CHAPTER XIII.

LIFE OF LIVY—HIS OBJECT IN WRITING HIS HISTORY—ITS SPIRIT AND CHARACTER—LIVY PRECISELY SUITED TO HIS AGE—NOT WILFULLY INACCURATE—HIS POLITICAL BIAS ACCOUNTED FOR—MATERIALS WHICH HE MIGHT HAVE USED—SOURCES OF HIS HISTORY—HIS DEFECTS AS AN HISTORIAN—HIS STYLE—GRAMMARIANS—VITRUVIUS POLLIO AN AUGUSTAN WRITER—CONTENTS OF HIS WORK.

T. LIVIUS PATAVINUS (BORN B. C. 59.)

The biographical records of many great literary men of Rome are most meager and unsatisfactory. Modern critics who have written their lives have drawn largely upon their own imaginations for their materials; whilst all the information to be derived from ancient writers is often comprised in a few vague allusions and notices. Some of these have been misunderstood, and from others unwarrantable deductions have been derived. These observations are particularly applicable to him who is the only illustrious Roman historian in the Augustan age.

Universal tradition assigns to Patavium (Padua) the honour of being the birthplace of Titus Livius; but notwithstanding the general belief, some doubt has been thrown upon the fact by an epigram of Martial.[958] He came to Rome during the reign of Augustus, where he resided in the enjoyment of the imperial favour and patronage.[959] He was a warm and open admirer of the ancient institutions of the country, and esteemed Pompey as one of its greatest heroes; but Augustus, with his usual liberality, did not allow political opinions to interfere with the regard which he entertained for the historian. Livy had a great admiration for oratory, and advised his son to study the writings of Demosthenes and Cicero.[960] At his recommendation the stupid Claudius wrote history;[961] and it has even been asserted, though on insufficient authority, that he was his instructor. His fame rapidly spread beyond the limits of Italy, for Pliny the younger[962] relates that an inhabitant of Cadiz came to Rome for the express purpose of seeing him; a fact which St. Jerome[963] expands into an assertion that many noble Gauls and Spaniards were attracted to the capital, far more by the reputation of Livy than by the splendour of the imperial city.

His great work is a history of Rome, which he modestly terms “Annals,” in one hundred and forty-two books, preceded by a brief but elaborately-written preface,[964] and extending from the earliest traditions to the death of Drusus.[965] Of this history thirty-five books are extant, which were discovered at different periods.[966] Of the rest we have only dry and meager epitomes, drawn up by some uncertain author, and of these two are lost.[967]

Besides his History, Livy is said[968] to have written books which professed to be philosophical, and dialogues, the subjects of which are partly philosophical, and partly historical. Late in life he returned to Patavium, and there died A. D. 18, in the seventy-seventh year of his age.[969] He left one son, and one daughter who married L. Magius, a teacher of rhetoric, of no great talent, who owed his reputation principally to his connexion with the historian.[970] Livy had one great object in view in writing his History, namely, to celebrate the glories of his native country, to which he was devotedly attached. He was a patriot: his sympathy was with Pompey, called forth by the disinterestedness of that great man, and perhaps by his sad end, after having so long enjoyed universal popularity. The character of the historian would lead us to suppose that his attachment was personal rather than political, for the general spirit of his work shows that he was a man of pure mind and gentle feelings. He began his great work about nine or ten years before the Christian era, a period singularly favourable for such a design. The passages in which especially he delights to put forth his powers, and on which he dwells with the greatest zest, show the truth of Quintilian’s well-known criticism, “that he is especially the historian of the affections, particularly of the softer sensibilities.”[971] A lost battle is misery to him; he trembles at the task of relating it. Nor does he appear to have been a stern republican. He could admire enthusiastically, and describe with spirit, the noble qualities and self-devotion which the old republican freedom fostered; but his object is rather to paint the heroes, and to give graphic representations of the struggles which they maintained in defence of liberty, than to show any love of liberty in the abstract, or a predilection for any particular form of constitution. To Livy political struggles were no more than subjects for picturesque delineations, the moral of which was the elevation of national grandeur, just as successful foreign wars were the records of national glory. Hence he is a biographer quite as much as an historian: he anatomizes the moral nature of his heroes, and shows their inner man, and the motive springs of their noble exploits. This gives to his narratives the charm of an historical romance, and makes up for the want of accurate research and political observation. His characters stand before us objectively, like epic heroes; and thus he is “the Homer of the Roman people,” whilst the charm of his narratives makes him the “Herodotus of Roman historians.”

