Complete Works of Tacitus (Delphi Classics) (Delphi Ancient Classics Book 24)

by Publius Cornelius Tacitus

  Certainly not, replied Aper, nor shall the present age, unheard and undefended, be degraded by a conspiracy. But before you sound to arms, I wish to know, who are to be reckoned among the ancients? At what point of time do you fix your favourite æra? When you talk to me of antiquity, I carry my view to the first ages of the world, and see before me Ulysses and Nestor, who flourished little less than thirteen hundred years ago. Your retrospect, it seems, goes no farther back than to Demosthenes and Hyperides; men who lived in the times of Philip and Alexander, and indeed survived them both. The interval, between Demosthenes and the present age, is little more than four hundred years; a space of time, which, with a view to the duration of human life, may be called long; but, as a portion of that immense tract of time which includes the different ages of the world, it shrinks into nothing, and seems to be but yesterday. For if it be true, as Cicero says in his treatise called Hortensius, that the great and genuine year is that period in which the heavenly bodies revolve to the station from which their source began; and if this grand rotation of the whole planetary system requires no less than twelve thousand nine hundred and fifty-four years of our computation, it follows that Demosthenes, your boasted ancient, becomes a modern, and even our contemporary; nay, that he lived in the same year with ourselves; I had almost said, in the same month .

  XVII. But I am in haste to pass to our Roman orators. Menenius Agrippa may fairly be deemed an ancient. I take it, however, that he is not the person, whom you mean to oppose to the professors of modern eloquence. The æra, which you have in view, is that of Cicero and Cæsar; of Cælius and Calvus; of Brutus , Asinius, and Messala. Those are the men, whom you place in the front of hour line; but for what reason they are to be classed with the ancients, and not, as I think they ought to be, with the moderns, I am still to learn. To begin with Cicero; he, according to the account of Tiro, his freedman, was put to death on the seventh of the ides of December, during the consulship of Hirtius and Pansa , who, we know, were both cut off in the course of the year, and left their office vacant for Augustus and Quintus Pedius. Count from that time six and fifty years to complete the reign of Augustus; three and twenty for that of Tiberius, four for Caligula, eight and twenty for Claudius and Nero, one for Galba, Otho, and Vitellius, and finally six from the accession of Vespasian to the present year of our felicity, we shall have from the death of Cicero a period of about one hundred and twenty years, which may be considered as the term allotted to the life of man. I myself remember to have seen in Britain a soldier far advanced in years, who averred that he carried arms in that very battle in which his countrymen sought to drive Julius Cæsar back from their coast. If this veteran, who served in the defence of his country against Cæsar’s invasion, had been brought a prisoner to Rome; or, if his own inclination, or any other accident in the course of things, had conducted him thither, he might have heard, not only Cæsar and Cicero, but even ourselves in some of our public speeches.

  In the late public largess you will acknowledge that you saw several old men, who assured us that they had received more than once, the like distribution from Augustus himself. If that be so, might not those persons have heard Corvinus and Asinius? Corvinus, we all know, lived through half the reign of Augustus, and Asinius almost to the end. How then are we to ascertain the just boundaries of a century? They are not to be varied at pleasure, so as to place some orators in a remote, and others in a recent period, while people are still living, who heard them all, and may, therefore, with good reason rank them as contemporaries.

  XVIII. From what I have said, I assume it as a clear position, that the glory, whatever it be, that accrued to the age in which those orators lived, is not confined to that particular period, but reaches down to the present time, and may more properly be said to belong to us, than to Servius Galba , or to Carbo , and others of the same or more ancient date. Of that whole race of orators, I may freely say, that their manner cannot now be relished. Their language is coarse, and their composition rough, uncouth, and harsh; and yet your Calvus , your Cælius, and even your favourite Cicero, condescend to follow that inelegant style. It were to be wished that they had not thought such models worthy of imitation. I mean to speak my mind with freedom; but before I proceed, it will be necessary to make a preliminary observation, and it is this: Eloquence has no settled form: at different times it puts on a new garb, and changes with the manners and the taste of the age. Thus we find, that Gracchus , compared with the elder Cato , is full and copious; but, in his turn, yields to Crassus , an orator more polished, more correct, and florid. Cicero rises superior to both; more animated, more harmonious and sublime. He is followed by Corvinus , who has all the softer graces; a sweet flexibility in his style, and a curious felicity in the choice of his words. Which was the greatest orator, is not the question.

  The use I make of these examples, is to prove that eloquence does not always wear the same dress, but, even among your celebrated ancients, has its different modes of persuasion. And be it remembered, that what differs is not always the worst. Yet such is the malignity of the human mind, that what has the sanction of antiquity is always admired; what is present, is sure to be condemned. Can we doubt that there have been critics, who were better pleased with Appius Cæcus than with Cato? Cicero had his adversaries : it was objected to him, that his style was redundant, turgid, never compressed, void of precision, and destitute of Attic elegance. We all have read the letters of Calvus and Brutus to your famous orator. In the course of that correspondence, we plainly see what was Cicero’s opinion of those eminent men. The former appeared to him cold and languid; the latter , disjointed, loose, and negligent. On the other hand, we know what they thought in return: Calvus did not hesitate to say, that Cicero was diffuse luxuriant to a fault, and florid without vigour. Brutus, in express terms, says, he was weakened into length, and wanted sinew. If you ask my opinion, each of them had reason on his side. I shall hereafter examine them separately. My business at present, is not in the detail: I speak of them in general terms.

