Cicero, taken all in all, for his eloquence, for his learning, for his true patriotism, for the profound and ennobling views he has left us in his critical, oratorical and philosophical writings, as well as for his purity in all the domestic relations of life, in the midst of almost universal profligacy, stands forth upon the page of history as one of the very brightest names the ancients have left us. He was probably distinguished most as an orator, in which character he is most generally known, though as a general scholar and statesman he was almost without a peer. He was born on the third of January, 106 B.C. His father was a member of the Equestrian order, and lived in easy circumstances near Arpinum, but afterwards removed to Rome for the purpose of educating his sons, Marcus and Quintus. The very best teachers were procured for them. Almost immediately after his schooling he was promoted, and rose from one station of honor and distinction to another.
It may be doubted whether any individual ever rose to power by more virtuous and truly honorable conduct, and the integrity of his public life was only equaled by the purity of his private morals. But as his history is taught to our school boys and his orations read in their original language, we will not lengthen our remarks. The following are his works. They are numerous and diversified, but may be arranged under five separate heads: 1.Philosophical Works.2.Speeches.3.Correspondence.4.Poems.5.Historical and Miscellaneous Works.The following are the most important:
AUGUSTUS CÆSAR.AUGUSTUS CÆSAR. (Found at Pompeii.)ToList
AUGUSTUS CÆSAR. (Found at Pompeii.)ToList
First, hisPhilosophical Works, 1.De Inventione Rhetorica, "On the Rhetorical Art;" intended to exhibit, in a compendious form, all that are most valuable in the works of theGrecian rhetoricians. 2.De Partitione Oratorio Dialogus, "A Dialogue on the several Divisions of Rhetoric," a sort of catechism of rhetoric. 3.De Oratore, "On the True Orator," a systematic work on the art of oratory. This is one of his most brilliant efforts, and so accurately finished in its minute parts, that it may be regarded as a masterpiece of skill in all that relates to the graces of style and composition. 4.Brutus: de claris Oratoribus.This is in the form of a dialogue, and contains a complete critical history of Roman eloquence. 5.Orator, "The Orator," addressed to Marcus Brutus, giving his views as to what constitutes a perfect orator. 6.De Republica, "On the Republic," in six books, designed to show the best form of government and the duty of the citizen; but a considerable portion of this is lost. 7.De Officiis; a treatise on moral obligations, viewed not so much with reference to a metaphysical investigation of the basis on which they rest, as to the practical business of the world, and the intercourse of social and political life. This is one of his most precious legacies. 8.De Finibus Bonorum et Malorum, "On the Ends of Good and Evil," a series of dialogues dedicated to M. Brutus, in which the opinions of the Grecian schools, especially of the Epicureans, the Stoics, and the Peripatetics, on the Supreme Good, theSummum Bonum, that is, thefinis, "the end."
How long, O Catiline, wilt thou abuse our patience? How long shalt thou baffle justice in thy mad career? To what extreme wilt thou carry thy audacity? Art thou nothing daunted by the nightly watch, posted to secure the Palatium? Nothing,by the city guards! Nothing, by the rally of all good citizens? Nothing, by the assembling of the senate in this fortified place? Nothing, by the averted looks of all here present? Seest thou not that all thy plots are exposed?—that thy wretched conspiracy is laid bare to every man's knowledge, here in the senate?—that we are well aware of thy proceedings of last night; of the night before; the place, of meeting, the company convoked, the measures concerted? Alas, the times! Alas, the public morals! The senate understands all this. The Consul sees it. Yet the traitor lives! Lives? Ay, truly, and confronts us here in council; takes part in our deliberations; and, with his measuring eye, marks out each man of us for slaughter! And we, all this while, strenuous that we are, think we have amply discharged our duty to the state, if we butshunthis madman's sword and fury!
Long since, O Catiline, ought the Consul to have ordered thee to execution, and brought upon thy own head the ruin thou hast been meditating against others! There was that virtue once in Rome, that a wicked citizen was held more execrable than the deadliest foe. We have a law still, Catiline, for thee. Think not that we are powerless because forbearing. We have a decree—though it rests among our archives like a sword in its scabbard—a decree by which thy life would be made to pay the forfeit of thy crimes. And, should I order thee to be instantly seized and put to death, I make just doubt whether all good men would not think it done rather too late, than any man too cruelly. But, for good reasons, I will yet defer the blow, long since deserved.Thenwill I doom thee, when no man is found so lost, so wicked, nay, so like thyself, but shall confess that it was justly dealt. While there is one man that dares defend thee, live! But thou shalt live so beset, so surrounded, so scrutinized, by the vigilant guards that I have placed around thee, that thou shalt not stir a foot against the Republic without my knowledge. There shall be eyes to detect thy slightestmovement, and ears to catch thy wariest whisper, of which thou shalt not dream. The darkness of night shall not cover thy treason—the walls of privacy shall not stifle its voice. Baffled on all sides, thy most secret counsels clear as noon-day, what canst thou now have in view? Proceed, plot, conspire, as thou wilt; there is nothing you can contrive, nothing you can propose, nothing you can attempt which I shall not know, hear, and promptly understand. Thou shalt soon be made aware that I am even more active in providing for the preservation of the state than thou in plotting its destruction!—First Oration.
