book ii
of the _Ac. priora_. Petrarch supposed that he had not one, but two books. The deception was due to an arbitrary division in his manuscript at the words “Hortensius autem vehementer” (_Ac. pr._, ii, 63). Still another error existed. Petrarch thought that his fragment was part of the second edition of the _Academica_ in four books--the _Posteriora_ dedicated to Varro, of whose existence he had learned from the letters to Atticus (cf. xiii, 13) which he had discovered earlier in the same year.
[21]. Every biography relates how Petrarch gave in loan to his teacher, Convennole (or Convenevole) da Prato, a manuscript containing the _De gloria_ of Cicero; and how the schoolmaster, in an hour of extreme need, pawned the volume, which could never again be found in spite of Petrarch’s constant search for it. The story as we have it is told by Petrarch himself, in a letter written in 1374, the very last year of his life (_Sen._, xvi, 1).
Modern scholarship has cast doubts upon the tale. P. de Nolhac discusses the question thoroughly in Vol. I, pp. 260-68. His explanation of the evolution of the idea which possessed Petrarch is the following.
In his youth Petrarch must have read in the lost volume some beautiful passages on glory--passages which remained more or less firmly fixed in his mind. In later years, when his scholarship broadened, he learned of a separate work by Cicero on the subject of glory; and, questioning his memory, the remembrance of those passages became so clear and distinct that he began to imagine he had really possessed the _De gloria_ in the volume unfortunately loaned to his schoolmaster. The hope arose that he might some day find the volume again. It was while in this stage that he wrote the present letter (1345), saying that he entertained a more or less doubtful hope of its recovery and that his despair was not unqualified. His regret increased with the years. By dreaming of his hoped-for recovery of the manuscript, by discussing it with his friends year after year, Petrarch finally, as so often results from the frequent repetition of a story, persuaded himself that he had at one time been the actual possessor of the _De gloria_. Hence it was that, writing thirty years later, in 1374, when his mind was losing its firm grip on facts, and when he was tottering on the brink of the grave, the unfulfilled hope for a thing long desired turned into a regret for a thing actually lost (_op. cit._, p. 266).
[22]. Petrarch was mistaken in placing the _De oratore_ among the fragmentary works. In the large tome already referred to, there followed hard upon the heels of the _De oratore_ what is now known as the _Orator_. The latter did not, however, bear a separate title, and consequently Petrarch considered it as a fourth book to the _De oratore_. Moreover, this pseudo-fourth book had a large lacuna, for it began only with the words “(aliquan) toque robustius” (sec. 91); and the lacuna being clearly indicated, Petrarch unavoidably thought the _De oratore_ incomplete (P. de Nolhac, I, pp. 228-30, 242). To be correct he should have written _Orator_ instead of _De oratore_. But even this would scarcely have mended matters; for, not being aware of the separate existence of these two works, Petrarch was wont to cite passages from one and the other, employing the indiscriminate title _Orator_ (_ibid._, pp. 253, 254).
After this enumeration of the lost and fragmentary works, it will be interesting to know with how many writings of Cicero Petrarch was really acquainted at this time. Fortunately for our purpose, he writes to Lapo da Castiglionchio in 1352, describing to him the beauty and quiet of his retreat at Vaucluse, and the reading with which he occupied all his time. The letter in full--_Fam._, xii, 8:
According to my custom, I fled recently from the turmoil of the city that is so odious to me, and betook myself to my Helicon across the Alps. I brought with me your Cicero, who was greatly astonished at the beauty of these new regions and who confessed that never--not even when in his own retreat at Arpinum--had he (to use his own phrase) been surrounded by cooler streams than when with me at the Fountain of the Sorgue. I suppose that when, long ago, he visited Narbonne, he did not observe this country. And yet, if we are to believe Pliny, this district formed part of the province of Narbonne; and, according to the present division, it is part of the province of Arles. Whatever be the truth concerning the geographical division of the provinces, one thing is certain, that the Fountain of the Sorgue is most renowned, second neither to the Campanian Nymph nor to the Sicilian Arethusa. This soothing, quiet, peaceful country, and this delightsome retreat are situated to one side of the public highway, to the right of one seeking it, to the left of him returning therefrom. I have thus minutely described its site lest you might wonder that Cicero, while traveling in these parts so long ago, failed to notice this sequestered spot, delightful as it is. No mere passer-by has ever discovered it. No one has ever reached it except purposing to do so through certain knowledge of its existence, drawn to the spot by the beauty of the Fountain, or by his desire for repose and study. And how unusual this is you will soon realize if you consider on the one hand the great scarcity of poets, and on the other the multitude of those who have not even a smattering of the liberal arts. Cicero therefore seems to rejoice and to be eager to remain in my company. We have now passed ten quiet and restful days together here. Here only, and in no other place outside of Italy, do I breathe freely. In truth, study has this great virtue, that it appeases our desires for a life of solitude, mitigates our aversion for the vulgar herd, tenders us sought-for repose even in the midst of the thickest crowds, instils in us many noble thoughts, and provides us with the fellowship of most illustrious men even in the most solitary forests.
