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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The hero is one Encolpius, who begins by bewailing to a rhetor named
Agamemnon the decline of native eloquence, which his friend admits, and
ascribes to the general laxity of education. While the question is under
discussion Encolpius is interrupted and carried off through a variety of
adventures, of which suffice it to say that they are best left in
obscurity, being neither humorous nor moral. Another day, he is invited to
dine with the rich freedman Trimalchio, under whom, doubtless, some court
favourite of Nero is shadowed forth. The banquet and conversation are
described with great vividness. After some preliminary compliments, the
host, eager to display his learning, turns the discourse upon philology;
but he is suddenly called away, and topics of more general interest are
introduced, the guests giving their opinions on each in a sufficiently
interesting way. The remarks of one Ganymedes on the sufferings of the
lower classes, the insufficiency of food, and the lack of healthy
industries, are pathetic and true. Meanwhile, Trimalchio returns, orders a
boar to be killed and cooked, and while this is in preparation entertains
his friends with discussions on rhetoric, medicine, history, art, &c. The
scene becomes animated as the wine flows; various ludicrous incidents
ensue, which are greeted with extemporaneous epigrams in verse, some
rather amusing, others flat and diffuse. The conversation thus turns to
the subject of poetry. Cicero and Syrus are compared with some ability of
illustration. Jests are freely bandied; ghost stories are proposed, and
two marvellous fables related, one on the power of owls to predict events,
the other on a soldier who was changed into a wolf. The supernatural is
then about to be discussed, when a gentleman named Habinnas and his portly
wife Scintilla come in. This lady exhibits her jewels with much
complacency, and Trimalchio's wife Fortunata, roused to competition, does
the same. Trimalchio has now arrived at that stage of the evening's
entertainment when mournful views of life begin to present themselves. He
calls for the necessary documents, and forthwith proceeds to make his
will. His kind provision for his relatives and dependants, combined with
his after-dinner pathos, bring out the softer side of the company's
feelings; every one weeps, and for a time festivities are suspended. The
terrible insecurity of life under Nero is here pointedly hinted at.
The will read, Trimalchio takes a bath, and soon returns in excellent
spirits, ready to dine again. At this his good lady takes umbrage, and
something very like a quarrel ensues, on which Trimalchio bids the
musicians strike up a dead march. The tumult with which this is greeted is
too much for many of the guests. Encolpius, the narrator, leaves the room,
and the party breaks up.
Encolpius on leaving Trimalchio's meets a poet, Eumolpus, who complains
bitterly of poverty and neglect. A debate ensues on the causes of the
decline in painting and the arts; it is attributed to the love of money. A
picture representing the sack of Troy gives occasion for a mock-tragic
poem of some length, doubtless aimed at Nero's effusions. The poet is
pelted as a bore, and has to decamp in haste. But he is incorrigible. He
returns, and this time brings a still longer and more pretentious poem.
Some applaud; others disapprove. Encolpius, seized with a fit of
melancholy, thinks of hanging himself, but is persuaded to live by the
artless caresses of a fair boy whom he has loved. Several adventures of a
similar kind follow, and the book, which towards the end becomes very
fragmentary, ends without any regular conclusion. Enough has been given to
show its general character. It is something between a Menippean satire and
a _Milesian fable_, such as had been translated from the Greek long before
by Sisenna, and were to be so successfully imitated in a later age by
Apuleius. The narrative goes on from incident to incident without any
particular connexion, and allows all kinds of digressions. Poetical
insertions are very frequent, some original, others quoted, many of
considerable elegance. From its central and by many degrees most
entertaining incident the whole satire has been called _The Supper of
Trimalchio_. We have a few short passages remaining from the lost books,
and some allusions in these we possess enable us to reconstruct to some
extent their argument. It does not seem to have contained anything
specially attractive. If only the book were less offensive, its varied
literary scope and polished conversational style would make it truly
interesting. As it is, the student of ancient manners finds it a mine of
important and out-of-the-way information.
APPENDIX.
NOTE I.--_The Testamentum Porcelli._
Connected with the Milesian fables were the Testamentum Porcelli, short
_jeux d'esprit_, generally in the form of comic anecdotes, as a rule
licentious, but sometimes harmless, and intended for children. A specimen
of the unobjectionable sort is here given. St Jerome, who quotes it, says
(contra Rufinum, i. 17, p. 473) "_Quasi non cirratorum turba Milesiarum in
scholis figmenta decantet et testamentum suis Bessorum cachinno membra
concutiat, atque inter scurrarum epulas nugae istiusmodi frequententur._"
"_Testamentum Porcelli._
"Incipit testamentum porcelli.
