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THE LOVE OF NATURE 
 AMONG THE ROMANS 
 
THE 
 
 LOVE OF NATURE 
 
 AMONG THE ROMANS 
 
 DURING THE LATER DECADES OF THE REPUBLIC 
 AND THE FIRST CENTURY OF THE EMPIRE 
 
 BY 
 
 Sir ARCHIBALD GEIKIE, K.C.B. 
 
 D.C.L., LL.D.,fD.Sc., Ph.D., F.R.S. 
 
 LONDON 
 JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W. 
 
 1912 
 
K.^foloS'S 
 
 tt)^ 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The publication of this volume by an author 
 
 who has spent a long life in the active prosecution 
 
 of Science may need a few words of explanation. 
 
 Let me at once disclaim any pretension to classical 
 
 scholarship. I can only say that, in the midst 
 
 of wholly different pursuits, I have never lost 
 
 the taste for those classical studies which were a 
 
 joy to me in youth, but which since then have 
 
 been taken up only fitfully and at long intervals, 
 
 as a restful refreshment. Two years ago, induced 
 
 by the representations of my lamented friend the 
 
 late Samuel Henry Butcher, I accepted the 
 
 Presidency of the Classical Association, and had, 
 
 as the main duty of my year of office, to deliver an 
 
 Address in January 1911. I chose a subject 
 
 which seemed in some measure to combine the 
 
 classical interests of the members with my own 
 
 deep love of Nature. I had often found much 
 
 enjoyment in tracing among the authors of 
 
 antiquity the mental attitude shown by them 
 
 vii 
 
viii PREFACE 
 
 towards the varied aspects of the world around 
 them, and in thus learning how far their writings 
 expressed feelings that resembled or diifered from 
 those which the same objects awaken in our 
 own day. Accordingly I selected two or three 
 parts of the wide realm of Nature, and discussed 
 the literary and artistic treatment of them at 
 Home during the last decades of the Republic 
 and the first century of the Empire. 
 
 I had originally no intention of proceeding 
 further in a field whereon I had perhaps some- 
 what rashly trespassed. But the fascination of 
 the subject tempted me to continue the con- 
 genial occupation which the preparation of the 
 Address to the Classical Association had pro- 
 vided. Expanding the treatment of those sections 
 that were dealt with in that Address, I extended 
 my survey over the rest of the broad domains 
 of Nature, but still keeping on the whole with- 
 in the chronological limits of Latin literature 
 originally chosen, that is, from the period of 
 Lucretius to that of Statius. 
 
 The outcome of these studies is contained in 
 the present volume which, though it is only a 
 sketch of so wide a subject, I have after some 
 hesitation decided to publish. The classical scholar 
 who may look over its pages wiU probably find 
 in them nothing with which he is not already 
 familiar, though it may not have occurred to him 
 
PREFACE ix 
 
 to collect and compare the scattered passages in 
 Latin authors which reveal how far and in what 
 ways these writers were influenced by the features 
 of the external world. To the ordinary reader, 
 however, it may, I hope, be of some interest to 
 see the familiar aspects of Nature as they appeared 
 to Roman eyes and appealed to Roman hearts 
 nineteen hundred years ago. 
 
 The subject of the feeling for Nature among 
 the Romans has been briefly touched on by many 
 authors. It has been treated somewhat more fully 
 by several French and German writers, particu- 
 larly by Secretan, De Laprade, Friedlander, 
 Motz, and Woermann. But in no language, 
 including our own, have I found it discussed 
 with the fullness and detail which it appears to 
 me to deserve. 
 
 It was at first my intention to give in the 
 original language, as well as in translation, all my 
 quotations from Latin authors, but such a duplex 
 citation was found to involve an increase in the 
 size of the book beyond the limits that seemed to 
 me desirable. In regard to translation it would 
 have been easy to select from some of the many 
 pubUshed versions of the authors quoted, but one 
 chief attraction of my self-imposed task was the 
 pleasure of attempting once again to turn the 
 Latin into metrical Enghsh with as close adherence 
 to the original text as the different structure of 
 
 b 
 
X PREFACE 
 
 the two languages and the exigencies of rhythm 
 would pennit. Entirely satisfactory translation is 
 probably impossible, but the attempt to attain it 
 wUl continue to employ and delight men as long 
 as literature is cultivated. 
 
 Shepherds' Down, Haslemere, 
 Uh June 1912. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP, PAQB 
 
 I. THE SATUENIAN LAND AND ITS PEOPLE . . 1 
 
 n. OOTJNTBY AND TOWN 23 
 
 m. THE " DIVINI GLORIA KUKIS " — LUOBETniS, VrRQIL, 
 
 HOBACE 50 
 
 IV. BUBAL SCENES AND THE ELEGIAC POETS . . 83 
 
 V. PLOWBES IN EOMAN UPE 112 
 
 VI. EOMAN GABDENS 129 
 
 Vn. TEEES AND WOODLANDS 141 
 
 Via. FLOWEES AND FOLIAGE IN EOMAN AET . • 161 
 
 IX. THE ANIMAL WOELD IN EOMAN UEE . . . 170 
 
 X. DAY AND NIGHT 204 
 
 XI. THE SEASONS 236 
 
 XH. SPEINGS, BTVEES, AND LAKES .... 257 
 
 Xm. MOUNTAINS 283 
 
 XrV. THE SBA-SHOBES 298 
 
 XV. THE OPEN SEA 322 
 
 XVI. THE UNDEEWOELD 349 
 
 INDEX 379 
 
 XI 
 
THE LOVE OF NATURE 
 AMONG THE ROMANS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE SATURNIAN LAND AND ITS PEOPLE 
 
 Fkom all the evidence now available the early 
 founders of the City and State of Rome appear to 
 have been a race of farmers and shepherds. Their 
 fields and pastures spread over the plain of the 
 Campagna to the skirts of the primeval forest, 
 which then clothed a great part of Italy. That 
 forest harboured bears, wolves, wild boars, and other 
 creatures, against whose depredations constant guard 
 had to be maintained. It was needful, also, from 
 time to time to take up arms for the purpose of 
 repelling incursions of rival tribes of men. The 
 life of the Latin settlers must thus have been 
 laborious and vigilant. Their outlook on the 
 world around them could not fail to be in many 
 respects different from that of their descendants 
 towards the end of the Republic. Some dim per- 
 ception of what this outlook probably was may be 
 gathered from the traces of early customs and 
 beliefs, some of which survived from primitive 
 
 1 A 
 
4 SATURNIAN LAND AND ITS PEOPLE [Chap. 1. 
 
 duties which the State had prescribed, was thus 
 furnished with opportunities, if he desired to use 
 them, of rising above the sordid cares of his daily 
 avocations and recognising the supervision and 
 beneficent assistance of higher powers. And it 
 would seem that a simple piety of this kind was 
 prevalent in the community during its early history. 
 There was little, however, in the religion to awaken 
 sympathies and affections with regard to the 
 surrounding world. The husbandman would, of 
 course, appreciate the light and warmth of the sun, 
 in which he could bask when the chills of winter 
 had fled ; the coolness of leafy shade, where he could 
 rest and sleep ; the freshness of rippUng streams, 
 where he could drink or bathe ; the fragrance of 
 flowers ; the advent of spring, with its blossoms of 
 promise, followed by the coming of autumn, with 
 its bountiful harvests. But above and beyond his 
 regard for what was useful or agreeable to him in 
 his daily life, it might perhaps be seldom possible 
 for him to rise. Nevertheless a life spent in rural 
 pursuits placed him in the midst of influences 
 which, where he was susceptible to them, were 
 more fitted to foster his better qualities than were 
 the conditions to be found in the growing city. 
 
 According to ancient tradition, the early in- 
 habitants of Latium lived under a mjrthical king, 
 Saturnus, from whom their country was called the 
 Saturnian Land. They were reputed to have been 
 pious followers of the primitive faith, simple and 
 moral in their lives, hardy, industrious, and thrifty. 
 
DECAY OF THE NATIONAL RELIGION 5 
 
 Their praises and those of their descendants through 
 many generations down to the time of the Empire 
 were sung by successive generations of writers, both 
 in verse and prose, their virtues being held up as 
 a contrast to the accumulating vices of later times. 
 But in the ^eourse of centuries the manners and 
 habits of the entire population underwent a gradual 
 deterioration. The national religion which, care- 
 fully framed to guide the people in their relations 
 to the gods, had come down from the days of the 
 kings and was still maintained by the State, began 
 to lose its hold. With the increasing laxity of 
 belief and practice, growing into indifference and 
 open disbehef, there came also a falling oif from 
 the traditional simple and upright life, with its 
 steady industry and contentment. The country 
 districts, as might be expected, were affected by 
 these changes more slowly than the urban com- 
 munity. Even down to the time of the Empire 
 the inhabitants of remote, and especially of upland, 
 districts seemed by contrast with the townsmen 
 to have still retained the piety and simpUcity of 
 their ancestors.^ 
 
 This national demoralisation seems to have set 
 in with quickened pace after the close of the 
 Punic Wars and the establishment of direct political 
 relations between Rome and Greece. The process 
 of Hellenisation, which had probably begun long 
 before, through the influence of the colonies of 
 Magna Grsecia, now advanced more rapidly. 
 
 * This subject is more fully noticed in the following chapter. 
 
8 SATURNIAN LAND AND ITS PEOPLE [Chap. 1. 
 
 pagan beliefs of Rome continued to flourish for 
 several centuries after the introduction of Greek 
 philosophy. 
 
 But there was one conclusion of transcendent 
 importance to which the leaders in both of the two 
 chief schools of thought had come. Casting aside 
 the multiphcity of gods and goddesses and their 
 supposed functions in the economy of the world, 
 the philosophers recognised the essential unity of' 
 nature, the orderly reign of law, and the har- 
 monious co-operation of all the sources of energy 
 that maintain the system of the universe, Cicero,^ 
 who did so much to make these subjects familiar 
 and interesting to his countrymen in his own lucid 
 and sonorous prose, when he contemplated the 
 marvellous order manifest throughout the world, 
 recognised "such an admirable continuity and 
 succession of things that each part seems to be 
 connected with the others and all to be bound 
 and linked together." He inferred that "there 
 must be some most excellent and pre-eminent^ 
 Nature that originally made and now moves, 
 directs, and governs those stupendous works, — 
 the universe with all its parts, heaven, earth, sea, 
 sun, moon, and stars." ^ And he affirmed that 
 "the beauty of the world and the order of all 
 celestial things compel us to confess that there is 
 an excellent and eternal Nature which deserves to I 
 be worshipped and admired by all mankind." ^ 
 
 1 De Nat. Deor. I. xxxvi. 100. 2 j)g ^Jju II. Ixxii. 148. 
 
THE EPICUREAN PHILOSOPHY 9 
 
 On the other hand, Lucretius, the great Latin 
 exponent of the Epicurean philosophy, was not 
 less emphatic in his insistence on the unity, 
 beauty, and majesty of Nature. The followers of 
 Epicurus were accused of atheism because they 
 denied that the gods took any concern in human 
 aflfairs or even in the government of the universe. 
 Lucretius maintained that the gods must dwell 
 apart in some remote abode, far from this earth, 
 and certainly take no interest in mankind nor any 
 share in the direction of the world. He fearlessly 
 asserted that Nature, free and uncontrolled by any 
 deities, is seeh to do aU things of her own accord. 
 Appealing to the holy gods themselves, he asked 
 who among them could rule the immense universe, 
 or control the immeasurable deep or cause the 
 heavens to roll on in their course and warm with 
 their fires the fruitful earth.^ But though he 
 discarded the national gods and goddesses, he 
 recognised that the world is regulated by fixed 
 law {certa ratio), that by "the conditions of 
 Nature {foedera natural) it stands decreed what 
 each part can do and cannot do," and that the " law 
 whereby all things are made is that by which they 
 must abide, for they are impotent to rescind the 
 binding statutes {leges) of time."^ Though he 
 believed in an atomic theory of the origin of the 
 universe, and discoursed on the clash of atoms out 
 of which the cosmos has emerged, it is clear that he 
 
 1 De Rer. Nat. II. 1090, seq. 
 = Id. I. 586 ; II. 710 ; V. 56. 
 
10 SATURNIAN LAND AND ITS PEOPLE [Chap. I. 
 
 felt the presence of some creative, directing, and 
 governing power which he called "Nature, the 
 parent of things, that brings everything to the 
 utmost limit of its growth." ^ Certainly no writer 
 of antiquity ever formed a nobler conception than 
 did Lucretius of the nicely adjusted economy of 
 Nature, and no one was ever more keenly and even 
 rapturously aUve to its infinite charm. 
 
 It was thus a notable advance in man's con- 
 ception of the universe, and a memorable service to 
 the fostering of the love of Nature, to discard the 
 multitudinous divinities of paganism, with all their 
 wayward doings and incalculable caprice, and to 
 proclaim the unity and harmonious co-operation 
 of all the forms of energy in the world under the 
 sway of immutable law. Even cultivated minds 
 wherein the old gods had not been entirely 
 dethroned, and wherein long use and wont and the 
 traditions and associations of the past were still 
 powerful, could not but feel the influence of the 
 wider views proclaimed by phUoSophy, which came 
 like a gleam of light from heaven. In the midst 
 of the prevailing indifference and disbelief there 
 must have been many Romans who, though they 
 could not accept aU the legends of the received 
 mythology, clung to the national religion, discard- 
 ing the grosser features that had overlain it, but 
 keeping a simpler and older faith. Men like 
 Virgil, for example, conservative in their instincts, 
 
 ^ De Ber. Nat. II. 1116. Pui'ther reference to Lucretius will be found 
 in chapter iii. 
 
DEBT OF ROME TO GREECE 11 
 
 reverent of the past, and full of natural piety, 
 combined with a keen pleasure in the beauty and 
 interest of the outer world, which philosophy taught 
 them all the more to appreciate, probably indulged 
 in this eclecticism. They made the most of those 
 parts of the mythology which they could accept, 
 and explained away or quietly ignored the rest. 
 The poetic beauty of many of the myths of Greece 
 appealed to such natures. The recorded traditions 
 of the interposition of their own Italian gods on 
 behalf of Rome in her struggles for the supremacy 
 of Italy and of the world likewise warmed their 
 patriotism and strengthened such hold as the 
 State religion still had upon their acceptance. 
 Thus their religion, their philosophy, and their 
 love of nature were blended into a union which, 
 illogical as it might be, was often poetical, and 
 probably afforded satisfaction to those who 
 adopted it. 
 
 The Romans are often spoken of as essentially 
 a practical, or even a prosaic, people. It is 
 admitted that in law, in administration, in military 
 affairs, in engineering, in architecture, and in other 
 spheres of political and industrial activity, they 
 were unrivalled by any race in ancient times. 
 But it is contended that in literature, in philo- 
 sophy, in art, and in science, they owed their 
 knowledge and inspiration to the Greeks. There 
 is a common belief that even when they gave 
 expression to their own genuine and spontaneous 
 sentiments, they consciously or unconsciously 
 
12 SATURNIAN LAND AND ITS PEOPLE [Chap. I. 
 
 imitated or actually reiterated what they had 
 imbibed from the Hellenic world. 
 
 That the intellectual debt of Rome to Greece 
 was gigantic has never been disputed, and was 
 freely admitted by the Romans themselves. The 
 greatest of their philosophers candidly confessed 
 that whatever he had been able to accomplish in 
 literature and philosophy he owed to his study 
 of Greek authors.^ The poets were not less frank 
 in their confessions of indebtedness. Vjrgil 
 admitted that he began his poetic career by 
 imitating the Sicilian muse of Theocritus, as he 
 afterwards drank inspiration from the Iliad and 
 the Odyssey. Horace makes the fullest acknow- 
 ledgment when he affirms that Greece, though 
 vanquished, overcame her conqueror by teaching 
 rude Latium the arts of life, and he repeatedly 
 boasts of his share in introducing Greek lyric 
 measures into Latin poetry. It was the proudest 
 title that Propertius claimed — to be called the 
 Roman Callimachus. In art the debt of Rome 
 to Greece was so overwhelmingly vast that the 
 very existence of a native artistic vein has been 
 almost lost sight of amidst the paramount influence 
 of Greek sculpture. 
 
 Nevertheless, when the fuUest acknowledgment 
 
 1 Cicero, Epist. Q;uint. Frat. I. i. 9. Elsewhere he urges .his fellow- 
 countrymen to seize the literary glory from the languishing hands of 
 Greece and transfer it to Rome {Tusc. Disp. II. ii.). Varro was likewise 
 indefatigable in his efforts to bring all departments of Greek culture 
 within the range of Latin studies. See on this subject Gaston Boissier's 
 "Varron,"p. 376. 
 
RISE OF A ROMAN SPIRIT 13 
 
 is made of the influence of Greek thought and 
 literary form upon the Roman mind in regard to 
 the feeling for Nature, it must be obvious that 
 such a masterful race as the Romans could not 
 rest contented in a merely imitative mood. Un- 
 doubtedly they drew inspiration from the Greeks, 
 and so far as concerned the form into which their 
 literary effusions were thrown and their painting 
 and sculpture were conceived, they continued to 
 follow Greek models. But as the Roman poets 
 felt the growth of their own powers of concep- 
 tion and expression, they found a fresh source 
 of inspiration in their native surroundings and 
 adequate modes of expression in their own language, 
 which grew more and more tractable and musical 
 in their hands. There may be difficulty in always 
 discriminating what was borrowed from what was 
 truly the product of ItaUan soil. Yet there cannot 
 be any doubt that a genuine national Roman spirit 
 was eventually developed alike in literature and 
 in art. 
 
 It is, indeed, inconceivable that an intellectual 
 people could dwell in such a land as Italy without 
 being directly and powerfully impressed by the 
 various natural features around them, and without 
 finding for these impressions and feelings literary 
 forms suited at once to the subject and to the 
 genius of their own language. Probably no part 
 of Europe is more eminently fitted to awaken 
 national enthusiasm, to quicken the growth of a 
 patriotic spirit, and at the same time to stimulate 
 
14 SATURNIAN LAND AND ITS PEOPLE [Chap. I. 
 
 the love of Nature. Italy includes a conspicuous 
 portion of the loftiest mountain - chain on the 
 Continent ; it is traversed by ample rivers ; it 
 comprises numerous lakes, some embosomed among 
 the northern mountains, others farther south, 
 nestling within the craters of extinct volcanoes. 
 From the cool, mossy springs among its hills 
 rippling brooks descend into the plains. The 
 geographical form and position of the country 
 have given it a remarkably mild climate {indul- 
 gentia caeli), but with a wide enough range to 
 ensure a pleasing diversity of vegetation. The 
 soil in the cultivable areas is usually deep and 
 fertile, yielding all kinds of crops, as well as 
 the choicest flowers and fruits. On either side 
 of the peninsula a coast - line of long extent 
 and endless variety is washed by two wide 
 gulfs of the Mediterranean Sea, which on 
 their placid surface reflect the deep blue of the 
 Italian sky. 
 
 Some of the physical features of the country 
 have undoubtedly had a potent influence upon 
 the history and development of its inhabitants. 
 Among these features, of special significance has 
 been that of the broken and rugged chain of the 
 Apennines, which runs down the whole length 
 of the peninsula. In early times it served to 
 separate various tribes from each other. To the 
 dwellers on the plains along either flank of this 
 great back-bone, the wider landscape has always 
 been bounded by a mountainous distance on the 
 
INFLUENCE OF ITALIAN LANDSCAPE 15 
 
 one side, and by the far gleam of the open sea 
 on the other. The western lowlands are diversified 
 by many isolated eminences, on whose summits 
 citadels were built long ages ago, and by many 
 groups of hills, up whose steep slopes, from time 
 immemorial, little towns have climbed (scandentes 
 de vallihus arces), which still remain inhabited, and 
 form so characteristic and delightful an element 
 in Italian scenery. From the northern frontier, 
 with its snowy, pine-covered Alps, the traveller 
 passes southward across the rich corn-lands, rice- 
 fields, and mulberry plantations of the Lombardy 
 plains to the flanks of the Apennines, with their 
 woods and meadows, their vineyards and olive- 
 groves, which accompany him league after league, 
 until he finds himself among the palms, orange- 
 and lemon-trees, myrtles, laurels, and the other 
 characteristic plants of the southern provinces. 
 
 In one important respect the sea -shores of 
 Italy wear an aspect different from that which 
 is familiar in the countries of Western Europe. 
 The Mediterranean being a nearly tideless sea, 
 there is comparatively httle variation in the level 
 of its surface. Hence the frequent wide tidal 
 flats, exposed between high- and low-water in so 
 many bays and estuaries on the coasts of the 
 Atlantic, are here absent. Day after day the 
 water keeps nearly within the same limit along 
 the shore, and the storms which disturb it, though 
 sometimes severe, are less so than those of the 
 ocean outside. 
 
16 SATURNIAN LAND AND ITS PEOPLE [Chap. I. 
 
 Another characteristic which marks off Italy 
 from the rest of Europe is furnished by the 
 volcanic energy of. which the country has been 
 the theatre since long before the advent of the 
 earliest human population. The eruptions of 
 Mount Etna were a source of wonder and awe 
 throughout the basin of the Mediterranean ere 
 the dawn of history. Made known to the Hellenic 
 world by the Greek colonists and traders, they 
 afforded a theme for Greek poets before any 
 Latin singer had arisen to record their terrors. 
 It was not only in Sicily, however, that such 
 manifestations of subterranean commotion took 
 place. The islands of Lipari and Volcano occasion- 
 ally broke out in eruption. Stromboli, which is 
 still constantly active, appears to have been in 
 this state as far back as history extends. Ischia, 
 too, has again and again been the scene of destruc- 
 tive outbreaks. Nor is it difficult to believe that 
 some of the numerous now extinct craters that 
 stud the region from Campania to Tuscany may 
 have continued their eruptions after the aboriginal 
 settlers appeared among them, for even now hot 
 springs and emissions of sulphurous and other 
 mephitic vapours show that the subterranean 
 fires are smouldering not far beneath the surface. 
 Furthermore, Italy from the remotest time has 
 been subject to earthquakes, not infrequently of 
 a disastrous type. These various manifestations 
 of mysterious underground energy could not but 
 deeply impress the imagination of primitive races. 
 
THE CHARMS OF ITALY 17 
 
 engendering superstition and colouring the popular 
 conceptions of an under- world. 
 
 A land so varied in its sceneiy, so benign in 
 its climate, so fertUe in its soil, so exuberant in 
 its vegitation, so prolific, therefore, in its ministra- 
 tion to the well-being of man, has been feelingly 
 claimed by one of its modern poets to have been 
 dowered with "the gift of beauty."^ Two 
 thousand years ago the same natural charms 
 existed, and it would have been strange had the 
 Romans proved insensible to them. There can 
 be little doubt, indeed, that an appreciation of 
 these charms was one of the grounds of that 
 national sentiment of patriotism for which the 
 Romans were distinguished among the peoples 
 of antiquity. The more they saw and learnt of 
 other countries, the stronger grew their conviction 
 that none of these was so pleasant a land to dwell 
 in as Italy, for nowhere had Nature so bountifully 
 poured out her riches for the service of man. 
 This pride in their fatherland is well brought 
 out in the picturesque scene with which Varro 
 prefaces his treatise on agriculture. He describes 
 how, when he entered the temple of the goddess 
 Tellus, he found there a group of his friends 
 waiting for the return of the sacristan, and look- 
 ing at a painting of Italy which appropriately 
 decorated the opposite wall. One of the company 
 
 * Filicaja, in the sonnet so charmingly translated by Byron in his 
 Childe Harold (iv. xlii) : — 
 
 " Italia ! oh Italia ! thou who hast 
 The fatal gift of beauty." 
 
 B 
 
18 SATURNIAN LAND AND ITS PEOPLE [Chap. I. 
 
 jocosely remarked that as, according to the old 
 proverb, "the Roman conquers by sitting down," 
 they should meanwhile seat themselves on the 
 benches. The map (or perhaps allegorical figure) 
 of their country led to a conversation on the 
 various merits of Italy, which in their opinion 
 might be regarded as a vast orchard that yielded 
 in abundance everj^hing useful to man. What 
 spelt, they asked, could be compared to that of 
 Campania, what corn to that of Apulia, what 
 wine to that of Falernum, what olive-oil to that 
 of Venafrum ? * 
 
 The same patriotic fervour breathes through 
 the poetry of ancient Rome. It finds its fullest, 
 expression in the writings of Virgil. The con- 
 templation of the manifold glories of Italy 
 awakened in that sweet singer a vivid emotion, 
 and became a main inspiration of his muse. Now 
 and again, as in the often-quoted passage in the 
 second Georgic, his feelings on this subject found 
 vent in a burst of enthusiasm, which grew more 
 overmastering as the varied elements of Italy's 
 loveliness and strength passed in succession 
 before his poetic vision — her eternal spring, her 
 rich fields of corn, her vines and olives, her 
 abundant flocks and herds, her many lakes — 
 the huge Larius and sea-like Benacus — her 
 winding shores, washed by two seas, her numerous 
 havens, her wealth in veins of brass and silver 
 and in the gold of her rivers, her noble cities, her 
 
 1 Di Re Bust. I. ii. 6. 
 
ROMAN LOVE OF ITALY 19 
 
 many towns perched on rugged heights, with 
 rivers gliding beneath their antique walls.^ Such 
 passages may be cited not only in proof of the 
 poet's intense loyalty to the land of his birth, 
 but as evidence of his vivid appreciation of the 
 beauties of Nature. The richness of the Italian 
 landscape filled him with joy, while at the same 
 time it brought to his remembrance the deeds 
 of the illustrious men of the past by whom the 
 country had been fused into one nation and had 
 been made the mistress of the world : — 
 
 " Salve, magna parens frugum, Saturnia tellus, 
 Magna virum ! " 
 
 This commingling of the most devoted patriotism 
 with a deep and pure affection for rural scenes 
 gives to the poetry of Virgil an undying charm. 
 In a less lofty strain, a similar natural pride 
 was expressed by Virgil's contemporary, Propertius, 
 who declared that all the wonders of the world 
 must yield to the Roman land which Nature had 
 gifted with all that she had anywhere placed on 
 earth. In his eyes it was a country more apt 
 for arms than prone to crime, of whose history 
 Fame had no reason to be ashamed ; for its 
 people, while potent with the sword, were no 
 less powerful from their devotion to duty; they 
 well knew how to temper victory with clemency.^ 
 Horace caught up the same enthusiasm for his 
 country's greatness and glory. To him it seemed 
 
 1 Gear. II. 136-176. 
 
 2 Ehg. IV. xxii. 17. 
 
20 SATURNIAN LAND AND ITS PEOPLE [Chap. I. 
 
 that, besides Rome's success in foreign wars, her 
 internal condition under the sway of Augustus 
 was eminently auspicious, for "golden Plenty, 
 from her full horn, pours forth her fruits upon 
 Italy.^ 
 
 In the following chapters I propose to consider 
 the evidence which may be gleaned that a genuine 
 feeling for Nature "existed among the Romans, 
 and to enquire in what forms this feeling found 
 utterance in literature and art during the later 
 decades of the Republic and the first century 
 of the Empire, or from the time of Lucretius to 
 that of Statins. This period, embracing what has 
 been called the golden age of Latin literature, 
 was marked by a series of political changes which 
 had a profound influence on the intellectual pro- 
 gress of the country. The civil dissensions that 
 led to the downfall of the Repubhc restricted and 
 almost closed the openings into public life which 
 had for centuries attracted the ambition of the 
 governing class.^ The establishment of the 
 Empire still further narrowed these avenues. 
 
 ^Epist. I. xii. 28. The national sentiment of patriotism is well 
 expressed by Cicero : "Cari sunt parentes, can liberij propinqui, 
 familiares ; sed omnes omnimn caritates patria una complexa est, pro 
 qua quis bonus dubitet mortem oppetere, si ei sit profuturus ? " {De 
 Off. I. xvii.). Another striking illustration of the same feeling is given by 
 CatuUus when he represents Attis, overwhelmed with remorse at his 
 condition and self-chosen exile, and uttering as his first exclamation : 
 " Patria, o mei creatrix, Patria, o mea genetrix ! " (Ixiii. 50). 
 
 ^ Lucan gives a graphic picture of the ruin caused by the civil wars. 
 Even in the more quiescent intervals^ 
 
 " temporis augusti mansit Concordia discorB " (Phan, I. 24 seg[., 99). 
 
INFLUENCE -OF LOSS OF FREEDOM 21 
 
 When the whole power and patronage of the 
 commonwealth were centred in one man, who 
 might be jealous and vindictive, the sense of 
 political freedom was so weakened that men 
 sought their liberty in other fields of activity. 
 Some, like the historians and poets, turned to 
 literature, and produced works, alike in prose 
 and verse, which are the immortal glory of Rome. 
 Others, like Cicero, found their consolation in 
 philosophy, and introduced the doctrines of the 
 Greek schools into the literature of their own 
 country, at the same time bringing Latin prose 
 to its highest perfection.^ Others, again, like 
 Lucretius at the beginning of the period and 
 the elder Pliny and Seneca towards its close, 
 gave themselves to the scientific contemplation 
 or attentive observation of the world around 
 them, and made contributions to the foundation 
 of natural and physical science. 
 
 It could hardly be that men should not turn 
 to the fields, the woods, the hills, the rivers, and 
 the sea-shore for the solace of peace and joy 
 which the fresh face of Nature is ever so ready 
 
 ' The numbing eflFect of the political condition of the country 
 towards the end of the Republic is by no writer more vividly portrayed 
 than by Cicero. Thus he writes : "As I have been shut out from 
 political affairs and forensic business by impious arms and by force, I 
 live continuously in retirement ; not from want of business, nor from 
 a desire for rest. The senate being extinguished and the law-courts 
 abolished, what is there left which I could worthily do either in the 
 Curia or the Forum?" {De Off. II. i. and III. i.). He therefore 
 betook himself to philosophy, and with amazing energy and fecundity 
 poured forth a succession of treatises, which are among the masterpieces 
 of Latin literature. 
 
22 SATURNIAN LAND AND ITS PEOPLE [Chap. I. 
 
 to aflfbrd. How far they found consolation from 
 this source can only be imperfectly gathered from 
 the records which have survived from their times. 
 But an examination of these records brings abund- 
 ant proof that to some of the greatest minds 
 of that period the love of Nature was an inspiring'^ 
 influence which, breathing through their souls 
 and finding expression in their writings, must 
 have found its way into the hearts of many of 
 their fellow-Countrymen, as, across the centuries, 
 it still does into ours. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 COUNTRY AND TOWN 
 
 The founders of Rome, being an agricultural 
 people, and thus living in continual contact with 
 the open face of nature, led healthy lives, and 
 were noted for their industry, sobriety, and thrift. 
 The work of the farm being the common occupa- 
 tion of the community, there was no loss of dignity 
 in sharing in the manual labour of the fields. 
 The owner of a little farm, such as each single 
 family possessed, with the help of his wife and 
 his sons, worked the soil and reaped the harvest. 
 And in long subsequent times, when larger pro- 
 perties had been acquired, it continued to be the 
 practice for the proprietors of such estates to share 
 in the usual operations of farming. Though these 
 patricians would have shrunk from engaging in 
 any kind of handicraft or trade,^ they might be 
 seen guiding the plough, or joining in some of 
 the other menial work of their land. Tradition 
 recorded that the founder of the city was him- 
 self not only a horseman, skilled in managing 
 the bridle, but also expert with the plough.^ It 
 
 1 Cicero, Be Off. I. xlii. 
 " Propertius, V. x. 19. 
 
M COUNTRY AND TOWN [Chap. II. 
 
 was the prevalent belief down to the end of the 
 Republic that in the olden time the land was 
 more diligently cultivated than in later years, 
 that the senator pastured his own sheep and 
 worked his paternal farm, that the consul went 
 straight from the plough to the fasces or to 
 dispense justice to the people, and that in those 
 days it was thought no disgrace to have hard 
 hands.^ The story of Cincinnatus ploughing his 
 four jugera of land and stripped for the work, 
 when the delegates came to announce to him 
 his election to the dictatorship, was typical of 
 the simple life of the early Republic. When, 
 centuries later, in the first days of the Empire, 
 Horace's neighbours used to smile as they saw 
 him moving sods and stones on his Sabine fields, 
 it was, doubtless, the awkwardness of his untrained 
 eiForts rather than the occupation itself that 
 amused them.^ 
 
 The Roman country - gentleman in the best 
 times of the Republic was well placed for appre- 
 ciating the pleasure and interest of rural pursuits. 
 Sharing in these with his free labourers and slaves, 
 he had an intimate practical acquaintance with 
 their details, and with aU the trials and risks and 
 disappointments of a farmer's life. Besides these 
 duties in the country, which of themselves must 
 in many cases have been enough fully to engross 
 his time and thoughts, he had other imperative 
 
 1 Ovid, FasH, III. 779-782, and I. 204-207. 
 ^ Horace, Epist. I. xiv. 39. 
 
THE EARLY ROMAN PATRICIAN 25 
 
 calls upon his attention. The more important 
 families in the rural districts were likewise those 
 of most consequence in the city. As members 
 of the senate, they took part alike in the muni- 
 cipal government of Rome and in the political 
 and military administration of the Republic. The 
 patricians filled the succession of civic offices, and 
 in due course were entrusted with the command 
 of armies and with the administration of the 
 various provinces which, one after another, were 
 embraced within the sway of the Republic and 
 the Empire. Yet, though the interest and 
 attractions of city life grew increasingly strong, 
 many of these men retained their love of the 
 country, and spent as much of their time on 
 their estates as could be spared from their 
 senatorial and other duties. They were a living 
 link between the rural community that remained 
 on the land, and the inhabitants of the growing 
 city who found residence and employment within 
 its walls. They included many admirable speci- 
 mens of their class — keen, public-spirited farmers, 
 delighting in rural Ufe, good sportsmen, sometimes 
 accomplished in literature, and yet keeping in close 
 touch with the politics of the Capital, joining in 
 the debates of the Curia, ready to take their 
 turn in the tenure of the magistracies, to march 
 an army and quell an insurrection on the farthest 
 frontiers of the dominions, or to spend years in 
 settling and governing some remote and half- 
 civilised province. 
 