My companion was attended by a numerous and distinguished gathering. Not to mention those of Greek birth, the Romans present were Brutus, Atticus, and Herennius, all of them rendered still more honorable by their presence in the works of Cicero [_Epistolae ad Brutum_, _Atticum_, _Auctor ad Herennium_]. Marcus Varro, also, was present, that most learned of all men, with whom Cicero strolled in the villa of the Academics [_Academica_; cf. n. [20].]; and Cotta, and Velleius, and Lucilius Balbus, with whom he so keenly discussed the nature of the gods [_De natura deorum_]; and Nigidius and Cratippus, with whom he investigated the secrets of nature, the origin of the universe and its composition [_Timaeus, sive de universo_]. We had with us, moreover, Quintus Cicero, with whom he treated of the subject of divination and laws [_De divinatione_, _De legibus_]; and his own son, Marcus Cicero, to whom (when not as yet degenerated) he addressed his _De officiis_, pointing out to him what was honorable, and what expedient, and the conflict between the two. Sulpicius, Crassus, and Antonius--all very eloquent orators--formed part of our company, together with whom he explored the most hidden secrets of the art of oratory [_De oratore_]. Cato the Elder, too, was with us, whom Cicero made the spokesman in his praise of Old Age [_De senectute_]. Of our band were also Lucius Torquatus, Marcus Cato Uticensis and Marcus Piso, with whom, after a most painstaking discussion, he set down his theory of the “summum bonum” [_De finibus_]. Furthermore, we had the orator Hortensius, and Epicurus, the former represented in Cicero’s praise of philosophy [cf. n. [20].], the latter in his attack on a life of pleasure. With Laelius he outlined the course of true friendship [_De amicitia_], with Scipio the government of the “ideal State.” I shall not prolong my enumeration _in infinitum_; I shall merely add that among the Roman citizens there mingled many foreign rulers whom Cicero defended with his divine powers of oratory. However, not to omit those whose presence was due to your little volume, my friend, I shall mention Milo whom Cicero defended, and Laterensis whom he so fearlessly attacked [_Pro Plancio_], and Sulla, for whom he pleaded [_Pro Corn. Sulla_], and Pompey, whom he so highly praised [_De imperio Pompei_]. With such men and others as my companions, my stay in the country has been a quiet, peaceful, and happy one. Would that it had continued longer. But alas, they have once again laid their claws upon me, and have once again dragged me to the Hades whence I am writing you this letter. I have been so busily engaged since then that my young attendant has found no time whatever for transcribing your volume, nor have I had any opportunity of returning it to you. I trust that this will not be necessary until I can return it to you in Italy personally. I am promising myself an early return, provided I can induce our friend Forese to visit the above-mentioned Helicon the moment he is not so overwhelmingly occupied by his affairs. And I shall insist upon his visit in order that if at any time hereafter fate, or the love of change, or the desire to escape ennui will compel me to return--not to this city (whither, if I can help it, I shall never return), but to my Transalpine retreat--I shall be more readily pardoned by my friends in Italy by calling upon the testimony of so important a witness. Farewell.
[23]. _Aeneid_ i, 287, and vi, 794, 795, tr. by Conington (ed. 1900), pp. 13 and 210.
III. TO L. ANNAEUS SENECA
(_Fam._, XXIV, 5)
On another occasion, O Seneca, I begged and obtained the pardon of a great man indeed.[24] I should desire similar indulgence on thy part, if I express myself more sharply than is quite consistent with the reverence due to thy calling and to the peace of the grave. Whosoever has seen that I have not spared Marcus Cicero--whom (upon thy authority[25]) I called the bright luminary and fountain-head of Latin eloquence--will surely have no just cause for indignation because in continuing to speak the truth, I shall not spare thee or anyone else. I derive great enjoyment from speaking with you, O illustrious characters of antiquity. Each succeeding age has suffered your works to remain in great neglect; but our own age is quite content, in its ignorance, with a dearth that has become extraordinary. For my part, I daily listen to your words with more attention than can be believed; and so, perchance, I shall not be considered impertinent in desiring you in your turn to listen to me once.
I am fully aware that thou art to be numbered among those whose names are illustrious. Were I unable to gather this from any other source, I should still learn it from a great foreign authority. Plutarch, a Greek and the tutor of Emperor Trajan, in comparing the renowned men of his country with those of ours, opposed Marcus Varro to Plato and Aristotle (the former of whom the Greeks call divine, the latter inspired), Vergil to Homer, and Marcus Tullius to Demosthenes. He finally dared to discuss even the vexed question of military leaders, in the treatment of which he was not hampered by the respect due to his great pupil. In one department of learning, however, he did not blush to acknowledge that the genius of the Greeks was distinctly inferior, saying that he knew not whom to place on a par with thee in the field of moral philosophy.[26] Great praise this, especially from the mouth of a man proud of his race, and a startling concession, seeing that he had opposed his Alexander the Macedon to our Julius Caesar.
I cannot explain why it is, but often the most perfect mold of either mind or body is marred by some serious blemish of nature, which speaks in such various language. It may be that our common mother denies perfection to mankind (the more so, indeed, the nearer we seem to approach it), or else that among so much that is beautiful even the slightest defect becomes noticeable. That which in a face of average beauty might be considered an engaging and attractive mark becomes a positively ugly scar on features of surpassing beauty. The juxtaposition of contradictory things always sheds light upon doubtful points.
And yet do thou, O venerable sir and (according to Plutarch) incomparable teacher of moral philosophy, do thou review with me calmly the great error of thy life. Thou didst fall upon evil days, in the reign of the most savage ruler within the memory of man.[27] Though thyself a peaceful mariner, thou didst guide thy bark, heavily laden as it was with the most precious goods, toward an unspeakably dangerous and tempestuous reef. But, I ask, why didst thou tarry there? Was it, perhaps, that thou mightest the better evince thy masterly skill in so stormy a sea? None but a madman would have thus chosen. To be sure, it is the part of a brave man to face danger resolutely, but not that of a wise man to seek it. Were the prudent man to be given a free choice, he would so live that there would never be need of bravery; for nothing would ever happen to him that would compel him to make any call upon it. The wise man will rather (as the name implies) check all excessive demonstrations of joy, and confine his desires within proper bounds. But since the accidents of life are countless, and since our best-laid plans are many times undone thereby, we must oppose to mad fortune an unconquerable fortitude, not from choice (as I have already said), but in obedience to the hard, inexorable laws of necessity.
