2. This love of finery, this ambition to shine and glitter, has destroyed all true eloquence. Oratory is not the child of hireling teachers; it springs from another source, from a love of liberty, from a mind replete with moral science, and a thorough knowledge of the laws; from a due respect for the best examples, from profound meditation [a], and a style formed by constant practice. While these were thought essential requisites, eloquence flourished. But the true beauties of language fell into disuse, and oratory went to ruin. The spirit evaporated; I fear, to revive no more. I wish I may prove a false prophet, but we know the progress of art in every age and country. Rude at first, it rises from low beginnings, and goes on improving, till it reaches the highest perfection in the kind. But at that point it is never stationary: it soon declines, and from the corruption of what is good, it is not in the nature of man, nor in the power of human faculties, to rise again to the same degree of excellence.

3. Messala closed with a degree of vehemence, and then turning to Maternus and Secundus [a], It is yours, he said, to pursue this train of argument; or if any cause of the decay of eloquence lies still deeper, you will oblige us by bringing it to light. Maternus, I presume, will find no difficulty: a poetic genius holds commerce with the gods, and to him nothing will remain a secret. As for Secundus, he has been long a shining ornament of the forum, and by his own experience knows how to distinguish genuine eloquence from the corrupt and vicious. Maternus heard this sally of his friend's good humour with a smile. The task, he said, which you have imposed upon us, we will endeavour to execute. But though I am the interpreter of the gods, I must notwithstanding request that Secundus may take the lead. He is master of the subject, and, in questions of this kind, experience is better than inspiration.

4. Secundus [a] complied with his friend's request. I yield, he said, the more willingly, as I shall hazard no new opinion, but rather confirm what has been urged by Messala. It is certain, that, as painters are formed by painters, and poets by the example of poets, so the young orator must learn his art from orators only. In the schools of rhetoricians [b], who think themselves the fountain-head of eloquence, every thing is false and vitiated. The true principles of the persuasive art are never known to the professor, or if at any time there may be found a preceptor of superior genius, can it be expected that he shall be able to transfuse into the mind of his pupil all his own conceptions, pure, unmixed, and free from error? The sensibility of the master, since we have allowed him genius, will be an impediment: the uniformity of the same dull tedious round will give him disgust, and the student will turn from it with aversion. And yet I am inclined to think, that the decay of eloquence would not have been so rapid, if other causes, more fatal than the corruption of the schools, had not co-operated. When the worst models became the objects of imitation, and not only the young men of the age, but even the whole body of the people, admired the new way of speaking, eloquence fell at once into that state of degeneracy, from which nothing can recover it. We, who came afterwards, found ourselves in a hopeless situation: we were driven to wretched expedients, to forced conceits, and the glitter of frivolous sentences; we were obliged to hunt after wit, when we could be no longer eloquent. By what pernicious examples this was accomplished, has been explained by our friend Messala.

5. We are none of us strangers to those unhappy times, when Rome, grown weary of her vast renown in arms, began to think of striking into new paths of fame, no longer willing to depend on the glory of our ancestors. The whole power of the state was centred in a single ruler, and by the policy of the prince, men were taught to think no more of ancient honour. Invention was on the stretch for novelty, and all looked for something better than perfection; something rare, far-fetched, and exquisite. New modes of pleasure were devised. In that period of luxury and dissipation, when the rage for new inventions was grown epidemic, Seneca arose. His talents were of a peculiar sort, acute, refined and polished; but polished to a degree that made him prefer affectation and wit to truth and nature. The predominance of his genius was great, and, by consequence, he gave the mortal stab to all true eloquence [a]. When I say this, let me not be suspected of that low malignity which would tarnish the fame of a great character. I admire the man, and the philosopher. The undaunted firmness with which he braved the tyrant's frown, will do immortal honour to his memory. But the fact is (and why should I disguise it?), the virtues of the writer have undone his country.

6. To bring about this unhappy revolution, no man was so eminently qualified [a]. His understanding was large and comprehensive; his genius rich and powerful; his way of thinking ingenious, elegant, and even charming. His researches in moral philosophy excited the admiration of all; and moral philosophy is never so highly praised, as when the manners are in a state of degeneracy. Seneca knew the taste of the times. He had the art to gratify the public ear. His style is neat, yet animated; concise, yet clear; familiar, yet seldom inelegant. Free from redundancy, his periods are often abrupt, but they surprise by their vivacity. He shines in pointed sentences; and that unceasing persecution of vice, which is kept up with uncommon ardour, spreads a lustre over all his writings. His brilliant style charmed by its novelty. Every page sparkles with wit, with gay allusions, and sentiments of virtue. No wonder that the graceful ease, and sometimes the dignity of his expression, made their way into the forum. What pleased universally, soon found a number of imitators. Add to this the advantages of rank and honours. He mixed in the splendour, and perhaps in the vices, of the court. The resentment of Caligula, and the acts of oppression which soon after followed, served only to adorn his name. To crown all, Nero was his pupil, and his murderer. Hence the character and genius of the man rose to the highest eminence. What was admired, was imitated, and true oratory was heard no more. The love of novelty prevailed, and for the dignified simplicity of ancient eloquence no taste remained. The art itself, and all its necessary discipline, became ridiculous. In that black period, when vice triumphed at large, and virtue had every thing to fear, the temper of the times was propitious to the corruptors of taste and liberal science. The dignity of composition was no longer of use. It had no power to stop the torrent of vice which deluged the city of Rome, and virtue found it a feeble protection. In such a conjuncture it was not safe to speak the sentiments of the heart. To be obscure, abrupt, and dark, was the best expedient. Then it was that the affected sententious brevity came into vogue. To speak concisely, and with an air of precipitation, was the general practice. To work the ruin of a person accused, a single sentence, or a splendid phrase, was sufficient. Men defended themselves in a short brilliant expression; and if that did not protect them, they died with a lively apophthegm, and their last words were wit. This was the fashion introduced by Seneca. The peculiar, but agreeable vices of his style, wrought the downfall of eloquence. The solid was exchanged for the brilliant, and they, who ceased to be orators, studied to be ingenious.

7. Of late, indeed, we have seen the dawn of better times. In the course of the last six years Vespasian has revived our hopes [a]. The friend of regular manners, and the encourager of ancient virtue, by which Rome was raised to the highest pinnacle of glory, he has restored the public peace, and with it the blessings of liberty. Under his propitious influence, the arts and sciences begin once more to flourish, and genius has been honoured with his munificence. The example of his sons [b] has helped to kindle a spirit of emulation. We beheld, with pleasure, the two princes adding to the dignity of their rank, and their fame in arms, all the grace and elegance of polite literature. But it is fatally true, that when the public taste is once corrupted, the mind which has been warped, seldom recovers its former tone. This difficulty was rendered still more insurmountable by the licentious spirit of our young men, and the popular applause, that encouraged the false taste of the times. I need not, in this company, call to mind the unbridled presumption, with which, as soon as genuine eloquence expired, the young men of the age took possession of the forum. Of modest worth and ancient manners nothing remained. We know that in former times the youthful candidate was introduced in the forum by a person of consular rank [c], and by him set forward in his road to fame. That laudable custom being at an end, all fences were thrown down: no sense of shame remained, no respect for the tribunals of justice. The aspiring genius wanted no patronage; he scorned the usual forms of a regular introduction; and, with full confidence in his own powers, he obtruded himself on the court. Neither the solemnity of the place, nor the sanctity of laws, nor the importance of the oratorical character, could restrain the impetuosity of young ambition. Unconscious of the importance of the undertaking, and less sensible of his own incapacity, the bold adventurer rushed at once into the most arduous business. Arrogance supplied the place of talents.

8. To oppose the torrent, that bore down every thing, the danger of losing all fair and honest fame was the only circumstance that could afford a ray of hope. But even that slender fence was soon removed by the arts of [a] Largius Licinius. He was the first that opened a new road to ambition. He intrigued for fame, and filled the benches with an audience suborned to applaud his declamations. He had his circle round him, and shouts of approbation followed. It was upon that occasion that Domitius Afer [b] emphatically said, Eloquence is now at the last gasp. It had, indeed, at that time shewn manifest symptoms of decay, but its total ruin may be dated from the introduction of a mercenary band [c] to flatter and applaud. If we except a chosen few, whose superior genius has not as yet been seduced from truth and nature, the rest are followed by their partisans, like actors on the stage, subsisting altogether on the bought suffrages of mean and prostitute hirelings. Nor is this sordid traffic carried on with secrecy: we see the bargain made in the face of the court; the bribe is distributed with as little ceremony as if they were in a private party at the orator's own house. Having sold their voices, this venal crew rush forward from one tribunal to another, the distributors of fame, and the sole judges of literary merit. The practice is, no doubt, disgraceful. To brand it with infamy, two new terms have been invented [d], one in the Greek language, importing the venders of praise, and the other in the Latin idiom, signifying the parasites who sell their applause for a supper. But sarcastic expressions have not been able to cure the mischief: the applauders by profession have taken courage, and the name, which was intended as a stroke of ridicule, is now become an honourable appellation.

9. This infamous practice rages at present with increasing violence. The party no longer consists of freeborn citizens; our very slaves are hired. Even before they arrive at full age, we see them distributing the rewards of eloquence. Without attending to what is said, and without sense enough to understand, they are sure to crowd the courts of justice, whenever a raw young man, stung with the love of fame, but without talents to deserve it, obtrudes himself in the character of an advocate. The hall resounds with acclamations, or rather with a kind of bellowing; for I know not by what term to express that savage uproar, which would disgrace a theatre.