"M. Grunnius Corocotta porcellus testamentum fecit; quoniam manu mea
scribere non potui, scribendum dictavi. Magirus cocus dixit 'veni huc,
eversor domi, solivertiator, fugitive porcelle, et hodie tibi dirimo
vitam.' Corocotta porcellus dixit 'si qua feci, si qua peccavi, si qua
vascella pedibus meis confregi, rogo, domine coce, vitam peto, concede
roganti.' Magirus cocus dixit 'transi, puer affer mihi de cocina cultrum,
ut hunc porcellum faciam cruentum.' Porcellus comprehenditur a famulis,
ductas sub die xvi. kal. luceminas, ubi abundant cymae, Clibanato et
Piperato consulibus, et ut vidit se moriturum esse, horae spatium petiit
et cocum rogavit ut testamentum facere posset, clamavit ad se suos
parentes, ut de cibariis suis aliquid dimitteret eis. Quid ait:
"'Patri meo Verrino Lardino do lego dari glandis modios xxx. et matri meae
Veturinae Scrofae do lego dari Laeonicae siliginis modios xl. et sorori
meae Quirinae, in euius votum interesse non potui, do lego dari hordei
modios xxx. et de meis visceribus dabo donabo sutoribus saetas, rixoribus
capitinas, surdis auriculas, causidicis et verbosis linguam, bubulariis
intestina, isiciariis femora, mulieribus lumbulos, pueris vesicam, puellis
caudam, cinaedis musculos, cursoribus et venatoribus talos, latronibus
ungulas, et nec nominando coco legato dimitto popiam et pistillum, quae
mecum attuleram: de Tebeste usque ad Tergeste liget sibi collo de reste,
et volo mihi fieri monumentum aureis litteris scriptum:' M. Grunnius
Corocotta porcellus vixit annis DCCCC.XC.VIIII.S. quod si semissem
vixisset, mille annos implesset, 'optimi amatores mei vel consules vitae,
rogo vos ut cam corpore meo bene faciatis, bene condiatis de bonis
condimentis nuclei, piperis et mellis, ut nomen meum in sempiternum
nominetur, mei domini vel consobrini mei, qui in medio testamento
interfuistis, iubete signari.'
"Lardio signavit, Ofellicus signavit, Cyminatus signavit, Tergillus
signavit, Celsinus signavit, Nuptialisus signavit.
"Explicit testamentum porcelli sub die xvi. kal. lucerninas Clibanato et
Piperato consulibus feliciter."
Such ridiculous compositions were extremely popular in court circles
during the corrupter periods of the Empire. Suetonius (Tib. 42) tells us
that Tiberius gave one Asellius Sabinus L1400 for a dialogue in which the
mushroom, the beccaficoe, the oyster, and the thrush advanced their
respective claims to be considered the prince of delicacies. To this age
also belong the collection of epigrams on Priapus called _Priapea_, and
including many poems attributed to Virgil, Tibullus, and Ovid. They are
mostly of an obscene character, but some few, especially those by Tibullus
and Catullus which close the series, are simple and pretty. It is almost
inconceivable to us how so disgusting a cultus could have been joined with
innocence of life; but as Priapus long maintained his place as a rustic
deity we must suppose that the hideous literalism of his surroundings must
have been got over by ingenious allegorising, or forgotten by rustic
veneration.
NOTE 2.--_On the MS. of Petronius._
From Thomson's Essay on the Post-Augustan Latin Poets, from the
_Encyclopaedia Metropolitana_ (_Roman Literature_).
Fragments of Petronius had been printed by Bernardinus de Vitalibus at
Venice in 1499, and by Jacobus Thanner at Leipsig in 1508; but in the year
1632, Petrus Petitus, or as he styled himself, Marinus Statilius, a
literary Dalmatian, discovered at Traw a MS. containing a much more
considerable fragment, which was afterwards published at Padua and
Amsterdam, and ultimately purchased at Rome for the library of the King of
France in the year 1703. The eminent Mr. J. B. Gail, one of the curators
of this library, politely allowed M. Guerard, a young gentleman of
considerable learning employed in the MS. department, to afford us the
following circumstantial information respecting this valuable codex,
classed in the library as 7989:--"It is a small folio two fingers thick,
written on very substantial paper, and in a very legible hand. The titles
are in vermillion; the beginnings of the chapters, &c. are also in
vermillion or blue. It contains the poems of Tibullus, Propertius and
Catullus, as we have them in the ordinary printed editions; then appears
the date of the 20th Nov. 1423. After these comes the letter of Sappho,
and then the work of Petronius. The extracts are entitled 'Petronii
Arbitri satyri fragmenta et libro quinto decimo et sexto decimo,' and
begin thus: 'cum (not 'num,' as in the printed copies) in alio genere
furiarum declamatores inquietantur,' &c. After these fragments, which
occupy twenty-one pages of the MS. we have a piece without title or
mention of its author, which is _The Supper of Trimalcio_. It begins thus:
'Venerat iam tertius dies,' and ends with the words. 'tam plane quam ex
incendio fugimus.' This piece is complete by itself, and does not recur in
the other extracts. Then follows the _Moretum_, attributed to Virgil, and
afterwards the _Phoenix_ of Claudian. The latter piece is in the character
of the seventeenth century, while the rest of the MS. is in that of the
fifteenth." The publication of this fragment excited a great sensation
among the learned, to great numbers of whom the original was submitted,
and by far the majority of the judges decided in favour of its antiquity.