Rome was now the mistress of the world: her struggles with foreign nations had been rewarded with universal dominion; so that when the Roman empire was spoken of, no title less comprehensive than “the world” (_orbis_) would satisfy the national vanity. The horrors of civil war had ceased, and were succeeded by an amnesty of its bitter feuds and bloody animosities. Liberty indeed had perished, but the people were no longer fit for the enjoyment of it; and it was exchanged for a mild and paternal rule, under which all the refinements of civilization were encouraged, and its subjects could enjoy undisturbed the blessings of peace and security.

Rome, therefore, had rest and breathing-time to look back into the past—to trace the successive steps by which that marvellous edifice, the Roman empire, had been constructed. She could do this, too, with perfect self-complacency, for there was no symptom of decay to check her exultation, or to mar the glories which she was contemplating.

Livy, the good, the affectionate, the romantic, was precisely the popular historian for such times as these. His countrymen looked naturally for panegyric rather than for criticism. They were not in a temper to bear one who could remorselessly tear open and expose to view all the faults and blemishes which blotted the pages of their history; who could be a morose and querulous praiser of times gone by, never to return, at the expense of their present greatness and prosperity. He lived in happy times, before Rome had learnt by sad experience what the tyranny of absolutism really was. He tells his story like a bard singing his lay at a joyous and festive meeting, chequered by alternate successes and reverses, prosperity and adversity, but all tending to a happy end at last. These features of his character, and this object of his work, whilst they constitute his peculiar charm as a narrator, obviously render him less valuable as an historian. Although he was not tasteless and spiritless, like Dionysius, he was not so trustworthy. He would not be wilfully inaccurate, or otherwise than truth-telling; but if the legend he was about to tell was captivating and interesting, he would not stop to inquire whether or not it was true. He would take upon trust the traditions which had been handed down from generation to generation without inquiry; and the more flattering and popular they were, the more suitable would he deem them for his purpose. Without being himself necessarily superstitious, he would see that superstitious marvels added to the embellishments of his story, and, therefore, would accept them without pronouncing upon their truth or falsehood.

Wilful unfairness can never be attributed to Livy: he was prejudiced, but he was not party-spirited. He loved his country and his countrymen, and could scarcely persuade himself of the possibility of their doing wrong. He could scarcely believe anything derogatory to the national glory. When (to take a striking example,) in the case of the treaty with Porsena, there were two opposite stories, he was led by this partiality to ignore the well-authenticated fact of the capture of Rome, and to adopt that account which was most creditable to his countrymen.[972] Whenever Rome was false to treaties, unmerciful in victory, or unsuccessful in arms, he is always anxious to find excuses. His predilections are evidently aristocratic; and although he states the facts fairly, he wishes his reader to sympathize with the patricians.

The plebeians of the days in which he lived were not the fair representatives of that enterprising class in the early ages of the republic, who were as well born as the patricians, although of different blood; the strength and sinews of the state in its exhausting wars—dependent only upon them from stern necessity, because they were ground down to the dust by poverty, and debt, and oppression, but independently maintaining themselves by their own industry, gradually acquiring wealth, rising to the position of a middle class, winning their way perseveringly, step by step, to political privileges.

The lower orders of Rome, in the time of Livy—for the term plebeian, in its original sense, was no longer applicable—were debased and degraded; they cared not for liberty or political power, or self-government; their bosoms throbbed not with sympathy for the old plebeians, who retired to Mount Sacer, and shed their blood for their principles. It was difficult, therefore, for him not to believe that the popular leaders of old times were unprincipled men, who sought to repair their fortunes by the arts of the demagogue. In his eyes resistance to tyranny was treason and rebellion.[973] But when, as in the story of Virginia, his gentler affections were enlisted, Livy’s heart warmed with a generous admiration towards the champions of the people’s rights, and his political predilections gave way to his sensibilities. In treating of history almost contemporaneous, Tacitus confesses his liberality. Although it might have rendered him more acceptable at the court of his patron if he had vilified his political foes, yet even imperial favour, acting on the same side as political prejudice, did not tempt him to unfairness.[974] He could see and acknowledge noble qualities and disinterested patriotism, and give credit for sincere motives, even to those who differed in political opinions.