At length, Romans, we are rid of Catiline! We have driven him forth, drunk with fury, breathing mischief, threatening to revisit us with fire and sword. He is gone; he is fled; he has escaped; he has broken away. No longer, within the very walls of the city, shall he plot her ruin. We have forced him from secret plots into open rebellion. The bad citizen is now the avowed traitor. His flight is the confession of his treason! Would that his attendants had not been so few! Be speedy, ye companions of his dissolute pleasures; be speedy, and you may overtake him before night, on the Aurelian road. Let him not languish, deprived of your society. Haste to join the congenial crew that compose his army;hisarmy, I say—for who doubts that the army under Manlius expect Catiline for their leader? And such an army! Outcasts from honor, and fugitives from debt; gamblers and felons; miscreants, whose dreams are of rapine, murder, and conflagration!
Against these gallant troops of your adversary, prepare, O Romans, your garrisons and armies; and first to that maimedand battered gladiator oppose your consuls and generals; next, against that miserable, outcast horde, lead forth the strength and flower of all Italy! On the one side, chastity contends; on the other wantonness; here purity, there pollution; here integrity, there treachery; here piety, there profaneness; here constancy, there rage; here honesty, there baseness; here continence, there lust; in short, equity, temperance, fortitude, prudence, struggle with iniquity, luxury, cowardice, rashness; every virtue with every vice; and, lastly, the contest lies between well-grounded hope and absolute despair. In such a conflict, were even human aid to fail, would not the immortal gods empower such conspicuous virtue to triumph over such complicated vice?—Second Oration.
An opinion has long prevailed, fathers, that, in public prosecutions, men of wealth, however clearly convicted, are always safe. This opinion, so injurious to your order, so detrimental to the state, is now in your power to refute. A man is on trial before you who is rich, and who hopes his riches will compass his acquittal, but whose life and actions are sufficient condemnation in the eyes of all candid men. I speak of Caius Verres, who, if he now receive not the sentence his crimes deserve, it shall not be through the lack of a criminal or of a prosecutor, but through the failure of the ministers of justice to do their duty. Passing over the shameful irregularities of his youth, what does the quæstorship of Verres exhibit but one continued scene of villainies? The public treasure squandered, a Consul stripped and betrayed, an army deserted and reduced to want, a province robbed, the civil and religious rights of a peopletrampled on! But his praætorship in Sicily has crowned his career of wickedness, and completed the lasting monument of his infamy. His decisions have violated all law, all precedent, all right. His extortions from the industrious poor have been beyond computation. Our most faithful allies have been treated as enemies. Roman citizens have, like slaves, been put to death with tortures. Men the most worthy have been condemned and banished without a hearing, while the most atrocious criminals have, with money, purchased exemption from the punishment due to their guilt.
I ask now, Verres, what have you to advance against these charges? Art thou not the tyrant prætor, who, at no greater distance than Sicily, within sight of the Italian coast, dared to put to an infamous death, on the cross, that ill-fated and innocent citizen, Publius Gavius Cosanus? And what was his offense? He had declared his intention of appealing to the justice of his country against your brutal persecutions! For this, when about to embark for home, he was seized, brought before you, charged with being a spy, scourged and tortured. In vain did he exclaim: "I am a Roman citizen! I have served under Lucius Pretius, who is now at Panormus, and who will attest my innocence!" Deaf to all remonstrance, remorseless, thirsting for innocent blood, you ordered the savage punishment to be inflicted! While the sacred words, "I am a Roman citizen," were on his lips—words which, in the remotest regions, are a passport to protection—you ordered him to death, to a death upon the cross!
O liberty! O sound once delightful to every Roman ear! O sacred privilege of Roman citizenship! once sacred—now trampled on! Is it come to this? Shall an inferior magistrate—a governor, who holds his whole power of the Roman people—in a Roman province, within sight of Italy, bind, scourge, torture, and put to an infamous death, a Roman citizen? Shallneither the cries of innocence expiring in agony, the tears of pitying spectators, the majesty of the Roman commonwealth, nor the fear of the justice of this country, restrain the merciless monster, who, in the confidence of his riches, strikes at the very root of liberty, and sets mankind at defiance? And shall this man escape? Fathers, it must not be! It must not be, unless you would undermine the very foundations of social safety, strangle justice, and call down anarchy, massacre and ruin on the commonwealth.—Oration against Verres.