Strong as was this external evidence, the internal is yet more valuable;
since it is scarcely possible to conceive a forgery of this length, which
would not in some point or other betray itself. The difficulty of forging
a work like the _Satyricon_ will better appear, when it is considered that
such attempts have been actually made. A Frenchman, named Nodot, pretended
that the entire work of Petronius had been found at Belgrade in the siege
of that town in 1688. The forged MS. was published; but the contempt it
excited was no less universal than the consideration which was shown to
the MS. of Statilius. Another Frenchman, Lallemand, printed a pretended
fragment, with notes and a translation, in 1800, but no one was deceived
by it.
CHAPTER V.
THE REIGNS OP THE FLAVIAN EMPERORS (A.D. 69-96).
1. PROSE WRITERS.
With the extinction of the Claudian dynasty we enter on a new literary
epoch. The reigns of Vespasian, Titus, and Domitian produced a series of
writers who all show the same characteristics, though necessarily modified
by the tyranny of Domitian's reign as contrasted with the clemency of
those of his two predecessors. Under Vespasian and Titus authors might say
what they chose; both these princes disdained to curb freedom of speech or
to punish it even when it clamoured for martyrdom. Yet such was the
reaction from the excitement of the last epoch, that no writer of genius
appeared, and only one of the first eminence in learning. There now comes
into Roman literature an unmistakable evidence of reduced talent as well
as of decayed taste. Hitherto power at least has not been wanting; but for
the future all is on a weaker scale. Only the two great names of Juvenal
and Tacitus redeem the ninth century of Rome from total want of creative
genius. All other writers move in established grooves, and, as a rule,
imitate or feebly rival some of the giants of the past. Learning was still
cultivated with assiduity if not with enthusiasm; but the grand hopeful
spirit, sure of discovering truth, which animates the erudition of a
better age, has now given place to a querulous depreciation even of the
labour to which the authors have devoted their lives. This is conspicuous
from the first in the otherwise noble pages of the elder PLINY, and is the
secret of that want of critical insight which, in a mind so capaciously
stored, strikes us at first as inexplicable.
This laborious and interesting writer was born at Como [1] in the year 23
A.D. He came, it is not known exactly when, to Rome and studied under the
rhetorical grammarian Apion, whom Tiberius in mockery of his sounding
periods had called "the drum" (_tympanum_). Till his forty-sixth year
Pliny's genius remained unknown. An allusion in his work to Lollia Paulina
has given rise to the opinion that he was admitted to the court of
Caligula, but the grounds for this conclusion are manifestly insufficient.
His nephew states that he composed his treatise _On Doubtful Words_ [2] to
escape the jealousy of Nero, who suspected him of less unambitious
pursuits. But the evidence of the younger Pliny serves better to establish
facts than motives; he is always anxious to swell the importance of his
friends; and it is far more likely from Pliny's own silence that he
remained in comparative obscurity until Nero's death. At the age of
twenty-two he served his first campaign in Africa, and soon after in
Germany under Lucius Pomponius, who gave him a cavalry troop, and seems to
have befriended him in various other ways. His promotion was perhaps due
to the treatise _On Javelin-throwing_ [3] which be wrote about this time.
He showed his gratitude towards Pomponius at a later date by writing his
life.
Pliny had always felt a strong interest in science, and determined as soon
as opportunity offered to make its advancement the object of his life.
With this end in view he made careful observations of all the countries he
visited, and used his military position to secure information that
otherwise might have been hard to obtain. He inspected the source of the
Danube and travelled among the Chauci on the shores of the German Ocean.