26 COUNTRY AND TOWN [Chap. II. 
 
 There was another influence by which some 
 of the landed proprietors might be brought into 
 touch with the wildest parts of the southern half 
 of the peninsula, far away from their own paternal 
 estates. As a result of the confiscations which 
 followed the wars waged by Rome in Italy, vast 
 tracts of the best grazing-grounds in the country 
 became the property of the Republic.^ Cattle- 
 breeding on an extensive scale was thereby 
 developed, which became a lucrative employment 
 for men who had capital to invest in it. Varro 
 gives some interesting information regarding this 
 industry. He divides the raising of stock into two 
 kinds : one of a humbler type — the pastio villatica, 
 in which comparatively small flocks and herds were 
 tended on the lands around the country villa, and 
 in the care of which -^ even boys and girls might 
 be employed; the other of a much more impor- 
 tant character {nota et nobilis, Varro calls it) — the 
 pastio agrestis, which lay, at least in summer, 
 among the distant uplands of the Apennines, 
 including the wildest and most inaccessible ground, 
 where large herds of oxen, horses, mules, and asses 
 were pastured, and where numerous companies of 
 able-bodied men — slaves and freemen, were engaged. 
 In the transport of these herds from their higher 
 summer quarters to lower ground for wintering, 
 it was no light task to guide the animals along 
 
 ^ See a paper on Pascua, in Pelham's posthumous " Essays," 1911, 
 p. 300. Ovid alludes to a practice of illegal grazing of the public 
 pastures {Fasti, V. 283). 
 
ITALIAN MOUNTAIN PASTURES 27 
 
 the narrow, rough, and often steep drove-tracks 
 {calks). The men were themselves a wild set, 
 ready for insurrection, and often engaged in it. 
 They went armed against robbers, as well as 
 against wolves and wild beasts of the chase, and 
 were attended by packs of fierce dogs.^ Although 
 each proprietor was represented by a skilled and 
 trusted overseer {magister pecoris), we may well 
 suppose that, where he was young and adventure- 
 some, he himself from time to time visited his 
 far-lying dependencies, and thus made acquaint- 
 ance with the sterner aspects of his native country, 
 which otherwise he would have had little chance 
 of ever seeing. 
 
 Records of the lives of some of these accom- 
 plished and patriotic country -gentlemen have come 
 down the stream of time, and glimpses into their 
 private life have been left by a few of them in 
 their writings. One of the most notable of their 
 number, Cato, the Censor (b.c. 284-149), filled 
 a distinguished place in the history of Rome, and 
 was also a voluminous author, though only frag- 
 ments of his writings have survived. Among 
 these the most important is his treatise on 
 agriculture, written in a quaint, abrupt, and 
 sententious style, indicative of a strong, authori- 
 tative, and conservative nature, which loved the 
 country and rural life. He contrasts the pursuit 
 of agriculture with that of the merchant. The 
 latter he admits to be a strenuous and assiduous 
 
 1 Varro, Be Rust. II. ix., x. ; III. i., ii. 
 
28 COUNTRY AND TOWN [Chap. II. 
 
 calling, yet full of danger and risk. But he 
 holds that from the ranks of the farmers the 
 bravest men and the most vigorous soldiers are 
 produced.^ Cato's treatise is full of practical 
 directions for all the various operations of 
 husbandry, couched in terse language, which 
 indicates not only intimate familiarity with the 
 subject, but an evident delight in its pursuit. He 
 was, moreover, a pious observer of the national 
 religion. Thus, when a grove is to be thinned 
 after the Roman manner, he enjoins that the 
 operation must be begun by the sacrificial offer- 
 ing of a pig, and he even gives the words of the 
 prayer which is to be addressed to the god or 
 goddess of the place. His directions for the 
 proper lustration of a farm state in still more 
 detail the formula to be used in addressing Mars 
 and the other deities concerned.'' 
 
 Cicero, who was born little more than forty 
 years after the death of Cato, and who must have 
 known some of Cato's younger friends, has left a 
 pleasant picture of the old patriot in his surround- 
 ings, discoursing of old age. In Cicero's essay he 
 is represented as remarking : — 
 
 " I can name some Roman country-gentlemen 
 in the Sabine district, neighbours and friends of 
 mine, in whose absence hardly any of the more 
 important farm-work is done, such as sowing and 
 
 1 De Re Rust. I. ad init. 
 
 ^ Op. cit. cap. cxxxiv. cxli. Ovid gives a good description of the 
 lustration of a pagus or hamlet hy its coloni or small free tenants 
 {Fasti, I. 657-704). 
 
CATO AND VARRO 29 
 
 reaping or storing the crops. These same gentle- 
 men also give themselves much trouble about 
 matters which, as they are well aware, do not 
 particularly concern themselves." 
 
 Cato himself is described as taking the keenest 
 delight in the pleasures of farming. These, he 
 remarks, " are not hindered by old age, and seem to 
 come nearest to the life of a wise man." Cicero 
 makes him conclude his panegyric on agricultural 
 occupations with these words : — 
 
 " Nor is country-life delightful on account only of 
 corn-fields and meadows, vineyards' and plantations, 
 but also of gardens and orchards, the pasturing of 
 cattle, the swarming of bees, and the variety of 
 every kind of flowers."^ 
 
 Cato's love of Nature is characteristically Roman 
 and practical. The beauty that more particularly 
 appeals to him is that of Nature subdued by the 
 hand of man, brought into his service, and minister- 
 ing to his welfare. 
 
 To a later generation belongs the illustrious 
 M. Terentius Varro (b.c. 116-27), who was born 
 before the Jugurthine War, saw the fall of the 
 Republic, survived the estabUshment of the Empire 
 and the reign of Augustus, and did not pass away 
 until he had nearly reached the age of ninety, and 
 Tiberius had been thirteen years on the throne. 
 He was the most learned and the most prolific 
 writer of his time. Accomplished in almost every 
 field of intellectual enquiry, he was hkewise a 
 
 1 Cicero, Cato Major, vii. xv. 
 
30 COUNTRY AND TOWN [Chap. II. 
 
 strenuous country -gentleman and farmer. Un- 
 fortunately nearly all his writings have perished. 
 His little treatise on agriculture, already cited, is 
 the only one which has survived entire. In this 
 work, composed when its author was eighty years of 
 age, he puts his discourse into the form of dialogue, 
 and introduces a group of his agricultural friends 
 and neighbours, who give their views on the details 
 of farm management. The occasional flashes of 
 humour in the conversations throw a pleasant 
 hght on the social intercourse of the day. With 
 regard to the problem of the country versus the 
 town, Varro remarks that 
 
 " two distinct kinds of human life have been handed 
 down to our time — that of the country and that of 
 the town. There can hardly be any doubt but that 
 these are distinct from each other, not only in place, 
 but also in time, and have separate origins. The 
 country life is much the more ancient, for men 
 were cultivating the land before they had any 
 towns." ^ 
 
 In another passage he states that 
 
 "the great men who have preceded us had good 
 cause to prefer the country people to the town- 
 bred population. They thought that as in the 
 country those who live at villas are more idle 
 than those who work on the fields, so those who 
 are settled in the town are lazier than those who 
 are engaged in the country. Accordingly, they so 
 divided the year that only each ninth day was 
 employed in town business, while the intervening 
 
 ' De Be Bust. III. i. 
 
PLINY THE YOUNGER 31 
 
 seven ^ days were devoted to country-pursuits. So 
 long as they kept to this arrangement they obtained 
 the greatest yield from their fields, and they were 
 themselves much stronger in health, having no 
 need for the urban gymnasia of the Greeks."^ 
 
 This brave old conservative stood stoutly on 
 the ancient ways in all the affairs of life. In 
 religion he continued to reverence the old national 
 divinities that his forefathers had worshipped, 
 calling them by their original Latin names, and 
 not by the Greek appellations that were supplant- 
 ing these. We may be sure that after every 
 sojourn in Rome, he was delighted to get back to 
 his country home, where his first care would no 
 doubt be to look diligently into every detail of 
 the farm work, and make sure that in his absence 
 it had all been carried out satisfactorily without 
 deviation from ancestral custom. 
 
 More than a century later than the time of 
 Varro flourished Pliny the Younger (a.d. 61-113?) 
 — the most excellent example of a Roman country- 
 gentleman whose record has been preserved with 
 some measure of fullness. Trained for the bar, he 
 acquired a considerable practice there, and attained 
 some distinction as an orator. He had a strong 
 bent towards literature, and among his friends 
 and correspondents was the historian Tacitus. 
 Although most of his writings have perished, his 
 letters remain as one of the most dehghtful books 
 
 ' That is, counting each ninth day inclusively as the end of one 
 interval and the start of another. 
 " Be Be Bust. II. i. 
 
32 COUNTRY AND TOWN [Chap. II. 
 
 in Latin literature. While they have not the 
 unconstrained ease and grace and the deep interest 
 of those of Cicero, they are, nevertheless, full of 
 charm. His correspondence with the Emperor 
 Trajan possesses some historical importance. But 
 the main value of the letters is to be found in their 
 revelations of the life of cultivated society at Rome 
 and in the country. They show their author to 
 have been wealthy and full of generous impulses in 
 the employment of his riches, kind-hearted and 
 considerate in his relations to his dependents, a 
 keen observer, and gifted with no common power 
 of describing what he saw. He had filled the usual 
 civic offices, had served in Syria as military tribune, 
 and for nearly two years was Propraetor of the 
 province of Pontica in the north-east of Asia 
 Minor. He was thus a thorough man of affairs, 
 a conspicuous member of the best society of his 
 day, the associate, and in some cases the friendly 
 helper, of literary men. But with all these various 
 interests to fiU his thoughts and his time, he 
 retained his love of the country and country life. 
 His gardening operations, which wiU be referred 
 to in a later chapter, prove how keenly devoted 
 he was to the improvement of his estates, and 
 how delighted to escape from Rome to the quiet 
 and rest of his various homes in the country. 
 
 Among the sketches of character scattered 
 through Phny's correspondence none are more 
 charming than those of some of his neighbours who, 
 like himself, lived on their estates and enjoyed there 
 
PLINY'S COUNTRY FRIENDS S3 
 
 the pleasures of rural retirement. At his native 
 Como, for instance, he had near him the illustrious 
 Verginius Rufus, who had been his guardian, and 
 during many years had been endeared to him by 
 endless acts of kindly friendship. Rufus, after 
 an active and distinguished public life, in the course 
 of which he had again and again been pressed 
 in vain by his victorious soldiers to accept the 
 succession to the Empire, had retired to his 
 northern vUla, which he called the " little nest of 
 his old age." The description of the intimacy 
 between these two friends, written by Pliny 
 immediately after the death of his senior, is a 
 touching tribute to the goodness of heart of a 
 Roman patriot under the early Emperors.^ 
 
 With another northern friend and neighbour, 
 Caninius Rufus, Pliny shared the love of a country 
 life and devotion to literary studies. The tastes 
 and interests which they had in common may be 
 judged from one of Pliny's letters which contains 
 the following string of questions : — 
 
 " What is going on at Como, that darling 
 place in your eyes and mine ? What about that 
 delightful suburban retreat of yours, that portico 
 with its perpetual spring, that shadiest of plane- 
 tree groves, that sparkhng canal between its green 
 banks, with the neighbouring convenient lake? 
 What about your soft but solid promenade, your 
 bath filled and surrounded with the fuUest sun- 
 shine, your dining-rooms for public and home 
 parties, your sleeping rooms for day and those 
 for night ?"^ 
 
 1 Pliny, Epist. II. i. ; VI. x. ^ Id.l. iii. 
 
 C 
 
34 COUNTRY AND TOWN [Chap. II. 
 
 Pliny thinks that having all these comforts 
 and advantages his friend must be happy and 
 blest, and should therefore be able to dedicate 
 himself to studious pursuits, and, in pressing such 
 pursuits upon him, he adds a remark which 
 significantly reflects his own ambition: 
 
 " Every other possession will pass away from you 
 to one owner after another, but a literary work 
 once accomplished will never cease to belong 
 to yourself," 
 
 The same correspondence contains a pleasant 
 narrative of how Pliny discovered among his 
 neighbours another retired official with literary 
 tastes not unlike his own. He describes a visit 
 which he paid to Terentius Junior, who, after 
 an honourable career in the public service, had 
 resigned the office of Procurator of Narbonensian 
 Gaul, and had settled quietly on his own property. 
 
 " I accepted his invitation," Pliny writes, " and, 
 regarding him as a worthy father of a family and 
 a most diligent farmer, I began to speak of such 
 matters as I thought he would be interested in. 
 But he with the most cultivated talk led the 
 conversation into literary topics. With what 
 purity he spoke alike in Latin and in Greek ! 
 He is such an adept in both tongues that he seems 
 especially to excel in that which he is speaking 
 at the moment. How much he has read, and 
 how much he remembers ! You would think 
 that he lives in Athens and not in a remote 
 country house." 
 
 Pliny draws from this experience the moral — 
 
PLINY'S COUNTRY FRIENDS 35 
 
 " Oh, what a number of learned men are concealed 
 by then" own modesty or love of retirement, and 
 whose existence is thus unknown to fame." He 
 concludes his letter with the remark: — 
 
 "As in the camp, so also in our literary field, 
 you will find many men who, in spite of their 
 country training, are well equipped and armed 
 and possess the most ardent disposition."* 
 
 In the early days of the Republic, when Rome 
 was comparatively small and its inhabitants were 
 still for the most part engaged in cultivating the 
 surrounding land, probably little or no difference 
 in habits and tastes existed between those who 
 dwelt within the walls and those whose daily 
 work and domicile lay outside them. But with 
 the growth of the city and the consequent increase 
 in the requirements and amusements of urban 
 life, there gradually grew up that diversity of 
 manners and morals between the town-bred and 
 the country -bred parts of the population to 
 which allusion has already been made. The rural, 
 inhabitants, who included proprietors, coloni or 
 small free tenants, and slaves, long retained, 
 especially in the upland districts, much of the 
 simple life, the morality, industry, and frugality 
 of the olden tiine when, as Ennius wrote, 
 " Moribus antiquis stat res Romana virisque." 
 
 But in the, city the growing luxury and 
 
 ^ Epist. VII. XXV. Interesting accounts of Pliny's own life at his 
 country homes will be found in his Letters, e.g., I. ix. ; II. xvii. ; IV. vi. 
 See also IV. xxiii. To some of these, further reference will be made 
 in later chapters. 
 
36 COUNTRY AND TOWN [Chap. 11. 
 
 extravagance of the upper classes, the idleness 
 and thriftlessness of the lower orders, the influx 
 of aliens attracted from the various countries under 
 the rule of the Republic, together with all the 
 evils arising from a constantly increasing servile 
 population, led to a serious relaxation of the 
 pristine virtues of the Latin race. Before the 
 end of the Republic this deterioration was plainly 
 perceived by observant men, and some efforts 
 were made to stem its progress. Varro, who held 
 that "divine Nature had given the fields, while 
 human art had buUt the cities,"^ thought it wise 
 policy to bring the people back to the land. He 
 maintained that the peasantry "had led a pious 
 and useful life and were the only representatives 
 left of the virtuous race that lived in the reign 
 of King Saturnus."^ 
 
 1 De Re Rust. III. i. 4. It has often been pointed out that his 
 words were almost exactly repeated by Cowper in the now somewhat 
 hackneyed line in The Task (I. 749). 
 
 "God made the country and man made the town." 
 The same idea, however, had appeared in an earlier English poet : — 
 " God the first garden made, and the first city Cain." 
 
 —Cowley's Of the Garden. 
 
 2 De Re Rust. III. i. 6. The higher moral worth of the Sabine 
 and Apulian peasantry in their remote farms was praised by the poets 
 in many passages which might be cited from their writings. As samples 
 reference may be made to Virgil, Geor. II. 532 ; Horace, Garm. III. vi. 37 ; 
 Epod. II. 41 ; Propertius, IV. xiii. 25 ; Juvenal, VI. 1-12, 287, XIV. 179 ; 
 Statius, Silv. V. i. 122. The younger Pliny relates that among the 
 tenantry around his Tuscan home there were grandfathers and great- 
 grandfathers whose speech was so remote from the ordinary language 
 of his day that any one who listened to it might fancy himself to have 
 been born in an older century {Epist. V. vi. 6). He specially 
 mentions Brixia as a district where the antique " verecundia, frugalitas, 
 atque etiam rusticitas" were still in large measure preserved {Epist. 
 I. xiv. 4). The physical strength of the country-folk, stoutly affirmed 
 
THE ATTRACTIONS OF ROME 37 
 
 The attractions of Rome, however, were grow- 
 ing apace as the wealth of the State increased. 
 Long befpre the end of the Republic the gratuitous 
 distribution of corn and the large sums expended 
 on gladiatorial shows and animal hunts in the 
 circus or forum, drew an augmenting tide of rural 
 immigrants from the country districts. Besides 
 the slaves, strangers from many different lands 
 found their way in increasing numbers to the 
 capital in search of employment in the various 
 industries and professions which grew up to meet 
 the demands of advancing luxury and refinement. 
 To the educated citizen who could take part in 
 public life and enjoy the advantages and pleasures 
 to be found at the heart of a great empire, there 
 was obviously no place like Rome. Well might 
 Cicero, when far off governing Cilicia, write to 
 an unsteady friend at home — 
 
 "The City, the City, my dear Rufus — stick 
 to that and live in its full light I Residence else- 
 where, as I made up my mind in early life, is mere 
 eclipse and obscurity to those whose energy is 
 capable of shining at Rome."^ 
 
 by Cato and Varro to be so superior to that of the town population, 
 would seem to have stiU more differentiated the rural from the urban 
 community a century or more after their time. Seneca reraarlced that 
 the most athletic soldiers came from rugged regions, those from the 
 city being much less robust. "Men who are transferred from the 
 plough to arms shrink from no manual labour, but in the first march 
 the perfumed cit gives way " {Epist. li. 10). 
 
 ^ Epist. Fam. II. xii. Mr Shuckburgh's translation. No one ever 
 felt more sincerely or expressed more pathetically his passionate love 
 of Rome than Ovid did in his exile : — 
 
 "0 quater, quotiens non est numerare, beatum 
 
 Non interdicta cui licet Urbo frui."— Tm<. III. xii. 25. 
 
38 COUNTRY AND TOWN [Chap. II. 
 
 Horace gave the same advice to his restless 
 friend Bullatius: "While you may, and while 
 fortune wears a smiling face, abide in Rome, and 
 indite from there your praises of Samos, Chios and 
 Rhodes."^ The general opinion on this matter 
 was tersely summed up in a couple of lines by 
 Martial — 
 
 " Rome, goddess of all lands and peoples. 
 No equal hath, nor second." ^ 
 
 On the other hand, life in Rome was not with- 
 out some serious drawbacks. The streets were 
 narrow, and many of them tortuous, and the great 
 increase of population led to a continual augmen- 
 tation of their crowds and their noise. From 
 morning to night they resounded with a ceaseless 
 tumult of traffic — the various loud and discordant 
 cries of itinerant vendors and beggars, the din from 
 every kind of workshop, the rumbling of wheeled 
 vehicles on the hard and rough stone pavements, 
 the multitudinous shouts of teamsters and drivers, 
 and the other countless varieties of hubbub incident 
 to the everyday life of a large city.' Even the 
 nights were broken by characteristic disturbances, 
 such as the mill - grinding of the bakers, the 
 hammering of the braziers, the lumbering of carts 
 and waggons, and not infrequently by the alarm of 
 
 > Epist. I. xi. 20. 
 
 2 Epig. XII. viii. 1. 
 
 ' Martial, XII. Ivii. Tibullus alludes to the tumult when a column 
 is being dragged to the mansion of a rich man by a thousand pairs of 
 strong oxen ! {Eleg. II. iii. 43. See also Juvenal, III. 236). 
 
Discomforts of rome 39 
 
 a house on fire.^ Then the air was often redolent 
 of unpleasant odours coming from the numerous 
 cookshops and other sources. In spite of the 
 excellent system of drains under the streets, the 
 general sanitary arrangements were probably some- 
 what primitive. The wealthier portion of the 
 community could no doubt find, in their urban 
 gardens and roomy mansions, an escape from many 
 of these discomforts. Even when the city was 
 crowded with sight-seers gathered together for 
 the great games in the circus, it would be possible 
 for one of that more fortunate class to find quiet 
 for study ,^ or a sequestered retreat where rest 
 and sleep could be enjoyed unbroken by sounds 
 from the outside.^ 
 
 But in the most favourable conditions, the life 
 of the capital, for those who threw themselves fully 
 into it, could hardly be other than exhausting. 
 They might be able to screen themselves from 
 the strepitus nocturnos atque diurnos ; but the 
 whirl of society went on all the while, together 
 with the multitudinous cares and anxieties, and the 
 absorbing strife of the political and professional 
 arena. A man wholly immersed fluctibus in 
 mediis et tempestatibus urbis must have been 
 glad to repair to the fresh air and restful quiet of 
 the country where he could enjoy "the indolent 
 but pleasant condition of doing nothing and being 
 
 1 Martial, XII. Ivii. ; Juvenal, III. 197. 
 
 " Pliny, Epist. IX. vi. 
 
 s Martial, Epig. XII. Ivii. 21. 
 
40 COUNTRY AND TOWN [Chap. 11. 
 
 nothing."^ Hence when the sultry season 
 approached, Rome began to grow so intolerable 
 that escape from it was sought by all who could 
 afford the expense of removal. TibuUus thought 
 that a man must be made of iron who could then 
 remain in Rome.^ As the Dog-days drew near, 
 the throng of society in the city used rapidly to 
 thin, and the numerous country retreats received 
 their summer visitors. Some of the citizens made 
 for Praeneste, others for the cool grove of Diana at 
 Lake Nemi or the forests of Mount Algidus, or 
 shady Tusculum, or the pleasant freshness of the 
 Anio among the woods oi Tibur.^ A large pro- 
 portion of the migrants went to the seaside, which 
 all the way from the mouth of the Tiber southward 
 to the far side of the Bay of Naples was dotted 
 with little towns and an almost continuous chain 
 of villas.* To receive this annual crowd of visitors 
 there seems to have been no adequate provision of 
 what we should now call " hotel accommodation " in 
 the various places to which they flocked. Polybius, 
 indeed, has put on record that food was cheap and 
 abundant in Italy, and that at the inns travellers 
 did not bargain for particular articles but simply 
 
 1 Pliny, Epist. VIII. ix. 
 
 ^ Eleg. II. iii. 2. Martial affirms that Rome would soon bleach a 
 man's complexion, even though travel might have tanned him as black 
 as an Ethiop (Epig. X. xii. 11). 
 
 ' Statins, Sihae IV. iv. ^ 
 
 • The Bay of Naples itself was an especially favourite resort. In 
 Strabo's time, and doubtless much earlier, the whole coast of the 
 " Crater" from Misenum to Minerva's Point (PunU deUa Campanella) 
 was adorned with towns, villas and their grounds, placed so close 
 together that the whole looked like one continuous city {Oeog. V. iv. 8). 
 
COUNTRY INNS 41 
 
 asked what was the charge per head for board, 
 the innkeepers being usually content to supply 
 their guests with every necessary at a charge 
 rarely exceeding an as a day each.^ If, how- 
 ever, we are to take Horace's account of his 
 journey to Brundisium as an unexaggerated 
 narrative, the inn accommodation on that fre- 
 quented route was not always satisfactory:^ only 
 when he and his fellow-travellers were fortunate 
 enough to find quarters in some country villa 
 did they secure comfort. It was obviously im- 
 possible to make a stay in these country inns, 
 and it therefore became necessary, especially for 
 those who had no estates in the country, but 
 who chose to reside for part of the year at 
 a distance from Rome, to buy or build houses 
 of their own. Even comparatively poor men 
 made every effort to acquire at least a modest 
 cottage and garden, at a sufficient distance 
 from the capital to be in the full quiet and 
 freshness of the country. Thus Martial, who, 
 though a popular poet, was not a rich man, 
 was proud of the little farm which he had 
 secured at Nomentum, some fourteen miles from 
 Rome, and to which he betook himself at 
 intervals when the capital became too much for 
 his endurance.' Another literary man, Suetonius, 
 the historian, enlisted the kind offices of Phny 
 the Younger in his endeavour to buy a small 
 
 " Hist. II. 16. ^ Sat. I. V. 
 
 ' See especially Epig. VI. xliii. ; X. xlviii. ; XII. Ivii. 
 
42 COUNTRY AND TOWN [Chap. 11. 
 
 farm {agellus) not far from Rome and accessible 
 by good roads.^ 
 
 Those who enjoyed larger incomes were usually 
 not content with a single retreat in the country.^ 
 Thus, Cicero, who in his own days would hardly 
 have been pointed to as specially wealthy, possessed 
 some seven houses along the shores of Latium and 
 Campania, besides his larger properties at Arpinum 
 and Tusculum.' Even tradesmen who had retired 
 with a competence were possessors of country- 
 houses, like the successful barber mentioned by 
 Juvenal, whose numerous villas the poet could 
 hardly count.* 
 
 ' Pliny, Epist. I. xxiv. In some districts, as in a part of Latium 
 alluded to by Juvenal {Sat. III. 223), an excellent house could be bought 
 for the price paid for one year's rent of a dark lodging in Rome. 
 
 ^ Nor sometimes with a single house in Rome. Martial was 
 exasperated with a man who had three houses in the city, and for 
 whom he never knew where to look. The poet consoled himself with 
 the reflection that he who lives everywhere lives nowhere (Epig. 
 VII. Ixxiii.). 
 
 ^ It appears from his Letters that he had a house of his own at each 
 of the following places, Antium, Astura, Formiae, Sinuessa, Cumae, 
 Puteoli, and Pompeii. He uses the diminutive prcediola in speaking of 
 these retreats, and they were probably for the most part modest enough, 
 but he describes them as ''belle aedificata et satis amoena" {Ad 
 Att. XVI. iii. 4). Even when referring to his larger inland establish- 
 ments, he is fond of diminutives ; the Tusculan villa has an atriolum, a 
 porticula, etc., one of his places in Campania he refers to as a " minuscula 
 villa " {Ad Att. XIV. xiii. 6). Sometimes when the distance between two 
 country villas was considerable, the proprietor, in order not to tres- 
 pass on the hospitality of friends who had houses in the neighbourhood, 
 would buy a deversorium, or mere house of call, on the high road, 
 wherein he could break his journey and rest for the night. Cicero 
 thought of acquiring such a local halting-place at Tarracina {Ad Warn. 
 VIL xxiii. 3). 
 
 * Sat. X. 225, and also I. 94. The custom of mifltiplying country 
 abodes in Italy has descended to our own day. " When Prince Marcantonio 
 Borghese died in 1886, the family estate comprised fifteen or twenty 
 
MULTIPLICATION OF COUNTRY HOMES 43 
 
 The owner of a number of properties in 
 different parts of the country could vary his 
 residence according to the season of the year, one 
 place being more suitable for winter, another for 
 summer. Thus Phny the Younger had a seaside 
 villa near Laurentum, about seventeen miles from 
 Rome, which, after a day's business in the capital, 
 he could easily reach in the evening. It was so 
 planned as to be available at any season, some of 
 the rooms being warm in winter and cool in 
 summer.^ He had also cool summer retreats at 
 Tusculum, Tibur, and Praeneste, and more than one 
 house on the Lake of Como. But his favourite 
 summer abode lay in Tuscany, far up the vale of 
 the Tiber. ^ When considering the question of 
 purchasing an addition to his landed property, 
 Pliny admitted that it is perhaps best to dis- 
 tribute our possessions, and that " change of place 
 and climate affords a great deal of pleasure, especi- 
 ally when the peregrination lies between one's 
 own different estates." * On the other hand, 
 Seneca strongly condemned this practice of shifting 
 residences. He thought that to be jumping from 
 one place to another was not consistent with 
 stability of mind, for in his opinion to ensure such 
 stability it was necessary to keep the body from 
 
 villas of which three were at Frascati and three between Anzio and 
 Nettuno " (Lanciani, " Wanderings in the Roman Campagna " (1909), 
 p. 43). 
 
 ' Horace alludes to the luxury of large porticoes facing the cool 
 north {Garm. II. xv. 16). 
 
 2 Further particulars about Pliny's villas will be found in chap. vi. 
 
 3 Epist. III. xix. 
 
44 COUNTRY AND TOWN [Chap. II. 
 
 running about. ^ This was not the opinion of 
 Cicero, who used to make the tour of his seaside 
 houses in Campania, spending a few days in each 
 and dating his delightful letters from them. 
 
 During most of the time of the Republic 
 country-houses were planned on a far more modest 
 scale than was afterwards reached towards the 
 close of that time and in the days of the Empire. 
 Of one of these simpler retreats a good account 
 has been left by Seneca. It was the home to 
 which the great Scipio Africanus retired in exile 
 from the ingratitude of his country. It stood 
 on the coast at Liternum, a little to the north 
 of Cumae. The humble aspect of the dwelling, 
 and especially the small size and darkness of its 
 bathroom to which the hero who had conquered 
 Carthage repaired when wearied with the rustic 
 labours of his farm, made a deep impression 
 on the philosopher, who, in describing it to his 
 correspondent, asked what Roman would now 
 put up with such accommodation. The contrast 
 between its antique simplicity and the prevaihng 
 luxury of his own day afforded him a more than 
 usually telling illustration for one of his character- 
 istic diatribes against the extravagance of the age.^ 
 
 How far things had advanced from the days 
 
 ^ Epist. Ixix. 1. This was a favourite theme of Seneca's animadver- 
 sions. In another letter he calls the hahit a sign of an unbalanced 
 mind — " aegri animi ista jactatio est " (ii. 1). Again he counsels 
 Lucilius against thinking that change of place will lighten sorrow and 
 care — "animum debes mutare, non caelum" (xxvii.), an expression 
 which Horace had already used (p. 47). 
 
 ^ Id. Ixxxvi. 
 
THE PLANNING OF VILLAS 45 
 
 of Scipio to those of Trajan may be gathered 
 from the accounts of his villas left by Pliny the 
 Younger, which probably afford a good idea of 
 the general arrangement of the country-houses 
 of the better class.^ Great care was taken in 
 the planning of a villa to place the various rooms 
 in appropriate position with reference to the sun. 
 The winter dining-room faced southwards, while 
 that for summer was shielded from the heat. Nor 
 was less regard shown with reference to the out- 
 look from the house. The windows were arranged 
 so as to command the best views, a prospect 
 of the sea being especially desired. If the house 
 lay inland it might afford glimpses of the open 
 country and distant hills, with the garden as a 
 foreground. Cicero tells how his architect pro- 
 vided him with narrow windows through which 
 to look into the pleasure-ground, while Atticus 
 would have had them wide so as to take 
 in more of the surrounding landscape.^ The 
 philosopher, while careful of the views outside, 
 was not less eager to ornament the interior of 
 his Tusculan retreat with works of art, for the 
 acquisition of which he used to give commissions 
 to some of his correspondents. He had a taste 
 for pictures and decorated the walls of that villa 
 with them.' There was obviously no hmit to 
 the amount of money that might be expended in 
 
 ' Described in chapter vi. 
 
 ^ Epist. Ad Att. II. iii. 2. Horace remarks : 
 
 "Laudaturque domus longos quae prospicit agros."— ^w(. I. x. 23. 
 
 3 Ad Fam. VII. xxiii. 
 
4e COUNTRY AND TOWN [Chap. II. 
 
 the adornment of these country-houses, especially 
 when it included the use of Greek and other far- 
 fetched marbles and precious ornamental stones.^ 
 By the time of the early Empire the taste 
 for houses and gardens in the country had risen 
 to such a height that Horace, in a vein of 
 exaggeration, could exclaim that soon there would 
 be no room for the plough, so numerously were 
 these palatial mansions scattered over the land. 
 The poet, in the typical spirit of the antique 
 Roman, lamented that so much space should be 
 given to the merely ornamental instead of to 
 the useful. Thus he regretted that the plane-tree, 
 grown merely for its shade, should supplant the 
 elm which had been so long employed to support 
 the vine, and that the ohve should be replaced 
 by beds of violets, myrtles, and all kinds of fragrant 
 flowers. Such, he said, was not the way of the 
 olden time when men of the type of Romulus 
 and the unshaven Cato led the people.^ Looking 
 
 1 Juvenal, Sat. XIV. 86. 
 
 ' Oarm. II. xv. Seneca in one of his outbursts against what he 
 considered to he the luxury of his time, asks — "When will there be a lake 
 which the gable-ends of your villas wUl not overhang, or a river whose 
 banks will not be fringed with your buildings ? Wherever springs of 
 warm water shall gush forth, there new and luxurious hotels will be 
 erected, wherever a coast-line shall curve into a bay, you forthwith 
 will throw down your foundations, and not content with the ground 
 unless you have made it up artificially, you will push back the sea. 
 Though your roofs may shine everywhere, in one place perched on an 
 eminence and commanding a wide view of land and sea, in another 
 place, built on the plains but carried up to the height of a hill, though 
 you shall have piled up many and vast erections, yet consider that you 
 are yourself single and a very small individual. Of what use, then, are 
 your many bedrooms ? You can only lie in one, and that is not yours 
 when you are not there yourself" (Epist. Ixxxix. 21). 
 
FASHIONABLE SUMMER MIGRATION 47 
 
 at the matter from our modem point of view, 
 we may be inclined to regard the increase in 
 the cultivation of the ornamental as not so 
 much an indication of growing luxury, as a 
 distinct advance in taste, and a further stage in 
 the development of the love of Nature. 
 