Indeed, old age is so far from being necessarily a state of languor and inactivity, that it generally continues to exert itself in that sort of occupation which was the favorite object of its pursuit in more vigorous years. I will add, that instances might be produced of men who, in this period of life, have successfully applied themselves even to the acquisition of some art of science to which they were before entirely strangers. Thus Solon in one of his poems, written when he was advanced in years, glories that "he learned something every day he lived." And old as I myself am, it is but lately that I acquired a knowledge of the Greek language; to which I applied with the more zeal and diligence, as I had long entertained an earnest desire of becoming acquainted with the writings and characters of those excellent men, to whose examples I have occasionally appealed in the course of our present conversation. Thus, Socrates, too, in his old age, learned to play upon the lyre, an art which the ancients did not deem unworthy of their application. If I have not followed the philosopher's example in this instance (which, indeed,I very much regret), I have spared, however, no pains to make myself master of the Greek language and learning.
Inestimable, too, are the advantages of old age, if we contemplate it in another point of view; if we consider it as delivering us from the tyranny of lust and ambition; from the angry and contentious passions; from every inordinate and irrational desire; in a word, as teaching us to retire within ourselves, and look for happiness in our own bosoms. If to these moral benefits naturally resulting from length of days be added that sweet food of the mind which is gathered in the fields of science, I know not any season of life that is passed more agreeably than the learned leisure of a virtuous old age.
And now, among the different sentiments of the philosophers concerning the consequences of our final dissolution, may I not venture to declare my own? and the rather, as the nearer death advances towards me, the more clearly I seem to discern its real nature.
I am well convinced, then, that my dear departed friends, your two illustrious fathers, are so far from having ceased to live, that the state they now enjoy can alone with propriety be calledlife. The soul, during her confinement within this prison of the body, is doomed by fate to undergo a severe penance; for her native seat is in heaven, and it is with reluctance that she is forced down from those celestial mansions into these lower regions, where all is foreign and repugnant to her divine nature. But the gods, I am persuaded, have thus widely disseminated immortal spirits, and clothed them with human bodies, that theremight be a race of intelligent creatures, not only to have dominion over this, our earth, but to contemplate the host of heaven, and imitate in their moral conduct the same beautiful order and uniformity so conspicuous in those splendid orbs. This opinion I am induced to embrace, not only as agreeable to the best deductions of reason, but in just deference, also, to the authority of the noblest and most distinguished philosophers. And I am further confirmed in my belief of the soul's immortality by the discourse which Socrates—whom the oracle of Apollo pronounced to be the wisest of men—held upon this subject just before his death. In a word, when I consider the faculties with which the human mind is endued; its amazing celerity; its wonderful power in recollecting past events, and sagacity in discerning future; together with its numberless discoveries in the several arts and sciences, I feel a conscious conviction that this active, comprehensive principle can not possibly be of a mortal nature. And as this unceasing activity of the soul derives its energy from its own intrinsic and essential powers, without receiving it from any foreign or external impulse, it necessarily follows (as it is absurd to suppose the soul would desert itself) that this activity must continue forever. But farther; as the soul is evidently a simple, uncompounded substance, without any dissimilar parts or heterogeneous mixture, it can not, therefore, be divided; consequently, it can not perish. I might add, that the facility and expedition with which youth are taught to acquire numberless very difficult arts, is a strong presumption that the soul possessed a considerable portion of knowledge before it entered into the human form, and that what seems to be received from instruction is, in fact, no other than a reminiscence or recollection of its former ideas. This, at least, is the opinion of Plato.
Julius Cæsar was born on the 12th of July, 100 B.C. As to his intellectual character, Cæsar was gifted by nature with the most varied talents, and was distinguished by an extraordinary genius, and by attainments in very diversified pursuits. He was, at one and the same time, a general, a statesman, a lawgiver, a jurist, an orator, a poet, an historian, a philologer, a mathematician, and an architect. He seemed equally fitted to excel in all, and has given proofs that he would surpass most men in any subject to which he should devote the energies of his great mind; and Middleton says he was the only man in Rome capable of rivaling Cicero as an orator. During his whole busy life he found time for literary pursuits, and always took pleasure in the society and conversation of men of learning.