But shall I not seem to have lost my senses if I continue to preach on virtue to the great teacher of morality, and if I labor to prove that which can by no manner of means be confuted, namely, that it was folly to remain among the shoals? I leave it for thee to judge--nay, for anyone who has learned to sail the sea of life even tolerably well. If thy object was to reap glory from the very difficulty of thy situation, I answer that it would have been most glorious to extricate thyself therefrom and to bring thy ship in safety to some port. Thou didst see the sword hanging perpetually over thy head, yet didst fear not, nor didst thou take any step to escape from such a perilous existence. And thou shouldst have, especially since thou must have realized that thy death was to be that most wretched of all deaths--one entirely devoid of advantage to others and of glory to thyself. Thou hadst fallen, O pitiable man, into the hands of one who had the power to do what he willed,[28] but who willed nothing except it were most vile. At the very beginning of thy intimate acquaintance with him thou wert warned by a startling dream,[29] and thereafter, whenever thou wert closely observant, thou didst discover many traits that proved thy fears to be well grounded. What, therefore, could induce thee to remain so long a member of his household? What couldst thou have in common with such an inhuman and bloodstained pupil? or with courtiers so repugnant to thy very nature? Thou mayest answer: “I wished to flee, but could not;” and thou mayest adduce as a plea that verse of Cleanthes which thou art wont to quote in its Latin form:
Fate leads the willing and drags the unwilling.[30]
Thou mayest, moreover, assert that thou didst desire to renounce thy life of ease, to break the toils in which wealth had enmeshed thee, and, even though in utter destitution, to escape from such a whirlpool. This defense was known also to the ancient historians, and I who follow in their footsteps was not able to pass it over in silence.[31] But if I concealed my innermost thoughts when defending thee in public, dost thou suppose that now, when my words are addressed directly to thee, I shall suppress what my indignation and love of truth urge me to say? Come now, approach nearer, that no stranger may overhear on becoming aware that time has not robbed us of a knowledge of thy doings.
We have (thou must know) a most trustworthy authority, one who, though writing of men in the highest station, was influenced neither by fear nor favor, Suetonius Tranquillus. And dost thou know what he says? That thou didst discourage Nero’s reading of the ancient orators in order that thou mightest retain him the longer as an admirer of thine own writings.[32] In other words, thou didst strive with might and main to be dear to one to whom thou shouldst have found some means of becoming an object of sovereign contempt and derision, by either feigning to have, or else really possessing, an irrepressible tongue. Am I not right? The first cause of all thy misery was the shallowness of thy aim, not to say its worthlessness. Though weighed down with years, thou didst pursue the elusive phantom of glory entirely too joyously, I might almost say childishly. Let us grant for the moment that it was the advice of another, or an error on thy part, or even fate that made thee the teacher of that ungovernable man--for in seeking to excuse our own faults we are wont to lay the blame on fate. But it was _thy_ fault that thou didst remain his sponsor. Thou canst not accuse fortune; thy prayers were answered and thou obtainedst that which thou hadst so ardently longed for.
But how was it all to end? Ah, thou wretched man! Since thou hadst endeared thyself to that wild youth to such an extent as to render it impossible for him to leave thee at will, shouldst thou not at least have borne with greater resignation the yoke which thou hadst assumed of thine own accord?[33] Shouldst thou not at least have refrained from branding the name of thy master with everlasting infamy?[34] Didst thou not know that tragedy is the most serious of all compositions, as Naso says?[35] And we all know how biting, how virulent, and how vehement is the tragedy that thou didst write against him.[36] Receive my words in good part, O Seneca, and be calm, for the more impatiently one listens to the truth the more deeply is he wounded by it. Unless perchance I am wronging thee, and the contention of some be true, that the author of those tragedies is not thou, but another bearing the same name. For the Spaniards assert both that Cordova produced two Senecas,[37] and that the name of that tragedy (written against Nero) is _Octavia_. In this play there is a passage that gives rise to the suspicion of authorship.[38] If we accept the conclusions drawn therefrom, thou wilt be entirely acquitted of having written the tragedy to avenge the burden of thy yoke. As far as style is concerned, that other author (whoever he is) is by no means thy inferior, although he is later than thou in time and far behind thee in reputation. The more inadequate is the attack on infamous conduct, the weaker is the intellectual power of the writer. Indeed, beyond the attack on Nero there is (in my opinion) no other excuse for the writing of that much-discussed play. And the attack must be inadequate in this case, for I realize that no bitterness of either thought or expression could be quite commensurate with the abominable deeds of that man--if he be worthy the name of man.