Upon the whole, when I consider these infamous practices, which have brought so much dishonour upon a liberal profession, I am far from wondering that you, Maternus, judged it time to sound your retreat. When you could no longer attend with honour, you did well, my friend, to devote yourself entirely to the muses. And now, since you are to close the debate, permit me to request, that, besides unfolding the causes of corrupt eloquence, you will fairly tell us, whether you entertain any hopes of better times, and, if you do, by what means a reformation may be accomplished.

10. It is true [a], said Maternus, that seeing the forum deluged by an inundation of vices, I was glad, as my friend expressed it, to sound my retreat. I saw corruption rushing on with hasty strides, too shameful to be defended, and too powerful to be resisted. And yet, though urged by all those motives, I should hardly have renounced the business of the bar, if the bias of my nature had not inclined me to other studies. I balanced, however, for some time. It was, at first, my fixed resolution to stand to the last a poor remnant of that integrity and manly eloquence, which still lingered at the bar, and shewed some signs of life. It was my intention to emulate, not, indeed, with equal powers, but certainly with equal firmness, the bright models of ancient times, and, in that course of practice, to defend the fortunes, the dignity, and the innocence of my fellow-citizens. But the strong impulse of inclination was not to be resisted. I laid down my arms, and deserted to the safe and tranquil camp of the muses. But though a deserter, I have not quite forgot the service in which I was enlisted. I honour the professors of real eloquence, and that sentiment, I hope, will be always warm in my heart.

11. In my solitary walks, and moments of meditation, it often happens, that I fall into a train of thinking on the flourishing state of ancient eloquence, and the abject condition to which it is reduced in modern times. The result of my reflections I shall venture to unfold, not with a spirit of controversy, nor yet dogmatically to enforce my own opinion. I may differ in some points, but from a collision of sentiments it is possible that some new light may be struck out. My friend Aper will, therefore, excuse me, if I do not, with him, prefer the false glitter of the moderns to the solid vigour of ancient genius. At the same time, it is not my intention to disparage his friends. Messala too, whom you, Secundus, have closely followed, will forgive me, if I do not, in every thing, coincide with his opinion. The vices of the forum, which you have both, as becomes men of integrity, attacked with vehemence, will not have me for their apologist. But still I may be allowed to ask, have not you been too much exasperated against the rhetoricians?

I will not say in their favour, that I think them equal to the task of reviving the honours of eloquence; but I have known among them, men of unblemished morals, of regular discipline, great erudition, and talents every way fit to form the minds of youth to a just taste for science and the persuasive arts. In this number one in particular [a] has lately shone forth with superior lustre. From his abilities, all that is in the power of man may fairly be expected. A genius like his would have been the ornament of better times. Posterity will admire and honour him. And yet I would not have Secundus amuse himself with ill-grounded hopes: neither the learning of that most excellent man, nor the industry of such as may follow him, will be able to promote the interests of Eloquence, or to establish her former glory. It is a lost cause. Before the vices, which have been so ably described, had spread a general infection, all true oratory was at an end. The revolutions in our government, and the violence of the times, began the mischief, and, in the end, gave the fatal blow.

12. Nor are we to wonder at this event. In the course of human affairs there is no stability, nothing secure or permanent. It is with our minds as with our bodies: the latter, as soon as they have attained their full growth, and seem to flourish in the vigour of health, begin, from that moment, to feel the gradual approaches of decay. Our intellectual powers proceed in the same manner; they gain strength by degrees, they arrive at maturity, and, when they can no longer improve, they languish, droop, and fade away. This is the law of nature, to which every age, and every nation, of which we have any historical records, have been obliged to submit. There is besides another general law, hard perhaps, but wonderfully ordained, and it is this: nature, whose operations are always simple and uniform, never suffers in any age or country, more than one great example of perfection in the kind [a]. This was the case in Greece, that prolific parent of genius and of science. She had but one Homer, one Plato, one Demosthenes. The same has happened at Rome: Virgil stands at the head of his art, and Cicero is still unrivalled. During a space of seven hundred years our ancestors were struggling to reach the summit of perfection: Cicero at length arose; he thundered forth his immortal energy, and nature was satisfied with the wonder she had made. The force of genius could go no further. A new road to fame was to be found. We aimed at wit, and gay conceit, and glittering sentences. The change, indeed, was great; but it naturally followed the new form of government. Genius died with public liberty.

13. We find that the discourse of men always conforms to the temper of the times. Among savage nations [a] language is never copious. A few words serve the purpose of barbarians, and those are always uncouth and harsh, without the artifice of connection; short, abrupt, and nervous. In a state of polished society, where a single ruler sways the sceptre, the powers of the mind take a softer tone, and language grows more refined. But affectation follows, and precision gives way to delicacy. The just and natural expression is no longer the fashion. Living in ease and luxury, men look for elegance, and hope by novelty to give a grace to adulation. In other nations, where the first principles of the civil union are maintained in vigour; where the people live under the government of laws, and not the will of man; where the spirit of liberty pervades all ranks and orders of the state; where every individual holds himself bound, at the hazard of his life, to defend the constitution framed by his ancestors; where, without being guilty of an impious crime, no man dares to violate the rights of the whole community; in such a state, the national eloquence will be prompt, bold, and animated. Should internal dissensions shake the public peace, or foreign enemies threaten to invade the land, Eloquence comes forth arrayed in terror; she wields her thunder, and commands all hearts. It is true, that upon those occasions men of ambition endeavour, for their own purposes, to spread the flame of sedition; while the good and virtuous combine their force to quell the turbulent, and repel the menaces of a foreign enemy. Liberty gains new strength by the conflict, and the true patriot has the glory of serving his country, distinguished by his valour in the field, and in debate no less terrible by his eloquence.

14. Hence it is that in free governments we see a constellation of orators. Hence Demosthenes displayed the powers of his amazing genius, and acquired immortal honour. He saw a quick and lively people, dissolved in luxury, open to the seductions of wealth, and ready to submit to a master; he saw a great and warlike monarch threatening destruction to the liberties of his country; he saw that prince at the head of powerful armies, renowned for victory, possessed of an opulent treasury, formidable in battle, and, by his secret arts, still more so in the cabinet; he saw that king, inflamed by ambition and the lust of dominion, determined to destroy the liberties of Greece. It was that alarming crisis that called forth the powers of Demosthenes. Armed with eloquence, and with eloquence only, he stood as a bulwark against a combination of enemies foreign and domestic. He roused his countrymen from their lethargy: he kindled the holy flame of liberty; he counteracted the machinations of Philip, detected his clandestine frauds, and fired the men of Athens with indignation. To effect these generous purposes, and defeat the policy of a subtle enemy, what powers of mind were necessary! how vast, how copious, how sublime! He thundered and lightened in his discourse; he faced every danger with undaunted resolution. Difficulties served only to inspire him with new ardour. The love of his country glowed in his heart; liberty roused all his powers, and Fame held forth her immortal wreath to reward his labours. These were the fine incentives that roused his genius, and no wonder that his mind expanded with vast conceptions. He thought for his country, and, by consequence, every sentiment was sublime; every expression was grand and magnificent.

XXXVI. The true spirit of genuine eloquence [a], like an intense fire, is kept alive by fresh materials: every new commotion gives it vigour, and in proportion as it burns, it expands and brightens to a purer flame. The same causes at Rome produced the same effect. Tempestuous times called forth the genius of our ancestors. The moderns, it is true, have taken fire, and rose above themselves, as often as a quiet, settled, and uniform government gave a fair opportunity; but eloquence, it is certain, flourishes most under a bold and turbulent democracy, where the ambitious citizen, who best can mould to his purposes a fierce and contentious multitude, is sure to be the idol of the people. In the conflict of parties, that kept our ancestors in agitation, laws were multiplied; the leading chiefs were the favourite demagogues; the magistrates were often engaged in midnight debate; eminent citizens were brought to a public trial; families were set at variance; the nobles were split into factions, and the senate waged incessant war against the people. Hence that flame of eloquence which blazed out under the republican government, and hence that constant fuel that kept the flame alive.

The state, it is true, was often thrown into convulsions: but talents were exercised, and genius opened the way to public honours. He who possessed the powers of persuasion, rose to eminence, and by the arts which gave him popularity, he was sure to eclipse his colleagues. He strengthened his interest with the leading men, and gained weight and influence not only in the senate, but in all assemblies of the people. Foreign nations [b] courted his friendship. The magistrates, setting out for their provinces, made it their business to ingratiate themselves with the popular speaker, and, at their return, took care to renew their homage. The powerful orator had no occasion to solicit for preferment: the offices of praetor and consul stood open to receive him. He was invited to those exalted stations. Even in the rank of a private citizen he had a considerable share of power, since his authority swayed at once the senate and the people. It was in those days a settled maxim, that no man could either rise to dignities, or support himself in office, without possessing, in an eminent degree, a power of words, and dignity of language.

