences--almost a father-
confessor--at least as much as an intellectual teacher. When Kanus Julius
was condemned to death, his philosopher went with him to the scaffold and
uttered consoling words about the destiny of the soul; [5] and Seneca's
own correspondence shows that he regarded this relation as the noblest
philosophy could hold. Of such moral directors the most influential was
ANNAEUS CORNUTUS, both from his varied learning and his consistent
rectitude of life. Like all the higher spirits he was a Stoic, but a
genial and wise one. He neither affected austerity nor encouraged rash
attacks on power. His advice to his noble friends generally inclined
towards the side of prudence. Nevertheless he could not so far control his
own language as to avoid the jealousy of Nero. [6] He was banished, it is
not certain in what year, and apparently ended his days in exile. He left
several works, mostly written in Greek; some on philosophy, of which that
on the nature of the gods has come down to us in an abridged form, some on
rhetoric and grammar; besides these he is said to have composed satires,
tragedies, [7] and a commentary on Virgil. But his most important work was
his formation of the character of one of the three Roman satirists whose
works have come down to us.
Few poets have been so differently treated by different critics as A.
PERSIUS FLACCUS, for while some have pronounced him to be an excellent
satirist and true poet, others have declared that his fame is solely owing
to the trouble he gives us to read him. He was born at Volaterrae, 34
A.D., of noble parentage, brought to Rome as a child, and educated with
the greatest care. His first preceptor was the grammarian Virginius
Flavus, an eloquent man endued with strength of character, whose earnest
moral lectures drew down the displeasure of Caligula. He next seems to
have attended a course under Remmius Palaemon; but as soon as he put on
the manly gown he attached himself to Cornutus, whose intimate friend he
became, and of whose ideas he was the faithful exponent. The love of the
pupil for his guide in philosophy is beautiful and touching; the verses in
which it is expressed are the best in Persius: [8]
"Secreti loquimur: tibi nunc hortante Camena
Excutienda damus praecordia: quantaque nostrae
Pars tua sit Cornute animae, tibi, dulcis amice,
Ostendisse iuvat ... Teneros tu suscipis annos
Socratico Cornute sino. Tune fallere sollers
Apposita intortos extendit regula mores,
Et premitur ratione animus vincique laborat,
Artificemque tuo ducit sub pollice vultum."
Moulded by the counsels of this good "doctor," Persius adopted philosophy
with enthusiasm. In an age of licentiousness he preserved a maiden purity.
Though possessing in a pre-eminent degree that gift of beauty which
Juvenal declares to be fatal to innocence, Persius retained until his
death a moral character without a stain. But he had a nobler example even
than Cornutus by his side. He was tenderly loved by the great Thrasea, [9]
whose righteous life and glorious death form perhaps the richest lesson
that the whole imperial history affords. Thrasea was a Cato in justice,
but more than a Cato in goodness, inasmuch as his lot was harder, and his
spirit gentler and more human. Men like these clenched the theories of
philosophy by that rare consistency which puts them into practice; and
Persius, with all his literary faults, is the sole instance among Roman
writers of a philosopher whose life was in accordance with the doctrines
he professed.
Yet on opening his short book of satires, one is strongly tempted to ask,
What made the boy write them? He neither knew nor cared to know anything
of the world, and, we fear, cannot he credited with a philanthropic desire
to reform it. The answer is given partly by himself, that he was full of
petulant spleen, [10]--an honest confession,--partly is to be found in the
custom then becoming general for those who wished to live well to write
essays on serious subjects for private circulation among their friends,
pointing out the dangers that lay around, and encouraging them to
persevere in the right path. Of this kind are several of Seneca's
treatises, and we have notices of many others in the biographers and
historians. And though Persius may have intended to publish his book to
the world, as is rendered probable by the prologue, this is not absolutely
certain. At any rate it did not appear until after his death, when his
friend Caesius Bassus [11] undertook to bring it out; so that we may
fairly regard it as a collection of youthful reflections as to the
advisability of publishing which the poet had not yet made up his mind,
and perhaps had he lived would have suppressed.