Cæsar wrote many works on different subjects, but they are now all lost but his "Commentaries." These relate the history of the first seven years of the Gallic War in seven books, and the Civil War down to the commencement of the Alexandrine in three books. The purity of his Latin, and the clearness and beauty of his style have rendered his "Commentaries" a most popular and desirable text book for students of the Latin language.
A most important change was introduced by him in the reformation of the calendar, which was not only of vast importance to his country and to the civilized world, but its benefits have extended to the present day. What consummate folly, then, to say nothing of the wickedness, was displayed by the conspirators who put him to death; for instead of the wise, the noble, the magnanimous, they exalted to supreme power one of the basest men in all Rome—Augustus, who, as one of thesecond Triumvirate, consented to the murder of his intimate and noble friend, Cicero.
JULIUS CÆSAR.JULIUS CÆSAR. (From an Ancient Sculpturing.)ToList
JULIUS CÆSAR. (From an Ancient Sculpturing.)ToList
The Germans differ much from these usages, for they have neither Druids to preside over sacred offices, nor do they pay great regard to sacrifices. They rank in the number of the gods those alone whom they behold, and by whose instrumentality they are obviously benefited, namely, the sun, fire, and the moon; they have not heard of the other deities even by report.Their whole life is occupied in hunting and in the pursuits of the military art; from childhood they devote themselves to fatigue and hardships. Those who have remained chaste for the longest time receive the greatest commendation among their people; they think that by this the growth is promoted, by this the physical powers are increased and the sinews are strengthened.
They do not pay much attention to agriculture, and a large portion of their food consists in milk, cheese, and flesh; nor has any one a fixed quantity of land or his own individual limits; but the magistrates and the leading men each year apportion to the tribes and families, who have united together, as much land as, and in the place which, they think proper, and the year after compel them to remove elsewhere. For this enactment they advance many reasons—lest seduced by long-continued custom, they may exchange their ardor in the waging of war for agriculture; lest they may be anxious to acquire extensive estates, and the more powerful drive the weaker from their possessions; lest they construct their houses with too great a desire to avoid cold and heat; lest the desire of wealth spring up, from which cause divisions and discords arise; and that they may keep the common people in a contented state of mind, when each sees his own means placed on an equality with those of the most powerful.
It is the greatest glory to the several states to have as wide deserts as possible around them, their frontiers having been laid waste. They consider this the real evidence of their prowess, that their neighbors shall be driven out of their lands and abandon them, and that no one dare settle near them; at the same time they think that they shall be on that account the more secure, because they have removed the apprehension of a sudden incursion. When a state either repels war waged against it, or wages it against another, magistrates are chosen to preside over that war with such authority that they have power of life anddeath. In peace there is no common magistrate, but the chiefs of provinces and cantons administer justice and determine controversies among their own people. Robberies which are committed beyond the boundaries of each state bear no infamy, and they avow that these are committed for the purpose of disciplining their youth and of preventing sloth. And when any of their chiefs has said in an assembly "that he will be their leader, let those who are willing to follow give in their names," they who approve of both the enterprise and the man arise and promise their assistance and are applauded by the people; such of them as have not followed him are accounted in the number of deserters and traitors, and confidence in all matters is afterwards refused them. To injure guests they regard as impious; they defend from wrong those who have come to them for any purpose whatever, and esteem them inviolable; to them the houses of all are open and maintenance is freely supplied.
There was so much space left between the two lines as sufficed for the onset of the hostile armies; but Pompey had ordered his soldiers to await Cæsar's attack, and not to advance from their position, or suffer their line to be put into disorder. And he is said to have done this by the advice of Caius Triarius, that the impetuosity of the charge of Cæsar's soldiers might be checked, and their line broken, and that Pompey's troops, remaining in their ranks, might attack them while in disorder; and he thought that the javelins would fall with less force if the soldiers were kept in their ground, than if they met them in their course; at the same time he trusted that Cæsar's soldiers, afterrunning over double the usual ground, would become weary and exhausted by the fatigue. But to me Pompey seems to have acted without sufficient reason; for there is a certain impetuosity of spirit and an alacrity implanted by nature in the hearts of all men, which is inflamed by a desire to meet the foe. This a general should endeavor not to repress, but to increase; nor was it a vain institution of our ancestors that the trumpets should sound on all sides, and a general shout be raised; by which they imagined that the enemy were struck with terror, and their own army inspired with courage.