 It became the vogue to quit Rome during 
 at least the sultry season of the year, and the 
 demands of fashion appear to have been not less 
 imperious in those days than they are now. Of 
 the multitude that fled from the city the pro- 
 portion may have been small of those who had 
 a genuine love of the country and of a simple 
 life there in the enjoyment of Nature. As many 
 urban dissipations as could be transported were 
 no doubt carried to these various summer resorts, 
 and probably many of the sojourners were glad 
 enough when the passing of the summer heats 
 allowed them to resume their gay life in the 
 city.^ Horace described what was no doubt a 
 common disposition among his fellow-countrymen 
 when he wrote: — 
 
 " Our cares are removed by reason and prudence, 
 not by an abode commanding a wide sea- view; 
 we change our sky not our minds by running 
 across the sea. We are engaged in a strenuous 
 idleness."^ 
 
 1 Martial gives an interesting contrast of the counter-attractions of 
 town and country (Spig. X. li.). Sulpicia's question — " Dulcius 
 Urbe quid est ? " — was no doubt asked by many a visitor wearied with 
 the dullness of country life (TibulluSj IV. viii. 3). 
 
 ^ Epist. I. xi. 26 ; or, as Goldsmith expressed the idea, 
 " Thus idly busy rolls their world away.'' 
 
48 COUNTRY AND TOWN [Chap. II. 
 
 One of the first and most obvious forms of 
 relief enjoyed by city -men at their country 
 quarters was freedom from the etiquette and 
 routine which custom exacted at Rome. A 
 sign of this relaxation was doffing the toga which, 
 as a symbol of what the rules of society required, 
 may be compared to the usage of the modem 
 frock-coat. "Let our wrinkled skin drink in 
 the warmth of the vernal sun, and avoid the 
 toga," was Juvenal's recommendation,^ and one 
 of the causes which led Pliny to prefer his 
 Tuscan to his other viUas was that, being so far 
 inland from Rome, it involved " nulla necessitas 
 togse."^ Juvenal remarks that, if the truth were 
 told, throughout a great part of Italy the toga 
 was never put on except upon the dead.* 
 
 Another relief which must have been inex- 
 pressibly welcome to busy political and professional 
 men, and indeed to everybody of any consequence 
 in Rome, was escape from the crowd of importunate 
 clients and hungry applicants for favour and 
 assistance who dogged their footsteps in the 
 city.* When men with rural tastes could go 
 far enough from Rome to find once more at their 
 
 1 Sat. XI. 203. 
 
 2 Epist. V. vi. 45. Martial uses the expression "tunicata quies," 
 where the toga was discarded and the tunic became the outer garment 
 in the restful life of the country (X. li.). 
 
 3 Sat. III. 171. 
 
 _ * It was necessary to go to a good distance from Rome to escape the 
 crowd of callers. Even at Formise Cicero was inundated with them, and 
 exclaimed to Atticus that if he could not be alone he would rather have 
 the company of mere country-folk than that of superfine fellows from 
 Rome {Ad Att. II. xv.). 
 
RURAL PLEASURES 49 
 
 country-homes quiet and fresh air, we can imagine 
 with what renewed interest they would survey 
 the latest improvements in their own villas and 
 gardens and in those of their neighbours, and 
 how the familiar features of rustic life — the farms 
 and fields, the voices of birds, the hum of insect 
 Hfe, the shady woods, the herds in pasture, the 
 peasants at their wonted tasks, and above all 
 the life and stir of the farms on festive days when 
 the whole countryside was ahve and gay with 
 flowers for the lustration or other appointed 
 ceremonial — would bring a sense of peace and 
 rest to men jaded by the turmoil of the capital.^ 
 
 ' The joy of these country festivals may be gathered from the 
 animated descriptions of them that have come down to us : Virgil, 
 Geor. I. 338-360 ; Tibullus, II. i. 1-30 ; Ovid, Fasti I. 663-704, II. 
 639-684. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE "DIVINI GLORIA RUEIS " — LUCRETIUS, 
 VIRGIL, HORACE 
 
 To many of those who from time to time could 
 
 get far away from the crowd and out of hearing 
 
 of the "magnae vaga murmura Romae," the 
 
 peacefulness and freshness of the country, the 
 
 beauty of field and woodland, of flower and tree, 
 
 the lights and shadows on the distant hills, the 
 
 changing aspects of the sky, the wide expanse 
 
 of open sea, and the plunge of the waves along 
 
 the shore must have brought health and pleasure 
 
 to mind as well as to body. How keenly the 
 
 benefit of this contact with Nature was felt by 
 
 contemplative and impressionable spirits may be 
 
 gathered from many passages in Latin literature. 
 
 To such a man as Cicero, for example, wearied 
 
 with professional practice, worried with political 
 
 anxiety, or bowed down with domestic sorrow, it 
 
 must have been of the utmost service in resting 
 
 and restoring his mental powers. He tells that 
 
 it was his habit to keep up his spirits by seeking 
 
 rivers and solitude, and when at rare intervals 
 
 he could escape for a few days from his duties 
 
 60 
 
CICERO AT ARPINUM » 51 
 
 in Rome, he was glad to retreat to his native 
 home at Arpinum, among the picturesque defiles 
 of the Fibrenus and Liris, where the extreme 
 beauty of the scenery, the loneliness and the 
 health-giving air of the place re-invigorated him.^ 
 In the remarkable scene with which he opens the 
 second book of his work, De Legibus, he intro- 
 duces Atticus as his guest at that place, and 
 represents him as delighted with the landscape 
 at the gorges of the two streams and the island 
 at their junction. Cicero's other country-houses, 
 more especially those at Tusculum, Antium and 
 Astura, likewise aflfbrded him the mental rest and 
 refreshment of which he often stood in much 
 need. In a later generation, the younger Pliny, 
 in describing his Laurentine villa, breaks out into 
 an apostrophe to its charms — " O Sea, O Shore, 
 true and retired place for study I how much have 
 you taught me! how many thoughts have you 
 inspired 1 " ^ 
 
 The feelings of pleasure awakened by country 
 sights and sounds find full and joyous utterance 
 among the Latin poets. Most of these writers 
 delighted in depicting rural scenes. Even when 
 they lived in Rome, it was not in the city, but 
 in the memory of what they had seen and heard 
 / among the woods and meadows, by the brooks 
 and rivers, or by the shores of the sea, that 
 some of the greatest among them foimd their 
 
 ' Epigt. Ad Att. XIII. xvi.; ad Quint. Frat. III. i.; De Leg. II. i. 1. 
 ' Epist. I. ix. 
 
52 THE "DIVINI GLORIA RURIS" [Chap. III. 
 
 chief inspiration. It is interesting to trace how 
 these rural influences impressed the colossal 
 genius of ■ Lucretius (b.c. 97-53). Among all 
 the poets of ancient or modern time, he stands 
 out as the one who may, perhaps, most fittingly, 
 and in the widest sense, be called the poet of 
 Nature. As a philosopher and man of science, 
 he devoted his life to the contemplation and 
 investigation of the universe. His intense and 
 insatiable desire was to seek out and to interpret 
 to mankind the hidden causes and interconnec- 
 tions of the changes that are unceasingly in 
 progress in earth, sea, and sky. Following the 
 teaching of his masters Epicurus and Empedocles, 
 he had gathered much knowledge, which he 
 believed would benefit his fellow-men, and he 
 threw his whole soul into the task of expound- 
 ing this knowledge and showing what he believed 
 to be its practical utility in dealing with the 
 most serious problems of human life. 
 
 There is a strangely modem tone in his 
 discussion of an atomic theory of the universe 
 and in his enunciation of the proofs of an orderly 
 system of evolution aUke in the inorganic and the 
 organic kingdoms. His explanations of natural 
 phenomena and his philosophy of the world do 
 not come within the scope of my present enquiry. 
 But we must recognise that no writer has ever 
 had a more vivid perception of the beauty and 
 harmony, the regulated movement and order of 
 the universe. Decay and renewal, in never-ending 
 
LUCRETIUS ON NATURE 5S 
 
 sequence, were seen by him to be the invariable 
 process, everything being directed and governed 
 by immovable law. As he contemplated this 
 marvellous system with what he called "a kind 
 of divine pleasure and awe,"^ his poetic imagina- 
 tion embodied his conception of it in language 
 often rugged, but sometimes impressively noble 
 and solemn. Yet he seems at times to feel 
 that at least the Latin tongue was inadequate 
 to convey to others an idea of what with his 
 mental vision he had seen and learnt, or to 
 impart the thrill of delight with which his survey 
 of the inner workings of nature had filled his 
 own soul.^ 
 
 The feeling which Lucretius had for Nature 
 thus differed, as we have seen, from that of his 
 fellow-countrymen. Discarding with contempt 
 the national religion, he relegated its gods to a 
 remote region of perpetual calm and unbroken 
 inactivity. Tn their place there floated through 
 his meditations a conviction of the transcendant 
 unity of Nature, and a dim consciousness of some 
 universal creative and regulating power. In his 
 view we are all of celestial origin, children of 
 the same father, who sends down the life-giving 
 moisture that enables our mother earth to produce 
 not only the human race, but all other living 
 
 I " Quaedam divina voluptas atque horror " — Her. Nat. III. 28. 
 a See especially I. 133, 832, III. 260. The faculty which Ovid 
 attributes to Pythagoras was amply possessed by Lucretius : 
 
 " Quae natura negabat 
 Visibus humanis, oculis ea pectoris hausit." — Metam. XV. 64. 
 
54 THE "DIVINI GLORIA RURIS" [Chap. 111. 
 
 things.^ In the majestic opening of his poem^ 
 where he avails himself of the time-honoured 
 usage of invoking divine help in his poetic under- 
 taking, he selects, not the Muses, but " Alma 
 Venus" as his inspiring deity. Yet, although he 
 invests her with some of the familiar and sensuous 
 attributes by which she was known in the popular 
 mythology, it is clear from the whole tenor of the 
 poem that he had in his mind a great life-giving 
 Spirit in Nature. He continually refers to 
 " Natura gubernans " " Natura creatrix," " Natura 
 daedala rerum."* To this universal pervading 
 spirit he appeals as his pilot and helper. He 
 knows how dark is the way before him, but a 
 great hope has entered his heart that he will 
 be sustained in his enterprise of visiting the 
 distant haunts of the Muses, which had never 
 yet been trodden by the foot of man. In his 
 
 I Rer. Nat. 11. 991, 992. 
 
 ^ It is interesting, as evidence of the popularity of Lucretius, to find 
 that the first words of this fine opening occur several times among the 
 grafSiti on the walls of the houses in Pompeii (Mau, " Pompeii," 2nd ed. , 
 p. 609). 
 
 ' He alludes also to a " vis abdita quaedam " that tramples on man, 
 regardless of his greatness and glory (V. 1233). The spiritual meaning 
 of this invocation is finely expressed in Tennyson's poem on Lucretius, 
 who is -represented as appealing to the goddess — 
 
 "Ay, but I meant not thee ; I meant not her 
 Whom all the pines of Ida shook to see 
 Glide from that quiet heaven of hers, and tempt 
 The Trojan. Eather, ye Gods, 
 
 Poetlike did I take 
 
 That popular name of thine to shadow forth 
 The all-generating powers and genial heat 
 Of Nature, when she strikes thro' the thick blood 
 Of cattle, and light is large, and lambs are glad 
 Nosing the mother's udder, and the bird 
 Makes his heart voice amid the blaze of flowers.'' 
 
LUCRETIUS ON lyTATURE 55 
 
 invocation, thoughts and images seem to crowd 
 upon each other as they hurry through the poet's 
 mind, swept onward by the rapid flow of his 
 imagination. The stately music of his language, 
 however, is lost in translation. 
 
 "Mother of the Aeneadae, delight of men 
 and of gods; fostering Venus, who, under the 
 gliding stars of heaven, fillest with life the sea 
 that bears the ships, and the lands that yield the 
 crops ; since through thee every hving creature is 
 conceived and beholds the light of the sun: at 
 thy coming the winds and the clouds of heaven 
 flee away ; for thee the daedal earth unfolds her 
 sweet flowers ; for thee the level fields of ocean 
 smile, and the calmed sky beams with widespread 
 light. For so soon as the face of spring is laid 
 bare, and the fruitful breath of the west wind, 
 once more let loose, blows freshly, first the birds 
 of the air, O goddess, herald thee and thine 
 advent, their hearts stirred by thy power. Then 
 the cattle frisk wildly over the glad pastures and 
 swim the rapid streams ; captivated by thy charm, 
 each eagerly follows thee whithersoever thou 
 leadest. And thus over seas and mountains and 
 rushing rivers and the leafy homes of birds and 
 the verdant plains, inspiring fond love into the 
 hearts of all, thou makest them, each after its 
 kind, eager to renew their race."^ 
 
 As he contemplates his self-imposed mission 
 the poet breaks forth in exultant anticipation of 
 his ultimate success — 
 
 " glad am I to approach these untasted Pierian 
 springs, there to drink a deep draught: glad 
 
 1 De Nat. Deor. I. 1-20. 
 
66 THE "DIVINI GLORIA RURIS" [Chap. III. 
 
 am I to cull new flowers, and to gather for my 
 head a noble crown from where the Muses have 
 never yet wreathed the brow of any mortal."' 
 
 And yet this sublime poet, soaring amid the 
 heights of his atomic philosophy, had the tenderest 
 and most human of hearts, full of sympathy for 
 sorrow and suffering, whether in man or beast. 
 Amid all his speculation he retained his Jove of 
 the simple beauty of the lowliest flower, and his 
 interest in the welfare of every living creature. 
 His great poem abounds with passages which 
 show how closely he noted the changes of the 
 sky and the varied aspect of the earth in the 
 succession of the seasons, and, at the same time, 
 with what kindly feeling he watched the toil of 
 the husbandman. The tender sympathy and 
 profound melancholy, with which he regarded 
 the sadness and the frailty of human life, found 
 vent in the following passage : — 
 
 "Now no more shall thy glad home welcome 
 thee, nor thy dear wife, nor will thy sweet children 
 run to meet thee and get thy first kisses, touching 
 thy heart with a quiet thrill of pleasure ; nor hence- 
 forth wilt thou, flourishing in thy affairs, be a 
 strong tower to thine own dear ones. 'Pitiable 
 art thou,' they say, ' and pitiably has one direful 
 day carried off^ from thee all the many prizes of 
 life I '"^ 
 
 How genuine and all-embracing was the love 
 
 ' Rer. Nat. I. 927. ^ III. 891-896. 
 
VIRGIL'S BIRTHrLACE 57 
 
 which Lucretius had for the country is well 
 illustrated in this further quotation. 
 
 " At last the rains cease which our father the 
 sky has showered upon the lap of our mother the 
 earth. Luxuriant crops spring up, and the branches 
 grow green upon the trees, which are soon heavy 
 with fruit. From these sources our own race and 
 the race of beasts are nourished ; thence, too, we 
 see happy towns alive with children, and the leafy 
 woods ringing on every side with the voices of 
 young birds ; thence, also, the fat cattle rest their 
 wearied bodies amid the glad pastures, while the 
 milky stream flows from their distended udders, and 
 a new brood, made light-hearted with the pure milk, 
 sports wantonly with feeble limbs upon the tender 
 grass."* 
 
 By none of the Latin poets were the rural land- 
 scapes of Italy sketched so often and with such 
 loving devotion as by Virgil (b.c. 70-19). Born on 
 the fertile plains of the Po, yet within sight of the 
 towering Alps on the one side and the heights of 
 the Apennines on the other, he was fortunate in 
 the smiling landscapes of meadow, woodland, and 
 river amidst which his youth was passed. They 
 inspired his earliest verse, and in after years when 
 he had risen to fame and had long quitted his 
 paternal home, these same scenes continued to 
 fill his imagination and to give a special charm 
 to all his poetry.^ Thus, what he called, in a 
 
 ' Rer. Nat. I. 250-261. 
 
 ^ If the last eight lines of the fourth Georgic can be understood to 
 mean, what they seem literally to imply, that the whole poem was 
 written at Naples, Virgil's memory for the details of the scenery and 
 rural life amidst which he spent his youth must have been extra- 
 
68 THE "DIVINI GLORIA RURIS" [Chap. III. 
 
 striking phrase, the "divini gloria ruris," which 
 had irradiated his boyhood, remained with him as 
 a bright and animating influence to the end of 
 his life. 
 
 For an adequate estimation of Virgil's attitude 
 towards Nature it is more necessary, than in the 
 case of many other poets, to take note of the 
 circumstances of his hfe. He was bom on 15th 
 October, B.C. 70, near Mantua, where his father 
 lived as a small farmer, cultivating his own land. 
 His native province was so largely inhabited by a 
 Celtic population as to have been known long before 
 his time as Gallia Cisalpina. The suggestion has 
 been made that Virgil himself may have come of 
 a Celtic stock, and that to this source he owed his 
 exuberant delight in Nature, his meditative disposi- 
 tion and the vein of tender melancholy that runs 
 through his poems. His health seems never to 
 have been robust, and he consequently led a quiet 
 and abstemious life. His father gave him the best 
 education then procurable, first at Cremona and 
 subsequently at Milan. On his 16th birthday, 
 which is said to have been the same day that 
 Lucretius died, Virgil assumed the toga virilis, 
 and soon thereafter (b.c. 53) went to Rome to 
 complete his studies. How long he remained in 
 the capital is uncertain, for there is a gap of some 
 ten years about which little or nothing is known 
 in regard to his movements. 
 
 ordinarily retentive. His descriptions and allusions are given not only 
 in that poem but also in the JEneid, with as much force and accuracy as 
 if he were still living among the landscapes of the north. 
 
VIRGIL'S LIFE 59 
 
 In the year b.c. 4S, through the action of 
 Julius Caesar, the inhabitants of the Transpadane 
 province received the "civitas," and the poet 
 thereby became a Roman citizen. No one to 
 whom this privilege vi^as conceded could surpass 
 Virgil in his vvrhole-hearted devotion to Rome and 
 his pride in her history and achievements. At 
 this time he may have been residing at his paternal 
 farm by the Mincius, continuing his studies and not 
 improbably composing verses. At the date of the 
 momentous battle of Philippi he w^ould seem to 
 have been at his old home, busy with his Eclogues. 
 Some of his poems had by this time attracted 
 the attention of the higher Roman officials of the 
 province, especially of the governor, Asinius Pollio, 
 in honour of whom the fourth Eclogue was written. 
 His studious and meditative life, however, was 
 rudely broken up by the confiscations made by the 
 triumvirate to provide land for discharged soldiers. 
 The poet, dispossessed of his farm, was recom- 
 mended by his friends Pollio, Varus, and Gallus to 
 go to Rome and lay his case before Octavianus. 
 His land was eventually restored to him, but on 
 his return to re-occupy it, the violence of the 
 soldier who had obtained the place compelled him 
 to flee for his life, and he seems to have taken no 
 further steps to be reinstated. He then left his 
 native district, and there is no record of his ever 
 having revisited it, though the remembrance of 
 its beauties remained as a vivid and inspiring 
 impression to the end of his life. Through the 
 
60 THE "DIVINI GLORIA RURIS" [Chap. III. 
 
 kindness of patrons and friends, especially of 
 Octavianus, he was amply compensated for the loss 
 of his paternal property.^ He appears now to have 
 lived at Rome for a short time, and published there 
 his Eclogues in b.c. 37. These poems at once 
 made him famous, and gained him the personal 
 friendship of Octavianus and Maecenas. He had 
 a house on the Esquiline Hill, near the gardens of 
 Maecenas. But Virgil was by nature a recluse 
 who found his greatest happiness in the enjoyment 
 of a quiet meditative life in the restful country. 
 The attractions of the city and the fervid apprecia- 
 tion of his fellow-citizens could not long detain 
 him in Rome. He acquired a house at Naples and 
 also a villa near Nola, between the western flanks 
 of the Apennines and the eastern slopes of 
 Vesuvius, and in that beautiful district he appears 
 to have spent most of the rest of his life, writing 
 the poems on which his reputation mainly rests.^ 
 
 It was at Naples between the years 37 and 30 
 that he composed his Georgics. Thereafter he 
 was engaged on the ^neid for eleven years, and he 
 meant to devote three years more to the revision 
 of that poem. But he died on 21st September 
 B.C. 19, leaving his task incomplete. His will 
 contained directions for the destruction of all poems 
 which he had left unpubUshed. But Augustus 
 interfered to rescue the ^neid from this fate, and 
 the poem was pubhshed soon after the poet's death. 
 
 ' "Multa dantis cum laude," as Horace remarks. 
 
 ^ Suetonius mentions that Virgil made frequent visits to Sicily. 
 
VIRGIL'S EARLY YEARS 61 
 
 From this outline of his biography it appears 
 that with the exception of the interval which in- 
 cluded the period of his education and residence in 
 Rome, Virgil spent the first thirty years or more 
 of his life in his native district of Transpadane Gaul. 
 During that early period he probably wrote many 
 minor poems which have not survived, besides 
 those which are with more or less confidence 
 regarded as his. It was then that he composed 
 the Eclogues, in the midst of the scenery and 
 rustic life so beautifully depicted in these idylls. 
 But his subsequent compositions, written far away 
 in Southern Italy, show that his memory was so 
 deeply impressed with these scenes of his youth 
 that he could draw upon endless recollections of 
 them and describe them with a vivid power and 
 an accuracy of detail which could not have been 
 excelled had they still been before his eyes. 
 Though living among the landscapes of Campania, 
 it seems to have been often the air and fragrance 
 of the meadows and woodlands on the plains of 
 the Mincius that filled his heart and warmed his 
 imagination. 
 
 The most important influence on Virgil's poetic 
 powers which his transference to Campania brought 
 with it, was that of the Sea. He may not im- 
 probably in his youth have seen the Adriatic, 
 though his references to it in his earlier poetry 
 may have been mainly inspired by Theocritus. 
 At least, if he ever beheld the sea while he 
 lived in the north, its surface seems to have left 
 
62 THE "DIVINI GLORIA RURIS" [Chap. III. 
 
 on his mind an impression of mirror-like calm, 
 with only a gentle murmur of breaking wavelets. 
 On the shores of Campania, however, he had 
 an opportunity of watching the sea in all its 
 moods, not only of calm but of storm, and this 
 experience gave a new feeling and a fresh set of 
 images and reflections to the Georgics and the 
 
 The great poem of Lucretius, which appeared 
 when Virgil was a young man, so powerfully 
 impressed him as to leave strong traces of its 
 influence on his poetry. Occasionally this influence 
 manifests itself in direct and frank imitation. 
 When the younger poet, casting his eye over the 
 wide domain of Nature, debated with himself what 
 parts of it he in his turn might choose as a theme 
 for his verse, his first inclination, following the 
 path of his great predecessor, was above aU to 
 beseech the sweet Muses, from the deep love which 
 hte bore them, to receive him and unfold to him 
 the marvels of the heavens, the tremors of the 
 earth, and the mighty movements and pulsations 
 of the sea. But should these themes prove to 
 lie beyond his powers, then he prayed that Jie 
 might be allowed, in more humble strains, to sing 
 of the country, the streams, and the woodlands 
 which he loved.^ He knew, indeed, that it would 
 be no easy task to give to such lowly subjects as 
 these the charm and dignity of true poetry; but 
 he felt an ardent wish to climb the lonely heights 
 
 ' Geor. II. 476-486. 
 
VIRGIL'S CHOICE OF A THEME 63 
 
 of Parnassus whence no pathway trodden by former 
 poets led down to the Castalian spring.' Looking 
 at the poem of Lucretius, he felt how happy that 
 poet must have been in having been able to 
 discover the causes of things, in having cast 
 beneath his feet all fear, and inexorable fate and 
 the clamour of greedy death. But, on the other 
 hand, happy too was the man who knew the 
 rural gods — Pan and old Silvanus and their 
 sister nymphs. * 
 
 Whether Virgil ever made any attempt to 
 obey the first promptings of his muse and essay 
 another poem on the subjects of which Lucretius 
 had treated is unknown. But if he did so he 
 must soon have found that the task was one for 
 which his genius was hardly suited. There was, 
 at that time, no room for another didactic poem 
 on the philosophy of Nature. AU the science of 
 the time would have been needed for it, and this 
 department of intellectual effort had already been 
 gone over by his predecessor. In choosing rural 
 scenes as his theme he took the subject which 
 was most familiar and congenial to him, one 
 which was well worthy of his ambition, and which 
 he loved with the deepest affection of his gentle 
 and meditative nature. It was well for him, for 
 Rome, and for the literature of all time that he 
 decided as he did. To the " divini gloria ruris " he 
 addressed himself with a devotion and enthusiasm 
 
 1 Qeor. III. 291, imitated irom Book I. 922-930 of Lucretius. 
 
 2 Id. II. 490-494. 
 
64 THE "DIVINI GLORIA RURIS" [Chap. III. 
 
 and a mastery of poetic art, such as had never 
 before appeared in the Latin tongue. He pointed 
 out to his fellow-countrymen and to all succeeding 
 generations in every land the endless beauties of 
 Nature, and showed by his own immortal example 
 the empire which these charms can obtain over 
 an appreciative and sympathetic soul. 
 
 While indications of Virgil's character and 
 tastes are afforded in all his works, it is in his 
 first published poems, the Eclogues, that the 
 personality of the poet comes out most clearly, 
 as it is from the Sonnets that the most tangible 
 glimpses of the personahty of Shakespeare are 
 obtainable. The Eclogues bring us into touch 
 with Virgil in his early home, among the 
 landscapes which left such a deep impression on 
 his memory. The whole atmosphere of these 
 poems is that of the country, and especially of 
 the district in which the poet was bom and 
 bred. Despite the somewhat artificial conven- 
 tions of the Greek models which he followed, 
 it is easy to see that though Arcadian and 
 Sicihan scenes were on his lips, it was his own 
 Italian landscape that filled his eye and heart 
 and inspired his muse. He even appeals to it 
 by name — "hithgr across the meadows will the 
 young oxen come to drink; here Mincius fringes 
 his green banks with slender reeds, and from 
 yonder sacred oak comes the hum of bees."* 
 
 ' aeor. VII. 11-13. 
 
SCENERY OF THE ECLOGUES 65 
 
 We can picture the little farm as he traces 
 its boundaries from where the hills begin to 
 descend with gentle slope to the edge of the 
 water, and the line of venerable beech-trees with 
 their doddered tops.^ The landscape, although 
 curiously compounded of Transpadane, Sicilian 
 and Greek features, is made to stand clearly 
 before us where, among familiar streams and 
 sacred springs, the old farmer would still be left 
 in peace, with the murmur of bees in his willow 
 hedge, the woodman's song from the foot of the 
 neighbouring cliff, the cooing of his wood-pigeons, 
 and the moan of the turtle-dove from the tall 
 elm-tree.^ The soothing melody of these poems 
 could not have been more aptly described than in 
 the words of one of the personages in the fifth 
 Eclogue — " Thy song, divine poet, has been to me 
 as sleep on the grass to weary men, or as a stream 
 of sweet water leaping forth in the heat to quench 
 our thirst."^ 
 
 When after the publication of the Eclogues, 
 Virgil's reputation had been firmly established, 
 and, conscious of his growing powers, the poet 
 aspired "virum volitare per ora," it was to his 
 native district that he longed to bring back 
 from the haunts of the Muses the tokens of 
 his triumph. Though he had been driven with 
 
 1 Geor. IX. 7-10. ^ Id. I. 61-58. 
 
 ' Id. V. 46-7. It was to these poems that Horace referred when he 
 wrote that the Muses who delight in the country had hestowed 
 tenderness and grace {moUe atque facetum) on Virgil {Sat. I. x. 44). 
 The Georgics had not yet appeared. 
 
 £ 
 
66 THE "DIVINI GLORIA RURIS" [Chap. III. 
 
 violence from his early home, his heart was still 
 there : — 
 
 " First, Mantua, unto thee will I bear back 
 The palms of Edom ; and on thy green plain 
 A marble sanctuary will I build 
 Beside the water's edge, where Mincius steals 
 In ample curves 'tween banks of tender reeds." ^ 
 
 It was in the composition of the Georgics that 
 Virgil found fullest scope for the expression of his 
 joy in rural scenes and his meditative appreciation 
 of Nature. The subject he chose was nominally 
 the rules and practice of agriculture, which had 
 been recently discussed by Varro in the treatise 
 already referred to. But Virgil, while he availed 
 himself of information supplied by Varro's treatise 
 and other authorities, found the theme congenial 
 for poetic treatment. Illumined by his imagina- 
 tion, rich in his own practical experience of farming 
 and country-life, and affording at every turn oppor- 
 tunities for the expression of his sense of the dignity 
 of labour, his pious and reverential nature and his 
 abounding love of woods and fields, of meadows 
 and streams, and of life in every form, it became 
 in his hands one of the great master-pieces of 
 literature, wherein the varying aspects of earth and 
 sea and sky, and the human tasks which husbandly 
 involves, are depicted with the most enthusiastic 
 appreciation and the most consummate art. 
 
 The poet's boyhood and youth had given him 
 an intimate knowledge of the life of the farmer 
 
 1 Oeor. III. 12-16. 
 
VIRGIL'S SYMPATHY 67 
 
 and a warm feeling for the trials which, even in so 
 favoured a country as Italy, affected farming. In 
 his poem he amply recognises the laborious and 
 unintermittent toil of the husbandman, in which he 
 himself had taken part. The struggle with Nature, 
 wherein man is not always the victor, enlisted 
 Virgil's heartiest sympathy, and gave the kejmote 
 to the whole poem. This sympathy formed an 
 element in that wide affection, through the halo of 
 which he looked out upon the world. It gave 
 warmth and force to his love of all that was tender 
 and beautiful in Nature, and from time to time 
 that love seems to burst forth as an uncontrollable 
 emotion which demands expression in his verse. 
 Thus in the midst of his observations on the different 
 parts of farm-routine, the suggested remembrance of 
 some autumn or spring, some noon-tide or storm, 
 some flower or tree, fills his soul with rapture which 
 finds vent in words as vivid and beautiful as the 
 vision that inspired them. These occasional out- 
 bursts of imaginative splendour form one of the 
 greatest charms of the poem. 
 
 Virgil was thoroughly convinced that in spite of 
 here and there thin or ungenial soil, or inclement 
 seasons, or insect-plagues, or other too numerous 
 evils, there was no lot throughout all the range of 
 human employments more to be envied than that 
 of a man who has to till the soil or to rear flocks 
 and herds. And to illustrate how far this lot is 
 preferable to that of the sailor, the courtier, the 
 soldier, the merchant, or the politician, he drew the 
 
68 THE "DIVINI GLORIA RURIS" [Chap. III. 
 
 well-known and inimitable panegyric on the bless- 
 ings of rural life and the enviable position of the 
 old style farmer — a passage the musical beauty of 
 which is lost in translation: — 
 
 " Too happy were the husbandmen did they but know 
 Their bliss ; on whom, far from the clash of arms, 
 The earth provides an easy sustenance. 
 If no tall mansion, through its portals proud. 
 Pours forth from all its halls a surging throng 
 Of morning clients ; if no columns gleam 
 With tortoise-shell, nor robes with thread of gold ; 
 If bronze from Corinth never meets the eye, 
 Nor white wool dyed in bright Assyrian tints ; 
 If their clear oil no taste of casia bears. 
 Yet theirs is peace that knows not care : their life, 
 Without illusion, rich in treasures rare. 
 Brings restful peace upon their ample farms. 
 Caverns, and sparkling lakes, and valleys cool, 
 With lowing herds, and soft sleep under trees 
 Are not denied to them, nor woodland glades 
 Wherein the tribes of wild beasts find their home." 
 
 " With curving plough the farmer cleaves the soil, 
 And from the labour of the year maintains 
 His land, his young grandchildren, and his herds 
 And labouring oxen faithful to the yoke." 
 
 " His modest home preserves its chastity ; 
 His loving children hang around his lips ; 
 His kine bring well-filled udders from the mead ; 
 His plump young goats, with horn opposed to horn. 
 Strive with each other on the gladsome grass ; 
 While he himself on days of festival. 
 Stretched on the sward, beside the altar fire. 
 Welcomes his friends, who wreathe the cup with flowers." ^ 
 
 1 6eor. II, 468-471, 513-515, 523-528. 
 
VIRGIL'S PIETY 69 
 
 The concluding lines of this passage with their 
 reference to the religious ceremonies that mingled 
 with the festivities of the country-folk is character- 
 istically Virgilian. His natural piety and conserva- 
 tive instincts led him to stand by the old national 
 faith, against the spirit of irreligion so rife in the 
 society of his day. The Georgics are full of 
 indications^ of this piety. His was no "vana 
 superstitio veterumque ignara deorum." Amidst 
 his precepts for the work of the farm, and his 
 expriessions of delight in the manifold beauties of 
 Nature there ever mingles a recognition of higher 
 powers that watch over mankind, and to whom 
 were owing the devout reverence and the due 
 offerings prescribed by the established religion of 
 the country. At the same time he was fully 
 cognisant of the Stoic doctrine of the "anima 
 mundi," and refers to it towards the end of the 
 poem (IV. 219), but without positively adopting it, 
 or giving it the solemn sanction with which he 
 afterwards clothed it in the JEneid. 
 
 Intimately bound up with his piety towards the 
 national gods was Virgil's ardent patriotism, to 
 which allusion has already been made. Though 
 not born a Roman citizen he had a passionate 
 admiration for the greatness and glory of the 
 Roman Empire, such as no one born among the 
 Seven Hills could surpass. He loved Italy with 
 the deepest devotion of his emotional nature. 
 While he was keenly sensitive to the beauty of 
 Italian landscape, and delighted in the yearly proof 
 
70 THE "DIVINI GLORIA RURIS" [Chap. III. 
 
 of the fertility of the ItaUan soil, these feehngs 
 were intensified by the fact that all this beauty and 
 fertiUty belonged to his native land. He depicted 
 the scenes for their own intrinsic charm, but that 
 charm was heightened by the warm glow of his 
 patriotism. It is as much in this ardent national 
 enthusiasm as in any other part of his work that 
 the suggested Celtic temperament may perhaps 
 be traced. 
 