He visited the mouths of the Eber and Weser, the North Sea and the
Cimbrian Chersonese, and spent some time among the Roman provinces west of
the Rhine. While in Germany he had a vision in which he saw or thought he
saw the shade of Drusus, which appeared to him by night and bade him tell
the history of all the German wars. Accordingly, he collected materials
with industry, and worked them up into a large volume, which is now
unfortunately lost. At twenty-nine he left the army and returned to Rome,
where he studied for the bar. But his talents were not suitable for
forensic display, and he found a more lucrative field in teaching grammar
and rhetoric. At what time he was sent out as procurator to Spain is
uncertain, but when he returned he found Vespasian on the throne. Pliny,
who had known him in Germany, and had been on intimate terms with his son
Titus, was now received with the greatest favour. Every morning before
day-break, when the busy Emperor rose to finish his correspondence before
the work of the day began, he called Pliny to his side, and the two
friends chatted awhile together in the plain, homely fashion that
Vespasian much preferred to the measured style of court etiquette. Nor was
his favour confined to familiar intercourse. He made him admiral of the
fleet stationed at Misenum and charged with guarding the Mediterranean
ports. It was while here that news was brought him of the eruption of
Vesuvius. He sailed to Resina determined to investigate the phenomenon,
and, as his nephew in a well-known letter tells us, paid the price of his
scientific curiosity with his life. The letter is so charming, and affords
so good an example of Pliny the younger's style, that we may be excused
for inserting: it here. [4]
"He was at Misenum in command of the fleet. On the 24th August (79
A.D.), about 1 P.M., my mother pointed out to him a cloud of unusual
size and shape. He had then sunned himself, had his cold bath, tasted
some food, and was lying down reading. He at once asked for his shoes,
and mounted a height from which the best view might be obtained. The
cloud was rising from a mountain afterwards ascertained to have been
Vesuvius; its form was more like a pine-tree than anything else. It
was raised into the air by what seemed its trunk, and then branched
out in different directions; the reason probably was that the blast,
at first irresistible, but afterwards losing strength or unable to
counteract gravity, spent itself by spreading out on either side. The
cloud was either bright, or dark and spotty, according as earth or
ashes were thrown up. As a man of science he determined to inspect the
phenomenon more closely. He ordered a light vessel to be prepared, and
offered to take me with him. I replied that I would rather study; as
it happened, he himself had set me something to write. He was just
starting, when a letter was brought from Rectina imploring aid for
Naseus who was in imminent danger; his villa lay below, and no escape
was possible except by sea. He now changed his plan, and what he had
begun, from scientific enthusiasm he carried out with self-sacrificing
courage. He launched some quadriremes, and embarked with the intention
of succouring not only Rectina but others who lived on that populous
and picturesque coast. Thus he hurried to the spot from which all
others were flying, and steered straight for the danger, so absolutely
devoid of fear that he dictated an account with full comments of all
the movements and changing shapes of the phenomenon, each as it
presented itself. Ashes were now falling on the decks, and became
hotter and denser as the vessel approached. Scorched and blackened
pumice-stones and bits of rock split by fire were mingled with them.
The sea suddenly became shallow, and fragments from the mountain
filled the coast seeming to bar all further progress. He hesitated
whether to return; but on the master strongly advising it, he cried,
'Fortune favours the brave: make for Pomponianus's house.' This was at
Stabiae, and was cut off from the coast near Vesuvius by an inlet,
which had been gradually scooped out by encroachments of the sea. The
owner was in sight, intending, should the danger (which was visible,
but not immediate) approach so near as to be urgent, to escape by
ship. For this purpose he had embarked all his effects and was waiting
for a change of wind. My uncle, whom the breeze favoured, soon reached
him, and, embracing him with much affection, tried to console his
fears. To show his own unconcern he caused himself to be carried to a
bath; and having washed, sat down to dinner with cheerfulness or (what
is equally creditable to him) with the appearance of it. Meanwhile
from many parts of the mountain broad flames burst forth; the blaze
shone back from the sky, and a dark night enhanced the lurid glare. To
soothe his friend's terror he declared that what they saw was only the
deserted villages which the inhabitants in their flight had set on
fire. Then he retired to rest, and there can be no doubt that he
slept, since the sound of his breathing (which a broad chest made deep
and resonant), was clearly heard by those watching at the door. Soon
the court which led to the chamber was so choked with cinders and
stones that longer delay would have made escape impossible. He was
aroused from sleep, and went to Pomponianus and the rest who had sat
up all night. They debated whether to stay indoors or to wander about
in the open. For on the one hand constant shocks of earthquake made
the houses rock to and fro, and loosened their foundations; while on
the other, the open air was rendered dangerous by the fall of pumice-
stones, though these were light and very porous. On the whole they
preferred the open air, but what to the rest had been a weighing of
fears had to him been a balancing of reasons. They tied cushions over
their heads to guard them from the falling stones. Though it was now
day elsewhere it was here darker than the darkest night, though the
gloom was broken by torches and other lights. They next walked to the
sea to try whether it would admit of vessels being launched, but it
was still a waste of raging waters. He then spread a linen cloth, and,
reclining on it, asked several times for water, which he drank; soon,
however, the flames and that sulphurous vapour which preceded them put
his companions to flight and compelled him to arise. He rose by the
help of two slaves, but immediately fell down dead. His death no doubt
arose from suffocation by the dense vapour, as well as from an
obstruction of his stomach, apart which had been always weak and
liable to inflammation and other discomforts. When daylight returned,
_i.e._ after three days, his body was found entire, just as it
was, covered with the clothes in which he had died; his appearance was
that of sleep rather than of death."