Crabbed and loaded with obscure allusions as they are to a degree which
makes most of them extremely unpleasant reading, they obtained a
considerable and immediate reputation. Lucan is reported to have declared
that his own works were bagatelles in comparison. [12] Quintilian says
that he has gained much true glory in his single book; [13] Martial, that
he is oftener quoted than Domitius Marsus in all his long _Amazonis_. [14]
He is affirmed by his biographer to have written seldom and with
difficulty. All his earlier attempts were, by the advice of Cornutus,
destroyed. They consisted of a _Praetexta_, named _Vescia_, of one book of
travels, and a few lines to the elder Arria. Among his predecessors his
chief admiration was reserved for Horace, whom he imitates with
exaggerated fidelity, recalling, but generally distorting, nearly a
hundred well-known lines. The six poems we possess are not all, strictly
speaking, satires. The first, with the prologue, may be so considered. It
is devoted to an attack upon the literary style of the day. Persius sees
that the decay of taste is intimately joined with the decay of morals, and
the subtle connections he draws between the two constitute the chief merit
of the effusion. Like Horace, but with even better reason, he bewails the
antiquarian predilections of the majority of readers. Accius and Pacuvius
still hold their ground, while Virgil and Horace are considered rough and
lacking delicacy! [15] If this last be a true statement, it testifies to
the depraved criticism of a luxurious age which alternates between
meretricious softness and uncouth disproportion, just as in life the idle
and effeminate, who shrink from manly labour, take pleasure in wild
adventure and useless fatigue. In this satire, which is the most condensed
of all, the literary defects of the author are at their height. His moral
taste is not irreproachable; in his desire not to mince matters he offends
needlessly against propriety. [16] The picture he draws of the fashionable
rhetorician with languishing eyes and throat mellowed by a luscious
gargle, warbling his drivelling ditties to an excited audience, is
powerful and lifelike. From assemblies like these he did well to keep
himself. We can imagine the effect upon their used-up emotions of a fresh
and fiery spirit like that of Lucan, whose splendid presence and rich
enthusiasm threw to the winds these tricks of the reciter's art.
The second, third, and fourth poems are declamatory exercises on the
dogmas of stoicism, interspersed with dramatic scenes. The second has for
its subject the proper use of prayer. The majority, says Persius, utter
_buying_ petitions (_prece emaci_), and by no means as a rule innocent
ones. Few dare to acknowledge their prayers (_aperto vivere voto_). After
sixty lines of indignant remonstrance, he closes with a noble apostrophe,
in which some of the thoughts rise almost to a Christian height--"O souls
bent to earth, empty of divine things! What boots it to import these
morals of ours into the temples, and to imagine what is good in God's
sight from the analogies of this sinful flesh?... Why do we not offer Him
something which Messala's blear-eyed progeny with all his wealth cannot
offer, a spirit at one with justice and right, holy in its inmost depths,
and a heart steeped in nobleness and virtue? Let me but bring these to the
altar, and a sacrifice of meal will be accepted!" In the third and fourth
Satires he complains of the universal ignorance of our true interests, the
ridicule which the world heaps on philosophy, and the hap-hazard way in
which men prepare for hazardous duties. The contemptuous disgust of the
brawny centurion at the (to him) unmeaning problems which philosophy
starts, is vigorously delineated; [17] but some of his _tableaux_ border
on the ridiculous from their stilted concision and over-drawn sharpness of
outline. The undeniable virtue of the poet irritates as much as it
attracts, from its pert precocity and obtrusiveness. What he means for
pathos mostly chills instead of warming: "Ut nemo in se curat descendere,
nemo!" [18] The poet who penned this line must surely have been tiresome
company. Persius is at his best when he forgets for a moment the icy peak
to which as a philosopher he has climbed, and suns himself in the valley
of natural human affections--a reason why the fifth and sixth Satires,
which are more personal than the rest, have always been considered greatly
superior to them. The last in particular runs for more than half its
length in a smooth and tolerably graceful stream of verse, which shows
that Persius had much of the poetic gift, had his warped taste allowed him
to give it play.