From a character such as has been described, much care is not to be expected as to the sources from which historical information was derived. Many original documents must have existed in his day, which he evidently never took the trouble to consult. A rich treasure of original monuments relating to foreign and domestic affairs were ready at hand, which might have been examined without much trouble.[975] The great Annals of the Pontifex Maximus were digested into eighty books; and these contained the names of the magistrates, all memorable events at home and abroad—even the very days on which they occurred being marked. The commentaries not only of the priests and augurs, but of the civil magistrates, were kept with exactness and regularity. There is no reason for supposing that the _Libri Lintei_[976] were lost in Livy’s time, although he quotes from Licinius Macer,[977] instead of consulting them himself. Three thousand brazen tablets, on which were engraved acts of the senate and the plebeians, extending backwards (says Suetonius[978]) almost to the building of the city, existed in the Capitol until it was burnt in the reign of Vespasian. The corpus of civil law, which is known to have existed in the time of Cicero,[979] was full of antiquarian lore; and the twelve tables furnished invaluable information, not only on language, but on the manners and habits of bygone times. Nevertheless the fragments of the _Leges Regiæ_ and the laws of the twelve tables have been more carefully examined by critics of modern times than they were by Livy, when they existed in a more perfect condition.

Lachmann[980] has satisfactorily shown that the assertions of Livy are not based upon personal investigation, but that he trusted to the annalists, and took advantage of the researches of preceding historians. This is all that he himself professes to do; and even these professions he does not always satisfactorily perform. He does not appear to have profited by the Annals of Varro or the _Origines_ of Cato, a work which, according to the testimony of Cicero, must have been invaluable to an historian; and although the Archæologia of Dionysius were published about the time at which Livy commenced his history,[981] there is no evidence that he makes use of it; certainly he never acknowledges any obligation to the indefatigable researches of the Greek historian. According to his own confession,[982] Roman history is total darkness until the capture of Rome by the Gauls; and although a dim light then begins to break, a twilight period succeeds, which continues until the first Punic war. But it cannot be asserted that he prepared himself for his difficult task as he ought, or took advantage of all the means at his disposal to enlighten the obscurity in which his subject was involved. The authorities on which he principally depends for the contents of the first Decade were such as Ennius, Fab. Pictor, Cincius, and Piso. It is evident that he also consulted Greek writers. In the third, which contains the most beautiful and elaborate passages of the whole work, he follows Polybius. Nor could he, in this portion of his history, follow a safer one. The Romans, notwithstanding all their practical tendencies, did little to promote geographical science. It is amongst the Greeks that we find the most accurate and indefatigable geographers, such as were Polybius, Strabo, and Ptolemy.

Polybius prepared himself for the task of narrating the Italian campaign of Hannibal by personal inspection. Livy did nothing of the kind. The former travelled through the Alpine passes; and his authority was considered so good that Strabo implicitly followed him. It is to be lamented that, as he was writing to his countrymen, he seldom mentions the name of places; probably he thought they would not be the wiser for the enumeration of unknown barbarian names. But his accuracy in dates and distances enables us to trace Hannibal’s route with correctness. These prove that the passage of Hannibal was by the Alpis Graia, the Little St. Bernard; a statement which had been made by that veracious[983] historian, Cælius Antipater, and also by Cornelius Nepos.[984] It has been since confirmed by the researches of modern travellers, such as General Melville, M. de Luc, Cramer, and Wickham. Strange to say, Livy, although following the route marked out by Polybius almost step by step, at length ends it with the Alpis Cottia (M. Genevre.) The absence of names left the fireside traveller at fault. Cæsar[985] had crossed the Alps by that pass; and, perhaps, Livy named it at a venture, as the most familiar to him. In the succeeding portions of his work, so complete is the confidence which he reposes upon the guidance of Polybius, that the fourth and fifth Decades are little more than the history of Polybius paraphrased.

Niebuhr,[986] from internal evidence, gives an interesting account of the manner in which it is probable that Livy wrote his history. He supposes that, like most of the ancients, he employed a secretary, who read to him from existing authorities the events of a single year. These the historian mentally arranged, and then dictated his own narrative. The work, therefore, was composed in portions; the connexion of the events of one year with those of the preceding one was lost sight of, and thus they seem isolated; and the conclusion of a series of events sometimes unaccountably synchronizes with the conclusion of a year.