 That this enthusiasm was thoroughly genuine 
 and spontaneous cannot be questioned. At the 
 same time there appears to be no doubt that the 
 subject of the Georgics was suggested to Virgil 
 by his appreciative patron, Maecenas.^ The policy 
 of Augustus to encourage agriculture and industry 
 with a view towards healing the wounds caused by 
 the civil wars and reuniting and strengthening the 
 bonds of society, was loyally supported by his able 
 minister. Maecenas might naturally think that a 
 serious poem dealing with rural life and the aspects 
 of the country, written as only the poet of the 
 Eclogues could write it, would be popular all over 
 Italy, and would be an influence that might 
 help in the fulfilment of the Emperor's designs. 
 Augustus also took a serious view of the growing 
 deterioration of the religious and moral standard of 
 the community, and exerted himself with great 
 energy to restore the national reUgion, building 
 temples, reviving rituals that had fallen into disuse, 
 
 ' Qeor. III. 41, where the poet refers to the great minister's " haud 
 moUia jussa." 
 
VIRGIL AND MAECENAS 71 
 
 and in other ways trying to stem the advancing 
 current of indifference and impiety. From this 
 point of view, also, Maecenas might well conceive 
 that the pious and conservative spirit of Virgil 
 might be of service if enlisted in the cause of 
 reform. The poet, without in the least sacrificing 
 any of his convictions or tastes, could honestly 
 devote himself to promote the laudable ends which 
 the Emperor had so much at heart. It might, 
 indeed, nerve him to higher exertion, if he felt that 
 in giving the fullest expression to his passionate 
 love of the country, to his sympathy with all rural 
 labour, and to his reverent piety, he was at the same 
 time taking part in the great imperial effort to 
 reform and regenerate the Roman people. 
 
 The subject of the Mneid did not afford such 
 scope as VirgU's other poems for allusions to the 
 country and its varied aspects and interests. Yet 
 so full was the poet of affectionate regard for rural 
 scenes that they are introduced by him as episodes 
 even in the midst of war and battles. Some of 
 these episodes wiU be cited in later chapters. They 
 have a special interest in reference to the subject to 
 which this volume is devoted. The Mneid was 
 the last of Virgil's achievements. It was written 
 at Naples long years after he had quitted his 
 northern home, but some of the episodes here 
 referred to appear to be drawn, not from the 
 experiences of his later life in Campania, but from 
 the recollections of his younger days on the plains 
 of the Mincius. If this inference be just they bear 
 
72 THE "DIVINI GLORIA RURIS" [Chap. III. 
 
 further eloquent testimony to the fidelity of his 
 early observations, the fullness and accuracy of his 
 recollection of them and the pleasure which he 
 took in recalling and describing scenes and incidents 
 which had been so long and so lovingly cherished 
 in his memory.^ On the other hand the poetic use 
 which, in the jfEneid, he makes of the varying moods 
 of the sea was entirely due to his experience in 
 Southern Italy. 
 
 As another remarkable example of the influence 
 of an early life in the country upon a poetic 
 temperament we may look at the case of Horace 
 (B.C. 65-8). His birthplace lay not in a luxuriant 
 plain, like that of Virgil, but at Venusia, in a 
 somewhat rugged and sterile territory on the 
 eastern flank of the Apulian Apennines. Of that 
 first home he retained some vivid impressions 
 which are again and again alluded to in his poems. 
 These recollections are of interest in showing 
 that the poet was not without an eye for the 
 features of landscape which he could felicitously 
 describe, often only by a happily chosen word.^ 
 In those early years, too, living among the sturdy 
 yeomen and peasantry of Apulia, he became 
 
 ' In later chapters of this volume examples will be given of this 
 
 retentive remembrance of the scenes of his youth. Of all the poets 
 
 of ancient Rome none seems to have had in the same measure as Virgil 
 
 " That inward eye 
 Which is the bliss of solitude " 
 
 and which can vividly conjure up the scenes and impressions of past 
 years. 
 
 ^ E.g. Celsae nidus Acherontiae ; arvum humilis Forenti ; Aufidus 
 tauriformis, Ustica Cubans, etc. 
 
HORACE'S BIRTHPLACE 73 
 
 intimately acquainted with the simple upright 
 lives of the old Sabellian race, for which he after- 
 wards expressed such admiration. 
 
 Two reminiscences of the region of his boy- 
 hood, which had imprinted themselves deeply on 
 his mind, are referred to in various parts of 
 Horace's poetry — the scarcity of water in the 
 dry season, and the fierce impetuosity of the 
 river Aufidus in time of flood. He remembered 
 his native district as "pauper aquae,"' for in 
 summer many of the springs and brooks cease to 
 flow at the surface, and the drainage in large 
 measure finds its way towards the sea in under- 
 ground passages among the limestone rocks. But 
 still more did he recall the one large river of 
 the district, the Aufidus, which while in the 
 hot season it may dwindle to a mere shrunken 
 streamlet, in seasons of heavy rain bears headlong 
 to the Adriatic the accumulated waters of the 
 greater part of Apulia. He loved to remember 
 that he was bom near the far-resounding Aufidus. 
 The floods of this river remained in his memory 
 as a kind of type of Nature in her most energetic 
 mood. Every time that he takes occasion to 
 bring its name into his poems, he couples with 
 it a different epithet, indicative of its impetuosity 
 and destructiveness, as it rushed along with a roar 
 that could be heard from far. Not improbably 
 it was to some catastrophe which he had himself 
 
 ' Oarm. III. xxx. II. Elsewhere he speaks of " siticulosa Apulia " 
 (Epod. III. 16). 
 
74 THE "DIVINI GLORIA RURIS" [Chap. III. 
 
 witnessed or had heard of, that he refers when 
 he speaks of men who, greedily seeking for more 
 than their fair share of this world's goods, are apt to 
 be swept away, together with the bank on which 
 they stand, by the fury of the "Aufidus acer." 
 And when he wished to picture the irresistible 
 onset of the Roman army against the barbarians, 
 he likens it to the " buU-hke Aufidus as he waxes 
 wroth, and rushes down with dire havoc upon 
 the fertile plains below." ^ 
 
 Among the incidents which he thought 
 worthy of note in his record of the famous journey 
 to Brundisium, Horace includes a reference to 
 the part of the road where the familiar hills of 
 ApuUa began to come into view. " Conspicuous 
 among these heights would be the lofty old 
 volcanic cone of the Mons Vultur, on the wooded 
 slopes of which he had in his childhood fallen 
 asleep, and, as he relates, had been covered with 
 young leaves by the doves of legend.^ But the most 
 touching proof of his affection for the landscapes 
 of his boyhood is to be found in the noble envoy 
 with which he accompanied the pubhcation of 
 the first three Books of his Odes. Looking 
 triumphantly forward to an immortality for his 
 verse, he was confident that his name, associated 
 with his Apulian home and the rushing Aufidus, 
 would survive the lapse of ages and would 
 
 ' Sat. I. i. 68 ; Carm. IV. xiv. 25. 
 = Sat. I. V. 77. 
 3 Carm. III. iv. 9. 
 
HORACE'S YOUTH 75 
 
 remain ever fresh in the praise of the time to 
 come,* 
 
 In one important respect Horace was hke 
 Virgil. He had an intelligent father who watched 
 over him with devoted care. A freedman in a 
 humble rank of life, he had been industrious 
 and had saved money enough to enable him 
 to purchase a small farm, and to give his son 
 the best education then procurable, first in 
 Rome and afterwards at Athens. The poet 
 owed much to this affectionate parent, and in 
 his poems he makes ample acknowledgment of 
 his debt. 
 
 Horace was living at Athens at the time of 
 the assassination of Julius Caesar. When Brutus 
 came to that city later in the same year he induced 
 the impressionable young Apulian student, then 
 hardly twenty years old, to join the army and 
 to accept the important post of military tribune. 
 Horace, so far as we know, had gone through no 
 military training, but he was soon to have some 
 rough experience of actual warfare. He was 
 probably engaged in the plundering expeditions 
 carried on by Brutus in Thrace and Macedonia. 
 He was certainly present, on the losing side, in 
 the great disaster of Philippi, from which he 
 escaped with his life. On making his way back 
 to Italy he found himself "humbled, with his 
 wings clipped, dispossessed of his paternal home 
 and property, and driven by poverty to write 
 
 ' Garm. III. xxx. 
 
76 THE "DIVINI GLORIA RURIS" [Chap. III. 
 
 poetry."^ He probably went through a period of 
 
 some privation before he succeeded in obtaining 
 
 a clerkship in the quaestor's office, and he may 
 
 thus be cited as an illustration of Shelley's 
 
 lines : — 
 
 " Most wretched men 
 Are cradled into poetry by wrong ; 
 They learn in suffering what they teach in song." 
 
 It is at least worthy of note that not only Horace, 
 but, as we have seen, Virgil also, and likewise 
 Propertius and TibuUus, suffered serious loss 
 during the political convulsions of their time. 
 
 Eventually, probably in the year 39, through 
 his friend VirgU, Horace was introduced to 
 Maecenas, who, after a few months, took him into 
 special favour. In course of time the great 
 minister bestowed on the poet a little farm {parva 
 rura) in a secluded valley {in reducta voile) far 
 up among the Sabine Hills {in arduos Sabinos),* and 
 by this gift not only enabled him to live in comfort, 
 but placed him amidst surroundings which were 
 pre-eminently fitted to call forth his lyric powers. 
 Thenceforth he spent his time between the capital 
 and his country retreat. Each of these scenes 
 had its attractions for him. 
 
 On the one hand, he became a favourite at 
 Court and one of the cherished friends of Maecenas. 
 The most cultivated society of Rome was thus 
 at all times open to him. Eminently social as 
 
 ' Epist. II. ii. 60 ; Carm. II. vi. 7, vii. 1, 0. 
 = Carm. III. iv. 21. 
 
HORACE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY 77 
 
 he was, he must have been excellent company, 
 and a welcome guest wherever he came. A 
 stranger introduced to him as he strolled along 
 the Via Sacra might have taken him for a typical 
 man - about - town {quern, tenues decuere togae 
 nitidique capilli)^ well acquainted with the latest 
 gossip of good society, and not unfamiliar with 
 the newest tricks of the cheats and jugglers 
 and fortune-tellers of the circus and forum. He 
 was well known on the streets of Rome, where 
 he was evidently not at all displeased to be 
 pointed out by the passers-by as the poet of the 
 Roman lyxQ."^ There cannot be any doubt that 
 he loved Rome and all that its varied life meant 
 for him. 
 
 On the other hand, his country home gave him 
 pleasures that could not come to him in the capital. 
 For some years he seems to have frequently 
 oscillated between town and country, and to have 
 been now and then as glad to escape from the 
 seclusion of his Sabine valley, as at other times 
 he was to get away from the turmoil of the city.* 
 In the end, however, the gay life of Rome lost 
 much of its interest and attraction for him. As he 
 says of himself, he had played, and knew when to 
 break off the play. He found that in the hurry 
 and bustle of town it was not possible for him to 
 
 1 Ejdst. I. xiv. 32. Elsewhere, writing to Tibullus, he describes 
 himself as " pinguem et nitidum,'' and a " porcum de grege Epicuri " 
 {Epist. I. iv. 16). 
 
 " Sat. I. vi. 111-114 ; Carm. IV. iii. 22. 
 
 ' See Sat. II. vii. 28 ; Epist. I. viii. 12. 
 
78 THE "DIVINI GLORIA RURIS" [Chap. III. 
 
 write poetry.' Amidst the whirl of society he 
 longed {mens animusque) for the quiet of his 
 retreat among the hUls, and once there he could 
 not leave its restful seclusion without a pang of 
 regret, when what he called "hateful business" 
 compelled his attendance in Rome.* Immersed 
 in the endless distractions of the capital, how often 
 must he have had that longing in his mind, and on 
 his lips, to which he gives such eloquent expression 
 in the sixth Satire of his second book — " O Rus 
 quando te aspiciam ! " How many a time must he 
 have wished to be back among the hiUs, in what 
 he calls his citadel ; ^ to be with his friends there, 
 enjoying those evenings of delightful converse, 
 worthy of the gods themselves. 
 
 The manifold attractions of the country and 
 rural life are nowhere more pleasantly described 
 than in Horace's second Epode. That the poet 
 should have appended to that ode four lines in 
 which the beautiful picture he has drawn is 
 represented to be the language of a greedy money- 
 lender, has perplexed the critics and commentators. 
 It is certainly difficult to see what was his intention 
 in so doing. The poem is perfect without the 
 additional lines, and could not have been written 
 save by one who loved the country and its simple 
 
 1 A century later the same complaint was made by Martial (Epig. 
 X. Iviii. Ixx ; XII. Ivii.). 
 
 " Epist. I. xiv. 17. 
 
 ' Sat. II. vi. 16, 
 
 " ubi me in montes et in arcem ex urbe remoTi," 
 The very mention of this retreat awakens his enthusiasm, and he asks 
 what subject could be more fitting for his muse. 
 
HORACE'S LOVE OF THE COUNTRY 79 
 
 pleasures. It exactly expresses what, as shown by 
 the rest of his poetry, were evidently Horace's own 
 sentiments. 
 
 If, following the Stoic maxim, it is our duty to 
 live according to Nature, where, Horace demanded 
 of his friend Fuscus Aristius, could any place be 
 found preferable to the blissful country ? Where 
 were milder winters to be met with,* or a more 
 grateful air in the hot summer? Did the grass 
 in the country smell less sweetly than a mosaic 
 pavement of Lybian marble in the city, or was the 
 water brought in leaden pipes purer than that which 
 tripped along in the murmuring brook ? ^ He had 
 himself experienced both conditions, and he finally 
 gave his deliberate judgment in favour of rural Ufe. 
 He declared himself to be " ruris amator," in love 
 with "the charming country, its rivers, its moss- 
 grown rocks, and its woods." ^ These delights were 
 all combined for him -at his home among the Sabine 
 Hills, which to him was the choicest little nook on 
 the earth.* There he " lived and reigned " in the 
 midst of sunny fields {aprica rura) and umbrageous 
 woodlands that were all his own. Sitting by the 
 Bandusian spring or musing by the side of the 
 prattling brook Digentia ° or sitting on some rocky 
 headland, and surveying aU the wooded valley 
 
 • Yet, as we shall see, there were times when he stigmatised his 
 Sabine valley as " wrinkled with cold." 
 = Epist. I. X. 12-20. 
 ' Id. I. X. 2, 6. 
 
 4 " Ille torranun mihi praeter omnes 
 angulus ridet" — Cwrm, II. vi. 13. 
 6 " Me quoties reficit gelidus Digentia rivus "—EpUt. I. xviii. 104. 
 
80 THE "DIVINI GLORIA RURIS" [Chap. III. 
 
 far beyond the village of Mandela down to where 
 the distant little town of Varia stood perched 
 among the hills, he felt restored to himself and 
 the Muses.^ He has left a pleasant and throughly 
 appreciative picture of these surroundings in an 
 epistle to his friend Quinctius : — 
 
 " A chain of hills that stretches far and wide, 
 Unbroken save where runs a shady vale 
 Which catches on the right the morning sun, 
 And on the left his last warm evening glow. 
 The temperate air would gain your ready praise. 
 What if you saw my brakes of generous thorns 
 Laden with ruddy cornels and with plums ; 
 My woods of oak and ilex that delight 
 My herds with fodder and their lord with shade i 
 You would declare that to these Sabine hills 
 The verdure of Tarentum has been brought. 
 A sparkling fount that well might give a name 
 To some broad-breasted stream — Hebrus itself 
 That winds through Thrace is not more cool or pure — 
 Pours forth its limpid waters that bring health 
 To weary head and jaded appetite. 
 This hiding-place, so dear unto myself. 
 And, pray believe, so full itself of charm, 
 Will keep me here for you in safe retreat 
 Through all September's insalubrious hours." ^ 
 
 , I. xiv. 1. 
 
 ' Id. I. xvi. 5-16. The hills around Horace's valley of Digentia 
 (Licenza) are composed mainly of limestone. To the eastward they rise 
 up to heights of 600 to 700 metres (1,970 to 2,300 English feet), gradually 
 mounting higher as they go northward, till they reach a height of 967 
 metres (3,172 feet) just south of Orvinio. Between the valley of the 
 Digentia and the plain of the Campagna the limestone country is of 
 greater altitude since it rises to heights of more than 1,000 metres 
 (3,280 feet) along the ridge that encloses the valley, and it continues 
 to increase in elevation further west, till it culminates in Monte 
 Genuaro (helieved to be Horace's Lucretilis) which is 1,271 metres 
 
HORACE'S BANDUSIAN SPRING 81 
 
 The spring referred to in this poem appears to 
 have had a great charm for the poet. It was 
 evidently in his eye one of the chief attractions of 
 the place. Its perennial supply of cool, clear water 
 gave Ufe and music to his little vaUey, afforded 
 grateful moisture to trees and herbage in the 
 hottest and driest weather, and thus preserved the 
 pleasant shade under which Horace and the friends 
 who paid him visits could enjoy refreshing rest. 
 His aifection for it led him to dedicate to its praise 
 a special ode which may be almost literally trans- 
 lated thus : — 
 
 " Bandusian spring that clearer art than glass — 
 Worthy of richest wine and choicest flowers, 
 To-morrow thou'lt receive, 
 As grateful offering, 
 
 " A kid whose forehead with its sprouting horns 
 Portended love and battle : but in vain ! 
 For he, the firstling bold 
 Of all my wanton flock, 
 
 " Shall with his red blood dye thy limpid stream. 
 The blazing dog-star cannot touch thy shade. 
 Where oxen from the plough 
 And wandering herds find rest. 
 
 " Thou shalt be numbered with the famous founts. 
 When I shall sing the ilex that o'erhangs 
 The caverned rocks from whence 
 Thy babbling waters leap. " ^ 
 
 (4,170 feet) above the sea, and forma the most conspicuous elevation 
 among the Sabine mountains as seen from Rome. The distance 
 in a straight line from Horace's valley to that summit is about 8 
 kilometres or 6 English miles, but across a rugged tract of ground. 
 ' Carrn. III. xiii. 
 
 F 
 
82 THE "DIVINI GLORIA RURIS" [Chap. III. 
 
 It was in such scenes that Horace found his 
 highest inspiration. He compares himself to the 
 Matinian bee, flitting over banks of wild thyme, by 
 wood and stream.^ At times he would lie stretched 
 in reverie upon the sward near the mouldering shrine 
 of some half-forgotten native divinity,^ for human 
 associations ever mingled with his delight in 
 Nature. Thus to the varied and genial influences 
 of this little valley among the Apennines, literature 
 is largely indebted for the beauty of the Odes 
 and the Epistles which have been a perennial joy 
 to every successive generation, and have placed 
 Horace high in the ranks of lyric poets. 
 
 1 Carm. iv. ii. 27. 
 
 2 Epist. I. X. 49. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 BUBAL SCENES AND THE ELEGIAC POETS 
 
 The three chief elegiac poets of Rome, TibuUus, 
 Propertius, and Ovid chose "Love" as the main 
 source of their inspiration — a theme which may 
 become somewhat monotonous to the reader unless 
 relieved by the frequent introduction of topics and 
 allusions other than the hopes and fears of the 
 lover. Each of the three has lightened his subject 
 in a different manner, and has contributed his share 
 towards the completion of the general impression 
 which we gain of Italian rural scenes and country- 
 life as these appeared to the imaginative writers 
 of Rome during the years of transition from the 
 Republic to the Empire. 
 
 TibuUus (B.C. 65 (to 60) down to 19), the con- 
 temporary and friend of Horace, was a man of a 
 wholly different mould from the Sabine bard. 
 Of equestrian rank, he inherited an estate in the 
 region of Pedum, probably in the picturesque 
 district between Tibur and Praeneste. During the 
 political troubles amidst which his youth was 
 
 passed he was deprived of some of his property, but 
 
 8S 
 
84 RURAL SCENES— ELEGIAC POETS [Chap. IV. 
 
 before the close of his short Ufe he appears to have 
 been living in comfort on his ancestral land. 
 According to Horace, the gods had endowed 
 Tibullus with personal beauty, with riches, with a 
 mind worthy of his handsome body, and, above all, 
 with the true art of enjoying these blessings. He 
 is pictured by his brother poet sauntering in silent 
 meditation through his health-giving woods, conning, 
 perhaps, some elegy that would surpass the poems 
 of Cassius of Parma, and, at all events, filled only 
 with thoughts worthy of a wise and good man. 
 What more, Horace asks, can a nurse wish for her 
 dear foster-son who knows how to think wisely and 
 how to express his feeUngs, and to whom influence, 
 fame, and health have been abundantly granted, 
 together with a well-appointed home and a purse 
 that is never empty ?^ 
 
 With these accumulated advantages, Tibullus 
 has left behind him little in the way of literary 
 remains, but that little is of singular excellence. 
 In his early years he served with Messalla through 
 his Aquitanian campaign (b.c. 28-27), and formed 
 with that successful commander a devoted friend- 
 ship which thenceforth became a leading interest 
 in his life. He was afterwards induced to set out 
 with Messalla for the East, but an illness which 
 he caught on the outward journey detained him 
 at Corcyra, and he had to return home invalided. 
 His bent, however, turned not in the least towards 
 
 1 Epist. I. iv. There seems to be little doubt that the Albius of this 
 Epistle was Tibullus. 
 
TIBULLUS IN HIS COUNTRY HOME 85 
 
 a military career. He was passionately devoted to 
 rural life. " I sing of the country and the rural 
 gods" was his own description of himself. His 
 gentle nature, tinged with melancholy, found its 
 most congenial surroundings among the meadows 
 and woods, and by the dells and streams, around 
 his home. He took a keen interest in the work 
 of the farm and the vineyard. He felt no shame 
 to take part in the manual labour of his depen- 
 dants ; he would gladly handle the hoe, drive the 
 slow oxen, carry home a lamb in his bosom, or 
 a kid deserted by its mother.^ Among the day- 
 dreams that filled his thoughts as he mused alone 
 in his solitary' country walks, there was one that 
 probably often rose before him — how he would 
 devote himself to the cultivation of his lands, 
 grow his own grapes and make his own wine ; 
 and how through all these pursuits there hovered 
 the vision of his beloved Delia, settled under his 
 roof as mistress of his heart and home, ruUng 
 everything around her, while he, wrapt in his 
 devotion to her, would rejoice to be as nothing 
 in the household. When his illustrious friend 
 Messalla should come to visit him, Delia would 
 give him welcome, and gather for him sweet apples 
 from their choicest trees.^ That pleasing picture 
 never came to be realised in his experience. 
 Delia forsook him for a richer lover. She was 
 succeeded by one or two damsels, but with no 
 better luck to the poet, who, after pouring forth 
 
 ' Ekg. I. i. « Id. I. v. 
 
86 RURAL SCENES— ELEGIAC POETS [Chap. IV. 
 
 his soul in passionate love-longings and tender 
 regrets, expressed in the most exquisitely modu- 
 lated verse, died probably before reaching forty 
 years of age. 
 
 The descriptions and images in the poetry of 
 TibuUus are almost wholly drawn from the rural 
 scenes amidst which he lived. He delights in 
 the simple ways of the country folk, and has 
 left some pleasant sketches of them. He joins 
 with zest in the festivals of the husbandmen. 
 He is familiar with the humble homes of his 
 tenantry and dependants, where he has watched 
 the child catching its father by the ears to snatch 
 a kiss, while the old grandfather sits tending his 
 little grandson and prattling to him in childish 
 words, and the wife gets ready the warm water 
 with which her spouse may refresh himself when 
 he comes back weary from his work.^ Such 
 examples of domestic peace and happiness remind 
 him of the tradition that tranquU homes of this 
 type were to be found everywhere, when King 
 Saturnus ruled the land, ere it was opened up 
 by long lines of road.^ This sentiment of fond 
 regret for the past was congenial to the poet's 
 tender melancholy. It sought in Nature those 
 features which awakened responsive echoes in his 
 heart. When he thought of the swift course of 
 time it was the rapid succession of the seasons 
 that more particularly impressed him with a sense 
 of the transitory character of life : — 
 
 ' Eleg. II. V. 92. 2 Id. I. iii. 36. 
 
THE PIETY OF TIBULLUS 87 
 
 " How swiftly does the earth put off her radiant hues ! 
 How quiokly the pale poplar sheds its lovely tresses ! "^ 
 
 Now and then he seeks a simile from some part 
 of Nature wilder than his placid surroundings in 
 the Pedan country, as where, in one of his fits 
 of love-fever, he swears that, rather than suffer 
 the pangs which he is enduring, 
 
 " I'd be a stone on some bleak mountain-side, 
 Or front the tempest, like a lone sea-stack 
 Which the wide ocean batters with its waves." ^ 
 
 Tibullus full of the simple piety of the olden 
 time, was by nature as orthodox and devout a 
 pagan as the most exacting censor of his day 
 could desire. His poems convey the impression 
 that his reUgion was less a cult which it was his 
 duty to support and inculcate, as Virgil did, than 
 a personal conviction influencing his life and 
 practice. He strictly performed all the rites and 
 ceremonies which had been handed down from 
 antiquity, and the due observance of which con- 
 stituted religion as understood by the Romans. 
 He worshipped the old gods of Latium and would 
 have none of the foreign divinities that were 
 becoming so much the fashion in the city. His 
 worship was evidently sincere and unaffected. 
 At the due season he sprinkled milk on the altar 
 of Pales, the shepherd's god ; from his corn-crop 
 he would twine some ears into a crown to hang 
 
 » Eleg. I. iv. 29. ^ Id. II. iv. 8. 
 
88 RURAL SCENES— ELEGIAC POETS [Chap. IV. 
 
 at the door of the temple of bounteous Ceres, 
 and he had m his garden a ruddy image of Priapus 
 to frighten away the birds with his fierce-looking 
 sickle.^ He kept the festival of his ancestral 
 Penates, and made the monthly offering of frank- 
 incense to his own old Lar, nor was he ashamed 
 to confess that the image had been carved out 
 of an ancient stump, for thus they lived in the 
 house of his old grandfather.* He performed the 
 yearly lustration of his crops and fields according 
 to the rite which had come down from a remote 
 age. To his guardian Lares, whom in his richer 
 days he was wont to honour with the sacrifice 
 of a calf, he could now still offer a lamb.^ Such 
 was his simple piety that. he could venerate, he 
 says, any solitary tree trunk in the fields, or an 
 old stone by the highway if it were consecrated 
 by a chaplet of flowers.* 
 
 Possessing a fastidious taste and gifted with 
 a dehcate ear for the music of language, Tibullus 
 raised Latin elegiac poetry to its highest per- 
 fection. He showed that rural themes which had 
 inspired the hexameters of Virgil and the lyric 
 measures of Horace were not less appropriate to 
 elegiac verse. He has brought the rich Latian 
 landscape with its thrifty, industrious, and pious 
 community most vividly before us, and his name 
 wiU for ever recall some of the tenderest and 
 most musical poetry of Rome. 
 
 * Ekg. I. i. 2 Id. I. iii. 33, x. 17. 
 
 » Id. I. i. 19. « Id. I. i. 11. 
 
THE YOUTH OF PROPERTIUS 89 
 
 Contemporary with Virgil and Tibullus, but 
 of a different poetical stamp from either, Sextus 
 Aurelius Propertius (b.c. 50 (?)-20 (?) ) was born in 
 Umbria about half a century before the beginning 
 of our era, probably at or near the ancient town of 
 Assisi. He appears, however, to have lived little 
 in the country, but to have spent most of his 
 life in Rome. He belonged to a good family, 
 which at one time had been in possession of 
 considerable property, but owing, it is believed, 
 to the confiscations connected with the provision 
 of lands for the veterans of Octavianus, the family 
 estate was so much reduced that Propertius, while 
 stiU a mere boy, was taken by his mother to the 
 capital, and there, with such impaired means as 
 she could save from the wreck of their fortune, 
 he was educated. When, after having assumed 
 the toga virihs, the time came for him to choose 
 a profession, he declined to study for the bar, 
 preferring to follow his bent and cultivate his 
 poetic faculty. His young friend TuUus, whose 
 uncle had been Consul in b.c. 66, invited him to 
 join in a journey to the East, but the poet by 
 this time, when probably hardly more than twenty 
 years of age, had become deeply attached to a 
 lady, believed to have been some years older than 
 himself, whom he has immortalised as the famous 
 Cynthia. So instead of embarking on foreign travel, 
 he remained in Rome, where for some years he 
 poured out his soul in brilliant verse, despondent or 
 exultant, according as the course of his amour ran 
 
90 RURAL SCENES— ELEGIAC TOETS [Chap. IV. 
 
 troubled or smooth, but always markedly original 
 and vigorous, and often singularly melodious. 
 
 Propertius has sketched his own portrait in 
 drawing that of his beloved. He was obviously 
 as indolent as he describes himself to have been.^ 
 Not only are there no indications of his ever 
 indulging in or sympathising with the active 
 pursuits of an ordinary citizen, but a number of 
 passages expressive of repugnance to these pursuits 
 might be cited from his poems. He was as far 
 as possible averse from anything like patriotic 
 activity. When the Eastern journey was pro- 
 posed to him, he could only praise his friend's 
 devotion to duty and to his country in arms ; but 
 as for himself, he confessed that he was not born 
 for martial glory, the warfare for which the fates 
 had designed him being that of love.^ His writings, 
 indeed, are full of denunciations of a mihtary life. 
 He wished to know why he should marry to 
 supply sons to swell the ranks of triumphal pro- 
 cessions, and he declared that not one of his 
 blood should ever be a soldier. His conquest of 
 Cynthia would be, to his thinking, a greater victory 
 than any obtained by Rome over the Parthians. 
 It would be to him spoils, captive kings, triumphal 
 chariot and all. They who delighted in arms were 
 welcome to bring back the lost standards of 
 Crassus ; the prize would properly go to those 
 whose toil in the field of war had earned it. 
 Enough for himself would it be to stand and 
 
 » Eleg. IV. vii. 72. 2 j^. i_ ^i 
 
CHARACTER OF PROPERTIUS 91 
 
 applaud the victors on the peaceful pavement of 
 the Via Sacra.^ 
 
 Still less did he care for sea-faring. He was 
 sorry for any one who had to .listen to the shrieks 
 of the tempest, and hurt his tender hands with 
 a hard rope. In his beautiful lament for the 
 youthful Paetus drowned at sea, he records that 
 had his advice been followed, that dear comrade 
 would have been stiU alive ; not indeed enriched 
 by the profits of the voyage, but yet safe on dry 
 land, and beside his household gods. For himself, 
 no blast of the fierce north wind should ever fill 
 his sail, for his lot was to be laid before the door 
 of his mistress.^ 
 
 In one of his day-dreams, wherein he pictures 
 himself to be with Cynthia in the midst of the 
 pure country, and in sight of the lonely hills, he 
 thinks of there turning sportsman, thus exchanging 
 for a while the service of Venus for that of Diana. 
 But he will be cautious as to the kinds of game 
 which he may pursue. He does not mean to 
 attack such creatures as huge lions and wild boars, 
 but will show his courage by catching the gentle 
 hares, and shooting his arrows at wild fowl.' 
 
 This unwarlike Roman may have somewhat 
 exaggerated the "mollitia" which he attributes 
 to himself. There can be no doubt, however, 
 that he was by natural preference a squire of 
 
 1 Eleg. II. vii. 14 ; IV. iv. 21, v. 47- 
 
 2 Id: IV. vii. 44, 71. 
 
 3 Id. III. X. 
 
92 RURAL SCENES— ELEGIAC POETS [Chap. IV. 
 
 dames, and never so happy as in female society.^ 
 He confesses the susceptibility of his temperament, 
 and even boasts that his personal qualities enabled 
 him to reign Uke a king in a company of girls.** 
 
 But it was to Cynthia that he gave up his 
 heart and soul. The lustrous eyes that had first 
 captivated him became the twin stars that illumined 
 his life. For her he set aside any ambition he 
 may ever have had to make for himself an honour- 
 able and useful career. He was content to be 
 the " slave of love," and to sing of that serfdom 
 in tender and passionate elegies. But he was 
 not without ambition of another kind. Conscious 
 of his great poetic gifts, he was convinced that 
 his verse would live, and that the recital of the joys 
 and sorrows through which he alternately passed 
 in the fond worship to which he had devoted 
 himself, would awaken sympathetic interest in 
 future ages. And so, month by month, and year 
 after year, Cynthia continued to absorb his thoughts 
 and to afford the main theme for his muse. He 
 dwelt with delight on her personal beauty. He 
 was proud of her accomplishments — her music, 
 her poetry, the singular charm of her delightful 
 talk, and, not least, her appreciation of his own 
 verses. But his jealousy was roused by her flirta- 
 tions and inconstancy. Driven away in the deepest 
 grief and despair by her callous and imperious 
 
 ^ Eleg. III. xiii. 13^ where he says that, with respect to the feir sex 
 as a whole, he was "tam mollis in omnes." 
 2 Id. III. xxvi. 66. 
 