We conclude with one or two instances of his language to justify our
strictures upon it. Horace had used the expression _naso suspendis
adunco_, a legitimate and intelligible metaphor; Persius imitates it,
_excusso populum suspendere naso_, [19] thereby rendering it frigid and
weak. Horace had said _clament periisse pudorem Cuncti paene patres_; [20]
Persius caricatures him, _exclamet_ Melicerta _perisse_ Frontem _de
rebus_. [21] Horace had said _si vis me flere, dolendum est Primum ipsi
tibi_; [22] Persius distorts this into _plorabit qui me volet_ incurvasse
_querela_. [23] Other expressions more remotely modelled on him are
_iratum Eupoliden praegrandi cum sene palles_, [24] and perhaps the very
harsh use of the accusative, _linguae quantum sitiat canis_, [25] "as long
a tongue as a thirsty dog hangs out."
Common sense is not to be looked for in the precepts of so immature a
mind. Accordingly, we find the foolish maxim that a man not endowed with
reason (_i.e._ stoicism) cannot do anything aright: [26] that every one
should live up to his yearly income regardless of the risk arising from a
bad season; [27] extravagant paradoxes reminding us of some of the less
educated religious sects of the present day; with this difference, that in
Rome it was the most educated who indulged in them. A good deal of the
obscurity of these Satires was forced upon the poet by the necessity of
avoiding everything that could be twisted into treason. We read in
Suetonius that Nero is attacked in them; but so well is the battery masked
that it is impossible to find it. Some have detected it in the prologue,
others in the opening lines of the first Satire, others, relying on a
story that Cornutus made him alter the line--
"Auriculas asini Mida rex habet,"
to _quis non habet_? have supposed that the satire lies there. But satire
so veiled is worthless. The poems of Persius are valuable chiefly as
showing a good _naturel_ amid corrupt surroundings, and forming a striking
comment on the change which had come over Latin letters.
Another Stoic philosopher, probably known to Persius, was C. MUSONIUS
RUFUS, like him an Etruscan by birth, and a successful teacher of the
young. Like almost all independent thinkers he was exiled, but recalled by
Titus in his old age. The influence of such men must have extended far
beyond their personal acquaintance; but they kept aloof from the court.
This probably explains the conspicuous absence of any allusion to Seneca
in Persius's writings. It is probable that his stern friends, Thrasea and
Soranus disapproved of a courtier like Seneca professing stoicism, and
would show him no countenance. He was not yet great enough to compel their
notice, and at this time confined his influence to the circle of Nero,
whose tutor he was, and to those young men, doubtless numerous enough,
whom his position and seductive eloquence attracted by a double charm. Of
these by far the most illustrious was his nephew Lucan.
M. ANNAEUS LUCANUS, the son of Annaeus Mela and Acilia, a Spanish lady of
high birth, was born at Corduba, 39 A.D. His grandfather, therefore, was
Seneca the elder, whose rhetorical bent he inherited. Legend tells of him,
as of Hesiod, that in his infancy a swarm of bees settled upon the cradle
in which he lay, giving an omen of his future poetic glory. Brought to
Rome, and placed under the greatest masters, he soon surpassed all his
young competitors in powers of declamation. He is said, while a boy, to
have attracted large audiences, who listened with admiration to the
ingenious eloquence that expressed itself with equal ease in Greek or
Latin. His uncle soon introduced him to Nero; and he at once recognised in
him a congenial spirit. They became friendly rivals. Lucan had the address
to conceal his superior talent behind artful flattery, which Nero for a
time believed sincere. But men, and especially young men of genius, cannot
be always prudent. And if Lucan had not vaunted his success, Rome at least
was sure to be less reticent. Nero saw that public opinion preferred the
young Spaniard to himself. The mutual ill-feeling that had already long
smouldered was kindled into flame by the result of a poetical contest, at
which Lucan was declared victorious. [28] Nero, who was present, could not
conceal his mortification. He left the hall in a rage, and forbade the
poet to recite in public, or even to plead in his profession. Thus
debarred from the successes which had so long flattered his self-love,
Lucan gave his mind to worthier subjects. He composed, or at least
finished, the _Pharsalia_ in the following year (65 B.C.); but with the
haste and want of secrecy which characterised him, not only libelled the
emperor, but joined the conspiracy against him, of which Piso was the
head. This gave Nero the opportunity he desired. In vain the unhappy young
man abased himself to humble flattery, to piteous entreaty, even to the
incrimination of his own mother, a base proceeding which he hoped might
gain him the indulgence of a matricide prince. All was useless. Nero was
determined that he should die, and he accordingly had his veins opened,
and expired amid applauding friends, while reciting those verses of his
epic which described the death of a brave centurion. [29]
The genius and sentiments of Lucan were formed under two different
influences. Among the adherents of Caesarism, none were so devoted as
those provincials or freedmen who owed to it their wealth and position.
