Part 7

The _Libri Lintei_ (so called because written on linen) are cited by Livy after the old annalist Licinius Macer, by whom they appear to have been carefully studied. These books were kept in the temple of Juno Moneta, but were probably of less importance than the other public records, which were inscribed on rolls of lead. They were obviously a work of no great extent, since Livy, who appeals to them on four different occasions in the space of ten years, just after the degradation of the decemvirs, had not quoted them before, and never refers to them again. There also appear to have been different copies of them which did not exactly agree, and Livy seems far from considering their authority as decisive even on the points on which reference is made to them(124).

The _Memoirs of the Censors_ were journals preserved by those persons who held the office of Censor. They were transmitted by them to their descendants as so many sacred pledges, and were preserved in the families which had been rendered illustrious by that dignity. They formed a series of eulogies on those who had thus exalted the glory of their house, and contained a relation of the memorable actions performed by them in discharge of the high censorial office with which they had been invested(125). Hence they must be considered as part of the _Family Memoirs_, which were unfortunately the great and corrupt sources of early Roman history.

It was the custom of the ancient families of Rome to preserve with religious care everything that could contribute to perpetuate the glory of their ancestry, and confer honour on their lineage. Thus, besides the titles which were placed under the smoky images of their forefathers, there were likewise tables in their apartments on which lay books and memoirs recording, in a style of general panegyric, the services they had performed for the state during their exercise of the employments with which they had been dignified(126).

Had these Family Memoirs been faithfully composed, they would have been of infinite service to history; and although all other monuments had perished, they alone would have supplied the defect. They were a record, by those who had the best access to knowledge, of the high offices which their ancestors had filled, and of whatever memorable was transacted during the time they had held the exalted situations of Prætor or Consul: Even the dates of events, as may be seen by a fragment which Dionysius of Halicarnassus cites from them, were recorded with all the appearance of accuracy. Each set of family memoirs thus formed a series of biographies, which, by preserving the memory of the great actions of individuals, and omitting nothing that could tend to their illustration, comprehended also the principal affairs of state, in which they had borne a share. From the fragments of the genealogical book of the Porcian family, quoted by Aulus Gellius, and the abstract of the Memoirs of the Claudian and Livian families, preserved by Suetonius, in the first chapters of his Life of Tiberius, we may perceive how important such memoirs would have been, and what light they would have thrown on history, had they possessed the stamp of fidelity. But unfortunately, in their composition more regard was paid to family reputation than to historical truth. Whatever tended to exalt its name was embellished and exaggerated. Whatever could dim its lustre was studiously withdrawn. Circumstances, meanwhile, became peculiarly favourable for these high family pretensions. The destruction of the public monuments and annals of the Pontiffs, gave ample scope for the vanity or fertile imagination of those who chose to fabricate titles and invent claims to distinction, the falsity of which could no longer be demonstrated. “All the monuments,” says Plutarch, “being destroyed at the taking of Rome, others were substituted, which were forged out of complaisance to private persons, who pretended to be of illustrious families, though in fact they had no relation to them(127).” So unmercifully had the great families availed themselves of this favourable opportunity, that Livy complains that these private memoirs were the chief cause of the uncertainty in which he was forced to fluctuate during the early periods of his history. “What has chiefly confounded the history,” says he, “is each family ascribing to itself the glory of great actions and honourable employments. Hence, doubtless, the exploits of individuals and public monuments have been falsified; nor have we so much as one writer of these times whose authority can be depended on(128).” Those funeral orations on the dead, which it was the custom to deliver at Rome, and which were preserved in families as carefully as the memoirs, also contributed to augment this evil. Cicero declares, that history had been completely falsified by these funeral panegyrics, many things being inserted in them which never were performed, or existed—False triumphs, supernumerary consulships, and forged pedigrees(129).

Connected with these prose legends, there were also the old heroic ballads formerly mentioned, on which the annals of Ennius were in a great measure built, and to which may be traced some of those wonderful incidents of Roman history, chiefly contrived for the purpose of exalting the military achievements of the country. Many things which of right belong to such ancient poems, still exist under the disguise of an historical clothing in the narratives of the Roman annalists. Niebuhr, the German historian of Rome, has recently analysed these legends, and taken much from the Roman history, by detecting what incidents rest on no other foundation than their chimerical or embellished pictures, and by shewing how incidents, in themselves unconnected, have by their aid been artificially combined. Such, according to him, were the stories of the birth of Romulus, of the treason of Tatia, the death of the Fabii, and the incidents of an almost complete Epopée, from the succession of Tarquinius Priscus to the battle of Regillus. These old ballads, being more attractive and of easier access than authentic records and monuments, were preferred to them as authorities; and even when converted into prose, retained much of their original and poetic spirit. For example, it was feigned in them that Tullus Hostilius was the son of Hostus Hostilius, who perished in the war with the Sabines, which, according to chronology, would make Tullus at least eighty years old when he mounted the throne; but it was thought a fine thing to represent him as the son of a genuine Roman hero, who had fallen in the service of his country. Niebuhr, probably, as I have already shown, has attributed too much to these old heroic ballads, and has assigned to them an extent and importance of which there are no adequate proofs. But I strongly suspect that the heroic or historical poems of Ennius had formed a principal document to the Roman annalists for the transactions during the Monarchy and earlier times of the Republic, and had been appealed to, like Ferdousi’s Shad-Nameh, for occurrences which were probably rather fictions of fancy than events of history.