  XIX. The æra of ancient oratory is, I think, extended by its admirers no farther back than the time of Cassius Severus . He, they tell us, was the first who dared to deviate from the plain and simple style of his predecessors. I admit the fact. He departed from the established forms, not through want of genius, or of learning, but guided by his own good sense and superior judgement. He saw that the public ear was formed to a new manner; and eloquence, he knew, was to find new approaches to the heart. In the early periods of the commonwealth, a rough unpolished people might well be satisfied with the tedious length of unskilful speeches, at a time when to make an harangue that took up the whole day, was the orator’s highest praise. The prolix exordium, wasting itself in feeble preparation; the circumstantial narration, the ostentatious division of the argument under different heads, and the thousand proofs and logical distinctions, with whatever else is contained in the dry precepts of Hermagoras and Apollodorus, were in that rude period received with universal applause. To finish the picture, if your ancient orator could glean a little from the common places of philosophy, and interweave a few shreds and patches with the thread of his discourse, he was extolled to the very skies. Nor can this be matter of wonder: the maxims of the schools had not been divulged; they came with an air of novelty. Even among the orators themselves, there were but few who had any tincture of philosophy. Nor had they learned the rules of art from the teachers of eloquence.

  In the present age, the tenets of philosophy and the precepts of rhetoric are no longer a secret. The lowest of our popular assemblies are now, I will not say fully instructed, but certainly acquainted with the elements of literature. The orator, by consequence, finds himself obliged to seek new avenues to the heart, and new graces to embellish his discourse, that he may not offend fastidious ears, especially before a tribunal where the judge is no longer bound by precedent, but determines according to his will and pleasure; not, as formerly, observing the measure of time allowed to the advocate, but
taking upon himself to prescribe the limits. Nor is this all: the judge, at present, will not condescend to wait till the orator, in his own way, opens his case; but, of his own authority, reminds him of the point in question, and, if he wanders, calls him back from his digression, not without a hint that the court wishes to dispatch.

  XX. Who, at this time, would bear to hear an advocate introducing himself with a tedious preface about the infirmities of his constitution? Yet that is the threadbare exordium of Corvinus. We have five books against Verres . Who can endure that vast redundance? Who can listen to those endless arguments upon points of form, and cavilling exceptions , which we find in the orations of the same celebrated advocate for Marcus Tullius and Aulus Cæcina? Our modern judges are able to anticipate the argument. Their quickness goes before the speaker. If not struck with the vivacity of his manner, the elegance of his sentiments, and the glowing colours of his descriptions, they soon grow weary of the flat insipid discourse. Even in the lowest class of life, there is now a relish for rich and splendid ornament. Their taste requires the gay, the florid, and the brilliant. The unpolished style of antiquity would now succeed as ill at the bar, as the modern actor who should attempt to copy the deportment of Roscius , or Ambivius Turpio. Even the young men who are preparing for the career of eloquence, and, for that purpose, attend the forum and the tribunals of justice, have now a nice discriminating taste. They expect to have their imaginations pleased. They wish to carry home some bright illustration, some splendid passage, that deserves to be remembered. What has struck their fancy, they communicate to each other: and in their letters, the glittering thought, given with sententious brevity, the poetical allusion that enlivened the discourse, and the dazzling imagery, are sure to be transmitted to their respective colonies and provinces. The ornaments of poetic diction are now required, not, indeed, copied from the rude obsolete style of Accius and Pacuvius, but embellished with the graces of Horace, Virgil, and Lucan. The public judgement has raised a demand for harmonious periods, and, in compliance with the taste of the age, our orators grow every day more polished and adorned. Let it not be said that what we gain in refinement, we lose in strength. Are the temples, raised by our modern architects, of a weaker structure, because they are not formed with shapeless stones, but with the magnificence of polished marble, and decorations of the richest gilding?

  XXI. Shall I fairly own to you the impression which I generally receive from the ancient orators? They make me laugh, or lull me to sleep. Nor is this the case only, when I read the orations of Canutus , Arrius, Furnius, Toranius and others of the same school, or rather, the same infirmary ; an emaciated sickly race of orators; without sinew, colour, or proportion. But what shall be said of your admired Calvus ? He, I think, has left no less than one and twenty volumes: in the whole collection, there is not more than one or two short orations, that can pretend to perfection in the kind. Upon this point there is no difference of opinion. Who now reads his declamations against Asitius or Drusus? His speeches against Vatinius are in the hands of the curious, particularly the second, which must be allowed to be a masterpiece. The language is elegant; the sentiments are striking, and the ear is satisfied with the roundness of the periods. In this specimen we see that he had an idea of just composition, but his genius was not equal to his judgement. The orations of Cælius, though upon the whole defective, are not without their beauties. Some passages are highly finished. In those we acknowledge, the nice touches of modern elegance. In general, however, the coarse expression, the halting period, and the vulgarity of the sentiments, have too much of the leaven of antiquity.