To his deficiencies in the habit of diligent and accurate investigation are added others which singularly disqualify him for the task of a faithful historian. He was a reader of books rather than a student of men and things; he took upon trust what other people told him, instead of acquiring knowledge in a practical manner. He was ill-acquainted with the history of foreign countries. He was not, like Cæsar, a soldier; and therefore his descriptions of military affairs are often vague and indistinct, for he did not understand the tactics which he professed to describe. He was not, like Thucydides, a politician or a philosopher; and hence the little trustworthy information which we derive from him on questions connected with constitutional changes. He did not fit himself, like Herodotus, by travelling; and thus he is often ignorant of the localities which he describes, even though they are within the limits of Italy. Hence the difficulties in the way of understanding the route of Hannibal and his army across the Alps, the battle of Thrasimene, and the defeat at the Caudine Forks. He was not a philosopher, a lawyer, or a politician: he could embrace with the eye and depict with the hand of an artist everything which was external and tangible; but he could not penetrate the secret motives which actuate the human will, nor form a clear conception of the fundamental, legal and political principles which animated the institutions, and gave rise to the peculiarities, of Roman constitutional history.

With respect to the speeches which he attributes to his principal heroes, a greater degree of accuracy cannot be expected, than is found in those of Thucydides. But they do not possess that verisimilitude which is so admirable in those of the Greek historian. As works of art they are faultless, but Livy does not keep in view the principle adhered to by Thucydides, that they should be such as the speakers were likely to have delivered on the occasions in question. His great authority, Polybius, disapproves of imaginary speeches altogether;[987] but it must be remembered that, without some oratorical display, he would not have pleased the Roman people. The speeches of Thucydides, although they bear the stamp of the writer’s mind, are, to a certain extent, characteristic of the speaker, and seem inspired by the occasion. If a Spartan speaks, he is laconic; if a general, he is soldier-like; if a statesman or demagogue, he is logical or argumentative, or appeals to the feelings and passions of the Athenian people. Consistency produces variety. The speeches of Livy are pleasing and eloquent,[988] but they are always, so to speak, Livian; they are frequently not such as Romans would have spoken in times when eloquence was rude, though forcible. They partake of the rhetorical and declamatory spirit, which was already beginning to creep over Roman literature; and often, from being unsuitable to time, place, and person, diminish, instead of heightening, the dramatic effect.

Such are the principal defects which cause us to regret that, whilst Livy charms us with his romantic narratives and almost faultless style, he is too often a fallacious guide as an historian, and gives, not intentionally or dishonestly, but from the character of his mind, and the object which he proposed to himself, a false colouring or a vague and inaccurate outline to the events which he narrates. No one can avoid relishing the liveliness, freshness, and “lactea ubertas,” of Livy’s fascinating style; but its principal excellence is summed up in the expression of Quintilian, “_clarissimus candor_,” (brightness and lucidity.[989]) On the authority of Asinius Pollio, quoted by the same writer,[990] a certain fault has been attributed to him, termed “Patavinity,” _i. e._, some peculiar ideas not admissible in the purest Latin, which mark the place of his nativity. So little pains do people take in the investigation of truth, and so ready are they to take upon trust what their predecessors have believed before them, that generation after generation have assumed that Livy’s clear, eloquent, and transparent style is disfigured by what we term provincialisms.[991] The penetrating mind of Niebuhr finds no ground for believing the story. If there is any truth in it, he supposes the criticism must have applied to his speaking, and not to his writing.[992] His style is always classical, even in the later decades: though prolix and tautologous, it is invariably marked by idiomatic purity and grammatical accuracy.

GRAMMARIANS.

The grammarians may be passed over with little more notice than the simple mention of their names, because, although they contributed to the stock of their country’s literature, they added little or nothing to its literary reputation. The most conspicuous amongst them were—Atteius Philologus, a freedman and friend of Sallust; Staberius Eros, who taught Brutus and Cassius; Q. Cæcilius Epirota, the correspondent of Cicero; C. Julius Hyginus, a Spaniard, the friend of Ovid, and curator of the Palatine library; Verrius Flaccus, the tutor to the grandsons of Augustus; Q. Cornificius, who was augur at the same time with Cicero; and P. Nigidius Figulus, an orator and philosopher as well as a grammarian.