The Greek writers, from whom several fables and traditions were derived concerning the infancy of Rome, lived not much higher than the age of Fabius Pictor, and only mention its affairs cursorily, while treating of Alexander or his successors. Polybius, indeed, considers their narratives as mere vulgar traditions(130), and Dionysius says they have written some few things concerning the Romans, which they have compiled from common reports, without accuracy or diligence. To them have been plausibly attributed those fables, concerning the exploits of Romans, which bear so remarkable an analogy to incidents in Grecian history(131). Like to these in all respects are the histories which some Romans published in Greek concerning the ancient transactions of their own nation.

We thus see that the authentic materials for the early history of Rome were meagre and imperfect—that the annals of the Pontiffs and public monuments had perished—that the _Leges Regiæ_, Twelve Tables, and remains of the religious or ritual books of the Pontiffs, could throw no great light on history, and that the want of better materials was supplied by false, and sometimes incredible relations, drawn from the family traditions—“_ad ostentationem scenæ gaudentis miraculis aptiora quàm ad fidem_(132).” The mutilated inscriptions, too, the scanty treaties, and the family memoirs, became, from the variations in the language, in a great measure unintelligible to the generation which succeeded that in which they were composed. Polybius informs us, that the most learned Romans of his day could not read a treaty with the Carthaginians, concluded after the expulsion of the kings. Hence, the documents for history, such as they were, became useless to the historian, or, at least, were of such difficulty, that he would sometimes mistake their import, and be, at others, deterred from investigation.

When all this is considered, and also that Rome, in its commencement, was the dwelling of a rude and ignorant people, subsisting by rapine—that the art of writing, the only sure guardian of the remembrance of events, was little practised—that critical examination was utterly unknown; and that the writers of no other nation would think of accurately transmitting to posterity events, which have only become interesting from the subsequent conquests and extension of the Roman empire, it must be evident, that the materials provided for the work of the historian would necessarily be obscure and uncertain.

The great general results recorded in Roman history, during the first five centuries, cannot, indeed, be denied. It cannot be doubted that Rome ultimately triumphed over the neighbouring nations, and obtained possession of their territories; for Rome would not have been what we know it was in the sixth century, without these successes. But there exists, in the particular events recorded in the Roman history, sufficient internal evidence of its uncertainty, or rather falsehood; and here I do not refer to the lying fables, and absurd prodigies, which the annalists may have inserted in deference to the prejudices of the people, nor to the almost incredible daring and endurance of Scævola, Cocles, or Curtius, which may be accounted for from the wild spirit of a half-civilized nation, and are not unlike the acts we hear of among Indian tribes; but I allude to the total improbability of the historic details concerning transactions with surrounding tribes, and the origin of domestic institutions. How, for example, after so long a series of defeats, with few intervals of prosperity interposed, could the Italian states have possessed resources sufficient incessantly to renew hostilities, in which they were always the aggressors? And how, on the other hand, should the Romans, with their constant preponderance of force and fortune, (if the repetition and magnitude of their victories can be depended on,) have been so long employed in completely subjugating them? The numbers slain, according to Livy’s account, are so prodigious, that it is difficult to conceive how the population of such moderate territories, as belonged to the independent Italian communities, could have supplied such losses. We, therefore, cannot avoid concluding, that the frequency and importance of these campaigns were magnified by the consular families indulging in the vanity of exaggerating the achievements of their ancestors(133). Sometimes these campaigns are represented as carried on against the whole nation of Volsci, Samnites, or Etruscans, when, in fact, only a part was engaged; and, at other times, battles, which never were fought, have been extracted from the family memoirs, where they were drawn up to illustrate each consulate; for what would a consul have been without a triumph or a victory? It would exceed my limits were I to point out the various improbabilities and evident inconsistencies of this sort recorded in the early periods of Roman history. With regard, again, to the domestic institutions of Rome, everything (doubtless for the sake of effect and dignity) is represented as having at once originated in the refined policy and foresight of the early kings. The division of the people into tribes and curiæ—the relations of patron and client—the election of senators—in short, the whole fabric of the constitution, is exhibited as a preconcerted plan of political wisdom, and not (as a constitution has been in every other state, and must have been in Rome) the gradual result of contingencies and progressive improvements, of assertions of rights, and struggles for power.