PROPERTIUS AND CYNTHIA 93 
 
 disregard of his feelings, he could be waved back 
 again by a look or word of aflFection. After some 
 five years, however, of what he calls loyal service, 
 wearied out by her caprice and infidelities, he 
 cooled in his devotion, until at last he came to 
 renounce and curse her in language of unmanly 
 bitterness.^ 
 
 The poet's health does not seem to have been 
 robust. His neurotic and introspective tempera- 
 ment was perhaps in large measure due to this 
 bodily weakness. One of the most obvious and 
 fi-equent symptoms of his melancholy, or even 
 morose, disposition may be seen in the morbid 
 way in which he constantly brooded over the 
 prospect of his early death. In elegies addressed 
 to Cjmthia, which might be called a kind of 
 love-letters, he not infrequently introduces this 
 saddening topic. He even gives her directions 
 as to his burial, and recommendations as to what 
 he would hke her to do at his funeral.^ He 
 survived her, however, as he had already outlived 
 his affection and respect for her. In one of the 
 most powerftil of his poems he represents her 
 ghost as appearing to him and addressing him in 
 language of mingled tenderness, reproach, and 
 command, such as she had probably been in the 
 habit of using towards him in her life time. 
 
 ' Eleg. IV. xxiv., xxv. 
 
 " Id. III. V. ; IV. xvi. 23. In addressing Maecenas also, he alludes to 
 his approaching death and asks his patron, should he be driving near 
 the poet's tomb, to halt and express his pity for the untimely fate of 
 one driven out of life by an unkind mistress (II. i. 75). 
 
94 RURAL SCENES— ELEGIAC POETS [Chap. IV. 
 
 In the prologue to the fourth Book of the 
 Elegies, addressed to the shades of Callimachus 
 and Philetas, where he reaffirms his confidence in 
 the immortaUty of his poetry, there occurs the 
 curious statement that ApoUo had sanctioned a 
 provision which Propertius had made that the 
 tomb where his bones are to lie shall never become 
 a despicable place.^ The epitaph for himself which 
 he sent in one of his mournful ditties to Cynthia 
 has been preserved among his poems,^ but his tomb 
 has disappeared, and the spot where the poet's 
 ashes lie, whether it be despicable now or not, is 
 unknown. 
 
 During the years when his poetic activity was 
 at its height, Propertius was too much engrossed 
 by his love for Cynthia to be able to spare much 
 room in his verse for any other theme. In the 
 later years of his brief life, however, he took a 
 wider range of subjects, especially choosing some 
 of a national significance, which heighten our regret 
 that he did not live long enough to complete the 
 series of poems which he appears to have contem- 
 plated. The charms of the open face of Nature 
 and of country life find somewhat scanty recogni- 
 tion in his extant poems. He does not seem to 
 have drawn from that source, save perhaps at rare 
 intervals, any soothing consolation or sympathy. 
 Yet there are many phrases and lines in his elegies 
 
 ' Eleg. IV. i. 37. His tomb was to be " bustum exiguum." 
 * Id. III. V. For a further reference to the tomb of Propertius see 
 poatea p. 277. 
 
PROPERTIUS AND UMBRIA 95 
 
 which show that he had an eye for both the softer 
 and the grander aspects of the world around him. 
 If, as has been plausibly conjectured, his father 
 perished in the massacre of Perusia, and if he 
 himself in early boyhood witnessed some of the 
 tragic horrors of civil war, during which so large a 
 part of his patrimony appears to have been lost, we 
 can well believe that he may have carried with him 
 to Rome the saddest recollections of his first home,^ 
 and that perhaps these memories may have been 
 in some measure responsible for his moody and 
 melancholy disposition. Nevertheless he retained 
 his pride in his native Umbria. He was happy in 
 the thought that this region would also in the 
 course of time be proud of him, and would even 
 glory in having been the birthplace of the Roman 
 Callimachus.^ 
 
 There are indications that the poet occasionally 
 revisited the scenes of his childhood. Not improb- 
 ably it was on one of these occasions, when he had 
 forsaken Rome for a while on account of the treat- 
 ment accorded to him by his mistress, that he 
 penned a fine description of a lonely retreat in 
 the country^: — 
 
 " Here deepest solitude and silence reign ; 
 
 The breath of Zephyr fills the lonely grove. 
 Let not the stones betray me while I plain, 
 And tell the anguish of my wounded love," 
 
 After a pathetic enumeration of the wrongs 
 
 J Eleg. I. xxi., xxii. " Id. V. i. 63. ' Id. I. xviii. 
 
96 RURAL SCENES— ELEGIAC POETS [Chap. IV. 
 
 which he has suffered at the hands of the capricious 
 beauty, he concludes : — 
 
 " For this devotion what has been my meed ? 
 The bosky mountains with their chilly stone, 
 The rough repose to which no pathways lead, 
 And in this wilderness to be alone, 
 
 " Telling to chirping birds my mournful tale : 
 Yet be thou whatsoe'er thou wilt, I claim 
 To sing of Cynthia to the wood, the gale. 
 
 And desert rocks that shall repeat thy name." 
 
 Another poem written in happier mood refers 
 also to the Umbrian country, near the Vale of 
 the Clitumnus, whither Cynthia had retired for 
 a little, and where her lover was soon to join 
 her. She was to be alone and in sight of the 
 lonely hills, surrounded with fields and flocks 
 and the boundary fences of the poor farmers. 
 There she would see bulls ploughing and the 
 vine shedding its leaves under the skilfully - 
 handled pruning - hook. There, too, she might 
 bring to a rude shrine an offering of frank- 
 incense, seldom to be seen in that remote spot. 
 He would be with her before many days had 
 passed, for neither solitary woods nor vagrant 
 brooks pouring down from mossy uplands had 
 charms to stay her name from being ever on 
 his lips.^ 
 
 The most emphatic and detailed appeal to 
 Nature made by Propertius occurs in the elegy 
 wherein he beseeches Cynthia to discard artificial 
 
 III. X. 
 
PROPERTIUS'S APPEAL TO NATURE 97 
 
 adornments and trust to the charm of her own 
 personal lovehness. 
 
 " Look how the Earth in beauteous tints excels ! 
 
 The ivy gains most grace when left alone, 
 The arbute hath most charm in lonely dells ; 
 
 The vagrant streamlets, over moor and stone. 
 Know how to find their channels to the sea ; 
 
 The shores with gleam of their own pebbles are fraught 
 And every bird that sings on bush or tree, 
 
 Carols more sweetly that it ne'er was taught." ^ 
 
 Propertius repeats the praises bestowed by his 
 predecessors and contemporaries on the agricultural 
 population of the remoter districts, especially in the 
 olden time. He dwells with evident satisfaction 
 on their simple pleasures, their piety, and their 
 contentment. But he has to confess, that these 
 virtues were not in his time so conspicuous and 
 general as they were believed to have once been. 
 The shrines, he says, are now silent in the forsaken 
 groves ; piety has been vanquished and all men 
 now worship gold.^ In another poem he alludes 
 cynically to some one who had arrived in Rome, 
 expecting to find there the old virtuous Tatii and 
 the stern Sabines, but the poet thinks it would be 
 as easy a task to dry up the waters of the sea, or 
 
 ' Eleg. I. ii. 9-14. Compare Wordsworth's expression of the same 
 idea : — 
 
 " How does the Meadow-flower its bloom unfold ? 
 Because the lovely little flower is free 
 Down to its root, and, in that freedom, bold. " 
 
 and the musical couplet in the 104th of Shakespeare's Sonnets : — 
 
 ' ' The summer's flower is to the summer sweet 
 Though to itself it only lire and die." 
 
 " Id. IV. xiii. 47, 48. 
 
98 RURAL SCENES— ELEGIAC POETS [Chap. IV. 
 
 with mortal hands to pluck down the stars of 
 heaven, as to stem the rising tide of corruption.^ 
 
 In one of his more thoughtful moods, when 
 musing on the vanity of this world, Propertius 
 resolved that when sober age should have put an 
 end to his love-making, and his black hair should 
 be sprinkled with white, he would then turn to the 
 study of the ways of Nature. He enumerates some 
 of the phenomena that he would choose to investi- 
 gate, and some of the myths and legends, the 
 credibility of which he would like to examine.^ 
 But the season to which he looked forward for the 
 fulfilment of this resolution never came to him. 
 He died when little more than thirty, and the 
 small volume of his Elegies remains as his sole 
 memorial. 
 
 PubUus Ovidius Naso (b.c. 43 to a.d. 17), the 
 last and most prolific of the greater elegiac poets 
 of Rome, presents an interesting contrast to his 
 forerunners in the same domain of Latin literature. 
 While to Tibullus and Propertius love was the 
 serious occupation of their Uves, or at least the 
 main source of their poetic inspiration, to Ovid 
 it was rather a pursuit which he could watch as 
 an outsider. His own personal love-ditties, clever 
 as they are, want the ring of genuine feeling, and 
 leave us in some doubt whether his Corinna had 
 any corporeal existence, or was not rather some 
 abstraction round which he allowed his exuberant 
 fancy to play. His most brilliant work dealt 
 
 1 Eleg. III. xxiv. 47. 2 Id, JV. v. 
 
OVID'S EARLY HOME 99 
 
 with the art of love-making in the ignoble sense 
 in which he understood that term. But he had 
 a wide range of sympathies and interests in other 
 directions, and he has left a large body of verse, 
 whence much valuable information is obtainable 
 regarding the mythology, religious rites, legends, 
 customs, traditions, and society of Rome. 
 
 Ovid was born in the year which saw the 
 formation of the triumvirate of Antony, Lepidus, 
 and Octavian. His family was of equestrian 
 rank, and possessed property in the remote and 
 picturesque district of Sulmo, in the highest part 
 of the Apennine range. He records that he 
 began to write verses in his boyhood, and that 
 he tried in vain to relinquish the service of the 
 Muses, but that, as in the case of our own Pope, 
 whatever he was tempted to write shaped itself 
 into metrical cadence and became verse.^ He 
 felt himself to be unsuited for the usual political 
 life of a young man in his station, and not being 
 under the necessity of exertion, nor spurred by 
 ambition, he devoted his time to the pleasures 
 of society and the writing of poetry. Though he 
 makes occasional allusion to his native region 
 among the distant Abruzzi, there is no satisfactory 
 evidence in his poems that he ever lived much 
 there. He had a good education in Rome, and 
 completed his studies at Athens. Rome had so 
 many attractions for him that it became his 
 home, where, as the chronicler of the gay life of 
 
 1 Trist. IV. X. 26. 
 
100 RURAL SCENES— ELEGIAC POETS [Chap. IV. 
 
 society in the capital, and as a facile, copious, and 
 brilliant poet, he occupied a notable place in the 
 pleasure-loving community. How thoroughly he 
 enjoyed himself in these surroundings is abundantly 
 apparent in his earher verse. Others might lament 
 the decay of the simpler manners and more austere 
 life of the olden time, but he was happy to have 
 been born in a later age when the rusticity of their 
 old grandfathers no longer survived.^ 
 
 It is in his relation to Nature, however, that 
 we have to consider Ovid here. Above and 
 beyond his interest in the gallantries, frivolities, 
 and dissipations of the fashionable circles in which 
 he moved, he had a poet's eye for much of the 
 beauty and charm of the outer world. Even his 
 amatory poetry, which includes his most brilliant 
 as well as his least pleasing work, contains phrases, 
 .lines, and longer passages which indicate a love 
 of Nature. In treating of the myths and legends 
 of Greece and Italy, and the sacred and secular 
 customs and traditions of Rome, he had a bound- 
 less field for the exercise of his peculiar gifts. 
 Many of these tales had been told over and 
 over again. But Ovid recognised that as they 
 had little or no foundation in written history, it 
 was allowable to clothe them anew in such garb 
 as seemed to him most picturesque, acting on 
 his own maxim, 
 
 " Si poteris, vere, si minus, apte tamen." ^ 
 1 Ars Amat. III. 121-128. » Id. I. 228. 
 
OVID'S LANDSCAPES 101 
 
 This dressing-up of old mjrths afforded him the 
 opportunity to surround his personages with a 
 background of natural scenery, and to paint little 
 vignette landscapes that bring the quiet beauty 
 of Nature into prominent relief. His favourite 
 scene, if we may judge from the frequency with 
 which he introduces it into his poems, seems to 
 have been the popular combination of shady 
 woodland and still or murmuring water. ^ The 
 pictures which he draws, however, are usually 
 of a characteristically generalised type. They 
 seldom appeal to us as taken directly from Nature 
 or from recollections that had deeply imprinted 
 themselves on the poet's mind, and were recalled 
 in their details, with something like the affection 
 so delightfully indicated in the episodes and 
 similes of Virgil. The varOTis scenic features and 
 the way in which they are grouped by Ovid 
 suggest that they were not so much objects which 
 he loved to think of, to allude to, and to describe, 
 as convenient or necessary materials for the back- 
 ground or setting wherein he sought to place the 
 story or legend which he desired to tell. Some- 
 times, indeed, it would seem that just as the 
 grouping of the figures in one of his tales occasion- 
 ally reminds us of some mythological picture or 
 group of statuary, so these pictorial landscapes 
 or backgrounds have a somewhat artificial or 
 
 ' This preference is aptly summed up by him in two lines :— 
 
 " Est nemus arboribiis densum, seoretus ab omni 
 
 Voce locus, si non obstreperetur aquis." — Fad. VI, 9, 10. 
 
102 RURAL SCENES— ELEGIAC POETS [Chap. IV. 
 
 conventional character, as if suggested rather by 
 the recollection of pictures than of scenes actually 
 beheld and cherished in recollection. We do 
 not seem to breathe the very air of the places, 
 as Virgil makes us do by the light touch of a 
 few vivid words. 
 
 Yet Ovid was gifted with a rare power of 
 description. He could tell a tale with a brilliance 
 of fancy, an artistic faculty in the grouping of 
 incidents, and a skill in the choice of words such 
 as hardly any other poet of ancient or modern 
 times has equalled. This genius for narrative 
 was united to an unrivalled facility in verse-making. 
 The copious flow of his musical language rolls on 
 from one subject to another, not only without 
 apparent effort, but with the easy grace of a con- 
 summate master of his art. Its very perfection 
 is apt to become monotonous, while his evident 
 delight in the exercise of his gift of narration 
 sometimes makes him lose the sense of propor- 
 tion and overload his pictures with a detail that 
 detracts from their breadth, and occasionally 
 becomes tedious and irrelevant. 
 
 Ovid's art is thus always conspicuous. Nowhere 
 is this characteristic more apparent than in the 
 arrangement and description of the surroundings 
 of the actors in one of his mjrthological legends. 
 There is generally an umbrageous wood throwing 
 a coolness over some spring or stream or lake. 
 The margin - of the water is bordered with soft 
 turf which is kept green by the moisture. Some- 
 
OVID'S DESCRIPTIONS OF SCENERY 103 
 
 times the individual kinds of trees are noted, or 
 the scented shrubs or flowers. A rich gallery of 
 such landscapes is to be found in the poems. 
 As examples of them reference may be made to 
 the account of the sacred spring near Hymettus,^ 
 of the spot where Narcissus first saw his reflection 
 in the water/ of the Lake Fergus where Proserpine 
 gathered her violets and lilies,' of the fountain of 
 Arethusa,* of the wood in which the Calydonian 
 boar was hunted,* of the slaying of the dragon 
 by Cadmus,^ and the Cave of Sleep. '^ As an 
 illustration, the first of these landscapes may be 
 cited here. 
 
 " Near to Hymettus with its flowery slopes 
 A sacred spring lies, bordered with soft turf, 
 In the low copsewood of a shady grove. 
 The arbute overspreads the verdant sward ; 
 The air around is fragrant with the scents 
 Of laurels, rosemary, and myrtles dark ; 
 Nor is the box-tree absent, with its leafage dense. 
 Nor fragile tamarisk, nor cytisus, 
 Beneath the shadow of the garden pine. 
 Stirred by the zephyrs with their balmy breath. 
 The boughs above wave gently to and fro, 
 The taller grasses quiver underneath." 
 
 The description of the Cave of Sleep is one of 
 the most wonderful efforts of the imagination 
 which has come down to us from antiquity. Its 
 crowded incidents and the weird atmosphere in 
 
 1 Ars Amat. III. 687-694. ^ Metam. III. 407-412. 
 
 » Id. V. 386-396. " Id. V. 686-695. 
 
 6 Id. VIII. 329-342. ' Id. III. 36. 
 ^ Id. XI. 692-612. 
 
104 RURAL SCENES— ELEGIAC POETS [Chap. IV. 
 
 which they are involved, show the poet at the 
 very height of his genius for description. 
 
 When it is borne in mind that Ovid was born 
 in one of the most picturesque tracts in the whole 
 of Italy — the rugged highlands of the Abruzzi, not 
 far from the highest peak of the Apennines, the 
 huge Gran Sasso d'ltalia, with its snowy covering 
 that lasts throughout most of the year, it might 
 have been expected that the landscapes of his 
 native district would have evoked his enthusiasm, 
 or would, at least, have found appreciative reference 
 in his poetry. That he was really fond of Sulmo 
 and the region of the Peligni may be inferred 
 from the allusions which he not infrequently 
 makes to them. He likes to remind the world 
 that he is " Pehgni ruris alumnus." But none oi 
 these allusions evince any strong emotion. In 
 one of his elegies, which was actually written at 
 his earliest home, and where the local influences 
 should have been at their strongest, there is not 
 the least glow of affection or fervour of admiration. 
 He speaks coldly of Sulmo as a httle place, but 
 healthy and well-watered, never parched even in 
 the dog-days; therefore covered with soft grass, 
 fertile in corn, and still more so in vines, and, 
 despite its thin soil, not without the olive. So 
 little did he find to say about this native scenery 
 that the references to some of the features here 
 enumerated are given more than once in the 
 ten lines devoted to the description. And at 
 last, as if tired of the subject, he abruptly breaks 
 
OVID AND THE PELIGNI 105 
 
 off in order to lament the absence of his lady-love, 
 on whose behalf he wishes the mountains to sink 
 down and the roads in the winding valleys to 
 be smooth.^ 
 
 In another poem which concludes the series 
 of his Amoves he again alludes to his native 
 district. He recalls the martial fame of the 
 Pelignian race, but is convinced that the little 
 town, covering only a few acres of ground, will 
 have new lustre added to it from his own poetry. 
 He represents some future stranger addressing 
 the place in these words : " Small though you be, 
 since you have borne so great a poet, I will call you 
 great." And he flatters himself that as Mantua 
 rejoiced in having produced Virgil, and Verona 
 could boast of Catullus, he himself would hereafter 
 be called the glory of the Pelignian race.^ In 
 the misery of his exile, amongst the recollections 
 of his life which crowded his memory, the thought 
 of that Pelignian land mingled with the visions 
 of his other country homes and his happy domestic 
 life therein. He recalled his gardens on the pine- 
 clad hills where the Clodian and Flaminian roads 
 diverge, where he used to guide the water-channels 
 to his crops, and planted those apples which were 
 now gathered by some stranger whom he knew 
 not.« 
 
 Where Ovid delineates scenes that have deeply 
 
 1 Amor. II. xvi. 
 « Id. III. XV. 8. 
 3 Pont. I. viii. 41-48. 
 
106 RURAL SCENES— ELEGIAC POETS [Chap. IV. 
 
 aiFected him, his feeling for Nature and his descrip- 
 tive power are most effectively combined. Thus 
 he has left some singularly graphic pictures of 
 storms at sea amidst which he was himself a 
 rueful witness of their fury. His sketches of 
 the climate and conditions of life on the shores 
 of the Black Sea, where he spent some ten years 
 of piteous exile and where he finally died, are 
 vivid representations of how that region appeared 
 to him in his misery. They show, however, that 
 he was led, perhaps unconsciously, to write for 
 eflFect and to indulge in strong exaggeration. 
 While every allowance is to be made for a 
 brilliant member of a gay society, stricken with 
 such grief as was involved in banishment to so 
 remote a spot, it is difficult to repress a smile 
 when we find that the poet writes of Tomi as 
 if it lay in the Arctic regions, and speaks of hard 
 Fate ordering him to die under the icy pole.^ It 
 is true that the temperature in the coldest part 
 of winter falls there below the freezing-point, but 
 so it does on the uplands of the poet's Abruzzi.^ 
 On the other hand, the summers at Tomi are 
 as warm as in the centre of France. Ovid com- 
 plains of being surrounded with naked barren 
 plains, where neither trees nor leaves nor fruit 
 are to be seen — places not to be approached by 
 
 1 Pont. IV. XV. 36. 
 
 ^ Ovid must have been well aware of the extreme cold of his native 
 region. He himself refers to " Sulmo gelidus" {Fast. IV. 81), and 
 Horace had written of the Peliguian cold as of something proverbially 
 severe (fiarm. III. xix. 8). 
 
OVID IN EXILE 107 
 
 a man who would be happy.' His descriptions, 
 inspired and coloured by the misery of his exile, 
 are pitiable enough, yet although, as far as human 
 society went, Tomi must have been a wild and 
 savage place on the very confines of the Roman 
 Empire, there is no reason to beUeve that its 
 climate was materially different in the first 
 century from what it is now. 
 
 Latin Uterature affords no sadder contrast 
 than is presented by the earUer and the later 
 writings of Ovid. In the poems of his younger 
 years written in Rome, we feel ourselves to be 
 in the company of a lively, gay, and accomplished 
 man of the world, who seems to have no serious 
 convictions or employment, but to be leading a 
 kind of butterfly existence, and playing around 
 the outside of the problems of life. On the 
 other hand, throughout the mass of verse which 
 was poured out by him in banishment, the early 
 gaiety is replaced by a heart-broken grief and a 
 passionate impatience of exile — feelings in which 
 he might well indulge, but which he has recorded 
 with wearisome iteration. His old facility in 
 versification in the end began to fail, like the 
 spirit that once infused it, untU it became mainly 
 a means of relief from his misery, since 
 
 " For the unquiet heart and brain 
 A use in measured language lies, 
 The sad mechanic exercise, 
 Like dull narcotics soothing pain." 
 
 ' Trist. III. X. 71. 
 
108 RURAL SCENES— ELEGIAC POETS [Chap. IV, 
 
 There was probably nothing in the national 
 religion which could minister to the sorrow of 
 such a man as Ovid. No man knew the myths 
 and legends of Greek and Roman mythology better 
 than he, and none could trick them out with 
 the dainty grace of so exuberant and poetical a 
 fancy. Up to the end of his life he could quote 
 them. But even among his earlier poems, and 
 more decidedly in those of his exile, he now and 
 then lets slip an expression which indicates that 
 although, for his poetic purpose, he could treat 
 them as veritable history, he doubted or more 
 than doubted their historical truth. When, for 
 example, he recounts the fable of Deucalion 
 and Pyrrha repeopling the world with stones, 
 he asks who would believe the tale, did not 
 antiquity attest it.^ In one of his lugubrious 
 elegies from Tomi, he enumerates a list of 
 grim popular myths, and says that he would 
 rather believe every one of them than think 
 that an old friend could have forgotten him.'' 
 In another of these melancholy poems he affirms 
 that even the Styx itself, if there be any such 
 place, might well be taken in exchange for 
 the Danube in his neighbourhood, or even a 
 
 1 Metam. I. 400. Ovid professed some respect for the authority 
 of antiquity, but when he appeals to it in support of one of the most 
 extravagant legends of the old mythology, his appeal suggests that 
 he had no belief in the fable himself : 
 
 "Pro magna teste vetustas 
 Creditur ; acoeptum paroo movere fidem."— Past. IV. 203. 
 
 ^ Trist. IV. vii. 11-19. 
 
OVID'S WANT OF REVERENCE 109 
 
 lower deep than the Styx, if the world contains 
 any.' 
 
 If Ovid did not openly express his disbelief in 
 the existence and supervision of the divinities 
 worshipped in the religion of his country, he 
 treated them with such disrespect as was probably 
 more destructive to the popular faith in them 
 than expressions of absolute disbelief would have 
 been. He has no reverence for them, or indeed 
 for anything. When the dim, half - mysterious 
 outlines of some of the old myths are exchanged 
 by him for hard realistic detail, their romantic 
 beauty vanishes. In writing his Fasti, wherein 
 he dealt with the events and customs connected 
 with the Roman calendar of the year, he claimed 
 to have had personal interviews with gods and 
 goddesses, on the ground that he was a poet, or 
 had taken sacred rites for his theme. And he 
 certainly used this liberty to the fullest extent. 
 He catechised the various divinities on the several 
 subjects with which they were supposed to be 
 especially familiar, and reported their replies with 
 as little formality as if he had been repeating his 
 talk with personal friends of his own. His con- 
 versation with Venus, for example, is hardly less 
 familiar than it would have been had his inter- 
 locutor been his own Corinna.^ When he is 
 visited by a company of goddesses and finds 
 Juno among them, he professes to have trembled 
 on recognising her. But he records that his 
 
 1 Pont. IV. xiv. 11, 12. 2 Past. IV. 1-16. 
 
110 RURAL SCENES— ELEGIAC POETS [Chap. IV. 
 
 agitation was soon dispelled by the good-natured 
 Queen of Heaven, who gave him the information 
 of which he was in quest.^ The picture which 
 he gives of old Silenus stung by a swarm of 
 hornets and laughed at by the Satyrs with Bacchus 
 at their head, who recommends him to daub his 
 wounds with mud, might have been taken from 
 some frolic of the poet's rakish young friends at 
 Rome.2 
 
 There is no evidence in Ovid's poetry that he 
 had fortified his mind with any of the consolations 
 which were offered by the philosophy of the day.s 
 If neither religion nor philosophy could minister 
 balm to the crushed and despondent spirit of 
 the poet, no more could he draw support from 
 Nature. He had never loved her with whole- 
 hearted devotion, even when she appeared before 
 him in her fairest guise. And now in this remote 
 spot on the shores of the Euxine, she seemed to 
 him to have lost every charm. He could find no 
 beauty in the clear skies by day and night, the 
 keen frosty air, the wide mantle of pure snow, 
 and the broad expanse of frozen sea that mark 
 mid -winter in that region. Nor did summer 
 bring him any solace, though it duly came with 
 its leaves and flowers, its sweet scents and its 
 birds. His eyes refused to see anything around 
 him but one universal pall of desolation. In the 
 
 1 Fast. VI. 17 seq. o Id. III. 746-760. 
 
 ' In the I5th Book of the Metamorphoses he shows himself to be 
 acquainted with the natural philosophy of that time, a sketch^of 
 which he puts into the mouth of Pythagoras. 
 
OVID'S IMPATIENCE OF EXILE 111 
 
 heyday of his prosperity at Rome, and when 
 writing the poem which was the ostensible cause 
 of his disastrous downfall, he could say in the 
 gladness of his heart: "Let others praise the 
 olden time ; 1 bless myself that I was born thus 
 late; this age suits my tastes."^ While his sun 
 shone he was enabled to indulge these tastes to 
 the full, and their gratification was the main 
 pursuit of his life. But when they could no 
 longer be enjoyed he had no more solid ground 
 on which to support his mind, or worthily to 
 exercise his poetic faculty. He could then only 
 repine at his fate, and entreat his friends in Rome 
 to intercede with the Emperor for his restoration, 
 or at least for some amelioration of his misery. 
 
 ' Ars Amat. III. 121. He repeated the opinion in later years, 
 "Laudamus veteres, sed nostria utimur ahnis." — Fust. I. 225. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 FLOWERS IN ROMAN LIFE 
 
 The love of flowers may be regarded as one of 
 the earliest and simplest stages in the develop- 
 ment of the love of Nature. Their beauty of 
 form and colour, the charm of their fragrance 
 and the profusion with which they deck the fields 
 and woods, year after year, at ' their appointed 
 seasons, appeal to childhood, and this appeal is 
 strengthened by degrees, in races as weU as in 
 individuals, until it awakens a devoted affection. 
 From the earhest ages of human history down 
 to our own day, flowers have been the accepted 
 tokens of sympathy, alike in joy and sorrow. 
 Among the Greeks and Romans, however, they 
 played, perhaps, a more prominent part in the life 
 of the people than they do among most modern 
 nations. They were connected with many of the 
 religious observances of these ancient communities, 
 they constituted some of the highest rewards for 
 military service and for eminence at the public 
 games, they figured as important accessories in 
 innumerable social habits and customs, they found 
 an honoured place in art, and they often gave 
 
 a touch of tenderness to literature, 
 
 112 
 
RELIGIOUS USES OF FLOWERS 113 
 
 From an early time in the history of Rome, 
 flowers and sprays of trees, twined into garlands, 
 appeared in various religious rites. They were 
 worn by priests officiating at sacrifices, and by 
 the victims that were to be offered up. Among 
 an agricultural people Uke the Romans, it was 
 natural that the most ancient form of crown 
 should be one of ears of com {Corona spicea) 
 which was dedicated to Ceres, and was worn by 
 the Arval priesthood as their most honourable 
 distinction.^ The images and altars of the gods 
 aUke in public places and in private houses were, 
 on festive occasions, decorated with garlands. 
 The domestic hearth with its Lares was crowned 
 with flowers on the kalends, ides, and nones, and 
 on other festal days.^ At first, and for a long time, 
 these offerings were of the simplest kind. A little 
 spelt and sparkling salt was enough to propitiate 
 the domestic deities ; the simple altar smoked 
 with familiar Sabine herbs, while laurel leaves 
 crackled in the flames.^ If there was any one 
 who could add violets to the chaplets made out 
 of the flowers of the meadow, he was accounted a 
 
 ' Pliny, HUt. Nat. XVIIl. ii. 2. 
 
 ^ Cato, De Be Bust. CXLIII. It was the duty of the Villica to attend 
 to this service. In the plays of Plautus the crowning of the domestic 
 Lares with flowers at the hearth is again and again referred to. The 
 domestic Lar is even brought on the stage and speaks a prologue in 
 which he refers with satisfaction to the offerings and wreaths with 
 which he is honoured. In the Aulul<M-ia (II. viii. 16), the master of 
 the house orders a little frankincense and floral crowns to be placed 
 infoco nostra Lari. 
 
 ' It was a good omen when the laurel crackled well (Tibullus 
 II. v. 81). 
 
 H 
 
114. ]?LOWERS IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. V. 
 
 rich man.^ Horace could assure his humble Phidyle 
 that she need not seek for costly gifts as her offer- 
 ing ; it would be enough if she crowned her little 
 gods with rosemary and a branch of fragile mjrrtle.^ 
 Myrrh, frankincense, and sweet-smeUing spices had 
 not in early days found their way from the East, 
 and even when these materials became available in 
 Rome, they were long in being common in the 
 country districts. Hence Propertius, as we have 
 seen, could teU his Cynthia that in Umbria her 
 offering of frankincense on a rustic altar would be 
 a rare sight to the simple country-folk. A hundred 
 years later, when foreign spices had become more 
 familiar, the httle Lares could be placated with a 
 tiny bit of frankincense and a modest wreath.' 
 
 1 Ovid, Fast. I. 346. 
 
 2 Ga/rm. III. xxiii. 13. 
 
 • Juvenal, IX. 137. From an early period in the history of Rome, 
 the crowns offered to the greater or national gods, especially to 
 Capitoline Jove, were sometimes of gold. Livy records the 
 increasing costliness of these offerings. In old days, he says, 
 the crown was of little weight, " for riches were scanty, and the worship 
 of the gods was conducted with greater piety than splendour " (II. xxii. ; 
 III. Ivii. ; IV. IX. ; VII. xxxviii.). With characteristic irreverence 
 Ovid makes Janus affirm that though the gods still approved of the 
 antique simplicity, they preferred golden temples, as more consonant 
 with their divine majesty. In old days the shrines of the Capitol had 
 heen garnished with branches, but now they were adorned with gems 
 {Fast. I. 203, 223). On high holidays the statues and shrines of the 
 gods, even in the open country and on the high roads, were included 
 in the floral decorations. Propertius represents the gardener's god 
 Vertumnus as saying through one of his statues (which had been a log 
 of maple-wood before the days of Numa) that there was not a flower 
 blooming on the meadows but would droop becomingly from its fore- 
 head (Ekg. V. ii. 46). We learn from Ovid that the image of the god 
 Terminus which, whether a stone or a stump sunk into the ground, 
 marked the boundary between two properties, was crowned by the two 
 proprietors, each bringing his garland and his cake {Fast. II. 641). 
 
FLORAL CROWNS 115 
 
 The practice of conferring crowns as rewards for 
 military successes, and for athletic, literary or other 
 eminence was adopted from Greece by the Romans. 
 As with the other garlands, these crowns were at 
 first of the simplest and most modest kind. The 
 highest honour a man could receive from his 
 fellow countrymen was a chaplet of green leaves. 
 The most valued of all the Roman military crowns 
 and the most difficult to gain, the Corona obsidion- 
 alis, was made of grass, weeds, or wild flowers 
 gathered from the ground on which an army had 
 been beleaguei-ed. Such was the simple but 
 coveted decoration presented by a grateful soldiery 
 to the general who relieved them. The Corona 
 triumphaUs worn by a victorious general at his 
 triumph was composed of laurel and bay leaves. 
 The commander who gained the lesser distinction 
 of an ovatio had the Corona ovalis which was of 
 myrtle. The Corona civica, made of oak-leaves, 
 was another prized military honour. In course of 
 time, however, these crowns, like those offered to 
 the gods, came to be made of gold, and thus lost 
 the charm of their original simplicity. An ivy 
 crown was the conventional decoration for poets.^ 
 
 In the family life of the Romans flowers took a 
 conspicuous place. Over and above the require- 
 ments of religious customs, they appeared on every 
 occasion of joy or sorrow, and at many other times 
 in the daily intercourse of families and friends. 
 One notable employment of them was in the form 
 
 ' Horace, Carm, I. i. 29. 
 