Nor can this be a matter of wonder, when we recollect, that persons of distinguished genius were, on various occasions, called forth by the voice of the people, and in their presence obliged to act an important part. Eloquence was the ruling passion of all. The reason is, it was not then sufficient merely to vote in the senate; it was necessary to support that vote with strength of reasoning, and a flow of language. Moreover, in all prosecutions, the party accused was expected to make his defence in person, and to examine the witnesses [c], who at that time were not allowed to speak in written depositions, but were obliged to give their testimony in open court. In this manner, necessity, no less than the temptation of bright rewards, conspired to make men cultivate the arts of oratory. He who was known to possess the powers of speech, was held in the highest veneration. The mute and silent character fell into contempt. The dread of shame was a motive not less powerful than the ambition that aimed at honours. To sink into the humiliating rank of a client, instead of maintaining the dignity of a patron, was a degrading thought. Men were unwilling to see the followers of their ancestors transferred to other families for protection. Above all, they dreaded the disgrace of being thought unworthy of civil honours; and, if by intrigue they attained their wishes, the fear of being despised for incapacity was a spur to quicken their ardour in the pursuit of literary fame and commanding eloquence.

XXXVII. I do not know whether you have as yet seen the historical memoirs which Mucianus [a] has collected, and lately published, containing, in eleven volumes, the transactions of the times, and, in three more, the letters of eminent men who figured on the stage of public business. This portion of history is well authenticated by the original papers, still extant in the libraries of the curious. From this valuable collection it appears, that Pompey and Crassus [b] owed their elevation as much to their talents as to their fame in arms; and that Lentulus [c], Metellus, Lucullus, Curio, and others of that class, took care to enlarge their minds, and distinguish themselves by their powers of speech. To say all in one word, no man, in those times, rose to eminence in the state, who had not given proof of his genius in the forum and the tribunals of justice.

To this it may be added, that the importance, the splendour, and magnitude of the questions discussed in that period, served to animate the public orator. The subject, beyond all doubt, lifts the mind above itself: it gives vigour to sentiment, and energy to expression. Let the topic be a paltry theft, a dry form of pleading, or a petty misdemeanor; will not the orator feel himself cramped and chilled by the meanness of the question? Give him a cause of magnitude, such as bribery in the election of magistrates, a charge for plundering the allies of Rome, or the murder of Roman citizens, how different then his emotions! how sublime each sentiment! what dignity of language! The effect, it must be admitted, springs from the disasters of society. It is true, that form of government, in which no such evils occur, must, beyond all question, be allowed to be the best; but since, in the course of human affairs, sudden convulsions must happen, my position is, that they produced, at Rome, that flame of eloquence which at this hour is so much admired. The mind of the orator grows and expands with his subject. Without ample materials no splendid oration was ever yet produced. Demosthenes, I believe, did not owe his vast reputation to the speeches which he made against his guardians [d]; nor was it either the oration in defence of Quinctius, or that for Archias the poet, that established the character of Cicero. It was Catiline, it was Verres, it was Milo and Mark Antony, that spread so much glory round him.

Let me not be misunderstood: I do not say, that for the sake of hearing a bright display of eloquence, it is fit that the public peace should be disturbed by the machinations of turbulent and lawless men. But, not to lose sight of the question before us, let it be remembered, that we are enquiring about an art which thrives and flourishes most in tempestuous times. It were, no doubt, better that the public should enjoy the sweets of peace, than be harassed by the calamities of war: but still it is war that produces the soldier and great commander. It is the same with Eloquence. The oftener she is obliged, if I may so express it, to take the field, the more frequent the engagement, in which she gives and receives alternate wounds, and the more formidable her adversary; the more she rises in pomp and grandeur, and returns from the warfare of the forum crowned with unfading laurels. He, who encounters danger, is ever sure to win the suffrages of mankind. For such is the nature of the human mind, that, in general, we choose a state of security for ourselves, but never fail to gaze with admiration on the man, whom we see, in the conflict of parties, facing his adversaries, and surmounting difficulties.

XXXVIII. I proceed to another advantage of the ancient forum; I mean the form of proceeding and the rules of practice observed in those days. Our modern custom is, I grant, more conducive to truth and justice; but that of former times gave to eloquence a free career, and, by consequence, greater weight and splendour. The advocate was not, as now, confined to a few hours [a]; he might adjourn as often as it suited his convenience; he might expatiate, as his genius prompted him: and the number of days, like that of the several patrons, was unlimited. Pompey was the first who circumscribed the genius of men within narrower limits [b]. In his third consulship he gave a check to eloquence, and, as it were, bridled its spirit, but still left all causes to be tried according to law in the forum, and before the praetors. The importance of the business, which was decided in that court of justice, will be evident, if we compare it with the transactions before the centumvirs [c], who at present have cognizance of all matters whatever. We have not so much as one oration of Cicero or Caesar, of Brutus, Caelius, or Calvus, or any other person famous for his eloquence, which was delivered before the last-mentioned jurisdiction, excepting only the speeches of Asinius Pollio [d] for the heirs of Urbinia. But those speeches were delivered about the middle of the reign of Augustus, when, after a long peace with foreign nations, and a profound tranquillity at home, that wise and politic prince had conquered all opposition, and not only triumphed over party and faction, but subdued eloquence itself.

XXXIX. What I am going to say will appear, perhaps, too minute; it may border on the ridiculous, and excite your mirth: with all my heart; I will hazard it for that very reason. The dress now in use at the bar has an air of meanness: the speaker is confined in a close robe [a], and loses all the grace of action. The very courts of judicature are another objection; all causes are heard, at present, in little narrow rooms, where spirit and strenuous exertion are unnecessary. The orator, like a generous steed, requires liberty and ample space: before a scanty tribunal his spirit droops, and the dullness of the scene damps the powers of genius. Add to this, we pay no attention to style; and indeed how should we? No time is allowed for the beauties of composition: the judge calls upon you to begin, and you must obey, liable, at the same time, to frequent interruptions, while documents are read, and witnesses examined.

During all this formality, what kind of an audience has the orator to invigorate his faculties? Two or three stragglers drop in by chance, and to them the whole business seems to be transacted in solitude. But the orator requires a different scene. He delights in clamour, tumult, and bursts of applause. Eloquence must have her theatre, as was the case in ancient times, when the forum was crowded with the first men in Rome; when a numerous train of clients pressed forward with eager expectation; when the people, in their several tribes; when ambassadors from the colonies, and a great part of Italy; attended to hear the debate; in short, when all Rome was interested in the event. We know that in the cases of Cornelius, Scaurus, Milo, Bestia, and Vatinius, the concourse was so great, that those several causes were tried before the whole body of the people. A scene so vast and magnificent was enough to inflame the most languid orator. The speeches delivered upon those occasions are in every body's hands, and, by their intrinsic excellence, we of this day estimate the genius of the respective authors.

XL. If we now consider the frequent assemblies of the people, and the right of prosecuting the most eminent men in the state; if we reflect on the glory that sprung from the declared hostility of the most illustrious characters; if we recollect, that even Scipio, Sylla, and Pompey, were not sheltered from the storms of eloquence, what a number of causes shall we see conspiring to rouse the spirit of the ancient forum! The malignity of the human heart, always adverse to superior characters, encouraged the orator to persist. The very players, by sarcastic allusions to men in power, gratified the public ear, and, by consequence, sharpened the wit and acrimony of the bold declaimer.

Need I observe to you, that in all I have said, I have not been speaking of that temperate faculty [a] which delights in quiet times, supported by its own integrity, and the virtues of moderation? I speak of popular eloquence, the genuine offspring of that licentiousness, to which fools and ill-designing men have given the name of liberty: I speak of bold and turbulent oratory, that inflamer of the people, and constant companion of sedition; that fierce incendiary, that knows no compliance, and scorns to temporize; busy, rash, and arrogant, but, in quiet and well regulated governments, utterly unknown. Who ever heard of an orator at Crete or Lacedaemon? In those states a system of rigorous discipline was established by the first principles of the constitution. Macedonian and Persian eloquence are equally unknown. The same may be said of every country, where the plan of government was fixed and uniform.

At Rhodes, indeed, and also at Athens, orators existed without number, and the reason is, in those communities the people directed every thing; a giddy multitude governed, and, to say the truth, all things were in the power of all. In like manner, while Rome was engaged in one perpetual scene of contention; while parties, factions, and internal divisions, convulsed the state; no peace in the forum, in the senate no union of sentiment; while the tribunals of justice acted without moderation; while the magistrates knew no bounds, and no man paid respect to eminent merit; in such times it must be acknowledged that Rome produced a race of noble orators; as in the wild uncultivated field the richest vegetables will often shoot up, and flourish with uncommon vigour. And yet it is fair to ask, Could all the eloquence of the Gracchi atone for the laws which they imposed on their country? Could the fame which Cicero obtained by his eloquence, compensate for the tragic end to which it brought him [b]?

XLI. The forum, at present, is the last sad relic of ancient oratory. But does that epitome of former greatness give the idea of a city so well regulated, that we may rest contented with our form of government, without wishing for a reformation of abuses? If we except the man of guilt, or such as labour under the hard hand of oppression, who resorts to us for our assistance? If a municipal city applies for protection, it is, when the inhabitants, harassed by the adjacent states, or rent and torn by intestine divisions, sue for protection. The province, that addresses the senate for a redress of grievances, has been oppressed and plundered, before we hear of the complaint. It is true, we vindicate the injured, but to suffer no oppression would surely be better than to obtain relief. Find, if you can, in any part of the world a wise and happy community, where no man offends against the laws: in such a nation what can be the use of oratory? You may as well profess the healing art where ill health is never known. Let men enjoy bodily vigour, and the practice of physic will have no encouragement. In like manner, where sober manners prevail, and submission to the authority of government is the national virtue, the powers of persuasion are rendered useless. Eloquence has lost her field of glory. In the senate, what need of elaborate speeches, when all good men are already of one mind? What occasion for studied harangues before a popular assembly, where the form of government leaves nothing to the decision of a wild democracy, but the whole administration is conducted by the wisdom of a single ruler? And again; when crimes are rare, and in fact of no great moment, what avails the boasted right of individuals to commence a voluntary prosecution? What necessity for a studied defence, often composed in a style of vehemence, artfully addressed to the passions, and generally stretched beyond all bounds, when justice is executed in mercy, and the judge is of himself disposed to succour the distressed?