This interesting letter, which was sent to Tacitus for insertion in his
history, gives a fine description of the eruption. Another, still more
graphic, is given in a later letter of the same book. [5] A third [6]
informs us of the extraordinary studiousness and economy of time practised
by the philosopher, which enabled him in a life by no means long to
combine a very active business career with an amount of reading and
writing only second to that of Varro. Pliny's admiration for his uncle's
unwearied diligence makes him delight to dwell on these particulars:
"After the Vulcanalia (the 23d of August) he always began work at dead
of night, in winter at 1 A.M., never later than 2 A.M., often at
midnight. He was most sparing of sleep; at times it would catch him
unawares while studying. After his interview with Vespasian was over,
he went to business, then to study for the rest of the day. After a
light meal, which like our ancestors he ate by day, he would in
summer, if he had any leisure, lie in the sun, while some one read to
him and he made notes or extracts. He never read without making
extracts; no book, he said, was so bad but that something might be
gained from it. After sunning himself he would take a cold bath, then
a little food, then a short nap. Then, as if it were a new day, he
studied till supper. During this meal a book was read, he all the
while making notes. I remember once, when the reader mispronounced a
word, that one of our friends compelled him to repeat it. My uncle
asked him if he had not understood the word. On his replying, yes, my
uncle said sharply, 'Then why did you interrupt him? we have lost more
than ten lines;' so frugal was he of his time. He rose from supper
before dark in summer, before 7 P.M. in winter; and this habit was law
to him. Such was his life in town; but in the country his one and only
interruption from study was the bath. I mean the actual _bathing_; for
while he was being rubbed he always either dictated, or listened to
reading. On a journey, having nothing else to do, he gave himself
wholly to study; at his side was an amanuensis, who in winter wore
gloves, that his master's work might not be interrupted by the cold.
Even in Rome he always travelled in a sedan. I remember his chiding me
for taking a walk, saying, "you might have saved those hours"--for
every moment not given to study he thought lost time. By this
application he contrived to compose that vast array of volumes which
we possess, besides bequeathing to me 160 rolls of selected notes,
each roll written on both sides and in the smallest possible hand,
which practically doubles their number. To call myself studious with
his example before me is absurd; compared with him, I am an idle
vagabond."
In the earlier part of this letter, Pliny gives a list of his uncle's
works. Besides those mentioned in the text, we find a treatise on
eloquence called _Studiosus_, and a continuation of the history of
Aufidius Bassus in thirty books, dedicated to the emperor Titus. The
_Natural History_, in thirty-seven books, is the sole monument of Pliny's
industry that has descended to us. The fortunes of this portentous work
have greatly varied; while in the Middle Ages it was reverenced as a kind
of encyclopaedia of all secular knowledge, in our own day, except to
antiquarians, it is an unknown book. Many who know Virgil almost by heart
have never read through its tiresome and conceited preface. Yet there is
an immensity of interesting matter discussed in the work. Independently of
its vast learning, for it contains, according to its author's statement,
twenty thousand facts, and excerpts or redactions from two thousand books
or treatises, its range of subjects is such as to include something
attractive to every taste. Strictly speaking, many topics enter which do
not belong to natural history at all, _e.g._, the account of the use made
of natural substances in the applied sciences and the useful or fine arts;
but as these are decidedly the best-written parts of the work, and full of
chatty, pleasant anecdotes, we should be much worse off if they had been
omitted. The confused arrangement also, which mars its utility as a
compendium of knowledge, may be due in great measure to the indefinite
state of science at the time, to the gaps in its affinities which the
discovery of so many new sciences has helped to fill up, and the
consequent mingling together of branches which are separate and distinct.
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