  If Cælius is still admired, it is not, I believe, in any of those parts that bear the mark of a rude illiterate age. With regard to Julius Cæsar , engaged as he was in projects of vast ambition, we may forgive him the want of that perfection which might, otherwise, be expected from so sublime a genius. Brutus, in like manner, may be excused on account of his philosophical speculations. Both he and Cæsar, in their oratorical attempts, fell short of themselves. Their warmest admirers acknowledge the fact, nor is there an instance to the contrary, unless we except Cæsar’s speech for Decius the Samnite , and that of Brutus for king Dejotarus. But are those performances, and some others of the same lukewarm temper, to be received as works of genius? He who admires those productions, may be left to admire their verses also. For verses they both made, and sent them into the world, I will not say, with more success than Cicero, but certainly more to their advantage; for their poetry had the good fortune to be little known.

  Asinius lived near our own times . He, seems to have studied in the old school of Menenius and Appius. He composed tragedies as well as orations, but in a style so harsh and ragged, that one would think him the disciple of Accius and Pacuvius. He mistook the nature of eloquence, which may then be said to have attained its true beauty, when the parts unite with smoothness, strength, and proportion. As in the human body the veins should not swell too high, nor the bones and sinews appear too prominent; but its form is then most graceful, when a pure and temperate blood gives animation to the whole frame; when the muscles have their proper play, and the colour of health is diffused over the several parts. I am not willing to disturb the memory of Corvinus Messala . If he did not reach the graces of modern composition, the defect does not seem to have sprung from choice. The vigour of his genius was not equal to his judgement.

  XXII. I now proceed to Cicero, who, we find, had often upon his hands the very controversy, that engages us at present. It was the fashion with his contemporaries to admire the ancients, while he, on the contrary, contended for the eloquence of his own time. Were I to mention the quality that placed him at the head of his rivals I should say it was the solidity of his judgement. It was he that first shewed a taste for polished and graceful oratory. He was happy in his choice of words, and he had the art of giving weight and harmony to his composition. We find in many passages a warm imagination, and luminous sentences. In his later speeches, he has lively sallies of wit and fancy. Experience had then matured his judgement, and after long practice, he found the true oratorical style. In his earlier productions we see the rough cast of antiquity. The exordium is tedious; the narration is drawn into length; luxuriant passages are not retouched with care; he is not easily affected, and he rarely takes fire; his sentiments are not always happily expressed , nor are the periods closed with energy. There is nothing so highly finished, as to tempt you to avail yourself of a borrowed beauty. In short, his speeches are like a rude building, which is strong and durable, but wants that grace and consonance of parts which give symmetry and perfection to the whole.

  In oratory, as in architecture, I require ornament as well as use. From the man of ample fortune, who undertakes to build, we expect elegance and proportion. It is not enough that his house will keep out the wind and the rain; it must strike the eye, and present a pleasing object. Nor will it suffice that the furniture may answer all domestic purposes; it should be rich, fashionable, elegant; it should have gold and gems so curiously wrought, that they will bear examination, often viewed, and always admired. The common utensils, which are either mean or sordid, should be carefully removed out of sight. In like manner, the true orator should avoid the trite and vulgar. Let him reject the antiquated phrase, and whatever is covered with the rust of time; let his sentiments be expressed with spirit, not in careless, ill-constructed, languid periods, like a dull writer of annals; let him banish low scurrility, and, in short, let him know how to diversify his style, that he may not fatigue the ear with a monotony, ending for ever with the same unvaried cadence .

  XXIII. I shall say nothing of the false wit, and insipid play upon words, which we find in Cicero’s orations. His pleasant conceits about the wheel of fortune , and the arch raillery on the equivocal meaning of the word VERRES , do not merit a moment’s attention. I omit the perpetual recurrence of the phrase, esse videatur , which chimes in our ears at the close of so many sentences, sounding big, but signifying nothing. The
se are petty blemishes; I mention them with reluctance. I say nothing of other defects equally improper: and yet those very defects are the delight of such as affect to call themselves ancient orators. I need not single them out by name: the men are sufficiently known; it is enough to allude, in general terms, to the whole class.

  We all are sensible that there is a set of critics now existing, who prefer Lucilius to Horace, and Lucretius to Virgil; who despise the eloquence of Aufidius Bassus and Servilius Nonianus, and yet admire Varro and Sisenna. By these pretenders to taste, the works of our modern rhetoricians are thrown by with neglect, and even fastidious disdain; while those of Calvus are held in the highest esteem. We see these men prosing in their ancient style before the judges; but we see them left without an audience, deserted by the people, and hardly endured by their clients. The truth is, their cold and spiritless manner has no attraction. They call it sound oratory, but it is want of vigour; like that precarious state of health which weak constitutions preserve by abstinence. What physician will pronounce that a strong habit of body, which requires constant care and anxiety of mind? To say barely, that we are not ill, is surely not enough. True health consists in vigour, a generous warmth, and a certain alacrity in the whole frame. He who is only not indisposed, is little distant from actual illness.