The opinion entertained by Polybius of the uncertainty of the Roman history, is sufficiently manifest from a passage in the fourth book of his admirable work, which is written with all the philosophy and profound inquiry of Tacitus, without any of his apparent affectation.—“The things which I have undertaken to describe,” says he, “are those which I myself have seen, or such as I have received from men who were eye-witnesses of them. For, had I gone back to a more early period, and borrowed my accounts from the report of persons who themselves had only heard them before from others, as it would scarcely have been possible that I should myself be able to discern the true state of the matters that were then transacted, so neither could I have written anything concerning them with confidence.” What, indeed, can we expect to know with regard to the Kings of Rome, when we find so much uncertainty with regard to the most memorable events of the republic, as the period of the first creation of a dictator and tribunes of the people? The same doubt exists in the biography of illustrious characters. Cicero says, that Coriolanus, having gone over to the Volsci, repressed the struggles of his resentment by a voluntary death; “for, though you, my Atticus,” he continues, “have represented his death in a different manner, you must pardon me if I do not subscribe to the justness of your representations(134).” Atticus, I presume, gave the account as we now have it, that he was killed in a tumult of the Volsci, and Fabius Pictor had written that he lived till old age(135). Of the reliance to be placed on the events between the death of Coriolanus and the termination of the second Punic war, we may judge from the uncertainty which prevailed with regard to Scipio Africanus, a hero, of all others, the most distinguished, and who flourished, comparatively, at a recent period. Yet some of the most important events of his life are involved in contradiction and almost hopeless obscurity.—“Cicero,” says Berwick, in his Memoirs of Scipio, “speaks with great confidence of the year in which he died, yet Livy found so great a difference of opinion among historians on the subject, that he declares himself unable to ascertain it. From a fragment in Polybius, we learn, that, in his time, the authors who had written of Scipio were ignorant of some circumstances of his life, and mistaken in others; and, from Livy, it appears, that the accounts respecting his life, trial, death, funeral, and sepulchre, were so contradictory, that he was not able to determine what tradition, or whose writings, he ought to credit.”

But, although the early events of Roman history were of such a description, that Cicero and Atticus were not agreed concerning them—that Polybius could write nothing about them with confidence; and that Livy would neither undertake to affirm nor refute them, every vestige of Roman antiquity had not perished. Though the annals of the Pontiffs were destroyed,—those who wrote, who kept, and had read them, could not have lost all recollection of the facts they recorded. Even from the family memoirs, full of falsehoods as they were, much truth might have been extracted by a judicious and acute historian. The journals of different rival families must often have served as historical checks on each other, and much real information might have been gathered, by comparing and contrasting the vain-glorious lies of those family-legends(136).

Such was the state of the materials for Roman history, in the middle of the sixth century, from the building of the city, at which time regular annals first began to be composed; and notwithstanding all unfavourable circumstances, much might have been done, even at that period, towards fixing and ascertaining the dates and circumstances of previous events, had the earliest annalist of Rome been in any degree fitted for this difficult and important task; but, unfortunately,

QUINTUS FABIUS PICTOR,

who first undertook to relate the affairs of Rome from its foundation, in a formal and regular order, and is thence called by Livy _Scriptorum antiquissimus_, appears to have been wretchedly qualified for the labour he had undertaken, either in point of fidelity or research: and to his carelessness and inaccuracy, more even than to the loss of monuments, may be attributed the painful uncertainty, which to this day hangs over the early ages of Roman history.

Fabius Pictor lived in the time of the second Punic war. The family received its _cognomen_ from Caius Fabius, who, having resided in Etruria, and there acquired some knowledge of the fine arts, painted with figures the temple of _Salus_, in the year 450(137). Pliny mentions having seen this piece of workmanship, which remained entire till the building itself was consumed, in the reign of the Emperor Claudius. The son of the painter rose to the highest honours of the state, having been Consul along with Ogulnius Gallus, in the year 485. From him sprung the historian, who was consequently grandson of the first Fabius Pictor. He was a provincial quæstor in early youth, and in 528 served under the Consul Lucius Æmilius, when sent to repel a formidable incursion of the Gauls, who, in that year, had passed the Alps in vast hordes. He also served in the second Punic war, which commenced in 534, and was present at the battle of Thrasymene. After the defeat at Cannæ, he was despatched by the senate to inquire from the oracle of Delphos, what would be the issue of the war, and to learn by what supplications the wrath of the gods might be appeased(138).