Believe me, my very good, and (as far as the times will admit) my eloquent friends, had it been your lot to live under the old republic, and the men whom we so much admire had been reserved for the present age; if some god had changed the period of theirs and your existence, the flame of genius had been yours, and the chiefs of antiquity would now be acting with minds subdued to the temper of the times. Upon the whole, since no man can enjoy a state of calm tranquillity, and, at the same time, raise a great and splendid reputation; to be content with the benefits of the age in which we live, without detracting from our ancestors, is the virtue that best becomes us.

XLII. Maternus concluded [a] his discourse. There have been, said Messala, some points advanced, to which I do not entirely accede; and others, which I think require farther explanation. But the day is well nigh spent. We will, therefore, adjourn the debate. Be it as you think proper, replied Maternus; and if, in what I have said, you find any thing not sufficiently clear, we will adjust those matters in some future conference. Hereupon he rose from his seat, and embracing Aper, I am afraid, he said, that it will fare hardly with you, my good friend. I shall cite you to answer before the poets, and Messala will arraign you at the bar of the antiquarians. And I, replied Aper, shall make reprisals on you both before the school professors and the rhetoricians. This occasioned some mirth and raillery. We laughed, and parted in good humour.

END OF THE DIALOGUE.



NOTES ON THE DIALOGUE CONCERNING ORATORY.

The scene of the following Dialogue is laid in the sixth year of Vespasian, A.U.C. 828. A.D. 75. The commentators are much divided in their opinions about the real author; his work they all agree is a masterpiece in the kind; written with taste and judgement; entertaining, profound, and elegant. But whether it is to be ascribed to Tacitus, Quintilian, or any other person whom they cannot name, is a question upon which they have exhausted a store of learning. They have given us, according to their custom, much controversy, and little decision. In this field of conjecture Lipsius led the way. He published, in 1574, the first good edition of Tacitus, with emendations of the text, and not removed; he still remains in suspense. Cum multa dixerim, claudo tamen omnia hoc responso; MIHI NON LIQUERE. Gronovius Pichena, Ryckius, Rhenanus, and others, have entered warmly into the dispute. An elegant modern writer has hazarded a new conjecture. The last of Sir Thomas Fitzosborne's Letters is a kind of preface to Mr. Melmoth's Translation of the Dialogue before us. He says; of all the conversation pieces, whether ancient or modern, either of the moral or polite kind, he knows not one more elegantly written than the little anonymous Dialogue concerning the rise and decline of eloquence among the Romans. He calls it anonymous, though he is aware, that it has been ascribed not only to Tacitus and Quintilian, but even to Suetonius. The reasons, however, are so inconclusive, that he is inclined to give it to the younger Pliny. He thinks it perfectly coincides with Pliny's age; it is addressed to one of his particular friends, and is marked with similar expressions and sentiments. But, with all due submission to Mr. Melmoth, his new candidate cannot long hold us in suspense. It appears in the account of the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, in which Pliny's uncle lost his life. A.U.C. 832. A.D. 79, that Pliny was then eighteen years old, and, as the Dialogue was in 828, he could then be no more than fourteen; a time of life, when he was neither fit to be admitted to a learned debate, nor capable of understanding it. Besides this, two letters to his friend FABIUS are still extant; one in the first book, epist. 11; the other, book vii. epist. 2. No mention of the Dialogue occurs in either of those letters, nor in any other part of his works; a circumstance, which could scarce have happened to a writer so tenderly anxious about his literary character, if the work in question had been the production of his part. Brotier, the last, and, it may be said, the best of all the editors of Tacitus, is of opinion that a tract, so beautiful and judicious, ought not, without better reasons than have been as yet assigned, to be adjudged from Tacitus to any other writer. He relies much on the first edition, which was published at Venice (1468), containing the last six books of the Annals (the first six not being then found), the five books of the History, and the Dialogue, intitled, Cornelii Taciti Equitis Romani Dialogus de Oratoribus claris. There were also in the Vatican, manuscript copies of the Dialogue de Oratoribus. In 1515, when the six first Annals were found in Germany, a new edition, under the patronage of Leo X. was published by Beroaldus, carefully collated with the manuscript, which was afterwards placed in the Florentine Library. Those early authorities preponderate with Brotier against all modern conjecture; more especially, since the age of Tacitus agrees with the time of the Dialogue. He was four years older than his friend Pliny, and, at eighteen, might properly be allowed by his friends to be of their party. In two years afterwards (A.U. 830), he married Agricola's daughter, and he expressly says, (Life of Agricola, sect. ix.) that he was then a very young man. The arguments, drawn by the several commentators from the difference of style, Brotier thinks are of no weight. The style of a young author will naturally differ from what he has settled by practice at an advanced period of life. This has been observed in many eminent writers, and in none more than Lipsius himself. His language, in the outset, was easy, flowing, and elegant; but, as he advanced in years, it became stiff, abrupt, and harsh. Tacitus relates a conversation on a literary subject; and in such a piece, who can expect to find the style of an historian or an annalist? For these reasons Brotier thinks that this Dialogue may, with good reason, be ascribed to Tacitus. The translator enters no farther into the controversy, than to say, that in a case where certainty cannot be obtained, we must rest satisfied with the best evidence the nature of the thing will admit. The dispute is of no importance; for, as Lipsius says, whether we give the Dialogue to Quintilian or to Tacitus, no inconvenience can arise. Whoever was the author, it is a performance of uncommon beauty.

Before we close this introduction, it will not be improper to say a word or two about Brotier's Supplement. In the wreck of ancient literature a considerable part of this Dialogue has perished, and, by consequence, a chasm is left, much to be lamented by every reader of taste. To avoid the inconvenience of a broken context, Brotier has endeavoured to compensate for the loss. What he has added, will be found in the progress of the work; and as it is executed by the learned editor with great elegance, and equal probability, it is hoped that the insertion of it will be more agreeable to the reader, than a dull pause of melancholy regret.

Section I.

[a] Justus Fabius was consul A.U.C. 864, A.D. 111. But as he did not begin the year, his name does not appear in the FASTI CONSULARES. There are two letters to him from his friend Pliny; the first, lib. i. epist. 11; the other, lib. vii. ep. 2. it is remarkable, that in the last, the author talks of sending some of his writings for his friend's perusal; quaeram quid potissimum ex nugis meis tibi exhibeam; but not a word is said about the decline of eloquence.

Section II.

[a] Concerning Maternus nothing is known with any kind of certainty. Dio relates that a sophist, of that name, was put to death by Domitian, for a school declamation against tyrants: but not one of the commentators ventures to assert that he was the Curiatius Maternus, who makes so conspicuous a figure in the Dialogue before us.

[b] No mention is made of Marcus Aper, either by Quintilian or Pliny. It is supposed that he was father of Marcus Flavius Aper, who was substituted consul A.U.C. 883, A.D. 130. His oratorical character, and that of Secundus, as we find them drawn in this section, are not unlike what we are told by Cicero of Crassus and Antonius. Crassus, he says, was not willing to be thought destitute of literature, but he wished to have it said of him, that he despised it, and preferred the good sense of the Romans to the refinements of Greece. Antonius, on the other hand, was of opinion that his fame would rise to greater magnitude, if he was considered as a man wholly illiterate, and void of education. In this manner they both expected to increase their popularity; the former by despising the Greeks, and the latter by not knowing them. Fuit hoc in utroque eorum, ut Crassus non tam existimari vellet non didicisse, quam illa despicere, et nostrorum hominum in omni genere prudentiam Graecis anteferre. Antonius autem probabiliorem populo orationem fore censebat suam, si omnino didicisse nunquam putaretur; atque ita se uterque graviorem fore, si alter contemnere, alter ne nosse quidem Graecos videretur. Cicero De Orat. lib. ii. cap. 1.

[c] Quintilian makes honourable mention of Julius Secundus, who, if he had not been prematurely cut off, would have transmitted his name to posterity among the most celebrated orators. He would have added, and he was daily doing it, whatever was requisite to complete his oratorical genius; and all that could be desired, was more vigour in argument, and more attention to matter and sentiment, than to the choice of words. But he died too soon, and his fame was, in some degree, intercepted. He has, notwithstanding, left a considerable name. His diction was rich and copious; he explained every thing with grace and elegance; his periods flowed with a suavity that charmed his audience; his language, when metaphorical, was bold, yet accurate; and, if he hazarded an unusual phrase, he was justified by the energy with which his meaning was conveyed. Julio Secundo, si longior contigisset aetas, clarissimum profecto nomen oratoris apud posteros foret. Adjecisset enim, atque adjiciebat, caeteris virtutibus suis, quod desiderari potest; id est autem, ut esset multo magis pugnax, et saepius ad curam rerum ab elocutione respiceret. Caeterum interceptus quoque magnum sibi vindicat locum. Ea est facundia, tanta in explicando, quod velit, gratia; tam candidum, et lene, et speciosum dicendi genus; tanta verborum, etiam quae assumpta sunt, proprietas; tanta in quibusdam, ex periculo petitis, significantia. Quintil. lib. x. s. 1. It is remarkable, that Quintilian, in his list of Roman orators, has neither mentioned Maternus, nor Marcus Aper. The Dialogue, for that reason, seems to be improperly ascribed to him: men who figure so much in the enquiry concerning oratory, would not have been omitted by the critic who thought their conversation worth recording.

