Part 6

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 prætor 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 prætors. 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 Cæsar, of Brutus, Cælius, 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 Lacedæmon? 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; _quæram 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 Græcis anteferre. Antonius autem probabiliorem populo orationem fore censebat suam, si omninò didicisse nunquam putaretur; atque ita se uterque graviorem fore, si alter contemnere, alter ne nosse quidem Græcos videretur._ Cicero _De Orat._ lib. ii. cap. 1.