Consider, however, whether it was proper for thee to write of him as thou didst, when the relationship between you was that of subject and sovereign, subordinate and superior, teacher and pupil. Was it fitting that thou shouldst write thus of him whom it was thy custom to flatter, or rather (not to mince matters) by flattering, deceive? Re-read the books which thou didst dedicate to him on the subject of Mercy;[39] recollect the sentiments expressed in the volume which thou didst address to Polybius on Consolation; finally, run over thy other works, the fruit of many sleepless nights, provided that the waters of Lethe have not wiped out all memory of them. Do as I say, and (I am sure) thou wilt be ashamed of the praises thou didst lavish upon thy pupil. I for one cannot comprehend thy effrontery in penning such words of such a man; I cannot read them without a sense of shame. But thou wilt have recourse to the customary defense, I know. Thou wilt adduce the youth of the prince and his disposition, which gave promise of much better results; and thou wilt endeavor to defend the error of thy choice by his sudden and unexpected change in life.[40] As if these arguments were unknown to us! But consider this, how utterly inexcusable it was that a few, unimportant acts of a charlatan prince, and his murmured hypocritical phrases on duty, should have warped the mind and judgment of a man of thy discretion, thy years, thy experience in life, and thy learning. Tell me, pray, what deed of Nero pleased thee? I mean of course before he plunged headlong into the abyss of disgraceful crimes--that earlier period whose deeds some historians record (to use their own words)[41] with no reproof, others with no inconsiderable amount of praise. Which of them, I ask, pleased thee? Was it his fondness for contending in the chariot-race,[42] or for playing on the cithern? We read, in fact, that he diligently applied himself to these pursuits; that at first he practiced in secret, in the presence of his slaves and the squalid poor only, but that later he performed even in public, and, though a monarch, drove his chariot in sight of all Rome like an ordinary charioteer; and that, posing as a pre-eminent player, he worshiped the cithern presented to him as if it had been a divinity.[43] At last, elated at these successes, and as if not content with the critical acumen of the Italians, he visited Achaia, and, puffed up by the adulation of the art-loving Greeks, declared that only they were worthy of being his listeners.[44] Ridiculous monster, savage beast![45] Or, perhaps, didst thou consider the following a sure omen of a good and conscientious ruler, that he consecrated on the Capitol his first growth of beard, the first molting of his inhuman face?[46]
These surely are acts of thy Nero, O Seneca, and acts performed by him at an age when the historians still reckoned him among human beings, and when thou didst strive to set him among the gods by commendations worthy neither of the one praising nor the one praised. Indeed, thou didst not hesitate to rank him above that best of rulers, the deified Augustus.[47] I do not know whether thou art ashamed of this; I am. But I suppose thou didst deem Nero’s deeds worthy of greater praise, in that he tortured the Christians, a truly holy and harmless sect, but (as it seemed to him and to Suetonius who tells the story) guilty of embracing a new and baneful superstition.[48] Nero had now become the persecutor and the most bitter enemy of all righteousness. In all seriousness, however, I do not entertain such an evil opinion of thee, wherefore I wonder all the more at thy earlier resolutions. And naturally so, because the youthful deeds of Nero were too pitiful and vain, whereas his persecution was execrable and frightful. This must have been thy opinion, for in one of thy letters to the apostle Paul thou didst not only intimate, but actually declare it.[49] Nor, I feel sure, couldst thou have thought otherwise, once thou hadst given a willing ear to his holy and heavenly teachings, and hadst embraced a friendship so divinely held out to thee. Would that thou hadst been more steadfast and that thou hadst not in the end been torn away from him! Would that, together with that messenger of the Truth, thou hadst chosen to die for the sake of that same Truth, for the promised reward in heaven, and in honor of that great apostle!
The impulse of my subject, however, has taken me too far, and I perceive that I have begun my sowing too late to entertain any hopes of a good crop. So farewell forever.
_Written in the land of the living, in Cisalpine Gaul, between the left bank of the greedy Enza and the right bank of the bridge-shattering Parma, on the Kalends of Sextilis (August 1) in the year from the birth of Him whom I am uncertain whether thou didst know or not, the thirteen hundred and forty-eighth._
NOTES ON _Fam._, XXIV, 5, TO SENECA
[24]. A reference to the opening lines of the preceding letter, _Fam._, XXIV, 4.
[25]. Seneca, _Ep._, 40, 11: “Cicero quoque noster, a quo Romana eloquentia exsiluit, gradarius fuit;” (cf. Seneca, _Contr._, i, _praef._ 6). Petrarch refers to that passage in his second letter to Cicero, _Fam._ XXIV, 4, beginning with the words, “O Romani eloquii summe parens” (Vol. III, p. 264).
[26]. The only passages in which Plutarch mentions Seneca are “De cohibenda ira,” _Moralia_, Vol. III, p. 201, ll. 16-23, and “Galba,” chap. XX, _init._ In neither of these is there any praise of the philosopher. Moreover, it is useless to search through the works of Plutarch, because Petrarch was acquainted with not a single one of his works. Hence the statement made in the Lemaire edition, Vol. CIV, p. xlviii, that “Petrarch had access to several ancient works which are absolutely lost to us,” cannot apply in this case at least. Petrarch, however, was acquainted with the “Institutio Traiani” (a Latin fabrication), the authenticity of which is today disputed. P. de Nolhac has pointed this out (II, p. 122), and shows that Petrarch actually refers to this work by name in the _Remedium_, I, 81. And even closer acquaintance is revealed in _Fam._, XXIV, 7, where Petrarch writes to Quintilian that the indiscretions of his wards (Domitian’s grandnephews) were made to detract from his fair name (Vol. III, p. 280). These words are quoted verbatim from the “Institutio Traiani” (_Moralia_, Vol. VII, p. 183); and in the same passage Plutarch makes a precisely similar reference to Seneca and to Socrates. The grouping of these three names is somewhat contradictory to the statement which Petrarch makes in the present letter.
[27]. Seneca, _Octavia_, 441-46 (tr. by E. I. Harris):
SENECA. The garnered vices of so many years Abound in us, we live in a base age When crime is regnant, when wild lawlessness Reigns and imperious passion owns the sway Of shameless lust; the victress luxury Plundered long since the riches of the world That she might in a moment squander them.
[28]. Dante, _Inf._, III, 94-96 (tr. by Longfellow):
And unto him the Guide: “Vex thee not Charon; It is so willed there where is power to do That which is willed; and farther question not.”
It borders on the sacrilegious, however, to make this reference, when we consider the One meant in the verses of Dante.
[29]. Suet., _Nero_, 7. This passage is the source also of _Rer. mem._, IV, 4, _De somniis_, in which (p. 474) Petrarch gives the story of this dream at greater length.