Section III.

[a] Thyestes was a common and popular subject of ancient tragedy.

Indignatur item privatis, et prope socco Dignis carminibus narrari coena Thyestae. HORAT. ARS POET. ver. 90.

[b] It was the custom of the colonies and municipal towns, to pay their court to some great orator at Rome, in order to obtain his patronage, whenever they should have occasion to apply to the senate for a redress of grievances.

[c] Domitius was another subject of tragedy, taken from the Roman story. Who he was, does not clearly appear. Brotier thinks it was Domitius, the avowed enemy of Julius Caesar, who moved in the senate for a law to recall that general from the command of the army in Gaul, and, afterwards, on the breaking out of the civil war, fell bravely at the battle of Pharsalia. See Suetonius, Life of Nero, section 2. Such a character might furnish the subject of a tragedy. The Roman poets were in the habit of enriching their drama with domestic occurrences, and the practice was applauded by Horace.

Nec minimum meruere decus, vestigia Graeca Ausi deserere, et celebrare domestica facta. ARS POET. ver. 286.

No path to fame our poets left untried; Nor small their merit, when with conscious pride They scorn'd to take from Greece the storied theme, But dar'd to sing their own domestic fame. FRANCIS'S HORACE.

Section V.

[a] There were at Rome several eminent men of the name of Bassus. With regard to the person here called Saleius Bassus, the commentators have not been able to glean much information. Some have contended that it was to him Persius addressed his sixth satire:

Admovit jam bruma foco te, Basse, Sabino.

But if we may believe the old scholiast, his name was CAESIUS BASSUS, a much admired lyric poet, who was living on his own farm, at the time when Mount Vesuvius discharged its torrents of fire, and made the country round a scene of desolation. The poet and his house were overwhelmed by the eruption of the lava, which happened A.U. 832, in the reign of Titus. Quintilian says of him (b. x. chap. 1.), that if after Horace any poet deserves to be mentioned, Caesius Bassus was the man. Si quem adjicere velis, is erit Caesius Bassus. Saleius Bassus is mentioned by Juvenal as an eminent poet in distress:

——At Serrano tenuique Saleio Gloria quantalibet quid erit, si gloria tantum est? SAT. vii. ver. 80.

But to poor Bassus what avails a name, To starve on compliments and empty fame! DRYDEN'S JUVENAL.

Quintilian says, he possessed a poetic genius, but so warm and vehement, that, even in an advanced age, his spirit was not under the control of sober judgement. Vehemens et poeticum ingenium SALEII BASSI fuit; nec ipsum senectute maturum. This passage affords an insuperable argument against Lipsius, and the rest of the critics who named Quintilian as a candidate for the honour of this elegant composition. Can it be imagined that a writer of fair integrity, would in his great work speak of Bassus as he deserved, and in the Dialogue overrate him beyond all proportion? Duplicity was not a part of Quintilian's character.

[b] Tacitus, it may be presumed with good reason, was a diligent reader of Cicero, Livy, Sallust, and Seneca. He has, in various parts of his works, coincidences of sentiment and diction, that plainly shew the source from which they sprung. In the present case, when he calls eloquence a buckler to protect yourself, and a weapon to annoy your adversary, can anyone doubt but he had his eye on the following sentence in Cicero de Oratore? Quid autem tam necessarium, quam tenere semper arma, quibus vel tectus ipse esse possis, vel provocare integros, et te ulcisci lacessitus?

[c] Eprius Marcellus is often a conspicuous figure in the Annals and the History of Tacitus. To a bad heart he united the gift of eloquence. In the Annals, b. xvi. s. 28, he makes a vehement speech against Paetus Thrasea, and afterwards wrought the destruction of that excellent man. For that exploit, he was attacked, in the beginning of Vespasian's reign, by Helvidius Priscus. In the History (book iv. s. 7 and 8) we see them both engaged in a violent contention. In the following year (823), Helvidius in the senate opened an accusation in form; but Marcellus, by using his eloquence as his buckler and his offensive weapon, was able to ward off the blow. He rose from his seat, and, "I leave you," he said, "I leave you to give the law to the senate: reign, if you will, even in the presence of the prince." See Hist. iv. s. 43. See also, Life of Agricola, s. 11. notes a and b.

Section VI.

[a] To be rich and have no issue, gave to the person so circumstanced the highest consequence at Rome. All ranks of men paid their court to him. To discourage a life of celibacy, and promote population, Augustus passed a law, called Papia Poppaea, whereby bachelors were subjected to penalties. Hence the compliment paid by Horace to his patron:

Diva producas sobolem, patrumque Prosperes decreta super jugandis Foeminis, prolisque novae feraci Lege marita. CARMEN SAECULARE.

Bring the springing birth to light, And with ev'ry genial grace Prolific of an endless race, Oh! crown our vows, and bless the nuptial rite. FRANCIS'S HORACE.

But marriage was not brought into fashion. In proportion to the rapid degeneracy of the manners under the emperors, celibacy grew into respect; insomuch, that we find (Annals xii. s. 52) a man too strong for his prosecutors, because he was rich, old, and childless. Valuitque pecuniosa orbitate et senecta.

[b] The faculty of speaking on a sudden question, with unpremeditated eloquence, Quintilian says, is the reward of study and diligent application. The speech, composed at leisure, will often want the warmth and energy, which accompany the rapid emotions of the mind. The passions, when roused and animated, and the images which present themselves in a glow of enthusiasm, are the inspirers of true eloquence. Composition has not always this happy effect; the process is slow; languor is apt to succeed; the passions subside, and the spirit of the discourse evaporates. Maximus vero studiorum fructus est, et velut praemium quoddam amplissimum longi laboris, ex tempore dicendi facultas. Pectus est enim quod disertos facit, et vis mentis. Nam bene concepti affectus, et recentes rerum imagines, continuo impetu feruntur, quae nonnunquam mora stili refrigescunt, et dilatae won revertuntur. Quintilian. lib. x. cap. 7.

Section VII.

[a] The translation is not quite accurate in this place. The original says, when I obtained the laticlave, and the English calls it the manly gown, which, it must be admitted, is not the exact sense. The toga virilis, or the manly gown, was assumed, when the youth came to man's estate, or the age of seventeen years. On that occasion the friends of the young man conducted him to the forum (or sometimes to the capitol), and there invested him with the new gown. This was called dies tirocinii; the day on which he commenced a tiro, or a candidate for preferment in the army. The laticlave, was an additional honour often granted at the same time. The sons of senators and patricians were entitled to that distinction, as a matter of right: but the young men, descended from such as were not patricians, did not wear the laticlave, till they entered into the service of the commonwealth, and undertook the functions of the civil magistracy. Augustus Caesar changed that custom. He gave leave to the sons of senators, in general, to assume the laticlave presently after the time of putting on the toga virilis, though they were not capable of civil honours. The emperors who succeeded, allowed the same privilege, as a favour to illustrious families. Ovid speaks of himself and his brother assuming the manly gown and the laticlave at the same time:

Interea, tacito passu labentibus annis, Liberior fratri sumpta mihique toga; Induiturque humeris cum lato purpura clavo.

Pliny the younger shews, that the laticlave was a favour granted by the emperor on particular occasions. He says, he applied for his friend, and succeeded: Ego Sexto latumclavum a Caesare nostro impetravi. Lib. ii. epist. 9. The latusclavus was a robe worn by consuls, praetors, generals in triumph, and senators, who were called laticlavii. Their sons were admitted to the same honour; but the emperors had a power to bestow this garment of distinction, and all privileges belonging to it, upon such as they thought worthy of that honour. This is what Marcus Aper says, in the Dialogue, that he obtained; and, when the translation mentions the manly gown, the expression falls short of the speaker's idea. Dacier has given an account of the laticlave, which has been well received by the learned. He tells us, that whatever was made to be put on another thing, was called clavus, not because it had any resemblance to a nail, but because it was made an adjunct to another subject. In fact, the clavi were purple galloons, with which the Romans bordered the fore part of the tunic, on both sides, and when drawn close together, they formed an ornament in the middle of the vestment. It was, for that reason, called by the Greeks, [Greek: mesoporphuron]. The broad galloons made the laticlave, and the narrow the angusticlave. The laticlave, Dacier adds, is not to be confounded with the praetexta. The latter was, at first, appropriated to the magistrates, and the sacerdotal order; but, in time, was extended to the sons of eminent families, to be worn as a mark of distinction, till the age of seventeen, when it was laid aside for the manly gown. See Dacier's Horace, lib. i. sat. 5; and see Kennet's Roman Antiquities, p. 306.