116 FLOWERS IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. V. 
 
 of chaplets that were worn at the evening meal. In 
 early times these adornments were of the simplest 
 kind — sprays of some evergreen or other verdant 
 plant, such as ivy, myrtle, olive, privet, or parsley, 
 or wreaths of garden flowers. The variety and 
 richness of the materials increased with the growth 
 of wealth and luxury. The practice of using 
 fragrant and diversely-coloured flowers is said to 
 have been introduced at Sicyon, one of the great 
 centres of Greek art, by the celebrated painter, 
 Pausias and the flower-girl Glycera, whose artistic 
 floral combinations Pausias was fond of painting, 
 and who, to stimulate him, continually varied the 
 material of her wreaths, thus, as Pliny remarks, 
 giving rise to a contest between Art and Nature.^ 
 Among the flowers most in request in Rome were 
 violets, lilies, and, still more, roses. ^ It was one of 
 Cato's directions respecting gardens that materials 
 for garlands (coronamenta) should be grown in 
 them,' so that a household could supply itself with 
 its own chaplets. But as the demand eventually 
 far exceeded this source of supply, flower gardens 
 sprang up around Rome and in other favourable 
 districts, such as Praeneste and Paestum.* Blooms 
 were likewise imported in large quantities from 
 
 1 Hut. Nat. XXI. iii. 
 
 ^ Pliny states that very few kinds Coronamenta were grown in 
 Roman gardens in his day, and that they were almost only violets and 
 roses. LUies were reckoned next in beauty after the rose. Of this last 
 flower Pliny enumerates twelve different kinds {Op. dt. XXI. x.). 
 
 3 Pliny, Op. ciU XXI. i. 
 
 * Martial enumerates some of the various places from which flowers 
 were brought to Rome (JSpig. IX. Ix.). 
 
CHAPLETS AT MEALS 117 
 
 the valley of the Nile. In the early days of 
 the Empire floral decorations became increasingly 
 elaborate and costly, vast sums of money being 
 sometimes lavished by the fashionable and frivolous 
 society of Rome, even for the garnishing of a single 
 feast. Such large quantities of flowers, especially 
 violets and roses, were thus brought into the city 
 for sale, that the streets were said to be sometimes 
 red from the abundance of garlands displayed.^ It 
 would seem that even the resources of the rose- 
 gardens in Italy and Egypt were not always able 
 to supply the demand for flowers in the height of 
 winter, and that recourse was had to the use of 
 green-houses.^ 
 
 The custom of wearing chaplets of flowers at the 
 evening meal became so common that dinner-time 
 could be referred to as "the hour when the rose 
 reigns." ' So long as the practice remained simple 
 and inexpensive it was a pretty usage, to which 
 not even the sturdiest moralist had reasonable 
 ground of objection. Horace, for instance, who, 
 when he liked, could speak bitterly enough against 
 the growing luxury of his time, saw no harm in 
 
 • Martial, Epig. VI. Ixxx. There appears to have heen a well-known 
 maker of garlands near the Temple of the Lares at the top of the Via 
 Sacra (Ovid, Fast. VI. 792). 
 
 ^ This practice called forth a characteristic vituperation from Seneca. 
 He dwelt on the unnatural life of men who so lusted after roses that 
 they must needs make use of artificial heat, and gather spring flowers at 
 the winter solstice (Epist. cxxii. 8). 
 
 3 Martial, Epig. X. xix. 20. The same poet gives us a glimpse of the 
 extravagancies of the practice when, in his fulsome flattery of Domitian, 
 he himself orders ten wreaths of roses to be twined round his head 
 (" sutilis aptetur decies rosa crinibns," IX. xciii.), one for each letter of 
 the emperor's name. 
 
118 FLOWERS IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap.V. 
 
 having his grey hairs perfiimed with roses, as he 
 lay sipping his wine beneath the shade of his 
 favourite pine-tree.^ There were occasions of 
 special jubilation, indeed, on which even he could 
 indulge in ampler floral displays. When, for 
 instance, he wished Torquatus to share his modest 
 supper in honour of Caesar's birthday, he promised 
 him good company, and undertook that he himself 
 would start the drinking and the strewing of flowers, 
 even if he ran the risk of being deemed a madcap. 
 Again, in a still more hilarious mood, anticipating 
 his programme for a feast in honour of Murena, 
 the new augur, and protesting his delight to play 
 the fool at times, he calls for music and bids 
 the boy scatter the flowers.'' But usually his 
 floral display was of a simpler kind. He denounced 
 the ostentatious decoration in which wealth and 
 extravagance delighted — " Persian magnificence " 
 as he called it, wherein the costly wreaths of 
 rich blooms were twined together with strips of 
 linden bark. He would not have the last Unger- 
 ing rose of the season carefully searched for in 
 order to deck his chaplet, enough for him would 
 
 " He tells that he had often done this with his old comrade in arms, 
 Pompeius — 
 
 "Cum quo morantem saepe diem mero 
 Fregi, coronatua nitentes 
 Malobathro Syrio capillos," — Carm. II. vii, 6-8. 
 
 2 Eipist. I. V. 14 ; Carm. III. xix. See also I. xxvi. 1, 8. Horace's 
 floral display could be varied^ if not ostentatious (Carm. I. xxxvi. 16). 
 It included roses, lilies, myrtle, and parsley. He shared the universal 
 love of roses. Propertius too refers to " facilis spargi munda sine arte 
 rosa " (V. viii. 40). 
 
EXTRAVAGANCE IN GARLANDS 119 
 
 be a spray of plain myrtle.^ And when he 
 invited his friend Phyllis to help him to cele- 
 brate worthily the birthday of his generous 
 patron, Maecenas, he took care to let her know 
 that she would find in his garden plenty of 
 parsley and ivy wherewith to wreath her hair.^ 
 The gentle Tibullus, too, solaced himself with 
 flowers and the juice of the grape. When 
 thrown over by his lady-love, he determines not 
 to make himself miserable on that score. "Go 
 boy," he exclaims, " fetch some stronger wine. I 
 ought long ere now to have bedewed my head 
 with Syrian nard and encircled my hair with a 
 garland." ' 
 
 Originally every guest brought his own chaplet 
 with him to a party, but afterwards these were 
 supplied by the host,* who would naturally be under 
 the temptation to outvie his neighbours and rivals 
 in the beauty and cost of his garlands. Not only 
 were chaplets put round the head, but wreaths 
 were also worn round the neck, a custom which 
 appears to have been in use as far back as the time 
 of the kings.* It was not improbably to satirise 
 by exaggeration the extravagant luxury in floral 
 adornments of the person that at Trimalchio's feast 
 slaves are represented as binding the legs, ankles, 
 and feet of the guests with garlands on which 
 they poured liquid perfumes. 
 
 Following the Greeks in their anthropomorphic 
 
 1 Oarm. I. xxxviii. ^ jrf. jy. xi. ^ ^/g^_ iji_ y; gg. 
 
 ♦ Ovid, Fast. I. 403. ' Ovid, Op. cit. II. 739. 
 
120 FLOWERS IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. V. 
 
 treatment of the celestial hierarchy, the Romans 
 pictured their gods as crowned with flowers at 
 their banquets. Even the drunken Silenus is 
 represented to have been surprised in a cave, 
 lying fast asleep, not having yet recovered from 
 his usual debauch of the evening before, while 
 at a distance lay the garlands that had slipped 
 from his head.^ 
 
 But over and above the personal decoration 
 and the copious display of flowers inside the house, 
 a family that was holding high festival made the 
 fact known to the outside world by garlands or 
 branches of evergreens hung at the door, and by 
 sounds of rejoicing which were heard afar oif in 
 the streets." At a wedding, for example, while the 
 bride and bridegroom were crowned with flowers, 
 the guests likewise wore chaplets, while floral 
 festoons and garlands were conspicuous all over 
 the house to which the bride was to be conducted 
 as her future home. In his epithalamium for 
 Mallius and Junia, Catullus binds the brow of 
 the bride with blooms of the sweet-scented 
 maqoram, and as she stands radiant in the 
 bridal chamber, he can find no fitter emblem for 
 her beauty than that of a white lily or golden 
 poppy.' One of the incidents at the marriage 
 of Peleus and Thetis, so charmingly described 
 
 ■ Virgil, Eclog. vi. IG. 
 
 2 When Propertius instructs Cynthia how her hirthday is to be kept, 
 he entreats her not. to leave her head without flowers, and to take care 
 that "publica vicinae perstrepat aura viae" (JEhg. IV. x.). 
 
 3 Carm. Ixi. 190. 
 
FLOWERS ON HOLIDAYS 121 
 
 by the same poet, is that of the centaur Chiron 
 bearing sylvan gifts — 
 
 " all kinds of flowers that deck the fields, or are 
 found on the huge mountains of Thessaly, or spring 
 to life under the pregnant breath of the balmy 
 west wind — all these he bore twined together and 
 blended into garlands, and the house, charmed 
 with the pleasant fragrance, smiled."^ 
 
 Long before a lover could think of his wedding 
 wreaths he had ample occasion to make much use 
 of flowers during the time of his courtship. One 
 of the accepted forms of paying his addresses 
 consisted in hanging wreaths at the door of his 
 lady-love, and this was all the more imperative if 
 his advances should not have been favourably 
 received; he might even smother her threshold 
 with flowers, and hang at her gate-posts the roses 
 from his own head.^ 
 
 On public holidays, when the populace streamed 
 out of Rome by road and river to enjoy itself 
 in the country, garlands were naturally in great 
 request. While the statues and shrines of the 
 gods were everywhere crowned with flowers, the 
 boats that bore the excursionists down the Tiber 
 to celebrate the festival of the goddess Fors 
 Fortuna, were similarly adorned.' In the course 
 
 » Garm. LXIV. 278-284. 
 
 2 Lucretius, IV. 1177 ; Tibullus, I. ii. ; Ovid, Ars Amat. II. 627. 
 Propertius avers that the lover's own personal chaplets were sometimes 
 " turpes coroUae " (I. xvi. 7). 
 
 ' Ovid, Fast. VI. 775. The poet recommends the merry-makers not 
 to spare the wine on their trip upon the river, seeing that on such an 
 occasion as a religious festival they need not be ashamed of going 
 
122 FLOWERS IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap.V. 
 
 of triumphal processions the streets were strewn 
 with flowers. 
 
 It was not only as symbols of happiness that 
 flowers entered so fully into the social life of 
 ancient Rome ; they were likewise used to express 
 sorrow and mourning, and certainly no outward 
 token of affectionate sympathy appeals more directly 
 and feelingly to a human heart crushed with grief 
 over the death of one who was ardently beloved. 
 At funerals garlands were placed on the bier, and 
 on the pyre. Flowers were offered to the manes 
 of the dead, and where a lost one was long and 
 sincerely lamented, the tomb was faithfully decked 
 every year with flowers. When Ovid in the deep 
 despondence of his exile sent his wife the epitaph 
 which he wished to have cut in large letters on his 
 tomb outside Rome, he entreated that his ashes 
 should be brought back from Tomi, in order that 
 he might not still remain an exile when dead, and 
 he prayed that she would then perform his funeral 
 rites, placing on his grave chaplets wet with her 
 tears.^ So also Tibullus, in one of the tenderest 
 of his elegies, refers to a young maiden who, since 
 her death, had become sacred to him, and on whose 
 tomb he would offer gifts : — 
 
 " Et madefacta meis serta feram lacrymis." ^ 
 
 home tipsy. The same opinion is also expressed and still more 
 explicitly even by the more reverent and orthodox Tibullus with 
 reference to the celebration of rustic festivals, 
 
 " Non festa luce madere 
 Est rubor, errantes et male ferre pedes " 
 
 Eleg. 11. i. 29 ; see also V. 87-90. 
 ' TrUt. III. iii. 82. " Eleg. II. vi. 32. 
 
CHAPLETS IN DAYTIME 123 
 
 In another poem he alludes to an amiable girl 
 on whose grave her old lover would place a yearly 
 wreath, praying that she might rest in peace and 
 that the earth might lie lightly on her quiet bones.^ 
 
 Familiar as the wearing of chaplets became in 
 Rome, there was a time, during the earlier and 
 sterner Republican days, when the manners of the 
 people were much more strictly looked after, and 
 when it was accounted a serious offence to be seen 
 crowned with flowers in the daytime and in public. 
 Pliny relates an anecdote of a certain Lucius 
 Fulvius, a banker, who during the second Punic 
 War was incautious enough to look out from his 
 booth into the forum, with a garland of roses on 
 his head. By order of the Senate he was sent to 
 prison, and was kept there till the end of the war. 
 The same writer records also the case of P. 
 Munatius, who took a floral crown from the image 
 of the god Marsyas and put it on his own head. 
 He was promptly sent to jail by the triumvirs, and 
 though he appealed to the tribunes of the people, 
 they would not interfere on his behalf. Pliny con- 
 trasts these proceedings with the licence allowed at 
 Athens, where a company of young men, crowned 
 as for a procession, made their way in the morning 
 into a school of philosophy." 
 
 In Latin literature the love of flowers is 
 abundantly displayed. Even a matter-of-fact 
 
 1 Eleg. II. iv. 46-50. 
 
 ^ Hist. Nat. XXI. vi. We are told by Ovid that no business was 
 transacted when the heads wore their chaplets {Fast. v. 341). 
 
1*24 FLOWERS IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. V. 
 
 naturalist like Pliny the Elder, could not begin 
 his natural history of plants without an eloquent 
 exordium on the indescribable delicacy and wealth 
 of beauty wherewith Nature has painted flowers, 
 and how she seems wantonly to delight in 
 their varied fertility. Such kinds of vegetation, 
 he says, as are required for human needs she 
 takes years or even centuries to mature, but 
 flowers and perfumes she pours forth from day 
 to day.^ 
 
 It is naturally among the poets that the 
 appreciation of flowers finds fullest expression. 
 To Catullus they suggested pathetic emblems of 
 human sorrow. When, broken - hearted at the 
 faithlessness of his beloved Lesbia, he thought of 
 quitting Italy in despair, the image that seemed 
 most fitly to symbolise his own blighted affection 
 was that of " a flower on the edge of the meadow, 
 which has been caught by the passing plough- 
 share." ^ So, too, in a familiar ode, he compares 
 a maiden before and after marriage to 
 
 " a flower that has grown sequestered in a fenced 
 garden, unknown to cattle, upturned by no plough, 
 caressed by the breeze, strengthened by the sun, 
 nourished by the shower, and coveted by many 
 a youth and many a maiden. But after it has 
 been culled from its slender stalk, it fades away, 
 and is then coveted neither by maidens nor 
 youths." And again: "As an unwedded vine, 
 born on bare ground, never raises itself up, never 
 
 1 Hist. Nat. XXI. i. 
 
 2 Catullus, XI. 22. 
 
VIRGIL'S LOVE OF FLOWERS 125 
 
 bears a mellow grape, but, letting its weakly 
 frame bend prone under its own weight, touches 
 with its root the furthest spray, no husband- 
 men, no youths have tended it: yet should the 
 same vine chance to be wedded to an elm, 
 many a husbandman and many a youth then 
 cherish it ; so the maiden, while she remains 
 untouched, grows old, neglected ; but when at 
 the ripe age she has made an equal marriage, 
 she is dearer to her spouse and less dishked 
 by her parent." ^ 
 
 In another simile Catullus speaks of a bride 
 "binding her mind fast with love, as the cling- 
 ing ivy, spreading hither and thither, firmly clasps 
 a tree.'" 
 
 Flowers bloom luxuriantly almost everywhere 
 in the poetry of Virgil. Like his own bees (tantus 
 amorflorum) he loved to linger among the banks 
 of wild thyme and violets, noting by name and 
 affixing some appropriate epithet to each plant 
 that had given him pleasure — the scented anise, 
 the late-flowering narcissus, the white lily, the 
 bee-haunted saffron, the bending acanthus, the 
 lowly broom, the soft hyacinth, the yellow 
 marigold, the wan-coloured ivy, the shore-loving 
 myrtle, the silver-grey willow, and the generous, 
 long-lived olive, fosterer of peace. ' 
 
 ' Catullus, LXII. 39-68. ' Id. LXI. 33. 
 
 ' The poet's affection for a plant, sometimes leads him not to be 
 content with a passing epithet but to add a few words of commendation, 
 as in his allusion to the olive above cited. The most notable example 
 of this treatment is to be found in his reference to the Italian starwort 
 or aster. " There is in the meadows," he says, " a flower to which the 
 
126 FLOWERS IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. V. 
 
 In his Eclogues and Georgics, where he was 
 singing of country scenes, it was natural that 
 Virgil should dwell with evident joy upon the 
 floral charms which so strongly appealed to his 
 sense of beauty. But like Catullus, and, indeed, 
 sometimes with that bard's music in his memory, 
 he felt too their pathos and recognised how well 
 their frailty could express the eclipse of youth, 
 vigour, and beauty at the hand of death. We 
 seem indeed to gain a clearer conception of how 
 deep a hold flowers had upon the poet's sympathies 
 and imagination when we flnd that even in the 
 ^neid, where he had to depict scenes of carnage, 
 it is to the realm of flowers that he turns for 
 images that may heighten our realisation of the 
 untimely fate of a young, comely, and brave hero. 
 Thus, he compares the dead body of the youthful 
 PaUas, slain by Turnus, to "a blossom plucked 
 by a maiden's hand from tender violet or droop- 
 ing hyacinth, which has not yet lost its radiance 
 and beauty, though it can no longer draw sus- 
 tenance from its mother earth." ^ The same 
 simile, slightly varied, is applied to Euryalus, 
 
 country-folk have given the name of Amellus, a plant easily to he 
 recognised by those who seek for it, seeing that from one turf it bears 
 quite a forest of leaves. It is itself golden in colour, but in the leaves 
 which are abundantly grouped around there gleams the purple of a 
 dark violet. Entwined in garlands it often adorns the altars of the 
 gods. It has a bitter taste. Shepherds gather it in valleys that are 
 cropped, and also by the winding streams of Mella " (Gear. IV. 271- 
 278). No one would have introduced this minute description into a 
 discourse on bees unless he loved the plant and welcomed the 
 opportunity of dwelling on its features. 
 1 ^n. XI. 68. 
 
OVID AND PROPERTIUS ON FLOWERS 127 
 
 another youthful warrior {ora puer prima dgnans 
 intonsa juventa) who was slain on the field of 
 battle. He is likened to " a purple flower struck 
 down by the plough and fading away as it dies, or 
 to poppies which the rains have weighted down till 
 their heads hang upon their drooping necks." ^ 
 
 Following the example of his illustrious pre- 
 decessors, Ovid also has employed a floral image 
 to heighten the impression made by the tragic 
 death of a handsome and vigorous youth. But 
 his use of it is less simple and brief. In depicting 
 the fatal blow given by the rebound of the quoit 
 thrown by Apollo, he tells how the strength of 
 the hapless Hyacinthus rapidly fails 
 
 " as if in a well-watered garden one were to break 
 down violets or poppies or lilies ; the frail flowers, 
 clinging to their yeUow stalks, would speedily hang 
 their heavy blooms, and their heads would fall 
 prostrate on the ground : so lies the dying youth 
 and his head sinks upon his shoulder."^ 
 
 Propertius, who shows in so many ways the 
 originality of his mind, employs flowers as images 
 to express two of his predominant sentiments. In 
 his choice of similes to convey his enthusiastic 
 admiration of female beauty, especially of that 
 of the lady to whom he had given his aifections, 
 he compares her complexion of mingled pink and 
 white to "rose-leaves floating in pure milk."* 
 
 ' ^n. IX. 181, 436. 2 Metam. X. 190. 
 
 ' Id. II. iii. 12. Virgil had compared the complexion of Lavinia to 
 a nosegay wherein white lilies blush amid a profusion of rose-blooms 
 {Mn. XII. 68). 
 
128 FLOWERS IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. V. 
 
 More characteristic of his melancholy temperament 
 is the image which he takes from the fading 
 flowers of the festal board to show the shortness 
 and uncertainty of life. 
 
 " As petals from our fading chaplets fall, 
 
 And scattered, float upon the cups of wine, 
 Even so, on us, though eager for love's call, 
 To-morrow's sun may haply never shine." ^ 
 
 ^ Eleg. III. vii. 67. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 ROMAN GARDENS 
 
 " A GARDEN," says Bacon, " is the greatest refresh- 
 ment to the spirits of man,"^ and the Romans 
 fully realised the truth of the aphorism. In the 
 early days of the Kings to each Roman citizen were 
 allotted two jugera of land (not quite an English 
 acre and a third) as his "heredium." On this 
 land he lived and maintained his family, the wife 
 and children sharing in the work of cultivation. 
 The hortus or garden was a little farm on which, 
 besides the crops, live-stock of various kinds was 
 raised. It was the peasant's surety to the State, 
 seeing that he depended on its yield for his 
 sustenance. One of its advantages, according to 
 Pliny, was that much of its produce being of a 
 vegetable kind, which was ready for the table 
 without cooking and could be eaten and digested 
 with the help of a little vinegar, fire was little 
 needed, and thus a great economy of wood was 
 secured." In later times, when property was more 
 unequally divided, the husbandmen looked upon 
 
 1 " Essays," No. XLVI. 
 
 2 Eist. Nat. XIX. xix. 
 
 129 I 
 
ROMAN GARDENS [Chap. VI. 
 
 the hortus as their second flitch of bacon.^ In 
 course of years, as the population increased and 
 wealth and luxury grew apace, the two jugera, which 
 had satisfied even the veterans of the Punic wars, 
 were not thought large enough by men who, a 
 short time before, had been the slaves of Nero, 
 but who now looked with contempt on such 
 limited space, as quite inadequate to provide 
 their pleasure-grounds, fish-ponds and other re- 
 quirements, and not even large enough for a 
 mere garden.^ 
 
 The love of flowers led naturally to the culti- 
 vation of them, and this taste became widely 
 diffused through all classes of society in Rome. 
 Among the urban plebeians who had no ground 
 on which to plant or sow, the custom was followed 
 of growing flowers at their windows in pots or 
 boxes, and thus, as Pliny remarks, they brought 
 the country sights daily before their eyes until 
 the ruthless robberies of an increasing population 
 compelled them to block up all outlook.^ It 
 must have been a thankless task to keep plants 
 alive and flourishing during a hot summer in the 
 narrow, dark, and dusty streets where the poorer 
 inhabitants congregated. Those who could com- 
 mand a few feet of bare earth were often glad to 
 make of it such a garden as was possible. Even 
 
 ^ Cicero, Goto Major, XVI. Cato was of opinion that in acquiring a 
 property, while vine-growing might be a first consideration, a " hortus 
 irriguufi " should ccnne second (De Be Runt. I. ad init). 
 
 » Pliny, Hiit. Nat. XVIII. ii.; Juvenal, XIV. 161-172. 
 
 » HvA. Nat. XIX. xix. 
 
INTRAMURAL GARDENS 131 
 
 within the enclosing walls of small town-houses 
 room was often found for more or less greenery 
 — little plots of flowers or shrubs, a group of 
 trees or even a single tree. How integral a 
 part of the household economy such intramural 
 gardens might become is well seen at Pompeii. 
 Enclosed within the open courts of unpreten- 
 tious dwellings, they might be no larger than 
 one of the rooms, but yet of size enough to 
 enclose a few flower-beds or a group of bushes 
 or trees, and thus to supply a pleasant and even 
 shady open-air room in the middle of the 
 house. 
 
 From the modest window-boxes of the urban 
 populace, every gradation of horticulture could be 
 traced up to the vast pleasure-grounds with which 
 some of the wealthiest citizens succeeded in sur- 
 rounding not only their country villas but even 
 their mansions in Rome.^ Pliny remarks that 
 under the name of gardens, charming places 
 {deliciae) — fields and villas, had been formed even 
 within the city itself, and he adds that Epicurus, 
 whom he sarcastically calls otii magister, was the 
 first to introduce such town-gardens into Athens.* 
 This fondness for living vegetation gave rise to 
 the extravagance of planting orchards on the very 
 
 • The " magni Senecae- praedivitis horti," and those of Sallust, 
 Maecenas, Nero, and others were famous examples of such extensive 
 town-gardens. The grounds of Lucullus, close to Rome, were accoimted 
 of more than regal splendour (Plutarch, Lucull. xxxix.), and they were 
 made stiU more magnificent after his death. 
 
 " Hist. Nat. XIX. xix. 
 
ROMAN GARDENS [Chap. VI 
 
 roof — a custom denounced by Seneca as altogether 
 unnatural.^ 
 
 An interesting account of a garden within 
 Rome has been preserved in one of Martial's 
 epigrams.' 
 
 "A few acres lying along the ridge of the 
 Janiculan Hill have been turned into a little 
 domain, more blissful than the gardens of the 
 Hesperides. Broad hollows that shelve down 
 the slopes are surmounted by the smooth, gently- 
 swelUng summit which enjoys a serene sky and 
 its own gleam of light, while a fog lies over the 
 winding valleys. The graceful roofs of a tall villa 
 rise gently towards the clear heavens. Thence 
 can be seen the seven hiUs, lords of the world, 
 and the eye can take in the whole of Rome, like- 
 wise the Alban and Tusculan heights and every 
 cool spot around the city— old Fidenae, and little 
 Rubrae, and the orchard grove of Anna Perenna. 
 Thence, too, the traveller is plainly visible as he 
 takes the air on the Flaminian and Salarian 
 Roads, but the sound of his chariot does not 
 reach so far. Sleep, therefore, is here not dis- 
 turbed by wheels, nor, though the Mulvian Bridge 
 (Ponte MoUe) is so near, by the cries of the 
 skipper and the shouts of the men who haul the 
 barges. The boats on the sacred Tiber can be 
 watched as they glide swiftly along." 
 
 It was round the country villas of wealthy 
 proprietors that the most extensive tracts were 
 turned into pleasure-grounds and gardens, where 
 ample scope was found for ornamental or land- 
 scape gardening on the one hand, and for the 
 
 1 Epi»t. cxxii. 8. » Epig. IV. Ixiv. 
 
GARDEN OF THE YOUNGER PLINY 133 
 
 cultivation of vegetables and fruit on the other. 
 Detailed accounts of such country retreats, are 
 to be found in the letters of the younger Pliny. 
 As already mentioned, this accomplished aristocrat 
 owned a number of villas and estates in different 
 parts of the country. He has left descriptions 
 of two of them, one on the coast, not far from 
 Ostia, a favourite winter residence of his ; ^ the 
 other far up the valley of the Tiber, in the 
 Tuscan region, where he loved to spend his 
 summer vacation. The latter estate occupied a 
 commanding position at no great distance from 
 the main range of the Apennines, and far enough 
 from Rome to afford the most perfect seclusion 
 and freedom from intruders. The enthusiastic 
 picture which he has left of the general external 
 and internal arrangements of the house and 
 grounds gives probably a fair representation of 
 the country residence of a man of wealth, culture, 
 and taste in Italy during the first century of the 
 Christian era.'* 
 
 Sheltered by higher ground behind, and placed 
 on a southern slope whence a wide view could 
 be had down the fertile vale of the Tiber, the 
 spacious villa was surrounded with grounds laid 
 out according to the fashion of the time, where 
 Nature was on every hand controlled and supple- 
 mented by Art — a style which may be commonly 
 seen in the Italy of to-day. Walks bordered with 
 box or rosemary, or enclosed between trimmed 
 
 1 Eput. II. xvii. ^ Id. v. vd. 
 
134 ROMAN GARDENS [Chap. VI. 
 
 hedges of evergreens or roses, led in straight or 
 winding courses through the vineyards to all parts 
 of the estate. The central portion was kept open 
 and was surrounded with leafy plane - trees, up 
 whose stems ivy clustered thickly and was thence 
 extended in festoons from tree to tree, while a 
 grove of laurels afforded a thick screen behind. 
 Further protection from the heats of summer was 
 furnished by the deep shade of a semi-circle of 
 cypress-trees. The prevailing green of the place 
 was relieved by the gleam of white marble. 
 Besides the colonnades round the house, there 
 was in one place a large semi- circular marble seat 
 resting on four Carystian pedestals and over- 
 shadowed by a vine. From beneath the seat water 
 gushed out so as to fill a marble basin in front. 
 On the opposite side rose a large two - storey 
 summer-house, resplendent' in white marble and 
 embowered amidst verdure. 
 
 From the copious employment of box-wood for 
 hedgerows and in isolated bushes, abundant scope 
 was afforded for all the vagaries of the topiarian 
 art, then so much in vogue. When the visitor 
 descended the gentle slope from the violet-scented 
 terrace in front of the house, he passed between a 
 row of box- wood bushes on either side, clipped into 
 the forms of different animals facing each other.^ 
 At another time he might find himself between 
 
 ' Bacoiij in his essay on gardens already cited, remarks : " I, for my 
 part; do not like images cut out in juniper or other garden stuff ; they 
 he for children." 
 
GARDEN OF THE YOUNGER PLINY 135 
 
 hpdges of evergreens trimmed into various shapes. 
 Emerging upon a little meadow, he was next 
 confronted by a still more extraordinary display 
 of topiarian invention, where the box had been 
 cut into a thousand different figures, some- 
 times into letters indicating the name of the 
 proprietor or that of the landscape gardener who 
 had designed them. Further on he would notice 
 a row of little obelisks alternating with fruit-trees, 
 and then, of a sudden, in the midst of all this 
 elaboration of ornamental horticulture (or as Pliny 
 calls it, this urbanissimum opus), he would find 
 himself in an area wherein an attempt had been 
 made to imitate Nature, presumably by leaving 
 her as much as possible to herself, and excluding 
 the knife and the pruning hook.^ 
 
 From the position of Pliny's garden, in the 
 midst of higher ground and with hills beyond, 
 good use could be made of the abundant water- 
 supply which was available. At one part of the 
 domain a cascade, shooting from a height, was 
 caught in a marble basin, whence the water was 
 conveyed in pipes all over the grounds. Scope 
 was thus afforded for the construction of fountains 
 and rills of clear and cool water, which kept the 
 grass green. The whole gardens and pleasure- 
 ground were fenced in with a boundary wall, which 
 on the inside was concealed from view by a box- 
 hedge cut into steps. Outside of that wall lay 
 
 ' Bacon also, in his design for a princely garden, would have a 
 heath " framed as much as may be to a natural wildness." 
 
186 ROMAN GARDENS [Chap. VI. 
 
 the meadows, woods, and copses of the open 
 country, which, as Pliny truly remarks, were 
 beholden for their beauty to the hand of Nature 
 not less than his garden was to that of Art. 
 Even those modern readers, who may most 
 strongly object to his artificial tastes in horti- 
 culture, must at least admit that he was an 
 enthusiastic gardener and an ardent lover of the 
 country. That he also had a keen eye for the 
 natural charms of the scenery amidst which his 
 home was placed, is clearly shown in the same- 
 letter from which the foregoing particulars have 
 been culled. 
 
 In this letter, so fuU of detail as to the external 
 features of his villa and its surroundings, there is 
 no reference to what we should call the kitchen- 
 garden. But this essential portion of the establish- 
 ment of a country-house was certainly not omitted 
 by Pliny from his Tuscan home, though he did 
 not think that it required description to his friend. 
 The provision for the table was no doubt amply 
 arranged for. In another letter of this correspon- 
 dence, the writer's seaside villa at Laurentum is 
 spoken of as merely a house and garden in the 
 midst of the sand, yet small though the establish- 
 ment may have been, it included a "hortus 
 pinguis et rusticus."' 
 
 The use of ivy in pleasure-grounds had been 
 long in fashion before Pliny's time. Cicero, for 
 instance, gives an amusing account of how it was 
 
 1 Epist. II. xvii. 16 ; IV. vi. 
 
IVY IN ROMAN GARDENS 137 
 
 being carried out at his brother's villa near 
 Arpinura. Writing to Quintus after a visit to 
 the place, he says: 
 
 " I praised your landscape-gardener ; he has 
 clothed everjrthing with ivy, both the foundation- 
 wall of the villa and the interspaces between the 
 columns of the walk, so that, in short, those 
 Greek statues of yours seem to be landscape- 
 gardeners crying up their ivy."^ 
 
 Vitruvius recomniended that the interspaces of 
 the open porticoes at the theatres should be orna- 
 mented with greenery {viridibus), seeing that such 
 hypaethral walks are very healthy, first from the 
 beneficial effects of the plants on the eyes 
 (probably by mitigating the glare of strong sun- 
 light), and secondly from the excellent results of 
 bodily exercise in the open air.^ 
 
 The characteristic artificial style of Roman 
 gardening was displayed also, though, of course, 
 on a much more modest scale, in the restricted 
 spaces available in the intramural courts of town 
 houses. Even in those of a small town like 
 Pompeii, we find the surrounding portico with 
 its white stuccoed columns, the flower-plots with 
 the little gravelled walks between them, and the 
 statuettes, hermae, vases, and other works of art. 
 The leaden pipes remain, but the water that once 
 kept up a pleasing murmur in these courts is gone. 
 Doubtless even within such narrow confines there 
 
 > Ad Quint. Fmt. III. i. 5. 
 ' De Architect. V. ix. 6. 
 
138 ROMAN GARDENS [Chap. VI. 
 
 were bushes of box-wood clipped into fantastic 
 shapes. In judging of this horticultural taste we 
 must remember how dominant in the Roman mind 
 was the idea of mastery ; Nature must be subdued 
 not only to the needs but to the fancy of man. 
 The more labour and expense that were spent in 
 transforming a piece of ground from its original 
 natural condition into one of these varied but 
 formal gardens, the greater was the praise due to 
 the owner. Amusing illustrations of how this 
 praise was sometimes lavished by flattering friends 
 may be found in Latin poetry. Statins, for 
 example, had an acquaintance who had made 
 considerable transformations of natural scenery at 
 Tibur, and another who had worked even greater 
 marvels on the coast near Sorrento. In recount- 
 ing their triumphs of landscape-gardening the 
 poet speaks of Nature bowing to the work of a 
 true artist, and he praises the genius of a man 
 who, evidently at a vast expenditure of thought, 
 labour, time, and money, had obliterated the 
 natural charm of a portion of the coast, and had 
 created in its place a villa and grounds, with the 
 usual accompaniments of statues in marble, bronze, 
 and w^,x, arcades, and all the other artificial 
 splendours of a rich man's home.^ Here and 
 there a voice was raised in favour of leaving Nature 
 to her own devices, and enjoying what she so 
 
 1 Silv. I. iii. ; II. ii. ; III. i. The poet admits that some of the scenes 
 he refers to were full of natural beauty before the hand and art of man 
 had touched them (I. iii. 15). 
 