Annaeus Seneca (a Roman senator at the time) was chosen by Emperor Claudius as tutor for the young Nero, who then gave hopeful signs of a good and kindly nature. The very next night Seneca is said to have dreamt that he had as his pupil C. Caligula, whose most horrible cruelty had long since met with a fitting end. Seneca was awakened, and had good cause for wondering greatly. But not much later the humor of Nero changed, or, to put it more correctly, it revealed itself, and his heart became entirely devoid of feelings of gentleness. All wonder was dispelled. Nero was a second Caligula, so much like him had he become. Nay! Caligula himself seemed somehow to have returned from the regions of the dead. And now I shall return to dreams had by emperors.
[30]. Seneca, _Ep._, 107, 11: “Ducunt volentem fata, nolentem trahunt.” Cf. also _Dial._, i, _De Providentia_, 5, 7: “Fata nos ducunt.” In _Ep._, 107, 10, Seneca distinctly says that he has translated the verses from the Greek of Cleanthes. These four verses, with their translation, can be found in Ramage, _Familiar Quotations from Latin Authors_, p. 671.
[31]. In _Rer. mem._, III, 3, p. 441, quoted in full in note [33] below.
[32]. Suet., _Nero_, 52. In this instance, as in all references to Suetonius in this letter, Petrarch follows his original very closely; indeed, quotes him almost verbatim (cf. Frac., Vol. III, p. 271).
[33]. Seneca, _Octavia_, 388-407 (tr. by E. I. Harris):
SENECA. I was content, why hast thou flattered me, O potent Fortune, with thy treacherous smiles? Why hast thou carried me to such a height, That lifted to the palace I might fall The farther, look upon the greater crimes? Ah, happier was I when I dwelt afar From envy’s stings, among the rugged cliffs Of Corsica, where my free spirit knew Leisure for study. Ah, how sweet it was To look upon the sky, th’ alternate change Of day and night, the circuit of the earth, The moon, the wandering stars that circle her, And the far-shining glory of the sky, Which when it has grown old shall fall again Into the night of chaos,--that last day Has come, which ’neath the ruin of the skies Shall bury this vile race. A brighter sun, Newborn, shall bring to life another race, Like that the young world knew, when Saturn ruled In the high heavens.
As a comment on this passage, we may repeat, with Dante (_Inf._, V, 121-23, tr. by Longfellow):
There is no greater sorrow Than to be mindful of the happy time In misery.
At the time of his exile in Corsica, however, Seneca did not hold quite the same opinion of his life on that island, and wrote the _Consolatio ad Polybium_, full of flattery of Emperor Claudius, mainly to effect his recall.
Petrarch dwells upon the fate of Seneca also in _Rer. mem._, III, 3, p. 441:
In a certain tragedy (the _Octavia_) Annaeus Seneca deplores in strong and magnificent lines his return from exile in the island of Corsica, where he had been living in sweet leisure, in most welcome peace of mind, and free to pursue what studies he pleased. He shuddered at the daily increasing ungodliness of Nero, at the envy of the courtiers which enveloped everything, and often sought to escape. But fearing that his riches would prove his undoing and would overwhelm him like the waves of the sea, he surrendered them all. A wise precaution, truly. For it is the part of a wise sailor to hurl his treasures into the tempestuous sea, that he may escape by swimming, even though entirely destitute. And similarly expedient is it for him who fears death at the hands of the enemy to sacrifice calmly the limb by which he is fettered, in order that, though maimed, he may effect his escape. No one, indeed, reproves Seneca for remaining against his will in that hotbed of crimes. He left no stone unturned to escape the crisis which he foresaw. But an unswerving destiny blocked this man too, and at the very moment when success seemed about to crown his efforts. Fate did not permit him to pass, until that inhuman and perjured emperor, who had often sworn to him that he would die sooner than do him an injury, shortened the closing years of his aged teacher, not with an untimely, but with an irreverent and an undeserved death.
[34]. Seneca, _Octavia_, 89-102 (tr. by E. I. Harris):
OCTAVIA. Ah, sooner could I tame The savage lion or the tiger fierce, Than that wild tyrant’s cruel heart, he hates Those sprung of noble blood, he scorns alike The gods and men. He knows not how to wield The fortune his illustrious father gave By means of basest crime. And though he blush, Ungrateful, from his cursed mother’s hands To take the empire, though he has repaid The gift with death, yet shall the woman bear Her title ever, even after death.
_Octavia_, 240-56:
OCTAVIA. With the fierce leader’s breath the very air Is heavy. Slaughter new the star forebodes To all the nations that this vile king rules. Typhoeus whom the parent earth brought forth, Angered by Jupiter, was not so fierce; This pest is worse, the foe of gods and men; He from their temples drives th’ immortal gods, The citizens he exiles from their land, He took his brother’s life, his mother’s blood He drank, he sees the light, enjoys his life, Still draws his poisonous breath! Ah, why so oft, Mighty creator, throwest thou in vain Thy dart from royal hand that knows not fear? Why sparest thou to slay so foul an one? Would that Domitian’s son, the tyrant harsh, Who with his loathsome yoke weighs down the earth, Who stains the name Augustus with his crimes, The bastard Nero, might at last endure The penalty of all his evil deeds.
_Octavia_, 630-43:
AGRIPPINA. Ah, spare, revenge is thine! I do not ask For long; th’ avenging goddess has prepared Death worthy of the tyrant, coward flight, Lashes, and penalties that shall surpass The thirst of Tantalus, the heavy toil Of Sisyphus, the bird of Tityus, The flying wheel that tears Ixion’s limbs. What though he build his costly palaces Of marble, overlays them with pure gold? Though cohorts watch the armored chieftain’s gates, Though the world be impoverished to send Its wealth to him, though suppliant Parthians kneel And kiss his cruel hand, though kingdoms give Their riches, yet the day shall surely come When for his crimes he will be called to give His guilty soul; when, banished and forlorn, In need of all things, he shall give his foes His life-blood.