[b] Marcus Aper, Julius Secundus, and Curiatius Maternus, according to Brotier and others, were natives of Gaul. Aper (section x.) mentions the Gauls as their common countrymen: Ne quid de Gallis nostris loquamur. If that was the fact, a new man at Rome would have difficulties to surmount. Ammianus Marcellinus (a Latin historian of the fourth century) says, that at Rome the people despised every thing that did not grow before their eyes within the walls of the city, except the rich who had no children; and the veneration paid to such as had no heirs was altogether incredible. Vile esse quidquid extra urbis pomaerium nascitur, aestimant; nec credi potest qua obsequiorum diversitate coluntur homines sine liberis Romae. Lib. xiv. s. 5. In such a city a young man and a stranger could not expect to be favoured.

[c] All causes of a private nature were heard before the centumviri. Three were chosen out of every tribe, and the tribes amounted to five and thirty, so that in fact 105 were chosen; but, for the sake of a round number, they were called CENTUMVIRI. The causes that were heard before that jurisdiction are enumerated by Cicero, De Orat. lib. i. s. 38.

[d] The translation says, the wills and codicils of the rich; but it is by no means certain that those words convey the meaning of the text, which simply says, nec codicillis datur. After due enquiry, it appears that codicillus was used by the Latin authors, for what we now call the letters patent of a prince. Codicils, in the modern sense of the word, implying a supplement to a will, were unknown to the intent Roman law. The Twelve Tables mention testaments only. Codicils, in aid to wills, were first introduced in the time of Augustus; but, whatever their operation was, legacies granted by those additional writings were for some time of no validity. To confirm this, we are told that the daughter of Lentulus discharged certain legacies, which, being given by codicil, she was not bound to pay. In time, however, codicils, as an addition made by the testator to his will, grew into use, and the legacies thereby granted were confirmed. This might be the case in the sixth year of Vespasian, when the Dialogue passed between the parties; but it is, notwithstanding, highly probable, that the word codicilli means, in the passage before us, the letters patent of the prince. It is used in that sense by Suetonius, who relates, that Tiberius, after passing a night and two days in revelling with Pomponius Flaccus and Lucius Piso, granted to the former the province of Syria, and made the latter prefect of the city; declaring them, in the patents, pleasant companions, and the friends of all hours. Codicillis quoque jucundissimos et omnium horarum amicos professus. Suet. in Tib. s. 42.

[e] The common people are called, in the original, tunicatus populus; that class of men, who wore the tunic, and not the toga, or the Roman gown. The tunica, or close coat, was the common garment worn within doors, and abroad, under the toga. Kennet says, the proletarii, the capite censi, and the rest of the dregs of the city, could not afford to wear the toga, and therefore went in their tunics; whence Horace says (lib. i. epist. 7).

Vilia vendentem tunicato scruta popello.

The TOGA, however, was the peculiar dress of the Roman people. VIRGIL distinguishes his countrymen by their mode of apparel:

Romanos rerum dominos, gentemque togatam.

But, though this was the Roman habit, the lower citizens were obliged to appear abroad is their tunica, or close garment. The love of praise is so eager a passion, that the public orator is here represented as delighting in the applause of the rabble. Persius, the satirist, has said the same thing:

Pulchrum est digito monstrari, et dicier. HIC EST.

Section VIII.

[a] The character of Eprius Marcellus has been already stated, section v. note [c]. Crispus Vibius is mentioned as a man of weight and influence, Annals, book xiv. s. 28. Quintilian has mentioned him to his advantage: he calls him, book v. chap. 13, a man of agreeable and elegant talents, vir ingenii jucundi et elegantis; and again, Vibius Crispus was distinguished by the elegance of his composition, and the sweetness of his manner; a man born to please, but fitter for private suits, than for the importance of public causes. Et VIBIUS CRISPUS, compositus, et jucundus, et delectationi natus; privatis tamen causis, quam publicis, melior. Lib. x. cap. 1.

[b] Which of these two men was born at Capua, and which at Vercellae, is not clearly expressed in the original. Eprius Marcellus, who has been described of a prompt and daring spirit, ready to embark in every mischief, and by his eloquence able to give colour to the worst cause, must at this time have become a new man, since we find him mentioned in this Dialogue with unbounded praise. He, it seems, and Vibius Crispus were the favourites at Vespasian's court. Vercellae, now Verceil, was situated in the eastern part of Piedmont. Capua, rendered famous by Hannibal, was a city in Campania, always deemed the seat of pleasure.

[c] Vespasian is said to have been what is uncommon among sovereign princes, a patient hearer of truth. His attention to men of letters may be considered as a proof of that assertion. The younger Pliny tells us, that his uncle, the author of the Natural History, used to visit Vespasian before day-light, and gained admittance to the emperor, who devoted his nights to study. Ante lucem ibat ad Vespasianum imperatorem: nam ille quoque noctibus utebatur. Lib. iii. epist. 5.

Section IX.

[a] Agamemnon and Jason were two favourite dramatic subjects with the Roman poets. After their example, the moderns seem to have been enamoured with those two Grecian heroes. Racine has displayed the former, in his tragedy of Iphigenia, and the late Mr. Thomson in a performance of great merit, entitled Agamemnon. Corneille, and, the late Mr. Glover, thought Jason and Medea worthy of their talents.

[b] Saleius Bassus has been already mentioned, s. v. note [a]. It may be added in this place, that the critics of his time concurred in giving him the warmest praise, not only as a good and excellent man, but also as an eminent and admirable poet. He was descended from a family of distinction, but was poor and often distressed. Whether he or Caesius Bassus was the friend of Persius, is not perfectly clear. Be the fact as it may, the satirist describes a fine poet, and his verses were applicable to either of them:

Jamne lyra, et tetrico vivunt tibi pectine chordae? Mire opifex numeris veterum primordia rerum, Atque marem strepitum fidis intendisse Latinae; Mox juvenes agitare jocos, et pollice honesto Egregios lusisse senes. PERSIUS, sat. vi.

[c] Before the invention of printing, copies were not easily multiplied. Authors were eager to enjoy their fame, and the pen of the transcriber was slow and tedious. Public rehearsals were the road to fame. But an audience was to be drawn together by interest, by solicitation, and public advertisements. Pliny, in one of his letters, has given a lively description of the difficulties which the author had to surmount. This year, he says, has produced poets in great abundance. Scarce a day has passed in the month of April, without the recital of a poem. But the greater part of the audience comes with reluctance; they loiter in the lobbies, and there enter into idle chat, occasionally desiring to know, whether the poet is in his pulpit? has he begun? is his preface over? has he almost finished? They condescended, at last, to enter the room; they looked round with an air of indifference, and soon retired, some by stealth, and others with open contempt. Hence the greater praise is due to those authors, who do not suffer their genius to droop, but, on the contrary, amidst the most discouraging circumstances, still persist to cultivate the liberal arts. Pliny adds, that he himself attended all the public readings, and, for that purpose, staid longer in the city than was usual with him. Being, at length, released, he intended, in his rural retreat, to finish a work of his own, but not to read it in public, lest he should be thought to claim a return of the civility which he had shewn to others. He was a bearer, and not a creditor. The favour conferred, if redemanded, ceases to be a favour. Magnum proventum poetarum annus hic attulit. Toto mense Aprili nullus fere dies, quo non recitaret aliquis. Tametsi ad audiendum pigre coitur. Plerique in stationibus sedent, tempusque audiendis fabulis conterunt, ac subinde sibi nuntiari jubent, an jam recitator intraverit, an dixerit praefationem, an ex magna parte evolverit librum? Tum demum, ac tune quoque lente, cunctanterque veniunt, nec tamen remanent, sed ante finem recedunt; alii dissimulanter, ac furtim, alii, simpliciter, ac libere. Sed tanto magis laudandi probandique sunt, quos a scribendi recitandique studio haec auditorum vel desidia, vel superbia non retardat. Equidem prope nemini defui: his ex causis longius, quam destinaveram, tempus in urbe consumpsi. Possum jam repetere secessum, et scribere aliquid, quod non recitem, ne videar, quorum recitationibus affui, non auditor fuisse, sed creditor. Nam, ut in caeteris rebus, ita in audiendi officio, perit gratia si reposcatur. Pliny, lib. i. ep. 13. Such was the state of literature under the worst of the emperors. The Augustan age was over. In the reigns of Tiberius and Caligula learning drooped, but in some degree revived under the dull and stupid Claudius. Pliny, in the letter above cited, says of that emperor, that, one day hearing a noise in his palace, he enquired what was the cause, and, being informed that Nonianus was reciting in public, went immediately to the place, and became one of the audience. After that time letters met with no encouragement from the great. Lord Shaftesbury says, he cannot but wonder how the Romans, after the extinction of the Caesarean and Claudian family, and a short interval of princes raised and destroyed with much disorder and public ruin, were able to regain their perishing dominion, and retrieve their sinking state, by an after-race of wise and able princes, successively adopted, and taken from a private state to rule the empire of the world. They were men, who not only possessed the military virtues, and supported that sort of discipline in the highest degree; but as they sought the interest of the world, they did what was in their power to restore liberty, and raise again the perishing arts, and the decayed virtue of mankind. But the season was past: barbarity and gothicism were already entered into the arts, ere the savages made an impression on the empire. See Advice to an Author, part. ii. s. 1. The gothicism, hinted at by Shaftesbury, appears manifestly in the wretched situation to which the best authors were reduced. The poets who could not hope to procure an audience, haunted the baths and public walks, in order to fasten on their friends, and, at any rate, obtain a hearing for their works. Juvenal says, the plantations and marble columns of Julius Fronto resounded with the vociferation of reciting poets:

Frontonis platani convulsaque marmora clamant Semper, et assiduo ruptae lectore columnae. Expectes eadem a summo minimoque poeta. SAT. i. ver. 12.