VIRGIL ON GARDENS 139 
 
 bountifully supplies without cribbing and maim- 
 ing her to suit the narrow limits of Roman taste. 
 Propertius, for instance, in a passage already cited 
 (p. 97), when urging Cynthia to give up the 
 artificial adornments in which she indulged, appeals 
 to the vegetable world, where plants grow so much 
 better and attain so much more beauty when 
 allowed to spread at their own sweet will. 
 
 There is an interesting reference to gardens 
 towards the end of the Georgics, where Virgil 
 alludes to the combination of the useful and 
 ornamental which a simple peasant could achieve 
 on his modest piece of land. Discoursing on the 
 management of bees, and dwelling on the import- 
 ance of planting near the hives the trees, shrubs, 
 and flowers which these insects particularly 
 frequent, the poet suddenly breaks off from his 
 subject in order to indulge in an expression of 
 regret that as he is nearing the end of his poem, 
 he cannot now sing of the various charms of a 
 garden, but must leave the theme to those who 
 will come after him. Among the topics on which 
 it would have given him special pleasure to dwell, 
 he mentions the rose-gardens of Paestum with 
 their double blossoming in the year, and he singles 
 out a number of flowers of which he would fain 
 have sung — the narcissus, the acanthus, the ivy, 
 and the myrtle. Nor does he forget the homely 
 vegetables that minister so kindly to the wants 
 of man in a country where plant-food counts for 
 so much in daily life — "the endive as it gladly 
 
140 ROMAN GARDENS [Chap. VI. 
 
 drinks from the rills, the parsley on its green 
 banks, and the cucumber creeping along the grass 
 and swelling as it goes." The thought of this 
 comminghng of plants cultivated for their beauty 
 or fragrance with those grown for their use as 
 food, brings to the poet's remembrance a scene 
 that he had himself once witnessed in Southern 
 Italy, where a sturdy old Cilician settler lived 
 on a few acres of unappropriated land, as happy 
 as a king. The soil was poor, unfitted for com 
 or pasture or vines, and covered with the wild 
 flowers, briars, copsewood, and scattered trees of 
 the district. Nevertheless with plodding industry 
 the man had planted his pot-herbs here and there 
 in sheltered nooks, between the brambles, where 
 the white lilies and vervain and poppies grew. 
 Returning home late in the evening from his daily 
 toU, he could load his table with a supper which 
 he did not need to buy. His roses were the first 
 to bloom in spring, and his apples came soonest 
 to ripening in autumn. While winter elsewhere 
 was still spUtting the rocks with frost and bridling 
 the brooks with ice, he would already be cutting 
 his tender hyacinths. His bees always throve 
 and gave the earliest honey. The trees of various 
 kinds which he had planted in rows flourished 
 apace, and among them the plane-tree, under 
 whose grateful shade men drink their wine.* 
 
 ' Gear. IV. 125-146. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 TREES AND WOODLANDS 
 
 From the infancy of mankind, trees have been 
 regarded with mingled feelings of admiration and 
 of awe. The combined majesty and grace where- 
 with they tower above the soil that supports them ; 
 their infinite variety of individual forms and 
 colours, whether carrjdng their foliage all the year, 
 or at one season clothing themselves with tender 
 leaf and blossom, at another flaming in the varied 
 glories of autumn, and thereafter, bare and leafless, 
 stretching their giant arms and delicate branches 
 to all the winds of heaven ; their immemorial age ; 
 their calm endurance and seeming defiance of the 
 vicissitudes of time, in pathetic contrast to the 
 short and troubled span of human life ; their varied 
 music under the changeful moods of the weather, 
 from the faint whisper awakened by the gentlest 
 breath of summer to the loud roar or moaning wail 
 aroused by the fury of a wintry tempest; the 
 grateful shelter which under their canopy of leafy 
 boughs they provide for man and beast ; the endless 
 services which they render to man's daily life in 
 
 their yield of timber or leaves or fruit — these 
 
 141 
 
142 TREES AND WOODLANDS [Chap. VII. 
 
 features give to trees a high place among the 
 charms and bounties wherewith Nature teems. 
 
 A single noble tree is always an impressive 
 sight. But it is where trees are massed in wood- 
 land and forest that they exert the full measure of 
 their fascination. Crowded together, they may 
 lose something of the breadth and unconstrained 
 dignity which any one of them can attain when 
 free in the open to fling its arms to every quarter, 
 but their venerable, mossy, or lichen- crusted trunks 
 rise straighter and taller, one behind the other, in 
 seemingly endless succession. Their multitudinous 
 interlacing branches, that shut out the sky, throw 
 a twihght gloom upon all below. Solitariness and 
 silence brood over the scene. No wonder that, 
 from the earliest childhood of the human race, 
 these places have been regarded with a feeling of 
 awe, and that stiU to-day they attune the mind 
 to solemn thoughts, such as hardly any other 
 part of the material world so powerfully inspires.^ 
 
 Such sylvan influences have had ample scope for 
 their development in Italy. In ancient times all 
 
 i Keats, who could enter so deeply into the spirit of the antique 
 world, adds this sylvan influence to his vivid picture of the dethroned 
 Saturn and his surroundings : — 
 
 "Upon a tranced summer-night, 
 Those green-robed senators of mighty woods, 
 Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars, 
 Dream, and so dream all night without a stir." 
 
 As an illustration of the modern spirit Wordsworth's lines may he 
 quoted : — 
 
 ' ' One impulse from a vernal wood 
 May teach yon more of man, 
 Of moral evil and of good, 
 Than all the sages can. " 
 
LUCRETIUS ON EARLY MAN 143 
 
 the higher grounds of the country and much of the 
 plains were clothed with wood. Only by slow 
 degrees was this primeval forest cleared away from 
 the lower grounds. In his graphic narrative of 
 the progress of early man Lucretius has sketched 
 in a few picturesque Unes the ' progress of this 
 conquest of wild nature: 
 
 " One kind of culture after another did men 
 try on their dear Httle fields. They saw that 
 the earth tames wild fruits by fostering and 
 fondly rearing them. Day by day did they 
 force the woods to retire further into the 
 mountains and resign the lower land to tilth, 
 so that on hiUs and plains they might have 
 meadows, ponds, brooks, crops,' and happy vine- 
 yards, and that the blue-grey belt of olives 
 might run conspicuous between them, spreading 
 over hillocks, hollows, and plains. Thus it has 
 come that you now see all the land marked 
 out with varied charms, where men adorn it by 
 planting it with sweet fruits and surrounding it 
 with plantations of other kindly trees." ^ 
 
 From time immemorial, therefore, Italy has been 
 a land not only of fertile plains and flowery pastures, 
 but also of abundant glades and woodlands. The 
 pine-clad slopes of the Alps, the forests of chestnut, 
 walnut, and oak, and the groves of olive trees that 
 stretch along either side of the Apennines have 
 each its own variety of impressive charm. The 
 dwellers in this land have thus from early times 
 had before them a wide range of wooded scenery. 
 
 ' De Eer. Nat. V. 1367-1378. 
 
144 TREES AND WOODLANDS [Chap. VII. 
 
 As far back as their history can be traced 
 the Romans appear to have felt the solemnising 
 influences of such scenery and to have associated it 
 with their rehgious observances. Thus, following 
 the Greeks, they assigned particular species of 
 trees to different gods ; the oak being held sacred 
 to Jupiter, the laurel to Apollo, the ivy to Bacchus, 
 the myrtle to Venus, the olive to Minerva, and the 
 poplar to Hercules. Moreover, as a stately tree 
 was one of the most glorious things their eyes 
 could rest on, the country-folk, faithful to the 
 traditions of their ancient faith, continued in 
 successive generations to dedicate the finest 
 example to some god.^ Lucan gives a graphic 
 picture of one of these sacred trees and the 
 devotion with which, in spite of its age and 
 failing strength, it continued to be regarded. 
 It was a tall oak, which time out of mind had 
 received the veneration and pious oiferings of 
 the district. Dead and leafless, it still stretched 
 its bare branches to the winds, and though 
 clinging to its decaying roots, was upheld mainly 
 by its own weight. The wide shade which it 
 could once afford was now narrowed down to 
 what was supplied by the massive trunk which 
 seemed tottering to its fall, as if the next 
 south-east gale would level it with the ground. 
 And yet, although all around there were younger 
 trees that towered aloft in fuU vigour of growth, 
 this venerable patriarch of the woodland main- 
 
 ' Pliny, Hist. Nat. XII. ii. 
 
IMPRESSIVENESS OF WOODLANDS 146 
 
 tained his time-honoured spell, and was alone 
 the object of worship.^ 
 
 Where for any reason a shrine had been erected 
 on open ground, trees were planted round it, so 
 that the worshippers could bring their offerings 
 and hold their service under the shade of green 
 leaves. This association is frequently observable 
 in the Pompeian frescoes. But it appears to have 
 been more usual from the first to select a site for 
 such a shrine in some wooded place* Hence arose 
 the numerous sacred groves which helped so 
 powerfully to strengthen and perpetuate the belief 
 that the divinities loved to haunt sylvan recesses, 
 and were pleased to be worshipped there.^ Thus, 
 besides being affected by the solemnising influences 
 which forests naturally exert upon the mind, the 
 ordinary Roman citizen, under the sway of the 
 state-religion and the nature-worship out of which 
 that religion came, could not readily divest him- 
 self of the traditional feelings and prepossessions 
 of his forefathers. How fully these hereditary 
 influences were felt may be judged from a remark 
 of Pliny the Elder, who could hardly be called 
 a sentimental man. "The images of the gods," 
 he says, "resplendent in gold and ivory, do 
 not inspire us with more veneration than do 
 
 ' Phars. I. 136-143. The poet employs his description of this tree 
 as a simile in allusion to Pompey at the heginning of the campaign that 
 ended at Pharsalia. 
 
 ^ Lucretius admitted that all over the world, shrines, lakes, 
 groves, altars, and the images of the gods were held sacred (De Rer. 
 Nat. V. 47). 
 
 K 
 
146 TREES AND WOODLANDS [Chap. VII. 
 
 the groves ; there we worship the very silence 
 itself." 1 
 
 The allusions to sacred groves, which occur so 
 often in Latin literature, would bring a crowd of 
 associations to the mind of a Roman reader which 
 we at this day fail to realise. Now and then, 
 indeed, we seem to catch a glimpse of how 
 the sanctity of a holy place may have come 
 to be established and confirmed. Thus VirgU, in 
 describing the aspect of the site of the future 
 Rome, when Aeneas came to see it under the 
 guidance of Evander, tells that the Capitoline 
 HiU and the Tarpeian Rock were then covered 
 with rough woods and thickets, and that a deep 
 religious awe hung about the place and filled the 
 timid country-folk with fear. The King assured 
 his guest that some god must dwell there. Which 
 of the immortals it might be, had not been dis- 
 covered, though Jupiter himself, it was thought, 
 had been seen gathering a storm around the 
 height.^ This pristine sanctity pre-eminently fitted 
 the site for its future greatness. In course of time, 
 as Rome grew, the woods and thickets were cleared 
 away, but the sacred associations still clung to the 
 spot.' The unknown divinity of Evander's days 
 became none other than Jupiter Capitolinus, best 
 
 ' Hist. Nat. XII. ii. Quintilian also remarks that men reverence 
 the ancient sacred groves where the massive and antique oaks are not 
 so much distinguished for their beauty as for their religious awe 
 (religionem). Inst. Oral. X. i. 88. 
 
 ^ "Tarpeiusque pater nuda de rape tonabat." — Propertius, V. i. 7. 
 
 » "Bomulus infami complevit moenia luoo."— Luoan, Phart. VII. 437. 
 
GROVES SET APART AS SACRED 147 
 
 and greatest of the gods, the tutelary guardian of 
 the commonweath, in whose honour the Capitol 
 was crowned with a splendid temple. Thus the 
 holiest place in the national religion and the heart 
 of the mighty Roman dominion were traced back 
 by the poet to the piece of wild Nature which 
 had called forth the awe-struck veneration of the 
 earhest inhabitants. It may be added that tradi- 
 tion had also handed down the memory of a grove 
 which clothed the Aventine Hill and had so 
 strikingly solemn an aspect that no one could see 
 it Avithout feehng sure that some divinity must 
 dwell there.' 
 
 The choice of places to be set apart as sacred 
 groves was often determined by some striking 
 topographical features that heightened the weird- 
 ness of the dense woodland. The most obvious 
 examples of this selection are to be found among 
 the extinct volcanoes of Italy. The bottoms of 
 the now silent craters had become, probably before 
 the Latins occupied the country, receptacles for 
 surface water, and were thus converted into tarns 
 or lakes, whUe their shelving sides were clothed 
 with brushwood and trees. Here and there steam 
 and mephitic vapours still hung about such places 
 and added to their impressiveness.^ Such deep, 
 dark, mysterious hollows were admirably fitted for 
 
 1 " Lucus Aventino suberat nigei ilicis umbia, 
 
 Quo posses Tiso dicere, ' numen inest.' " — Ovid, Fast, III, 295, 
 
 ^ These mephitic localities have a special interest in regard to the 
 Roman conceptions of the underworld. They are more particularly- 
 dealt with in chap, xvi. 
 
148 TREES AND WOODLANDS [Ghap. VII. 
 
 selection as sacred groves, and a number of them 
 rose to fame as places of great religious sanctity. 
 One of the most remarkable of them came to be 
 known as pre-eminently the Nemus (grove), and 
 was dedicated to Diana.^ The traveller who now 
 visits it as the " Lake of Nemi," dan be at no loss 
 to understand the impression which its surrounding 
 circle of wooded cliff and slope and its deep seclusion 
 must have made upon the pious worshippers 
 of the " Montium Gustos nemorumque Virgo." 
 The Vadimon Lake, in the vale of the Tiber, so 
 weU described by the younger Pliny, was likewise 
 one of these holy places. The blue-green water 
 covering the floor of this crater gave forth in his 
 day a sulphureous odour, and, as he remarks, no 
 vessel of any kind was to be seen on it, for it had 
 been declared sacred.' Another retreat of a similar 
 kind, which lay among the volcanic hollows near 
 the ancient town of Caere, is mentioned by Virgil 
 in the impressive passage where, passing abruptly 
 from the famous hexameter line that recalls the 
 sound of horsemen galloping over a plain in aU 
 the panoply of war, he leads us at once to the 
 solemn silence of a vast grove embosomed among 
 hills and girt round with dark fir - trees — a 
 place renowned far and near for the sanctity with 
 which it had been invested ever since in days of 
 yore it was dedicated by the old Pelasgians to 
 the god Silvanus.' 
 
 1 " Vallls Arioinae silva praednotas opaoa 
 
 Est lacuB, autiqua religione sacer."— Ovid, Fast. III. 263. 
 
 » Epist. VIII. XX. ' ^n. VIII. 697. 
 
OVID ON SACRED GROVES 149 
 
 From his allusions to them, Ovid seems to have 
 had a particular affection for these sacred groves, 
 in the sequestered silence of which he could 
 indulge in undisturbed reveries. Thus, when 
 debating as to his future poetical career, he repre- 
 sents himself as sauntering within the shade of an 
 ancient grove that had not been felled for many 
 years, and where it was easy to believe that some 
 divinity must dwell. In the midst rose a sacred 
 fountain; there was a cavern in the overhanging 
 rock, and on every side the birds were warbling 
 their tender plaints. In these appropriate sur- 
 roundings he pictures a colloquy between his 
 favourite Muse of Elegy with her perfumed hair 
 wreathed in flowers, and the stern Muse of 
 Tragedy, who was impatient to know when the 
 poet meant to leave off' his love-making and essay 
 a worthier task.^ Again, in another poem, he 
 refers to an ancient and gloomy grove on the 
 heights above Falisci, which from its very look 
 would be recognised to be a sacred spot. It 
 contained a simple altar, built in old artless days, 
 and there the offerings of pious pilgrims were 
 made to Juno.' 
 
 Outside of the region in which their own 
 national religion flourished, the Romans found that 
 the surrounding barbarous races likewise had their 
 sacred groves, whereto some strange features of 
 pagan worship added another horror. One of the 
 most notable of these was the Gaulish grove 
 
 » Amor. III. i, " Id. III. xiii. 
 
150 TREES AND WOODLANDS [Chap. VII. 
 
 near Marseilles, of which Lucan has left such a 
 gruesome description. Its relics of human sacri- 
 fices, its flames, dragons, and other reputed terrors 
 struck dismay into the hearts of the bravest 
 Roman soldiers, who shrank from obeying Caesar's 
 orders to cut the trees down, until he himself, 
 seizing an axe, dealt the first blow, exclaming at 
 the same time : " Let none of you now hesitate to 
 level the wood, but lay the impiety on me."^ 
 
 Apart from their religious associations, the 
 obvious usefulness of trees, from the welcome shade 
 and shelter which they afforded, led to extensive 
 plantation in aU parts of Italy. The plane-tree, 
 introduced from Greece, was more especially 
 made use of towards the end of the Republic on 
 account of its heavy foliage and the depth of its 
 shade. ^ The elm was everywhere planted as a 
 support for the vines. The pine, the poplar, the 
 beech, the cj^ress, the ilex, and other trees have 
 their praises sung by the poets for the pleasant 
 shade which their leafy branches afford in sunny 
 weather.^ 
 
 It was not only among the pleasure-grounds 
 and gardens in the country, where ample space for 
 
 1 Phwrs. III. 399-437. 
 
 ' Virgil, Oeor. IV. 146. Pliny relates that this tree was so ranch 
 prized as to he sometimes watered with wine. Ovid calls the tree 
 '' genialis." 
 
 ' Ovid, describing the effects of the music of Orpheus gives a 
 characteristically detailed, but not very poetical, catalogue of some two 
 dozen trees and shrubs that were drawn to the musician. It has an 
 interest as indicating the kinds of plants most familiar in Rome. The 
 epithets which the poet applies to them contain allusions to their 
 characters, uses, or legendary history {Metam. X. 86-106). 
 
TREES IN COURTS OF HOUSES 151 
 
 arboriculture could be obtained, that the planting 
 of trees was carried out. In the city and even 
 within the open courts of town-houses this practice 
 was also followed. Sometimes, instead of the 
 flower-plots, already referred to as frequently to be 
 found in these places, a single tree would be set in 
 the atrium, like the plane-tree planted at Corduba 
 by the hands of Julius Caesar, and celebrated by 
 Martial as in his time grown so tall and densely 
 foliaged as to overshadow the whole surrounding 
 mansion.^ When a new villa was erected in the 
 country, care was sometimes taken by a man of 
 taste to preserve special trees in his general clear- 
 ance of a wooded site. Thus amid the fellings that 
 preluded the construction of a mansion at Tibur, 
 Vopiscus saved a single tree in the very centre of 
 the house, and allowed it to mount above the roof 
 into the clear air, to the intense admiration of his 
 friend, the poet Statius, who has immortalised the 
 incident.* 
 
 In other cases, even within the city, room was 
 found for a " nemus," or group of trees within the 
 enclosing outer walls of a house, and thus, as already 
 mentioned, another apartment was obtained, open 
 to the air, yet under the shade of green leaves. 
 Horace alludes to such a " grove," planted within 
 the beautiful courts of Lyce's house, and to the 
 howling of the northern blasts through its trees.^ 
 Among the tokens of wealth for which Tibullus 
 
 • Ejyig. IX. Ixi. = Sih. I. iii. 
 
 ' Garm. III. x. Z. 
 
152 TREES AND WOODLANDS [Chap. VII. 
 
 had no desire, he mentions "woods inside houses, 
 imitating sacred groves, together with gilded beams 
 and a pavement of marble."^ 
 
 One of the most widespread pleasures which 
 the Romans owed to trees, and to which many 
 allusions are made in their literature, was the grate- 
 ful shade wherein, near a clear spring or babbling 
 brook, they could rest and sleep, or sip their wine 
 with friends. Lucretius sympathetically paints the 
 delight wherewith 
 
 " men lie stretched on the soft grass beside some 
 stream of water and beneath the branches of a tall 
 tree, where at but little cost they pleasantly refresh 
 themselves, above aU when the weather smiles 
 and the season has strewn the green sward with 
 flowers."^ 
 
 Probably no one enjoyed this convivial com- 
 panionship more keenly than Horace, whose lyrics 
 contain various references to it. But in the little 
 pictures of it which he draws, the sketches of the 
 scenery are so fuU and so vivid that we can have 
 little difficulty in believing that his surroundings 
 on these occasions gave him not less pleasure than 
 the friendly intercourse : — 
 
 " Where giant pine and poplar pale 
 Unite their boughs to wrap the vale 
 
 In friendly shade ; 
 While the clear stream that toils below 
 Trips onward with a winding flow 
 Adown the glade: 
 
 ' Eleg. III. iii. 15. 
 " De Ber. Nat. II. 29. 
 
LOVE OF WOODLAND SCENERY 16S 
 
 " Thither thy wines and perfumes bear, 
 With roses, though their beauty rare 
 
 Too soon is fled : 
 So live while wealth and years remain, 
 Ere the three sisters snap in twain 
 
 The fatal thread."! 
 
 But apart from allusions to such alfresco con- 
 vivial pleasures, the I^atin poets exhibit also a 
 genuine appreciation of the varied charms of wood- 
 land scenery. Juvenal indeed affirms that one of 
 the characteristics of a true poet is that he shows 
 himself to be "cupidus silvarum." And certainly 
 in the writings of his poetical predecessors he had 
 good ground for the statement. It is above all in 
 the works of Virgil that the woodlands find their 
 fullest and most joyous appreciation. In his early 
 days, as already mentioned (p. 62), this poet felt an 
 ambition to choose lofty themes, perhaps even to 
 follow in the footsteps of Lucretius, and sing of 
 the wonders of Nature. But if he ever seriously 
 contemplated such a task, he abandoned it in favour 
 of the rural scenes which were so dear to him. He 
 was content, as he said, ingloriously to choose the 
 rivers and the woods, where his muse did not blush 
 to dwell. 
 
 How largely Virgil drew his poetic inspiration 
 from sylvan scenery is manifested in many passages 
 throughout his poetry from its earliest to its 
 latest parts. He confessed that as every one is 
 drawn by his own special affections, he above all 
 
 » Carm. II. iii. 9. See also I. i. 21 ; xvii. 17-22 ; II. xi. 13. 
 
164 TREES AND WOODLANDS [Chap. VII. 
 
 other things loved the woods. In a few words, 
 often only by a single epithet, he gives to each 
 tree the character that more particularly appealed 
 to his observant eye and his poetic imagination. 
 The very first line of his first Eclogue brings 
 us to a wide - spreading beech - tree, and as we 
 accompany him through the various country 
 scenes which he so faithfully and affectionately 
 describes, we are led by blossoming bee-haunted 
 willows to the stream where the marsh-loving 
 alders grow, past scented groves of laurel, copses 
 of hard hazels and prickly briars, and plantations 
 of the silver-grey olive. From the boughs of the 
 tall, richly foliaged elms comes the croon of the 
 turtle-dove. We find ourselves in the shade of 
 thick woods of high chestnuts, broad-leaved aesculus 
 and oak, . huge ash - trees, white poplars, and 
 umbrageous plane-trees. We hear the varied 
 music of the winds as they pass through groves 
 that whisper and pines that speak. The ilex 
 rustles in the breeze. We are taken up to the 
 hills to see the barren mountain-ash among the 
 rocks, and higher still to the dark firs that clothe 
 the heights, and the yews that love to grow in 
 the path of the chill north winds. 
 
 The poet's eye was caught by the sombre 
 tints of the coniferous trees and their deep shadows, 
 in strong contrast with the lively greenery and 
 mottled shade of the deciduous kinds. He refers 
 to the nigra abies, the picea nigrans, the juniperi 
 gravis umbra, and the feralis cupresnis with its 
 
THE ^SCULUS TREE 155 
 
 frondibus atris. Even the individual plants in 
 the tapestry of verdure that hangs over rocky- 
 scarps meet with Virgil's appreciative recognition. 
 Thus he calls special attention to the sprays of 
 wild vine clustering round the mouth of a cave. 
 And from the shade of such a cool recess he 
 could scan the varied vegetation that clothed the 
 face of a neighbouring cliif.^ Some of his detailed 
 sketches of sylvan scenery afford interesting proofs 
 at once of his accuracy as an observer, his poetic 
 sympathy, and his skill in felicitous description. 
 As an instance of this graphic power reference 
 may be made to his picture of the aspect of a 
 venerable sesculus tree : — 
 
 " High as his branches rise towards the sky 
 So deep his roots descend to Tartarus. 
 Thus neither wintry blast, nor storm, nor rain 
 Can e'er dislodge him : steadfast he remains, 
 While many generations come and go. 
 Still bravely doth he spread his giant arms 
 To all the winds, and standing in the midst, 
 Bears up the burden of his ample shade." ^ 
 
 Again, a little sylvan vignette is given in the 
 ^neid, where, if great events can be rightly 
 illustrated from small, the gloom of the recital of 
 the destruction of Troy is for a moment relieved 
 by a woodland simile. The imagination of the 
 poet recalls a scene which he had doubtless himself 
 
 1 Echg. I. 76 ; V. 6. 
 
 2 Oeor. II. 291-297. Part of this description is repeated in the 
 jEneid, where it is applied to the oak (quercus) (IV. 446). 
 
156 TREES AND WOODLANDS [Chap. VII. 
 
 witnessed on the flanks of the Apennines, and 
 he likens the fall of the luckless city to that of 
 
 " A mountain-ash, which, perched among the hills. 
 The husbandmen are earnest to uproot. 
 Their two-faced axes fall with frequent stroke 
 Upon the trunk which trembles to the roots ; 
 The foliage on its crest begins to nod. 
 Until sore weakened by its wounds, the tree 
 Gives its last groan and, sundered from the ridge. 
 Drags down a mass of ruin in its train." ^ 
 
 A woodland scene by night is introduced as a 
 prelude to the weird journey of Aeneas through 
 the empty halls of Dis into the underworld : — 
 
 " Beneath a fitful moon, through forest glades. 
 With scanty light, the traveller seeks his way. 
 When Jove has spread a curtain over heaven. 
 And night has robbed all colour from the earth." ^ 
 
 Familiar with the usual varieties of aspect in 
 the woods amidst changes of the seasons and 
 fluctuations of the weather, Virgil had experience 
 also of the characteristic incidents of sylvan life, 
 such as the forest fire of which he has introduced 
 a description among his directions for the plant- 
 ing of vines : — 
 
 " Oft careless shepherds let a spark escape, 
 Which, lurking first beneath the juicy bark, 
 Ere long attacks the trunk, and rushes up 
 With a loud roar among the higher leaves ; 
 From branch to branch, even to the topmost spray. 
 The flames victoriously pursue their course, 
 
 ' .iEn. II. 626-631. ^ Id. VI. 270. 
 
HORACE'S PINE-TREE 157 
 
 Spreading around till all the grove takes fire, 
 And clouds of pitch-black smoke ascend to heaven. 
 The worst befalls when, from above, a storm 
 Sweeps down upon the wood, for then the wind 
 Gathers the fire into a fiercer blaze." ^ 
 
 While Virgil stands out pre-eminent in his 
 enthusiastic appreciation of the woodlands, the 
 same feeling in varying degree is manifest in the 
 works of the other poets of the golden age. 
 It is strongly displayed by Horace, not merely 
 where he pictures the pleasure of convivial gather- 
 ings under trees, but still more where he expresses 
 the charm of the cool woods, far from the crowded 
 city.' He well knew the delight "taciturn silvas 
 inter reptare salubres."* A goodly list of the 
 trees specially noted by him could be compiled 
 from his poems. He seems to have had a 
 particular regard for the pine. Not only does he 
 single out this tree by name in several of his sylvan 
 landscapes, but, in a graceful ode, he dedicates to 
 Diana the pine that overhung his own country 
 villa : — 
 
 " Guardian of the hills and woodlands 
 
 Virgin Goddess, hear this prayer : 
 Let the pine that shades my dwelling 
 
 Henceforth be thy special care. 
 Gladly then, as each year closes, 
 
 Shall I in thy praise bestow 
 Blood of youthful boar, still dreaming 
 
 Of his earliest sidelong blow." * 
 
 1 Gear. II. 303-311. ^ Carm. I. i. 30. 
 
 ^ Epist. I. iv. 4. * Oarm. III. xxii. 
 
158 TREES AND WOODLANDS [Chap. VII. 
 
 One of the tenderest passages in the poems 
 of Horace is that in which, addressing his friend 
 Postumus, he alludes to the cypress: "thou 
 must leave this earth, and thy home and thy 
 dear wife; nor of all the trees whiph thou art 
 planting will any follow its short-lived master save 
 the hateful cypress."^ This tree from its sombre 
 foliage came to be especially associated with 
 funereal ceremonies, and was planted beside 
 tombs." 
 
 When composing the epistle to TibuUus already 
 referred to (p. 84), Horace tries to picture what 
 at that moment his friend would be doing. He 
 thinks of him as perhaps engaged in the occupa- 
 tion of which he himself was so fond — " Saunter- 
 ing silently through the health-giving woods, and 
 musing on whatever is worthy of the thoughts 
 of a wise and good man." Tibullus in one of his 
 elegies gives his own account of himself — "As 
 for me I am content to live on little, to avoid 
 being always upon long journeys; and shunning 
 the sultry dog-star, to rest under the shadow of 
 a tree by the banks of a passing stream." ' 
 
 ' Carm. II. xiv. 21. Horace was here imitating the passage 
 in Lucretius already cited {antea p. 56). 
 
 2 Virgil's allusion to the " ferales cupreesos " has been already 
 mentioned. Lucan states that the cypress did not make its appearance 
 at plebeian mournings {Phars. III. 442). The melancholy associations 
 of this tree have lasted down to our own time. In his list of trees and 
 their uses Spenser includes " the cypresse funerall " (Fatr. Qu. I, i. 8), 
 and Byron prolongs the same note in his Giaour : — 
 
 " The very oypreaa droops to death- 
 1 wnt 
 
 Dark tree, still sad when others' grief is fled, 
 The only constant mourner o'er the dead." 
 
 ' Eleg. I. i. 25-28. 
 
PLINY THE YOUNGER ON WOODLANDS 159 
 
 Propertius, too, felt the charm of woodland 
 scenery and moving water. Among his memories 
 of his native Umbria he recalled the lovely 
 Clitumnus winding beneath its over -arching 
 grove, the solitary woods, and the wandering 
 streams which in that region pour down from 
 mossy uplands. And he records his desire 
 that his tomb should not be on one of the 
 great high roads, amid the traffic of the crowd, 
 but that his bones should rest in some remote 
 spot, beneath the branches of a tree, or be 
 buried among the sand-dunes of some unknown 
 shore. ^ 
 
 That the woodlands exert an inspiring 
 influence in hterary production was affirmed by 
 the younger Pliny in an amusing letter to the 
 historian Tacitus. 
 
 " You will laugh," he says, " and well you may, 
 when I tell you that I, Pliny, whom you know 
 so well, have taken three most splendid wild boars. 
 ' What ? Phny I ' you enquire. Even I. But that 
 I might not altogether leave off my usual inactivity 
 and love of rest, I sat down beside the nets. 
 There was neither boar-spear nor lance near me, 
 but in their place I had my stilus and writing- 
 tablets. I was thinking and jotting down my 
 thoughts, so that, should I come back with empty 
 hands, at least my note-books would be full. You 
 need not despise this way of studying. It is 
 wonderful how the mind is excited by the activity 
 and movement of the body. And further, the 
 woods on all sides, and the soUtude, and the very 
 
 1 Hkg. III. X. 26 ; IV. xvi. 28. 
 
160 TREES AND WOODLANDS [Chap. VII. 
 
 silence itself involved in hunting, are great incite- 
 ments to thought. Hence when you go to hunt, 
 let me recommend you to take with you not only 
 your basket and flask, but also your tablets. You 
 will find that Minerva can ramble about the hills 
 as well as Diana." ^ 
 
 1 Epist. I. vi. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 FLOWERS AND FOLIAGE IN ROMAN ART 
 
 In all that relates to Art, the debt of Rome to 
 Greece was so overwhelmingly great, and the 
 superiority of the Hellenic sculptors and painters 
 who came to Rome continued for generations to 
 be so incontestible, that for a long time little room 
 was left for the development of a native school. 
 The Romans were not naturally an artistic people, 
 eager to embody in concrete shape their concep- 
 tions of the beauty of form and colour that 
 surrounded them in their own country. Acknow- 
 ledging the pre-eminence of Greek art, they took 
 every opportunity of acquiring examples of it for 
 the adornment of their temples and of their 
 mansions in town and villas in the country. The 
 large number of Greek sculptures, either originals 
 or most frequently copies by Greek hands, which, 
 notwithstanding the revolutions and devastations 
 of centuries, now crowd the public and private 
 galleries of Italy, and the countless works which 
 have found their way from Italy to the collections 
 of all civilised countries afford some indication of 
 the extent of the accumulation of these artistic 
 
 161 L 
 
162 FLOWERS AND FOLIAGE [Chap. Vlll. 
 
 treasures on Italian soil. Greek artists were 
 invited to settle in Rome, where they multipUed 
 copies of Greek masterpieces, and also made statues 
 and busts of living men. At the end of the 
 Republic, however, the Hellenic influence was 
 affected by a movement towards a more dis- 
 tinctively Roman type of conception and work- 
 manship. This change is indicated in the sculpture 
 of the Augustan age, wherein a keen appreciation 
 is shown of the human body as the embodiment 
 of strength and dignity, while at the same time 
 a recognition is manifested of the grace and 
 delicacy of various forms of vegetation. 
 