Lucan, as Seneca's nephew, naturally attached himself from the first to
the court party. He knew of the Republic only as a name, and, like Ovid,
had no reason to be dissatisfied with his own time. Fame, wealth, honours,
all were open to him. We can imagine the feverish delight with which a
youth of three and twenty found himself recognised as prince of Roman
poets. But Lucan had a spirit of truthfulness in him that pined after
better things. At the lectures of Cornutus, in the company of Persius, he
caught a glimpse of this higher life. And so behind the showy splendours
of his rhetoric there lurks a sadness which tells of a mind not altogether
content, a brooding over man's life and its apparent uselessness, which
makes us believe that had he lived till middle life he would have struck a
lofty vein of noble and earnest song. At other times, at the banquet or in
the courts, he must have met young men who lived in an altogether
different world from his, a world not of intoxicating pleasures but of
gloomy indignation and sullen regret; to whom the Empire, grounded on
usurpation and maintained by injustice, was the quintessence of all that
was odious; to whom Nero was an upstart tyrant, and Brutus and Cassius the
watchwords of justice and right. Sentiments like these could not but be
remembered by one so impressionable. As soon as the sunshine of favour was
withdrawn, Lucan's ardent mind turned with enthusiasm towards them. The
_Pharsalia_, and especially the closing books of it, show us Lucan as the
poet of liberty, the mourner for the lost Republic. The expression of
feeling may be exaggerated, and little consistent with the flattery with
which the poem opens; yet even this flattery, when carefully read, seems
fuller of satire than of praise: [30]
"Quod si non aliam venturo fata Neroni
Invenere viam, magnoque aeterna parantur
Regna deis, caelumque suo servire Tonanti
Non nisi saevorum potuit post bella Gigantum;
Iam nihil O superi querimur! Scelera ipsa nefasque
Hac mercede placent!"
The _Pharsalia_, then, is the outcome of a prosperous rhetorical career on
the one hand, and of a bitter disappointment which finds its solace in
patriotic feeling on the other. It is difficult to see how such a poem
could have failed to ruin him, even if he had not been doomed before. The
loss of freedom is bewailed in words, which, if declamatory, are fatally
courageous, and reflect perilous honour on him that used them: [31]
"Fugiens civile nefas redituraque nunquam
Libertas ultra Tigrim Rhenumque [32] recessit,
Ac toties nobis iugulo quaesita, vagatur,
Germanum Scythicumque bonum, nec respicit ultra
Ausoniam."
It is true that his love for freedom, like that of Virgil, was based on an
idea, not a reality. But it none the less required a great soul to utter
these stirring sentiments before the very face of Nero, the "vultus
instantis tyranni" of which Horace had dreamed.
On the fitness or unfitness of his theme for epic treatment no more need
be added here than was said in the chapter on Virgil. It is, however,
difficult to see what subject was open to the epicist after Virgil except
to narrate the actual account of what Virgil had painted in ideal colours.
The calm march of government under divine guidance from Aeneas to Augustus
was one side of the picture. The fierce struggles and remorseless ambition
of the Civil Wars is the other. Which is the more true? It would be fairer
to ask, which is the more poetical? It was Lucan's misfortune that the
ideal side was already occupied; he had no power to choose. Few who have
read the _Pharsalia_ would wish it unwritten. Some critics have denied
that it is poetry at all. [33] Poetry of the first order it certainly is
not, but those who will forgive artistic defects for energy of thought and
strength of feeling must always retain a strong admiration for its noble
imperfections.
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