The same author observes, that the poet, who aspired to literary fame, might borrow an house for the purpose of a public reading; and the great man who accommodated the writer, might arrange his friends and freedmen on the back seats, with direction not to be sparing of their applause; but still a stage or pulpit, with convenient benches, was to be procured, and that expence the patrons of letters would not supply.

——At si dulcedine famae Contentus recites, Maculonus commodat aedes. Scit dare libertos extrema in parte sedentes Ordinis, et magnas comitum disponere voces. Nemo dabit procerum, quanti subsellia constent. SAT. vii. ver. 39.

Statius, in Juvenal's time, was a favourite poet. If he announced a reading, his auditors went in crowds. He delighted all degrees and ranks of men; but, when the hour of applause was over, the author was obliged to sell a tragedy to Paris, the famous actor, in order to procure a dinner,

Curritur ad vocem jucundam, et carmen amicae? Thebaidos, laetam fecit cum Statius urbem? Promisitque diem: tanta dulcedine vulgi Auditur; sed cum fregit subsellia versu, Esurit, intactam Paridi nisi vendit Agaven. SAT. vii. ver. 82.

This was the hard lot of poetry, and this the state of public reading, which Aper describes to his friend Maternus.

Section X.

[a] Horace has the same observation:

——Mediocribus esse poetis Non Dii, non homines, non concessere columnae. ART OF POETRY, ver. 372.

But God and man, and letter'd post denies, That poets ever are of middling size. FRANCIS'S HORACE.

[b] Notwithstanding all that is said, in this Dialogue, of Saleius Bassus, it does not appear, in the judgement of Quintilian, that he was a poet whose fame could extend itself to the distant provinces. Perfection in the kind is necessary. Livy, the historian, was at the head of his profession. In consequence of his vast reputation, we know from Pliny, the consul, that a native of the city of Cadiz was so struck with the character of that great writer, that he made a journey to Rome, with no other intent than to see that celebrated genius; and having gratified his curiosity, without staying to view the wonders of that magnificent city, returned home perfectly satisfied. Nunquamne legisti Gaditanum quemdam Titi Livii nomine gloriaque commotum, ad visendum eum ab ultimo terrarum orbe venisse; statimque, ut viderat, abiisse? Lib. ii. epist. 3.

[c] In Homer and Virgil, as well as in the dramatic poets of the first order, we frequently have passages of real eloquence, with the difference which Quintilian mentions: the poet, he says, is a slave to the measure of his verse; and, not being able at all times to make use of the true and proper word, he is obliged to quit the natural and easy way of expression, and avail himself of new modes and turns of phraseology, such as tropes, and metaphors, with the liberty of transposing words, and lengthening or shortening syllables as he sees occasion. Quod alligati ad certam pedum necessitatem non semper propriis uti possint, sed depulsi a recta via, necessario ad quaedam diverticula confugiant; nec mutare quaedam modo verba, sed extendere, corripere, convertere, dividere cogantur. Quint, lib. x. cap. 1. The speaker in the Dialogue is aware of this distinction, and, subject to it, the various branches of poetry are with him so many different modes of eloquence.

[d] The original has, the citadel of eloquence, which calls to mind an admired passage in Lucretius:

Sed nil dulcius est bene quam munita tenere Edita doctrina sapientum templa serena, Despicere unde queas alios, passimque videre Errare, atque viam pallantes quaerere vitae. Lib. ii. ver. 7.

[e] It is a fact well known, that in Greece the most illustrious of both sexes thought it honourable to exercise themselves in the exhibitions of the theatre, and even to appear in the athletic games. Plutarch, it is true, will have it, that all scenic arts were prohibited at Sparta by the laws of Lycurgus; and yet Cornelius Nepos assures us, that no Lacedaemonian matron, however high her quality, was ashamed to act for hire on the public stage. He adds, that throughout Greece, it was deemed the highest honour to obtain the prize in the Olympic games, and no man blushed to be a performer in plays and pantomimes, and give himself a spectacle to the people. Nulla Lacedaemoni tam est nobilis vidua, quae non in scenam eat mercede conducta. Magnis in laudibus tota fuit Graecia, victorem Olympiae citari. In scenam vero prodire, et populo esse spectaculo nemini in iisdem gentibus fuit turpitudini. Cor. Nep. in Praefat. It appears, however, from a story told by AElian and cited by Shaftesbury, Advice to an Author, part ii. s. 3, that the Greek women were by law excluded from the Olympic games. Whoever was found to transgress, or even to cross the river Alpheus, during the celebration of that great spectacle, was liable to be thrown from a rock. The consequence was, that not one female was detected, except Callipatria, or, as others called her, Pherenice. This woman, disguised in the habit of a teacher of gymnastic exercises, introduced her son, Pisidorus, to contend for the victor's prize. Her son succeeded. Transported with joy at a sight so glorious, the mother overleaped the fence, which enclosed the magistrates, and, in the violence of that exertion, let fall her garment. She was, by consequence, known to be a woman, but absolved from all criminality. For that mild and equitable sentence, she was indebted to the merit of her father, her brothers, and her son, who all obtained the victor's crown. The incident, however, gave birth to a new law, whereby it was enacted, that the masters of the gymnastic art should, for the future, come naked to the Olympic games. AElian lib. x. cap. 1; and see Pausanias, lib. v. cap. 6.

[f] Nicostratus is praised by Pausanias (lib. v. cap. 20), as a great master of the athletic arts. Quintilian has also recorded his prowess. "Nicostratus, whom in our youth we saw advanced in years, would instruct his pupil in every branch of his art, and make him, what he was himself, an invincible champion. Invincible he was, since, on one and the same day, he entered the lists as a wrestler and a boxer, and was proclaimed conqueror in both." Ac si fuerit qui docebitur, ille, quem adolescentes vidimus, Nicostratus, omnibus in eo docendi partibus similiter uteretur; efficietque illum, qualis hic fuit, luctando pugnandoque quorum utroque in certamine iisdem diebus coronabatur invictum. Quint. lib, ii. cap. 8.

Section XI.

[a] Nero's ambition to excel in poetry was not only ridiculous, but, at the same time, destructive to Lucan, and almost all the good authors of the age. See Annals, b. xv. According to the old scholiast on the Satires of Persius, the following verses were either written by Nero, or made in imitation of that emperor's style:

Torva Mimalloneis implerunt cornua bombis, Et raptum vitulo caput ablatura superbo Bassaris, et lyncem Maenas flexura corymbis, Evion ingeminat: reparabilis adsonat echo.

The affectation of rhyme, which many ages afterwards was the essential part of monkish verse, the tumour of the words, and the wretched penury of thought, may be imputed to a frivolous prince, who studied his art of poetry in the manner described by Tacitus, Annals, b. xiv. s. 16. And yet it may be a question, whether the satirist would have the hardiness to insert the very words of an imperial poet, armed with despotic power. A burlesque imitation would answer the purpose; and it may be inferred from another passage in the same poem, that Persius was content to ridicule the mode of versification then in vogue at court.

Claudere sic versum didicit; Berecynthius Attin, Et qui caeruleum dirimebat Nerea Delphin. Sic costam longo subduximus Apennino.

[b] Vatinius was a favourite at the court of Nero. Tacitus calls him the spawn of a cook's-shop and a tippling-house; sutrinae et tabernae alumnus. He recommended himself to the favour of the prince by his scurrility and vulgar humour. Being, by those arts, raised above himself, he became the declared enemy of all good men, and acted a distinguished part among the vilest instruments of that pernicious court. See his character, Annals xv. s. 34. When an illiberal and low buffoon basks in the sunshine of a court, and enjoys exorbitant power, the cause of literature can have nothing to expect. The liberal arts must, by consequence, be degraded by a corrupt taste, and learning will be left to run wild and grow to seed.

Section XII.

[a] That poetry requires a retreat from the bustle of the world, has been so often repeated, that it is now considered as a truth, from which there can be no appeal. Milton, it is true, wrote his Paradise Lost in a small house near Bunhill Fields; and Dryden courted the muse in the hurry and dissipation of a town life. But neither of them fixed his residence by choice. Pope grew immortal on the banks of the Thames. But though the country seems to be the seat of contemplation, two great writers have been in opposite opinions. Cicero says, woods and groves, and rivers winding through the meadows, and the refreshing breeze, with the melody of birds, may have their attraction; but they rather relax the mind into indolence, than rouse our attention, or give vigour to our faculties. Sylvarum amaenitas, et praeterlabentia flumina, et inspirantes ramis arborum aurae, volucrumque cantus, et ipsa late circumspiciendi libertas ad se trahunt; at mihi remittere potius voluptas ista videtur cogitationem, quam intendere. De Orat. lib. ii. This, perhaps, may be true as applied to the public orator, whose scene of action lay in the forum or the senate. Pliny, on the other hand, says to his friend Tacitus, there is something in the solemnity of venerable woods, and the awful silence which prevails in those places, that strongly disposes us to study and contemplation. For the future, therefore, whenever you hunt, take along with you your pen and paper, as well as your basket and bottle; for you will find the mountains not more inhabited by Diana, than by Minerva. Jam undique sylvae, et solitudo, ipsumque illud silentium, quod venationi datur, magna cogitationis incitamenta sunt. Proinde, cum, venabere, licebit, auctore me, ut panarium et lagunculam, sic etiam pugillares feras. Experiaris non Dianam magis montibus quam Minervam inerrare. Lib. i. epist. 6. Between these two different opinions, a true poet may be allowed to decide. Horace describes the noise and tumult of a city life, and then says,

Scriptorum chorus omnis amat nemus, et fugit urbes. Epist. lib. ii. ep. ii. ver. 77.