[35]. Ovid, _Tristia_, ii, 381: “Omne genus scripti gravitate tragoedia vincit.”
[36]. The _Octavia_. See below, n. [38].
[37]. Martial, i, 61, 7 and 8 (Fried.):
Duosque Senecas, unicumque Lucanum Facunda loquitur Corduba.
And yet these lines never suggested to Petrarch the distinction between Seneca the rhetorician and Seneca the philosopher.
[38]. Teuffel, par. 290: “The praetexta entitled Octavia is certainly not by Seneca.” With this compare par. 290, n. 7, which gives a discussion of the above, and the bibliography. Teuffel says that l. 630 of the _Octavia_ describes the death of Nero, and consequently could not have been written by Seneca, who died some years earlier. It is these lines to which Petrarch refers when he says: “In this play there is a passage that gives rise to the suspicion of authorship.”
[39]. The _De clementia_, having been written in 55-56 A.D., and dedicated to Nero, naturally contains numerous passages in praise of that emperor. We shall choose a few from the first book. _De clementia_, i, 1, 5-8:
This, O Caesar, you can boldly assert; that you have most diligently cherished everything entrusted to your faithful care, and that no harm has been plotted against the State by you either through open violence or through stealth. You have aspired to that rarest of praise, hitherto granted to none of our emperors--the praise of being thoroughly upright. You have not labored in vain. Your matchless virtues have not found ungrateful and spiteful appraisers. We render thee thanks. No one person has ever been as dear to a single man as you are to the entire Roman people.... But you have shouldered a heavy burden; you have assumed a great responsibility. No one now speaks of the deified Augustus, nor of the early years of Emperor Tiberius; no one seeks an exemplar beyond you, for it is you they wish to imitate. Your rule has been subjected to the test of the crucible--a test which it would have been difficult to resist, had your goodness been feigned for the moment, instead of its being (as it is) an innate quality of yours.... The Roman people ran a great risk, uncertain whither your noble disposition would end. But the prayers of the people have been answered ere this. There is no danger, unless you should suddenly become forgetful of your own self.... All your citizens today are compelled to make this confession--that they are happy; and this second confession--that nothing can be added to their complete happiness except the assurance that it may endure forever. Many causes urge them to this acknowledgment (the very last which man ever condescends to make)--their deep security, their prosperity, and their faith that the laws will be administered with absolute justice. There flits before our eyes a contented State, to whose complete freedom nothing is lacking except the liberty of its dying.
It would be beyond our purpose to quote more of Seneca. It will suffice to give references to an earlier and to a later work. For the former consult the _Ludus_ (written in 54 A. D.), i, 1; iv, 1; xii, 2. For the latter, _Naturales quaestiones_ (finished before 64 A. D.), vi, 8, 3; vii, 17, 2; 21, 3.
[40]. Suet., _Nero_, 10.
[41]. Suet., _op. cit._, 19, with which cf. Petrarch, Vol. III, p. 273.
[42]. _Ibid._, 22 (cf. Petrarch, _loc. cit._).
[43]. _Ibid._, 12 (cf. Petrarch, _loc. cit._).
[44]. _Ibid._, 22 (cf. Petrarch, _loc. cit._).
[45]. It may, perhaps, prove interesting to the reader to see by what epithets Nero is referred to in the _Octavia_. From a cursory reading of the tragedy we glean the following: “vir crudelis” (Nutrix, 49); “capax scelerum” (Nutrix, 158); “immitis” (Nutrix, 182); “impius” (Chorus, 374); “dirus” (Chorus, 674); “coniunx scelestus” (Octavia, 230); “saevus” (Octavia, 667); “princeps nefandus” (Octavia, 232); “cruentus” (Chorus, 681); “ferus” (Chorus, 703); “dux saevus” (Octavia, 240); “impius” (Octavia, 242); “hostis deum hominumque” (Octavia, 245); “monstrum” (Chorus, 383); “natus crudelis” (Agrippina, 615); “nefandus” (Agrippina, 655); “saevus” (Chorus, 984); “tyrannus” (Octavia, 34, 115, 919); “ferus” (Agrippina, 621_b_, Octavia, 986).
[46]. Suet., _Nero_, 12.
[47]. Seneca, _De clementia_, i, 11, 1-3:
While speaking of your clemency, no one will dare, in the same breath, to mention the name of the deified Augustus.... He displayed moderation and kindness, I grant you; but it was only after the sea of Actium had been dyed with Roman blood, after his own and his enemy’s fleets had been destroyed off the coast of Sicily, after the slaughter and proscriptions at Perugia. As for me, I do not call exhausted cruelty mercy. This, O Caesar, this which you exhibit is true mercy--which conveys no idea of repentance for previous barbarity, which is immaculate, unstained by the blood of fellow-citizens.... You, O Caesar, have kept the State free from bloodshed, and your greatest boast is that throughout the length and breadth of your empire you have shed not a single drop of man’s blood, which is all the more remarkable and amazing because no one has been intrusted with a sword at an earlier age than you.
In the _Octavia_, however, during a discussion between Seneca and Nero, in which the philosopher endeavors to destroy his pupil’s belief in an emperor’s right to rule by the sword, the author says of a ruler that to
Give the world rest, his generation peace, This is the height of virtue, by this path May heaven be attained; this is the way The first Augustus, father of the land, Gained ’mid the stars a place and as a god Is worshiped now in temples (_Oct._, 487-90).