But our men, when the signal was given, rushed forward with their javelins ready to be launched, but perceiving that Pompey's men did not run to meet their charge, having acquired experience by custom, and being practiced in former battles, they of their own accord repressed their speed, and halted almost midway, that they might not come up with the enemy when their strength was exhausted, and after a short respite they again renewed their course, and threw their javelins, and instantly drew their swords, as Cæsar had ordered them. Nor did Pompey's men fail in this crisis, for they received our javelins, stood our charge, and maintained their ranks; and having launched their javelins, had recourse to their swords. At the same time Pompey's horse, according to their orders, rushed out at once from his left wing, and his whole host of archers poured after them. Our cavalry did not withstand their charge, but gave ground a little, upon which Pompey's horse pressed them more vigorously, and began to file off in troops, and flank our army. When Cæsar perceived this, he gave the signal to his fourth line, which he had formed of the six cohorts. They instantly rushed forward and charged Pompey's horse with such fury that not a man of them stood; but all wheeling about, not only quitted their post, but galloped forward to seek a refuge in the highest mountains. By their retreat the archers and slingers, being leftdestitute and defenseless, were all cut to pieces. The cohorts, pursuing their success, wheeled about upon Pompey's left wing, whilst his infantry still continued to make battle, and attacked them in the rear.
At the same time Cæsar ordered his third line to advance, which till then had not been engaged, but had kept their post. Thus, new and fresh troops having come to the assistance of the fatigued, and others having made an attack on their rear, Pompey's men were not able to maintain their ground, but all fled, nor was Cæsar deceived in his opinion that the victory, as he had declared in his speech to his soldiers, must have its beginning from those six cohorts, which he had placed as a fourth line to oppose the horse. For by them the cavalry were routed; by them the archers and slingers were cut to pieces; by them the left wing of Pompey's army was surrounded, and obliged to be the first to flee. But when Pompey saw his cavalry routed, and that part of his army on which he reposed his greatest hopes thrown into confusion, despairing of the rest, he quitted the field, and retreated straightway on horseback to his camp, and calling to the centurions, whom he had placed to guard the prætorian gate, with a loud voice, that the soldiers might hear: "Secure the camp," says he; "defend it with diligence, if any danger should threaten it; I will visit the other gates, and encourage the guards of the camp." Having thus said, he retired into his tent in utter despair, yet anxiously waiting the issue.
Cæsar having forced the Pompeians to flee into their entrenchment, and thinking that he ought not to allow them any respite to recover from their fright, exhorted his soldiers to take advantage of fortune's kindness, and to attack the camp. Though they were fatigued by the intense heat, for the battle had continued till mid-day, yet, being prepared to undergo any labor, they cheerfully obeyed his command. The camp was bravely defended by the cohorts which had been left to guard it,but with much more spirit by the Thracians and foreign auxiliaries. For the soldiers who had fled for refuge to it from the field of battle, affrighted and exhausted by fatigue, having thrown away their arms and military standards, had their thoughts more engaged on their further escape than on the defense of the camp. Nor could the troops who were posted on the battlements long withstand the immense number of our darts, but fainting under their wounds, quitted the place, and under the conduct of their centurions and tribunes, fled, without stopping, to the high mountains which joined the camp.
In Pompey's camp you might see arbors in which tables were laid; a large quantity of plate set out; the floors of the tents covered with fresh sods; the tents of Lucius Lentulus and others shaded with ivy; and many other things which were proofs of excessive luxury, and a confidence of victory; so that it might readily be inferred, that they had no apprehensions of the issue of the day, as they indulged themselves in unnecessary pleasures, and yet upbraided with luxury Cæsar's army, distressed and suffering troops, who had always been in want of common necessaries. Pompey, as soon as our men had forced the trenches, mounting his horse, and stripping off his general's habit, went hastily out of the back gate of the camp, and galloped with all speed to Larissa. Nor did he stop there, but with the same dispatch, collecting a few of his flying troops, and halting neither day nor night, he arrived at the sea-side, attended by only thirty horses, and went on board a victualing barque, often complaining, as we have been told, that he had been so deceived in his expectation, that he was almost persuaded that he had been betrayed by those from whom he had expected victory, as they began the flight.
Virgil was born October 15, 70 B.C., and died 19 B.C. His father was an opulent farmer, and gave his son a liberal Greek and Latin education. His principal works were theGeorgicaand theÆneid. TheGeorgica(Georgics), or "Agricultural Poems," is a didactic poem in four books, dedicated to Mæcenas. In the first book he treats of the cultivation of the soil; in the second, of fruit trees; in the third, of horses and other cattle, and in the fourth, of bees. It gives us the most finished specimen of the Latin hexameter which we have. It is acknowledged by scholars to stand at the head of all Virgil's works, and is certainly the most elaborate and extraordinary instance of power in embellishing a most barren subject which human genius has ever afforded. The commonest precepts of farming are delivered with an elegance which could scarcely be attained by a poet who should endeavor to clothe in verse the sublimest maxims of philosophy.