The Annals of Fabius Pictor commenced with the foundation of the city, and brought down the series of Roman affairs to the author’s own time—that is, to the end of the second Punic war. We are informed by Dionysius of Halicarnassus, that for the great proportion of events which preceded his own age, Fabius Pictor had no better authority than vulgar tradition(139). He probably found, that if he had confined himself to what was certain in these early times, his history would have been dry, insipid, and incomplete. This may have induced him to adopt the fables, which the Greek historians had invented concerning the origin of Rome, and to insert whatever he found in the family traditions, however contradictory or uncertain. Dionysius has also given us many examples of his improbable narrations—his inconsistencies—his negligence in investigating the truth of what he relates as facts—and his inaccuracy in chronology. “I cannot refrain,” says he, when speaking of the age of Tarquinius Priscus, “from blaming Fabius Pictor for his little exactness in chronology(140);” and it appears from various other passages, that all the ancient history of Fabius which was not founded on hearsay, was taken from Greek authors, who had little opportunity of being informed of Roman affairs, and had supplied their deficiency in real knowledge, by the invention of fables. In particular, as we are told by Plutarch(141), he followed an obscure Greek author, Diocles the Peparethian, in his account of the foundation of Rome, and from this tainted source have flowed all the stories concerning Mars, the Vestal, the Wolf, Romulus, and Remus.

It is thus evident, that no great reliance can be placed on the history given by Fabius Pictor, of the events which preceded his own age, and which happened during a period of 500 years from the building of the city; but what must be considered as more extraordinary and lamentable, is, that although a senator, and of a distinguished family, he gave a prejudiced and inaccurate account of affairs occurring during the time he lived, and in the management of which he had some concern. Polybius, who flourished shortly after that time, and was at pains to inform himself accurately concerning all the events of the second Punic war, apologizes for quoting Fabius on one occasion as an authority. “It will perhaps be asked,” says he, “how I came to make mention of Fabius: It is not that I think his relation probable enough to deserve credit: What he writes is so absurd, and has so little appearance of truth, that the reader will easily remark, without my taking notice of it, the little reliance that is to be placed on that author, whose inconsistency is palpable of itself. It is, therefore, only to warn such as shall read his history, not to judge by the title of the book, but by the things it contains—for there are many people, who, considering the author more than what he writes, think themselves obliged to believe everything he says, because a senator and contemporary(142).” Polybius also accuses him of gross partiality to his own nation, in the account of the Punic war—allowing to the enemy no praise, even where they deserved it, and uncandidly aggravating their faults.(143) In particular, he charges him with falsehood in what he has delivered, with regard to the causes of the second contest with the Carthaginians. Fabius had alleged, that the covetousness of Hannibal, which he inherited from Asdrubal, and his desire of ultimately ruling over his own country, to which he conceived a Roman war to be a necessary step, were the chief causes of renewing hostilities, to which the Carthaginian government was totally averse. Now, Polybius asks him, if this were true, why the Carthaginian Senate did not deliver up their general, as was required, after the capture of Saguntum; and why they supported him, during fourteen years continuance in Italy, with frequent supplies of money, and immense reinforcements(144).

The sentiments expressed by Dionysius of Halicarnassus, concerning Fabius Pictor’s relation of events, in the early ages of Rome, and those of Polybius(145), on the occurrences of which he was himself an eye-witness, enable us to form a pretty accurate estimate of the credit due to his whole history. Dionysius having himself written on the antiquities of Rome, was competent to deliver an opinion as to the works of those who had preceded him in the same undertaking; and it would rather have been favourable to the general view which he has adopted, to have established the credibility of Fabius. We may also safely rely on the judgment which Polybius has passed, concerning this old annalist’s relation of the events of the age in which he lived, since Polybius had spared no pains to be thoroughly informed of whatever could render his own account of them complete and unexceptionable.

The opinion which must now be naturally formed from the sentiments entertained by these two eminent historians, is rather confirmed by the few and unconnected fragments that remain of the Annals of Fabius Pictor, as they exhibit a spirit of trifling and credulity quite unworthy the historian of a great republic. One passage is about a person who saw a magpie; another about a man who had a message brought to him by a swallow; and a third concerning a party of _loup garous_, who, after being transformed into wolves, recovered their own figures, and, what is more, got back their cast-off clothes, provided they had abstained for nine years from preying on human flesh!