And Nero, who could learn at least those sayings of his tutor that suited his fancy and served his purpose, thereupon replies in terms identical with those used by Seneca in _De clementia_, i, 11, 1-3. Granted that the _Octavia_ was written by Seneca, this discussion gives a very human touch to the relationship between the subject and his sovereign.
[48]. Suet., _Nero_, 16 (cf. Petrarch, _loc. cit._).
[49]. It is very probable that Petrarch received the first suggestion of the friendship between the philosopher and the apostle from the statement of St. Jerome, _De viris ill._, 12 (_Seneca_ [Teubner], III, p. 476):
Lucius Annaeus Seneca of Cordova, disciple of Sotion the Stoic and uncle of the poet Lucan, was a man of the most temperate life. I should not place him in the catalogue of saints, were it not for those letters, which are read by so many, of Paul to Seneca and of Seneca to Paul. In these Seneca, though the tutor of Nero and the most powerful man of his age, says that he wished he held the same position among his fellow-men that Paul held among the Christians. He was killed by Nero two years before Peter and Paul received the crown of martyrs.
The correspondence referred to in the above is mentioned also by St. Augustine, _Ep._, 153, 14 (Migne, Vol. XXXIII, col. 659). It consists of fourteen letters, which are given in the Teubner edition of Seneca, Vol. III, pp. 476-81. The wish said to have been expressed by Seneca is to be found in _Ep._, xi, p. 479. The letter, however, which Petrarch seems to have had in mind--the one describing the persecution of the Christians in Rome--is _Ep._, xii (_op. cit._, p. 480), which I give in full, that Petrarch’s state of mind may be the better appreciated.
Greetings, Paul most dear. Do you suppose that I am not saddened and afflicted by the fact that torture is so repeatedly inflicted upon the innocent believers of your faith? that the entire populace judges your sect so unfeeling and so perpetually under trial as to lay at your doors whatever wrong is done within the city? Let us bear it with equanimity, and let us persevere in the station which fortune has allotted, until happiness everlasting put an end to our suffering. Former ages were inflicted with Macedon, son of Philip, with Dareius and Dionysius. Our age, too, has had to endure a Caligula, who permitted himself the indulgence of every caprice. It is perfectly clear why the city of Rome has so often suffered the ravages of conflagration. But if humble men dared affirm the immediate cause, if it were permitted to speak with impunity in this abode of darkness, all men would indeed see all things. It is customary to burn at the stake both Christians and Jews on the charge of having plotted the burning of the city. As for that wretch, whoever he is, who derives pleasure from the butchering of men and who thus hypocritically veils his real intentions--that wretch awaits his hour. Even as all the best men are now offering their lives for the many, so will he some day be destroyed by fire in expiation of all these lives. One hundred and thirty-two mansions and four blocks of houses burned for six days, and on the seventh the flames were conquered. I trust, brother, that you are in good health. Written on the fifth day before the Kalends of April, in the consulship of Frugus and Bassus.
Petrarch elsewhere clearly states that he did not think Seneca a Christian, “tamen haud dubie paganum hominem,” in spite of his having been placed by St. Jerome among the Christian writers, “inter scriptores sacros” (_Sen._, XVI, 9, written in 1357).
The fourteen letters are today considered fictitious. Teuffel, par. 289 (and n. 9): “The estimation in which the writings of Seneca were held caused them to be frequently copied and abridged, but also produced at an early time such forgeries as the fictitious correspondence with the apostle Paul” (cf. also Wm. M. Ramsay, _St. Paul the Traveller and the Roman Citizen_ [London, 1898], 4th ed., pp. 353-56).
IV. TO MARCUS VARRO
(_Fam._, XXIV, 6)
Thy rare integrity, thine activity, and the great splendor of thy name urge me to love and in fact revere thee. There are some, indeed, whom we love even after their death, owing to the good and righteous deeds that live after them; men who mold our character by their teaching and comfort us by their example when the rest of mankind offends both our eyes and our nostrils; men who, though they have gone hence to the common abode of all (as Plautus says in the Casina[50]), nevertheless continue to be of service to the living. Thou, however, art of no profit to us, or, at best, of only small profit. But the fault is not thine--it is due to Time, which destroys all things. All thy works are lost to us of today. And why not? ’Tis only of gold that the present age is desirous; and when, pray, is anyone a careful guardian of things despised?
Thou didst dedicate thyself to the pursuit of knowledge with incredible zeal and incomparable industry, and yet thou didst not for that reason abandon a life of action. Thou didst distinguish thyself in both directions, and deservedly didst become dear to those supremely eminent men, Pompey the Great and Julius Caesar. Thou didst serve as a soldier under the one; to the other thou didst address works worthy of admiration and full of the most varied learning[51]--a most remarkable fact when we consider that they were composed ’mid the widely conflicting duties of war and of peace. Thou art deserving of great praise not only for thy genius and for thy resolve to keep both mind and body in unremitting activity, but also for having had the power and the wish to be of service both to thy age and to all succeeding ages. But alas, thy works, conceived and elaborated with such great care, have not been deemed worthy of passing down to posterity through our hands. Our shameless indifference has undone all thine ardor. Never has there been a father ever so thrifty but that an extravagant son has been able to squander within a short time the accumulated savings of years.