At what time Virgil projected theÆneidis uncertain, but from a very early age he appears to have had a strong desire of composing an epic poem which would be an enduring monument of his fame. And he has succeeded, for this poem is ranked as one of the great epics of the world. It is divided into twelve books, and originates from an old Roman tradition that Æneas and his company of Trojans settled in Italy, and founded the Roman nation.
Thrice happy swains! whom genuine pleasures bless,If they but knew and felt their happiness!From wars and discord far, and public strife,[812]Earth with salubrious fruits supports their life;Tho' high-arch'd domes, tho' marble halls they want,And columns cased in gold and elephant,In awful ranks where brazen statues stand,The polish'd works of Grecia's skillful hand;Nor dazzling palace view, whose portals proudEach morning vomit out the cringing crowd;Nor wear the tissu'd garment's cumb'rous pride,Nor seek soft wool in Syrian purple dy'd,Nor with fantastic luxury defileThe native sweetness of the liquid oil;Yet calm content, secure from guilty cares,Yet home-felt pleasure, peace, and rest, are theirs;Leisure and ease, in groves, and cooling vales,Grottoes, and bubbling brooks, and darksome dales;The lowing oxen, and the bleating sheep,And under branching trees delicious sleep!There forests, lawns, and haunts of beasts abound,There youth is temperate, and laborious found;There altars and the righteous gods are fear'd,And aged sires by duteous sons rever'd.There Justice linger'd ere she fled mankind,And left some traces of her reign behind!Georgics II. Warton.
Thrice happy swains! whom genuine pleasures bless,If they but knew and felt their happiness!From wars and discord far, and public strife,[812]Earth with salubrious fruits supports their life;Tho' high-arch'd domes, tho' marble halls they want,And columns cased in gold and elephant,In awful ranks where brazen statues stand,The polish'd works of Grecia's skillful hand;Nor dazzling palace view, whose portals proudEach morning vomit out the cringing crowd;Nor wear the tissu'd garment's cumb'rous pride,Nor seek soft wool in Syrian purple dy'd,Nor with fantastic luxury defileThe native sweetness of the liquid oil;Yet calm content, secure from guilty cares,Yet home-felt pleasure, peace, and rest, are theirs;Leisure and ease, in groves, and cooling vales,Grottoes, and bubbling brooks, and darksome dales;The lowing oxen, and the bleating sheep,And under branching trees delicious sleep!There forests, lawns, and haunts of beasts abound,There youth is temperate, and laborious found;There altars and the righteous gods are fear'd,And aged sires by duteous sons rever'd.There Justice linger'd ere she fled mankind,And left some traces of her reign behind!Georgics II. Warton.
If all things with great we may compare,Such are the bees, and such their busy care:Studious of honey, each in his degree,The youthful swain, the grave, experienced bee;That in the field; this in affairs of state,Employed at home, abides within the gate,To fortify the combs, to build the wall,To prop the ruins, lest the fabric fall:[813]But late at night, with weary pinions comeThe laboring youth, and heavy laden home.Plains, meads, and orchards, all the day he plies,The gleans of yellow thyme distend his thighs:[814]He spoils the saffron flowers, he sips the bluesOf violets, wilding blooms, and willow dews.Their toil is common, common is their sleep;They shake their wings when morn begins to peep;Rush through the city gates without delay,Nor ends their work but with declining day:Then, having spent the last remains of light,They give their bodies due repose at night;When hollow murmurs of their evening bellsDismiss the sleepy swains, and toll them to their cells.Georgics IV. Dryden.
If all things with great we may compare,Such are the bees, and such their busy care:Studious of honey, each in his degree,The youthful swain, the grave, experienced bee;That in the field; this in affairs of state,Employed at home, abides within the gate,To fortify the combs, to build the wall,To prop the ruins, lest the fabric fall:[813]But late at night, with weary pinions comeThe laboring youth, and heavy laden home.Plains, meads, and orchards, all the day he plies,The gleans of yellow thyme distend his thighs:[814]He spoils the saffron flowers, he sips the bluesOf violets, wilding blooms, and willow dews.Their toil is common, common is their sleep;They shake their wings when morn begins to peep;Rush through the city gates without delay,Nor ends their work but with declining day:Then, having spent the last remains of light,They give their bodies due repose at night;When hollow murmurs of their evening bellsDismiss the sleepy swains, and toll them to their cells.Georgics IV. Dryden.