M. VITRUVIUS POLLIO.

The distinguished name of M. Vitruvius Pollio claims a place in a catalogue of the Augustan writers. His subject, indeed, belongs to the apartment of the fine arts; but his varied acquirements and extensive knowledge, as well as the manner in which, notwithstanding some faults, he treats his subject, shed some lustre upon Roman literature, and stamp him as one of the didactic writers of his country.

Little information exists respecting this celebrated architect; and this circumstance has led to his being confounded with another professor of the same art, L. Vitruvius Cerdo. The name of the latter is thus inscribed on an arch, which was his work, at Verona:[993] “Q. Vitruvius L. L. Cerdo, Architectus.” That Cerdo was not the author of the treatise extant under the name of Vitruvius, may be satisfactorily proved:—Firstly. The letters L. L. signify that he was Lucii Libertus (the freedman of Lucius,) whereas M. Vitruvius Pollio was born free. Secondly. The arch on which the name appears belongs to an age when the Romans had begun, in defiance of the precepts of Pollio, to neglect the principles of Greek architecture.[994]

Both the place and date of his birth are unknown. According to some authorities he was born at Verona; according to others at Formiæ;[995] but he himself asserts that he received a good liberal education; and the truth of this statement is confirmed by the knowledge which he displays of Greek and Roman literature, and his acquaintance with works which treat, not only of architecture, but also of polite learning and even philosophy[996]—the writings, for example, of Lucretius, Cicero, and Varro. But the great object of his studies was, undoubtedly, professional, and to this he made literature a handmaid.

Vitruvius served under Julius Cæsar in Africa as a military engineer; and was subsequently employed by one of the emperors, to whom his treatise is dedicated, in the direction and control of that department of the public service. By his favour, and the kindness of his sister, he was thus placed in a condition, if not of affluence, at least of competency. Who his imperial patron was has been disputed; but the widely extended conquests, the augmentation of the empire, the political institutions, and, moreover, the taste for architecture which Vitruvius attributes to him, renders it most probable that it was Augustus, the sovereign who found the city of bricks and left it of marble. It is clear that his work was written after the death of Julius Cæsar, and not later than that of Titus, for the former he prefixes the word Divus, whilst he does not mention the Coliseum; and, although he speaks of Vesuvius,[997] he is evidently not aware of any eruptions having taken place except in ancient times. Notwithstanding the arguments adduced by W. Newton[998] to prove that he wrote in the reign of Titus, it is now universally admitted that Vitruvius was a writer of the Augustan age. The inferiority of his style to that of his contemporaries, its occasional obscurity and want of method, the not unfrequent occurrence of inelegant, and even barbarous expressions, notwithstanding his classical education, may be accounted for by what has already been stated respecting the professional object of all his studies. He himself claims indulgence on this score,[999] and states that he writes as an architect, and not as a literary man. So much of its difficulty as arises from conciseness he considers a matter for boasting rather than apology.

In forming an estimate of the Latinity of an author like Vitruvius, it must not be forgotten that our taste is formed by authority and by a study of the best models. Novelty is exceptional, and therefore displeases. But technical subjects render not only the introduction of new terms necessary, but even, owing to the poverty of language, awkward periphrases and obscure phraseology. Nevertheless, upon the whole, the language of Vitruvius is vigorous, his descriptions bold, and seem the work of a true and correct hand, and a practised draughtsman.

His work consists of ten books, in which he treats of the whole subject in a systematic and orderly manner.

The following are its principal contents:—A general view of the science and of the education suitable to an architect; the choice of sites; the arrangement of the buildings and fortifications of a city;[1000] an interesting essay on the earliest human dwellings, building materials,[1001] temples, altars,[1002] forums, basilicæ, treasuries, jails, court-houses, baths, palæstræ, harbours, theatres, together with their acoustic principles, and the theory of musical sounds and harmonies.[1003] Private dwellings, both in town and country;[1004] decoration;[1005] water, and the means of supply;[1006] chronometrical instruments;[1007] surveying[1008] and engineering, both civil and military.

His work is valuable as a conspectus of the principles of Greek architectural taste and beauty, of which he was a devoted admirer, and from which he would not willingly have permitted any deviation. But he was evidently deficient in the knowledge of the principles of Greek architectural construction.[1009] His taste was pure, too pure probably for the Romans; for, notwithstanding his theoretical excellence, we have no evidence of his being employed, practically, as an architect, except in the case of the Basilica,[1010] at Colonia Julia Fanestris, now Fano, near Ancona.