Alas! to grottos and to groves we run, To ease and silence, ev'ry muse's son. POPE.

[b] The expression in the original is full and expressive, lucrosae hujus et sanguinantis eloquentiae; that gainful and blood-thirsty eloquence. The immoderate wealth acquired by Eprius Marcellus has been mentioned in this Dialogue, section 8. Pliny gives us an idea of the vast acquisitions gained by Regulus, the notorious informer. From a state of indigence, he rose, by a train of villainous actions, to such immense riches, that he once consulted the omens, to know how soon he should be worth sixty millions of sesterces, and found them so favourable, that he had no doubt of being worth double that sum. Aspice Regulum, qui ex paupere et tenui ad tantas opes per flagitia processit, ut ipse mihi dixerit, cum consuleret, quam cito sestertium sexcennies impleturus esset, invenisse se exta duplicata, quibus portendi millies et ducenties habiturum. Lib. ii. ep. 20. In another epistle the same author relates, that Regulus, having lost his son, was visited upon that occasion by multitudes of people, who all in secret detested him, yet paid their court with as much assiduity as if they esteemed and loved him. They retaliated upon this man his own insidious arts: to gain the friendship of Regulus, they played the game of Regulus himself. He, in the mean time, dwells in his villa on the other side of the Tiber, where he has covered a large tract of ground with magnificent porticos, and lined the banks of the river with elegant statues; profuse, with all his avarice, and, in the depth of infamy, proud and vain-glorious. Convenitur ad eum mira celebritate: cuncti detestantur, oderunt; et, quasi probent, quasi diligant, cursant, frequentant, utque breviter, quod sentio, enunciem, in Regulo demerendo, Regulum imitantur. Tenet se trans Tyberim in hortis, in quibus latissimum solum porticibus immensis, ripam statuis suis occupavit; ut est, in summa avaritia sumptuosus, in summa infamia gloriosus. Lib. iv. ep. 2. All this splendour, in which Regulus lived, was the fruit of a gainful and blood-thirsty eloquence; if that may be called eloquence, which Pliny says was nothing more than a crazed imagination; nihil praeter ingenium insanum. Lib. iv. ep. 7.

[c] Orpheus, in poetic story, was the son of Calliope, and Linus boasted of Apollo for his father.

——Nec Thracius Orpheus, Nec Linus; huic mater quamvis, atque huic pater adsit, Orphei Calliopea, Lino formosus Apollo. VIRG. ECL. iv. ver. 55.

Not Orpheus' self, nor Linus, should exceed My lofty lays, or gain the poet's meed, Though Phoebus, though Calliope inspire, And one the mother aid, and one the sire. WHARTON'S VIRGIL.

Orpheus embarked in the Argonautic expedition. His history of it, together with his hymns, is still extant; but whether genuine, is much doubted.

[d] Lysias, the celebrated orator, was a native of Syracuse, the chief town in Sicily. He lived about four hundred years before the Christian aera. Cicero says, that he did not addict himself to the practice of the bar; but his compositions were so judicious, so pure and elegant, that you might venture to pronounce him a perfect orator. Tum fuit Lysias, ipse quidem in causis forensibus non versatus sed egregie subtilis scriptor, atque elegans, quem jam prope audeas oratorem perfectum dicere. Cicero De Claris Orat. s. 35. Quintilian gives the same opinion. Lysias, he says, preceded Demosthenes: he is acute and elegant, and if to teach the art of speaking were the only business of an orator, nothing more perfect can be found. He has no redundancy, nothing superfluous, nothing too refined, or foreign to his purpose: his style is flowing, but more like a pure fountain, than a noble river. His aetate Lysias major, subtilis atque elegans, et quo nihil, si oratori satis sit docere, quaeras perfectius. Nihil enim est inane, nihil arcessitum; puro tamen fonti, quam magno flumini propior. Quint, lib. x. cap. 1. A considerable number of his orations is still extant, all written with exquisite taste and inexpressible sweetness. See a very pleasing translation by Dr. Gillies.

Hyperides flourished at Athens in the time of Demosthenes, AEschynes, Lycurgus, and other famous orators. That age, says Cicero, poured forth a torrent of eloquence, of the best and purest kind, without the false glitter of affected ornament, in a style of noble simplicity, which lasted to the end of that period. Huic Hyperides proximus, et AEschynes fuit, et Lycurgus, aliique plures. Haec enim aetas effudit hanc copiam; et, ut opinio mea fert, succus ille et sanguis incorruptus usque ad hanc aetatem oratorum fuit, in qua naturalis inesset, non fucatus nitor. De Claris Orat. s. 36. Quintilian allows to Hyperides a keen discernment, and great sweetness of style; but he pronounces him an orator designed by nature to shine in causes of no great moment. Dulcis in primis et acutus Hyperides; sed minoribus causis, ut non dixerim utilior, magis par. Lib. x. cap. 1. Whatever might be the case when this Dialogue happened, it is certain, at present, that the fame of Sophocles and Euripides has eclipsed the two Greek orators.

[e] For an account of Asinius Pollio and Corvinus Messala, see Annals, b. xi. s. 6. Quintilian (b. xii. chap. 10) commends the diligence of Pollio, and the dignity of Messala. In another part of his Institutes, he praises the invention, the judgement, and spirit of Pollio, but at the same time says, he fell so short of the suavity and splendour of Cicero, that he might well pass for an orator of a former age. He adds, that Messala was natural and elegant: the grandeur of his style seemed to announce the nobility of his birth; but still he wanted force and energy. Malta in Asinio Pollione inventio, summa diligentia, adeo ut quibusdam etiam nimia videatur; et consilii et animi satis; a nitore et jucunditate Ciceronis ita longe abest, ut videri possit saeculo prior. At Messala nitidus et candidus, et quodammodo prae se ferens in dicendo nobilitatem suam, viribus minor. Quintilian, lib. x. cap. 1. The two great poets of the Augustan age have transmitted the name of Asinius Pollio to the latest posterity. Virgil has celebrated him as a poet, and a commander of armies, in the Illyrican and Dalmatic wars.

Tu mihi, seu magni superas jam saxa Timavi, Sive oram Illyrici legis aequoris; en erit unquam Ille dies, mihi cum liceat tua dicere facta? En erit, ut liceat totum mihi ferre per orbem Sola Sophocleo tua carmina digna cothurno? ECLOG. viii. ver. 6.

O Pollio! leading thy victorious bands O'er deep Timavus, or Illyria's sands; O when thy glorious deeds shall I rehearse? When tell the world how matchless is thy verse, Worthy the lofty stage of laurell'd Greece, Great rival of majestic Sophocles! WHARTON'S VIRGIL.

Horace has added the orator and the statesman:

Paulum severae musa tragediae Desit theatris; mox, ubi publicas Res ordinaris, grande munus Cecropio repetes cothurno, Insigne moestis praesidium reis, Et consulenti, Pollio, curiae, Cui laurus aeternos honores Dalmatico peperit triumpho. Lib. ii. ode 1.

Retard a while thy glowing vein, Nor swell the solemn tragic scene; And when thy sage, thy patriot cares Have form'd the train of Rome's affairs, With lofty rapture reinflam'd, diffuse Heroic thoughts, and wake the buskin'd muse. FRANCIS'S HORACE.

But after all, the question put by Maternus, is, can any of their orations be compared to the Medea of Ovid, or the Thyestes of Varius? Those two tragedies are so often praised by the critics of antiquity, that the republic of letters has reason to lament the loss. Quintilian says that the Medea of Ovid was a specimen of genius, that shewed to what heights the poet could have risen, had he thought fit rather to curb, than give the rein to his imagination. Ovidii Medea videtur mihi ostendere quantum vir ille praestare potuisset, si ingenio suo temperare, quam indulgere maluisset. Lib. x. cap. 1.

The works of Varius, if we except a few fragments, are wholly lost. Horace, in his journey to Brundusium, met him and Virgil, and he mentions the incident with the rapture of a friend who loved them both:

Plotius, et Varius Sinuessae, Virgiliusque Occurrunt; animae quales neque candidiores Terra tulit, neque queis me sit devinctior alter. Lib. i. sat. 5.

Horace also celebrates Varius as a poet of sublime genius. He begins his Ode to Agrippa with the following lines:

Scriberis Vario fortis, et hostium Victor, Maeonii carminis alite, Quam rem cumque ferox navibus, aut equis Miles te duce gesserit. Lib. i. ode 6.

Varius, who soars on epic wing, Agrippa, shall thy conquests sing, Whate'er, inspir'd by thy command, The soldier dar'd on sea or land. FRANCIS'S HORACE.

A few fragments only of his works have reached posterity. His tragedy of THYESTES is highly praised by Quintilian. That judicious critic does not hesitate to say, that it may be opposed to the best productions of the Greek stage. Jam Varii Thyestes cuilibet Graecorum comparari potest. Varius lived in high favour at the court of Augustus. After the death of Virgil, he was joined with Plotinus and Tucca to revise the works of that admirable poet. The Varus of Virgil, so often celebrated in the Pastorals, was, notwithstanding what some of the commentators have said, a different person from Varius, the author of Thyestes.