VIRGIL AND HORACE.VIRGIL AND HORACE.ToList
VIRGIL AND HORACE.ToList
Now to the left, Æneas darts his eyes,Where lofty walls with tripple ramparts rise.There rolls swift Phlegethon, with thund'ring sound,His broken rocks, and whirls his surges round.On mighty columns rais'd, sublime are hungThe massy gates, impenetrably strong.In vain would men, in vain would gods essay,To hew the beams of adamant away.Here rose an iron tow'r; before the gate,By night and day, a wakeful fury sate,The pale Tisiphone; a robe she wore,With all the pomp of horror, dy'd in gore.Here the loud scourge and louder voice of pain,The crashing fetter, and the ratt'ling chain.Strike the great hero with the frightful sound,The hoarse, rough, mingled din, that thunders round:Oh! whence that peal of groans? what pains are those?What crimes could merit such stupendous woes?Thus she—brave guardian of the Trojan state,None that are pure must pass that dreadful gate.When plac'd by Hecat o'er Avernus' woods,[815]I learnt the secrets of those dire abodes,With all the tortures of the vengeful gods.Here Rhadamanthus holds his awful reign,Hears and condemns the trembling impious train.Those hidden crimes the wretch till death supprest,With mingled joy and horror in his breast,The stern dread judge commands him to display,And lays the guilty secrets bare to-day;Her lash Tisiphone that moment shakes;The ghost she scourges with a thousand snakes;Then to her aid, with many a thund'ring yell,Calls her dire sisters from the gulfs of hell.Near by the mighty Tityus I beheld,Earth's mighty giant son, stretch'd o'er the infernal field;He cover'd nine large acres as he lay,While with fierce screams a vulture tore awayHis liver for her food, and scoop'd the smoking prey;Plunged deep her bloody beak, nor plung'd in vain,For still the fruitful fibres spring again,Swell, and renew th' enormous monster's pain,She dwells forever in his roomy breast,Nor gives the roaring fiend a moment's rest;But still th' immortal prey supplies th' immortal feast.Need I the Lapiths' horrid pains relate,Ixion's torments, or Perithous' fate?On high a tottering rocky fragment spreads,Projects in air, and trembles o'er their heads.Stretch'd on the couch, they see with longing eyesIn regal pomp successive banquets rise,While lucid columns, glorious to behold,Support th' imperial canopies of gold.The queen of furies, a tremendous guest,Sits by their side, and guards the tempting feast,Which if they touch, her dreadful torch she rears,Flames in their eyes, and thunders in their earsThey that on earth had low pursuits in view,Their brethren hated, or their parents slew,And, still more numerous, those who swelled their store,But ne'er reliev'd their kindred or the poor;[816]Or in a cause unrighteous fought and bled;Or perish'd in the foul adulterous bed;Or broke the ties of faith with base deceit;Imprison'd deep their destin'd torments wait.But what their torments, seek not thou to know,Or the dire sentence of their endless wo.Some roll a stone, rebounding down the hill,Some hang suspended on the whirling wheel;There Theseus groans in pain that ne'er expire,Chain'd down forever in a chair of fire.There Phlegyas feels unutterable wo,And roars incessant thro' the shades below;Be just, ye mortals! by these torments aw'd,These dreadful torments, not to scorn a god.This wretch his country to a tyrant sold,And barter'd glorious liberty for gold.Laws for a bribe he past, but past in vain,For those same laws a bribe repeal'd again.To some enormous crimes they all aspir'd;All feel the torments that those crimes requir'd!Had I a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues,A voice of brass, and adamantine lungs,Not half the mighty scene could I disclose,Repeat their crimes, or count their dreadful woes!Æneid VI. Pitt.