But why should I now enumerate thy lost works? Each title is a stigma upon our name. It is better, therefore, to pass them over in silence; for probing only opens the wound afresh, and a sorrow once allayed is renewed by the memory of the loss incurred. But how incredible is the power of fame! The name lives on, even though the works be buried in oblivion. We have practically nothing of Varro[52], yet scholars unanimously agree that Varro was most learned.[53] Thy friend Marcus Cicero does not fear to make this unqualified assertion in those very books in which he maintains that nothing is to be asserted as positive. It is as if the splendor of thy name had dazzled him; as if, in speaking of thee, he had lost sight of the principles of his school.[54] Some there are who would accept this testimony of Cicero only within the narrow bounds of Latin literature, with whom therefore thou, O Varro, passest as the most learned of the Romans.[55] But there are some who include Greek literature as well, particularly Lactantius, a Roman most famous both for his eloquence and his piety, who does not hesitate to declare that no man has ever been more learned than Varro, not even among the Greeks.[56]
Among thy countless admirers, however, two stand out pre-eminently: one is he whom I have already mentioned, thy contemporary, thy fellow-citizen, and thy fellow-disciple, Cicero, with whom thou didst exchange numerous literary productions, thus devoting thy leisure moments to a useful occupation, in obedience to the precepts of Cato.[57] And if Cicero’s works were more long-lived than thine, it must be accounted for by the charm of his style.[58] The second of thy pre-eminent admirers is a most holy man, and one endowed with a divine intellect, St. Augustine, African by birth, in speech Roman. Would that thou hadst been able to consult him when writing thy books on divine matters! Thou wouldst surely have become a very great theologian, seeing that thou hadst so accurately and so carefully laid down the principles of that theology with which thou wert acquainted. It has been written of thee that thou wert such an omnivorous reader as to cause wonder that thou couldst find any time for writing, and that thou wert so prolific a writer as to make it scarcely credible to us that anyone could even have read all that thou didst write.[59] And yet, that I may withhold nothing concerning the present condition of thy works, I shall say that there is not one extant, or at best they are only in a very fragmentary state. But I remember having seen some a long time ago,[60] and I am tortured by the memory of a sweetness tasted only with the tip of the tongue, as the saying goes. I am of the opinion that those very books on human and divine matters, which greatly increased the reputation of thy name, are still perchance in hiding somewhere, in search of which I have worn myself out these many years. For there is nothing in life more distressing and consuming than a constant and anxious hope ever unfulfilled.
But enough of this. Be of good cheer. Treasure the moral comfort deriving from thy uncommon labors, and grieve not that mortal things have perished. Even while writing thou must have known that thy work was destined to perish; for nothing immortal can be written by mortal man. Forsooth, what matters it whether our work perish immediately or after the lapse of a hundred thousand years, seeing that at some time it must necessarily die? There is, O Varro, a long line of illustrious men whose works were the result of an application equal to thine own, and who have not been a whit more fortunate than thou. And although not one of them was thy peer, yet thou shouldst follow their example and bear thy lot with greater equanimity. Let me enumerate some of this glorious company, for the mere utterance of illustrious names gives me pleasure.[61] The following occur to me: Marcus Cato the censor, Publius Nigidius, Antonius Gnipho, Julius Hyginus, Ateius Capito, Gaius Bassus, Veratius Pontificalis, Octavianus Herennius, Cornelius Balbus, Masurius Sabinus, Servius Sulpitius, Cloacius Verus, Gaius Flaccus, Pompeius Festus, Cassius Hemina, Fabius Pictor, Statius Tullianus, and many others whom it would be tedious to enumerate, men once illustrious and now mere ashes blown hither and thither by every gust of wind. With the exception of the first two, their very names are scarcely known today. Pray greet them in my name, but alas, with thy lips. I do not send greetings to the Caesars Julius and Augustus and several others of that rank, even though they were devoted to letters and very learned, and though I know that thou wert very intimate with some of them. It will be better, I am sure, to leave the sending of such greetings to the emperors of our own age, provided they are not ashamed of their predecessors, whose care and courage built up an empire which they have overturned. Farewell forever, O illustrious one.
_Written in the land of the living, in the capital of the world, Rome, which was thy fatherland and became mine, on the Kalends of November, in the year from the birth of Him whom I would thou hadst known, the thirteen hundred and fiftieth._
NOTES ON _Fam._, XXIV, 6, TO VARRO
[50]. Plautus, _Casina_, _Prol._ 19, 20 (Leo).
[51]. The second part, at least, of the _Antiquitates_, treating of the “res divinae” and embracing books xxvi-xli, was addressed to Caesar as _Pontifex Maximus_ (cf. below n. [56] and St. Aug., _De civ. dei_, VII, 35).
[52]. In 1354, the same year in which Petrarch received a copy of Homer from Niccoló Sigero, Boccaccio sent him a volume containing some works of Varro and of Cicero (cf. also _Sen._, XVI, 1). Varro may have been represented by either the _De re rustica_ or the _De lingua latina_, or by parts of both. In a letter of thanks for this favor, Petrarch draws a parallel between the two authors which is well worth quoting (_Fam._, XVIII, 4):
No words that I might pen would prove equal to your kindness, and I feel sure that I should tire of expressing my appreciation much sooner than you of bestowing favors. I have received yet another book from you, containing some of the excellent and rare minor works of both Varro and Cicero. Nothing could have pleased nor delighted me more, for there was nothing that I more eagerly desired. What made the volume still more precious to me was that it was written in your hand. In my opinion, this one fact adds you as a third to the company of those two great champions of the Latin tongue. Blush not at being classed with such illustrious men,
“Nor blush your lips to fill the rustic pipe,”
as the poet says.
You express admiration for those writers who flourished in the period of classical antiquity, the mother of all our studies--and rightly so, for it is characteristic of you to admire what the rabble despises and on the contrary to disdain what it so highly approves of. Yet the time will come when men will admire you perchance. Indeed, already has envy begun to signal you out. Men of superior intellect always meet with ungrateful contemporaries, and this ingratitude, as you are well aware, greatly depreciated for a time the works of the ancient authors. But fortunately succeeding generations, which at least in this respect were more just and less corrupt, gradually restored them to their place.
You showed, moreover, keen discrimination in gathering within the covers of one