Now to the left, Æneas darts his eyes,Where lofty walls with tripple ramparts rise.There rolls swift Phlegethon, with thund'ring sound,His broken rocks, and whirls his surges round.On mighty columns rais'd, sublime are hungThe massy gates, impenetrably strong.In vain would men, in vain would gods essay,To hew the beams of adamant away.Here rose an iron tow'r; before the gate,By night and day, a wakeful fury sate,The pale Tisiphone; a robe she wore,With all the pomp of horror, dy'd in gore.Here the loud scourge and louder voice of pain,The crashing fetter, and the ratt'ling chain.Strike the great hero with the frightful sound,The hoarse, rough, mingled din, that thunders round:Oh! whence that peal of groans? what pains are those?What crimes could merit such stupendous woes?Thus she—brave guardian of the Trojan state,None that are pure must pass that dreadful gate.When plac'd by Hecat o'er Avernus' woods,[815]I learnt the secrets of those dire abodes,With all the tortures of the vengeful gods.Here Rhadamanthus holds his awful reign,Hears and condemns the trembling impious train.Those hidden crimes the wretch till death supprest,With mingled joy and horror in his breast,The stern dread judge commands him to display,And lays the guilty secrets bare to-day;Her lash Tisiphone that moment shakes;The ghost she scourges with a thousand snakes;Then to her aid, with many a thund'ring yell,Calls her dire sisters from the gulfs of hell.Near by the mighty Tityus I beheld,Earth's mighty giant son, stretch'd o'er the infernal field;He cover'd nine large acres as he lay,While with fierce screams a vulture tore awayHis liver for her food, and scoop'd the smoking prey;Plunged deep her bloody beak, nor plung'd in vain,For still the fruitful fibres spring again,Swell, and renew th' enormous monster's pain,She dwells forever in his roomy breast,Nor gives the roaring fiend a moment's rest;But still th' immortal prey supplies th' immortal feast.Need I the Lapiths' horrid pains relate,Ixion's torments, or Perithous' fate?On high a tottering rocky fragment spreads,Projects in air, and trembles o'er their heads.Stretch'd on the couch, they see with longing eyesIn regal pomp successive banquets rise,While lucid columns, glorious to behold,Support th' imperial canopies of gold.The queen of furies, a tremendous guest,Sits by their side, and guards the tempting feast,Which if they touch, her dreadful torch she rears,Flames in their eyes, and thunders in their earsThey that on earth had low pursuits in view,Their brethren hated, or their parents slew,And, still more numerous, those who swelled their store,But ne'er reliev'd their kindred or the poor;[816]Or in a cause unrighteous fought and bled;Or perish'd in the foul adulterous bed;Or broke the ties of faith with base deceit;Imprison'd deep their destin'd torments wait.But what their torments, seek not thou to know,Or the dire sentence of their endless wo.Some roll a stone, rebounding down the hill,Some hang suspended on the whirling wheel;There Theseus groans in pain that ne'er expire,Chain'd down forever in a chair of fire.There Phlegyas feels unutterable wo,And roars incessant thro' the shades below;Be just, ye mortals! by these torments aw'd,These dreadful torments, not to scorn a god.This wretch his country to a tyrant sold,And barter'd glorious liberty for gold.Laws for a bribe he past, but past in vain,For those same laws a bribe repeal'd again.To some enormous crimes they all aspir'd;All feel the torments that those crimes requir'd!Had I a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues,A voice of brass, and adamantine lungs,Not half the mighty scene could I disclose,Repeat their crimes, or count their dreadful woes!Æneid VI. Pitt.
Horace was born 65 B.C. and died 8 B.C. His father gave him a good education. About the age of seventeen he lost his father, and afterwards his property was confiscated. He had to write for bread—Paupertas impulit audax ut versus facerem—and in so doing gained much reputation, and sufficient means to purchase the place of scribe in the Quæstor's office.He now made his acquaintance with Virgil and Varius, and by them was introduced to that munificent patron of scholars, Mæcenas, who gave to our poet a place next to his heart, while he, in return, is never weary of acknowledging how much he owes to his illustrious friend.
The following happy remarks on the Roman Satirists are by Professor Sanborn, formerly Professor of Latin in Dartmouth College, and now in the University of St. Louis: "The principal Roman Satirists were Horace, Juvenal and Persius. Horace is merry; Persius serious; Juvenal indignant. Thus, wit, philosophy and lofty scorn mark their respective pages. The satire of Horace was playful and good natured. His arrows were always dipped in oil. He was a fine specimen of an accomplished gentleman. His sentiments were evidently modified by his associates. He was an Epicurean and a stoic by turns. He commended and ridiculed both sects. He practiced economy and praised liberality. He lived temperate, and sang the praises of festivity. He was the favorite of the court and paid for its patronage in compliments and panegyrics, unsurpassed in delicacy of sentiment and beauty of expression. Horace is every man's companion. He has a word of advice and admonition for all. His criticisms constitute most approved canons of the rhetorician; his sage reflections adorn the page of the moralist; his humor and wit give point and force to the satirist, and his graver maxims are not despised by the Christian philosopher. Juvenal is fierce and denunciatory. His characteristics are energy, force, and indignation; his weapons are irony, wit and sarcasm; he is a decided character, and you must yield and submit, or resist. His denunciations of vice are startling. He hated the Greeks, the aristocracy and woman with intense hatred. No author has written with such terrible bitterness of the sex. Unlike other satirists, he never relents. His arrow is ever on the string, and whatever wears the guise of woman is his game.The most celebrated of the modern imitators of Horace and Juvenal are Swift and Pope."
The Odes, Satires and Epistles are his chief productions.