 But it is not chiefly from sculpture that we 
 can, in some measure, estimate the extent and 
 direction of the Roman feeling for Nature as 
 expressed in works of art. The masterpieces of 
 painting in the ancient world, whereof Pliny and 
 others have handed down descriptions, have all 
 long since perished. The accounts of them that 
 have reached us, valuable and interesting as they 
 are for the light which they throw on the history 
 of figure-painting, are of little aid in enabling us 
 to trace the rise and progress of the treatment 
 of landscape, which is what more especially con- 
 cerns the subject of the present volume. The 
 only direct evidence now available regarding the 
 Roman style of delineating natural scenery is 
 supplied by the fresco wall-paintings and decora- 
 tions which have fortunately been preserved under 
 the debris of centuries, and which, in their fading 
 
FLORAL WALL DECORATION 163 
 
 tones, still remain as visible relics of Roman 
 pictorial art towards the close of the Republic 
 and in the first century of the Empire. These 
 precious memorials have been disinterred in the 
 course of excavations in and near Rome, but 
 most abundantly at the buried cities of Campania, 
 where they have been preserved under the volcanic 
 material thrown out by Vesuvius in the memorable 
 eruption of a.d. 79. 
 
 Among the wall-paintings which have thus 
 come again to light, no feature is more prominent 
 than the profusion of flowers, leaves, and fruit in 
 the decorations of the rooms a.nd courts. Although 
 much of the vegetation thus depicted has been 
 conventionalised to suit the recurrent festoons 
 and garlands that stretch their graceful curves 
 along the walls, it can easily be recognised that 
 the plants must often have been copied directly 
 from Nature. Their forms and colours, together 
 with the individual characters and mode of growth 
 of each kind, are rendered not only truthfully but 
 even with considerable artistic feeling. In perhaps 
 the most finished example that has been recovered, 
 that of the villa of Livia at Prima Porta, a garden 
 scene is represented with extraordinary detail and 
 fidelity. The drawing and colouring are there so 
 carefully finished that to the various plants their 
 botanical names can generally be assigned. We 
 may not be disposed to rank as noteworthy art 
 this faithful reproduction of vegetable forms and 
 tints ; but it must be admitted that the patient and 
 
164 FLOWERS AND FOLIAGE [Chap. VIII. 
 
 accurate study of the plants indicates an aiFection 
 for them which can hardly be excelled among 
 modem flower-painters. And it is as witnesses 
 of this affection, more than for their artistic merit, 
 that I cite them here. They are further interest- 
 ing and valuable as they enable us to see what 
 were the favourite trees, shrubs, and flowers, and 
 the manner in which they were grown in the 
 garden of a wealthy horticulturist of ancient Rome. 
 Other examples of the effective use of floral sub- 
 jects for waU-decoration may be seen in the House 
 of Germanicus, on the Palatine HUl, where some 
 of the rooms are adorned with graceful festoons of 
 luxuriant flowers, foliage, and fruit. 
 
 That the deUcate beauty and charm of this 
 style of mural decoration were much appreciated 
 during the early decades of the Empire may be 
 inferred from its occurrence not only in Rome 
 but in the country. Its prevalence may be 
 plausibly taken as a further proof of the love of 
 flowers throughout the whole community. While 
 the most artistic examples of it have been exhumed 
 in and near Rome, where the most accomplished 
 painters, perhaps mostly Greeks, would naturally 
 fix their headquarters, the taste for floral waU- 
 painting would soon be transported to the country 
 villas of the wealthier classes. Pliny the Younger, 
 who was so tjrpical an example of the cultured 
 country gentleman of his day, has left on record 
 that among the numerous embellishments of his 
 favourite Tuscan home, one of the bedrooms, 
 
POMPEII AND ITS PAINTINGS 165 
 
 which was kept in cool green shade by a plane- 
 tree planted near, had its walls partly covered 
 with slabs of marble and partly with what he 
 thought not less pleasing — a painting of branches 
 with birds perched upon them.^ A good instance 
 of this mode of decorating the country residence 
 of a rich man was unearthed some years ago at 
 Bosco Reale, not far from Pompeii. 
 
 A fashion which was the vogue in Rome and 
 among the rural villas of the landed gentry, was 
 sure to find its way into the smaller country towns. 
 More especially would it be adopted in the coast- 
 towns where well-to-do city-men had houses in 
 which they resided during some part of the year. 
 Pompeii, for example, though only a little 
 Campanian sea-port and walled town, had a popu- 
 lation that consisted not merely of sailors, fisher- 
 men, and traders. Wealthy citizens of Rome were 
 fond of the place. Cicero had a villa there, and a 
 century after his time it was still a favourite seaside 
 resort. Seneca calls it a famous town,^ and Tacitus 
 describes it as populous.' From this buried city 
 hundreds of pictures have been exhumed and 
 removed to the Museum in Naples, over and above 
 those which have been allowed to remain on the 
 walls of the houses. 
 
 This large collection of mural paintings possesses 
 extraordinary interest. It brings vividly before our 
 
 1 Epist. V. vi. 22. 
 
 ' Quaest. Nat. VI. i. 1 ; see also Epist. ilix. 1 ; Ixx. 1 . 
 
 » Ann. XV. 22. 
 
166 FLOWERS AND FOLIAGE [Chap. VIII. 
 
 eyes the domestic decoration in the midst of which 
 cultivated Romans of the first century lived their 
 daily lives. One of the first impressions which it 
 makes on the mind is a reaUsation of the continued 
 potency of the art of Greece on Italian soil. 
 The figure subjects chosen for delineation are 
 predominantly Greek, and mostly represent well- 
 known incidents in the Hellenic mythology. Some 
 of these subjects, perhaps copied from original 
 Greek paintings, were evidently favourites, for they 
 are found repeated in different houses. But it is 
 not the figures in the pictures so much as the 
 accessories that concern us at present, for it is from 
 these that we can best form an idea of the kind of 
 objects and of scenery that appealed most to the 
 artists of the time and to the owners of the houses 
 who selected subjects for the permanent adornment 
 of their walls. Landscape art, as we now under- 
 stand it, can hardly be said to have any place in 
 these paintings, for a knowledge of perspective was 
 wanting. The background of the large figure- 
 pictures is for the most part sketched in so vaguely 
 and roughly as to suggest that the main object of 
 the artists was to tone down the whiteness of the 
 stuccoed walls and to set oiF the forms and colours 
 of the human or divine personages, rather than to 
 trace any very definite surroundings. But in many 
 smaller paintings or vignettes, introduced to fill 
 panel-like spaces in the scheme of mural decora- 
 tion, distinct landscapes are portrayed, which 
 supply illustrations of the kind of scenery that 
 
FLOWER-PAINTING AT POMPEII 167 
 
 seems to have been most appreciated at the time 
 of the painting of the walls. These landscapes, 
 evidently Italian and probably Campanian, are for 
 the most part shore-scenes. They will be further 
 noticed in chapter xiv. 
 
 Passing to the floral decoration of the Pompeian 
 houses we are at once struck by its profusion. 
 At every turn we meet with elegant scrolls of 
 leaves of acanthus, plane, ivy, or vine with clusters 
 of grapes and delicate tendrils intertwined among 
 the foliage, or festoons of the leaves of the olive or 
 myrtle, or garlands of wild thyme in bloom, or 
 wreaths of roses with buds peeping out from 
 between them, while various kinds of fruit are 
 often intermingled with the leaves and flowers. 
 When first uncovered to the air, after their 
 seclusion of so many centuries, the colours 
 appear as fresh as when they came from the 
 painter's hands, and even after years of exposure 
 on the walls or in the Museum, some of them 
 retain enough of their vividness to enable us 
 to realise the remarkable brightness with which 
 they must have lit up the somewhat darkened 
 rooms of which they formed the chief adorn- 
 ment. The noteworthy deftness with which the 
 artist has caught the varying tints of the foliage 
 of the same plant can still be recognised, as where 
 he has here and there, on the sprays of the vine, 
 introduced a fading yellow leaf amid the full green 
 of the fresher fohage. Besides their richness in 
 plant-life, many of the floral decorations are 
 
168 FLOWERS AND FOLIAGE [Chap. VIII. 
 
 enlivened with little gaily-coloured birds perched 
 among the leaves. 
 
 It is worthy of remark that this kind of decora- 
 tion is not confined to the larger houses in Pompeii, 
 which no doubt were tenanted by the richer 
 members of the community. Some even of the 
 smaller dwellings are similarly adorned, where the 
 inmates were probably by no means wealthy. We 
 may thence infer that the fashion for floral decora- 
 tion had become widespread through the different 
 classes of society before the last quarter of the first 
 century. 
 
 Not less conspicuously did the artistic treatment 
 of vegetation for decorative purposes find expression 
 in sculpture during the Augustan period. The 
 truthfulness of detail and the charming grace with 
 which leaves, blossoms, fruit, and branches are 
 carved on the Ara Pacis and other monuments of 
 that time have called forth the most unstinted 
 praise from modern artists. Exquisitely modelled 
 spirals, bearing leaves and blooms of acanthus, 
 wind across the surface of the marble, ending in 
 rosettes or delicate blossoms of different flowers, 
 and throwing off slender curhng tendrils. There 
 are likewise abundant fruits of various kinds, 
 symbolic of the rich fertility of that " magna parens 
 frugum, Saturnia tellus." Amidst this luxuriant 
 plant-growth further sympathy with living Nature 
 is shown in the many forms of animal life which 
 are introduced. Insects hover among the leaves, 
 birds are perched on the branches, lizards and 
 
UNCONVENTIONALISM IN ROMAN ART 169 
 
 snakes creep among the flowers. Not only in 
 sculpture but also in the singularly graceful stucco- 
 reliefs that adorn interior walls and ceilings and 
 even some of the vaulted tombs of the same period, 
 the love of floral decoration may be seen, expressed 
 with the same remarkable taste and skill. 
 
 It has been well remarked by Mrs Strong 
 that while 
 
 "plants appear in Greek art only to be con- 
 ventionalised into architectural forms ; in Roman 
 art the love of natural form conquers the stylistic 
 tendency. To those who are familiar with the 
 conventional forms of the lotus in Egyptian art 
 or of the acanthus in Greek art, it is almost a 
 surprise that even the political Imperial plants, the 
 symbolic laurel, the oak, and the olive, were never 
 conventionalised, but showered their shapely leaves 
 and fruit over every space artistically available." ^ 
 
 ' " Roman Sculpture from Augustus to Constantine/' 1907, p. 76. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE ANIMAL WORLD IN ROMAN LIFE 
 
 In an enquiry into the relation in which the 
 
 Romans of the Augustan age stood towards the 
 
 world of animated nature, we are met at the 
 
 outset by the appalling spectacles of the Circus 
 
 and the Amphitheatre. If the men and women 
 
 of that time could watch and applaud the butchery 
 
 of human beings and of noble beasts of the forest, 
 
 what amount of sympathy and affection, it may 
 
 be asked, can they be supposed to have had for 
 
 the animal world, whether wild or domesticated? 
 
 The modern mind, which for centuries has grown 
 
 accustomed to respect the sanctity of human life, 
 
 and is slowly learning to detest and to punish 
 
 cruelty to animals, finds it hard to account for 
 
 the long-continued popularity and wide prevalence 
 
 of gladiatorial shows and combats with wild beasts 
 
 among a people like the Romans, and perhaps 
 
 still harder to explain the absence of any outspoken 
 
 condemnation of these horrors in the writings of 
 
 the cultivated men of successive generations. The 
 
 inference has not unnaturally been drawn that, 
 
 170 
 
HORRORS OF THE AMPHITHEATRE 171 
 
 with all their good qualities, the Romans must 
 have been essentially a cruel and bloodthirsty 
 race. 
 
 It must indeed be sorrowfully admitted that, 
 on this side, their moral standard was extra- 
 ordinarily low. The existence of such atrocities 
 among them, the universal popularity of these 
 debasing shows, and the continued toleration of 
 them for nearly seven hundred years, fill a 
 black page in the history of the Republic and 
 the Empire. But when this admission is made 
 to the fullest extent, there are certain considera- 
 tions which, while they cannot be pleaded in 
 extenuation of the practices, help us in some 
 degree to understand how the evils arose and 
 how it came about that they lasted so long and 
 enjoyed such wide prevalence and popularity. 
 Originally, and for many years, the gladiators 
 were taken from the ranks of criminals, prisoners 
 of war, and slaves. The lives of such men were 
 not by Roman citizens regarded as of much 
 account. Some of them certainly deserved the 
 punishment of death, and it would in those days 
 seem immaterial by what means the punishment 
 was inflicted. The accomplishment of the execu- 
 tion in the amphitheatre would be thought to 
 have the advantage of gratifying a large assemblage 
 of onlookers. Prisoners of war who had not been 
 sold as slaves were sometimes got rid of by being 
 made to fight in the arena, and thus again the 
 populace was pleased. As for slaves, they were 
 
172 ANIMAL WORLD IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. IX. 
 
 mere chattels who had no rights, and whose death 
 was of little moment, except where their services 
 were of value to their owners. When such were 
 the sources whence the amphitheatre was supplied 
 with combatants it can be partly understood why 
 a Roman audience had no compunction in witness- 
 ing the spectacles.^ 
 
 It must also be remembered that these 
 spectacles, at least in Rome, were given on a 
 scale of extraordinary magnificence. Everything 
 was done, alike by magistrates and generals during 
 the Republic, and by the heads of the State under 
 the Empire, with all the resources of art, to 
 enhance their splendour and attractiveness. The 
 mere sight of so many thousand spectators as 
 could be assembled within the amphitheatre, 
 especially within the Flavian building in Rome, 
 must have been one of the most impressive sights 
 that human eyes could behold. When pairs 
 of trained gladiators encountered each other in 
 mortal combat, and the vanquished appealed to 
 the audience for their fate ; when the tragedies of 
 a battlefield were reproduced by numerous bands 
 
 * Strabo tells an anecdote which illustrates how the Romans 
 combined capital punishment with the excitement of the arena. 
 When he was in Rome, a certain Selurus, a captain of robbers, who 
 was known as the " Son of Aetna," from having made his headquarters 
 on the mountain, had been caught and sent up to the capital. He was 
 taken to the arena and set upon a platform made to represent Aetna, 
 which, being suddenly unfastened and collapsing, the robber fell among 
 a company of wild beasts, assembled for the occasion. Strabo relates 
 that he was present himself and saw the man torn to pieces by the 
 animals. All this had been preceded by a contest of gladiators. The 
 geographer makes no comment on what he saw (Oeog. VI. ii. 7). 
 
FASCINATION OF THE ARENA 173 
 
 of combatants on the arena which was drenched 
 with gore and covered with wounded and dying ; 
 when men were pitted against the fiercest beasts 
 of prey and had to fight for their lives ; or when 
 hundreds of wild animals, gathered with infinite 
 labour and expense from distant countries, were 
 mustered in the amphitheatre and made to attack 
 each other, or were slaughtered with spear and 
 sword, the tense excitement of the spectators 
 must have been something to which there has 
 been no equal since those days. 
 
 The extraordinary fascination of these scenes, 
 and its influence even on young and cultivated 
 minds, are strikingly illustrated by the instance 
 recorded by St Augustine, when one of his friends 
 and fellow-students, who had always hated and 
 avoided the arena, was carried thither against his 
 will by some of his companions. Firmly closing 
 his eyes, the youth determiued to be no witness 
 of the performances. But at some incident in 
 the fighting, which drew forth vast applause from 
 the audience, he opened his eyes. Instantly he 
 was overcome by what he saw. Like one of the 
 crowd, he gazed and shouted, and became as 
 excited as those around him. Thereafter he 
 returned again and again to the amphitheatre, and 
 even brought others to share in the excitement.^ 
 It can hardly therefore be matter for surprise 
 that a callous populace, eager for amusement 
 and accustomed from childhood to the scenes 
 
 * Confess. VI. vii. 
 
174 ANIMAL WORLD IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. IX. 
 
 of the arena, should long have clung to such 
 spectacles. 
 
 But the question may be asked: Is it con- 
 ceivable that no voices were raised against these 
 orgies of blood? Are we to believe that even 
 among the educated and thoughtful part of the 
 community no protest was made against such cruel 
 and debasing exhibitions? The Latin Uterature 
 which has survived is only a portion of what 
 originally existed, and in that portion which has 
 perished there may have been here and there a 
 condemnation of these practices. But in the 
 part that remains to us, though the gladiatorial 
 combats and the wild beast hunts {venationes) 
 are frequently alluded to, we search in vain for 
 any vigorous denunciation of the exhibitions in 
 the arena, or even the indication of a disposition 
 publicly to disapprove of them and to plead for 
 their aboUtion. They are treated as matters for 
 current gossip in society; the relative merits of 
 different gladiators are canvassed, much in the 
 same way as race-horses are among us before the 
 Derby; or the whole subject is put aside, as if 
 too trivial for the attention of serious men. As 
 an iQustration of the light-hearted way in which 
 these matters could be treated even by so great 
 and humane a man as Cicero, let me cite a passage 
 from one of his letters written at Rome in the 
 month of October, b.c. 55, to M. Marius, in which 
 he refers to his own presence at the great games 
 given by Pompey in the autumn of that year. 
 
CICERO ON THE AMPHITHEATRE 175 
 
 " Why should I suppose you to care about missing 
 the athletes, since you disdained the gladiators? 
 in which even Pompey himself confesses that he 
 has lost his time and his trouble. There remain 
 the two wild-beast hunts, lasting five days : magni- 
 ficent — nobody denies it. And yet what pleasure 
 can it be to a man of refinement, when either a 
 weak man is torn by an extremely powerful animal, 
 or a splendid animal is transfixed by a hunting- 
 spear ? Things which, after all, if worth seeing, 
 you have often seen before; nor did I, who was 
 present at the games, see anything the least new. 
 The last day was that of the elephants, on which 
 there was a great deal of astonishment on the part 
 of the vulgar crowd, but no pleasure whatever. 
 Nay, there was even a certain feeling of com- 
 passion aroused by it, and a kind of belief created 
 that that animal has something in common with 
 mankind." ^ 
 
 The subject is also referred to in the Tusculan 
 Disputations where Cicero thus expresses himself : 
 
 ' Ad Fam. VII. i. (Mr Shuckburgh's translation). At these great 
 venationes, given by Pompey in order to regain his influence with the 
 people, 600 African lions are said to have been killed, while oi 
 18 elephants most were slaughtered by Graetulian huntsmen. Pliny 
 gives a more serious account of the disposition of the crowd at the sight 
 of the wounded and dying elephants, for he relates that when the 
 animals, finding that they could not escape by flight from the deadly 
 swords of the huntsmen, seemed by indescribable gestures to implore 
 the pity of the onlookers, so great was the compassion of the people 
 that, forgetting the imperator and the munificence of the entertainment 
 which he had prepared in their honour, they in tears rose up as a body 
 and heaped curses on Pompey, for which he was not long in paying the 
 penalty (Hist. Nat. VIII. vii.) That there could be sometimes a 
 limit even to the popular delight in the gladiatorial bloodshedding 
 seems to be indicated by the remark of Tacitus that Drusus, who pre- 
 sided at an exhibition of gladiators given in honour of Germanicus, 
 displayed such pleasure in blood, even though it was only that of slaves, 
 as to displease the populace {Ann. 1. 76). 
 
176 ANIMAL WORLD IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. IX. 
 
 " By some the exhibition of gladiators is thought 
 to be a cruel and inhuman spectacle, and I do not 
 know whether it is so, as now conducted. But 
 when criminals used to fight with real swords there 
 could not be a more effective training for the eye, 
 though perhaps there might be many for the ear, 
 in the enduring of pain and death." ^ 
 
 This passage is of interest as an indication of the 
 existence of a feeUng against gladiatorial shows at 
 the time of the publication of the philosopher's 
 treatise (b.c. 44). But the feeling was one in 
 which he does not seem to have shared. Rather 
 more than a century after Cicero's time the view 
 of a humane and cultured member of Society was 
 expressed by the younger Pliny, who wrote as 
 follows to a friend that had lately lost his wife 
 and had followed an ancient usage in offering 
 to her memory a gladiatorial exhibition in the 
 amphitheatre of Verona : — 
 
 " You did well in promising a gladiatorial show 
 to our friends in Verona, by whom you have 
 long been loved, respected, and honoured. It was 
 from that city that you received your dear and 
 admirable wife, to whose memory some monument 
 or spectacle was due ; and this which you chose 
 was above all appropriate from its funereal character. 
 Besides, the request to you was made by such a 
 general consent that to decline it would have seemed 
 to show not constancy but rather unfriendUness. 
 Moreover, you granted the favour as readily as 
 you have carried it out liberally, for even in such 
 
 > Tuac. II. xvii. 41. 
 
PLINY THE YOUNGER ON THE ARENA 177 
 
 matters a great mind may display itself. I wish 
 that the panthers, of which you had purchased a 
 large number, had arrived by the appointed day, but 
 though they were delayed by bad weather, you were 
 equally deserving of thanks, since it was not your 
 fault that you exhibited less than you intended." ^ 
 
 The same writer, however, records that he was 
 present at a Council held by the Emperor Trajan 
 when a case came up for consideration as to 
 whether certain gymnastic games {gymnicus agon) 
 at Vienne on the Rhone, which the Triumvir had 
 abolished, should be revived. When the assessors 
 were asked for their opinions Junius Mauricus 
 declared against the re - establishment, and added : 
 " I wish the games could be abolished in Rome also." 
 Besides athletic contests and racing at gymnastic 
 exhibitions, gladiatorial combats were sometimes 
 introduced. Pliny adds that it was decided to 
 suppress the games in question 
 
 " which had corrupted the morals of the Viennese, 
 as ours at Rome have depraved the morals of aU 
 men. For the vices of the Viennese remain with 
 themselves, but ours are spread far and wide. It 
 is with the State as with our bodies; the most 
 dangerous disease is one that spreads from the 
 head." = 
 
 The only Roman writer within the historical 
 period with which we are here concerned, who, so 
 far as I am aware, has been quoted as one that 
 declared his abhorrence and condemnation of the 
 performances in the amphitheatre is the philosopher 
 
 1 Epist. VI. xxxiv. = Id. IV. ixii. 
 
 M 
 
178 ANIMAL WORLD IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. IX. 
 
 Seneca. It would appear that in his earlier years 
 he had no dislike of these exhibitions, for in his 
 consolatory discourse to his mother Helvia, written 
 during his exile in Corsica, he speaks without 
 disapprobation of attendance on games and gladia- 
 torial shows as one of the accepted means of 
 diverting the mind from grief. ^ But later in life 
 he came to look on these exhibitions with detesta- 
 tion. His trenchant denunciation of them is to 
 be found in one of the letters, or rather moral 
 essays, which he addressed to his friend, and 
 pupil Lucilius. He there, in his usual somewhat 
 rhetorical style, states his opinion that what above 
 all should be avoided in this life is the crowd 
 {turha). 
 
 "Assuredly," he says, "nothing is so destructive 
 to good morals as to sit through a public spectacle, 
 for the evil creeps in all the more easily on account 
 of the pleasure that attends it. Let me tell you 
 that I return more avaricious, more luxurious, nay, 
 even crueller and more inhuman, because I have 
 been among men. By chance I dropped in to the 
 mid-day performance at the amphitheatre, expect- 
 ing some amusement as a reUef to one's eyes from 
 the sight of human blood. But on the contrary, 
 the fighting which before had been merciful, was 
 now sheer murder. In the morning men were 
 thrown to the lions and bears, at mid -day to 
 the spectators." 
 
 He gives some revolting details as to what he 
 saw. Even during the intervals the survivors iiad 
 
 ' Dial XII. ivii. 1. 
 
SENECA ON THE ARENA 179 
 
 their throats cut, "lest nothing should be going 
 on." He supposes himself to be remonstrating 
 with one of the onlookers as to the proceed- 
 ings, who remarked in their justification that 
 one of the victims had been guilty of murder. 
 
 " What then," exclaims the philosopher, " because 
 he has been guilty of murder does he deserve 
 to suffer thus ? And you, miserable wretch, 
 what have you deserved that you look on at 
 it aU?"i 
 
 Seneca expresses here the sentiments of the 
 modern world. But if it be asked what influence 
 his condemnation of the arena had upon the world 
 of his day, we have to admit that his fervid 
 denunciation was probably written in his old age, 
 that it was not a manifesto to the Roman public 
 to reform its ways, but together with many other 
 praiseworthy sentiments was enshrined in his 
 studied correspondence with a friend.^ It must be 
 
 ' Epist. I. vii. 
 
 ' It is difficult to decide at what period of Seneca's life this letter 
 was written. It has been ascribed to his latest years, and this ascription 
 is probably correct. But if one sentence in the letter has been rightly 
 regarded as containing a reference to Nero, an earlier date might be 
 claimed. The philosopher, supposing himself to be addressing the 
 crowd in the amphitheatre, exclaims, "Give thanks to the immortal 
 gods that he whom you are teaching to be cruel cannot learn to be so." 
 It is difficult to believe that even Seneca could in his last years carry 
 flattery so fer as to write thus of Nero. And yet when we remember 
 that in his Quaestioneg Naturales, in which he lectured Lucilius on 
 the evils of flattery, he himself committed some signal instances of the 
 vice in his allusions to the Emperor, we must confess that an argument 
 as to the date of any of his writings can hardly be based on his flattery 
 of Nero. (Quaest. Nat. IV. pref., and I. v. ; VI. viii. ; VII. xvii., xxi. This 
 treatise was probably his latest work.) 
 
 In another letter to Lucilius which comes later in his correspondence, 
 
180 ANIMAL WORLD IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. IX. 
 
 remembered that he had been for a number of 
 years one of the two powerful ministers of Nero, 
 having the administration of the Empire largely 
 in their hands, and that in course of time he 
 amassed a colossal fortune, so as to be styled 
 by the satirist "praedives." Yet with aU this 
 political power and vast wealth, there is no 
 evidence that he ever stirred a finger to lessen the 
 evils which he denounced to Lucilius. That he 
 could have succeeded in effecting any reforma- 
 tion of an institution so long established and so 
 overwhelmingly popular is not probable, but it 
 would have been to his honour had he made the 
 attempt, or at least had he proclaimed to the 
 world how keenly he resented the horrors of the 
 arena. 
 
 If, then, the Romans, as a people, had so 
 little conception of the sanctity of human life, 
 and so little remorse at the infliction of needless 
 suflfering and death upon the noblest animals as 
 well as upon their fellow-men, our modern instincts 
 might tempt us to the conclusion that this people 
 was utterly destitute of any trace of kindliness 
 of nature. But the history of mankind assures 
 
 and may belong to a subsequent date, the philosopher again alludes to 
 the subject of the amphitheatre. He was at that time in Naples, where 
 for some days he had been attending the disputations in a philosopher's 
 school. Referring to this return to the pursuits of his youth he playfully 
 remarks that " though an 0I4 man, he wLU go to the theatre and be 
 carried to the circus, while no pair of gladiators wUl fight it out without 
 having him as a spectator " {Epist. LXXVI. 2). His words are not to 
 be interpreted as conveying his real intentions, but they have an 
 interest as indicative of one of the favourite pursuits of the youth of 
 Seneca's time. 
 
KINDHEARTEDNESS AMONG THE ROMANS 181 
 
 us that such an inference would be unwarranted. 
 Communities and individuals that have been 
 marked by ruthless cruelty, are well known to 
 have also had their affectionate side both for man 
 and for animals. The fashionable matrons who 
 took such keen pleasure in the combats of the 
 arena were often kind-hearted and careful mothers 
 to their children. Many of them who sat as 
 interested spectators through prolonged scenes 
 of carnage and death would shed tears over the 
 illness of some favourite bird or dog. Among 
 the male spectators too, there were many who 
 in private life were as humane and considerate 
 as any cultivated gentlemen of the present 
 day. So hard is it for us to realise how 
 centuries of familiarity with some form of cruelty 
 can deaden the mind to the perception of its 
 inhumanity, while at the same time the heart 
 may remain in other directions responsive and 
 affectionate. 
 
 We may be sure, therefore, that in every 
 generation at Rome, there were tender-hearted 
 members of the community who possessed and 
 cultivated the love of animals. It may indeed 
 seem strange that there is in Latin literature more 
 evidence perhaps of sympathy with the brute 
 creation than with mankind at large, outside the 
 circles of kinship and friendship. Whether or 
 not as a revulsion from the searing influence of 
 the amphitheatre on the human conscience, the 
 Roman poets evince a sympathy with bird 
 
182 ANIMAL WORLD IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. IX. 
 
 and beast which is as genuine and spontaneous 
 as can be found in any literature, and which 
 doubtless was shared by multitudes of their fellow- 
 countrymen. ^ 
 
 By none of the Latin writers, among the 
 closing decades of the Repubhc and the first 
 century of the Empire, does the love of animals 
 appear to have been more sincerely felt than it 
 was by Lucretius. His capacious mind and warm 
 heart welcomed within their embrace the whole 
 animal world, domesticated and wild — 
 
 " the race of men, and the dumb scaly brood that 
 swims the deep, the joyous herds and wUd beasts, 
 and the various birds that haunt the delightful 
 watering-places by the banks of rivers and springs 
 and meres, with those that people the woods and 
 flit far away."^ 
 
 Out of all this ample domain of living creatures 
 the poet would seem to have chosen dogs as worthy 
 of his more special affection. He refers to them 
 again and again in his poem, and always with some 
 kindly epithet to mark his personal regard for 
 them. His close observation of the ways of 
 animals, and his affectionate recognition of the 
 
 1 Francis Bacon acutely remarks : " The inclination to goodness 
 is implanted deeply in the nature of man ; insomuch, that if it issue 
 not towards men, it wiU take unto other living creatures ; as it is 
 seen in the Turks, a cruel people, who nevertheless are kind to 
 beasts, and give alms to dogs and birds ; insomuch as Busbechius 
 reporteth, a Christian boy in Constantinople had like to have been 
 stoned for gagging in a wagg^shness a long-billed fowl '' (" Essays," 
 No. XIII., On Goodness). 
 
 « De Ber. Nat. II. 342-346. 
 
LUCRETIUS'S LOVE OF DOGS 188 
 
 habits of dogs in particular, are well illustrated in 
 the following quotation. 
 
 "When huge Molossian hounds are angry and 
 begin to snarl, showing their hard teeth between 
 their large soft lips, they threaten in a far different 
 tone than when pleased they bark and fill all the 
 place with their noise ; and when they try gently 
 to lick their cubs with their tongue, and toss them 
 about with their paws, seeking, as it were, to bite 
 them and actually to swallow them, they fondle 
 them with a growl very different from that which 
 they utter when, left alone in the house, they 
 bark gently, or when they piteously whine and 
 cringe to escape a beating."^ 
 
 The races of wild animals, Lucretius says, 
 have been furnished by Nature with the means 
 of self-preservation. The lion has its bravery, 
 the fox its cunning, the stag its swiftness. 
 
 "But the Ughtly-sleeping dog with its faithful 
 heart, the whole race of the beasts of burden, 
 the fleece-bearing flocks, and all the breeds of 
 horned cattle are placed under the tutelage of 
 man.'"" 
 
 Every lover of dogs to-day will recognise the 
 truth of the following picturesque lines : 
 
 " Often hunting-dogs, in the midst of their soft 
 sleep will suddenly toss their legs, utter cries, and 
 keep snuffing the air with their nostrils, as if 
 they were following the tracks of game which 
 they had found; and even when awakened, they 
 often follow the empty visions of stags, as if 
 they saw them taking to flight, until, shaking 
 
 ' De Ber. Nat. V. 1063-1072. ^ Id. V. 864. 
 
184 ANIMAL WORLD IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. IX. 
 
 off their phantasy, they come to themselves 
 again." ^ 
 
 The scent of dogs is noted by Lucretius as 
 one of their faculties of more particular interest 
 and value to man, and he quotes it as an illustra- 
 tion of how in his opinion the investigation of 
 Nature should be pursued : 
 
 "As dogs in roaming over mountains very often 
 scent out there the lairs of game hidden under 
 the greenery, when once they have set foot on 
 sure tracks, so you, Memmius, will be able to 
 see one thing after another, penetrate into all 
 the lurking places, and thence draw forth the 
 truth."' 
 
 Perhaps the reference which most forcibly 
 brings before us the affectionate regard of 
 Lucretius for these animals is to be found in his 
 description of the ghastly horrors of the plague at 
 Athens. Following the narrative of Thucydides, 
 he mentions the dogs, but brings them into special 
 prominence, and characteristically does not forget 
 to add an allusion to their faithful nature : — 
 
 " Many inhabitants, stricken with the malady, were 
 
 ' De Rer. Nat. IV. 991. Tennyson in his Lttcretiiu has not 
 omitted to notice this characteristic observation of the poet : 
 
 "As the dog 
 With inward yelp and restless forefoot plies 
 His function of the woodland." 
 
 Scott, another keen lover of dogs, noted this canine habit as a feature 
 that added to the vividness of his picture of life in Branksome Hall : — 
 
 "The staghonnds, weary with the chase, 
 Lay stretched upon the rushy floor, 
 And urged, in dreams, the forest race 
 From Teviot-stone to Eakdale-moor. 
 
 — Lay of the LaM Minitrel, I, il. 
 " De Ber. Nat. I. 404. 
 
THE FAITHFUL DOG 186 
 
 dying. Foremost were the faithful dogs that gave 
 up their lives with difficulty, and their bodies lay 
 strewn in all the streets, for the virulence of the 
 disease forced the life from their bodies." ^ 
 
 From the variety of types of dogs which the 
 Romas bred, some for the chase, others for pro- 
 tecting the flocks and herds, especially on the 
 high hill-pastures, and some as household pets, 
 the dog evidently held a favoured place among 
 their domesticated animals." Its fidehty, to 
 which Lucretius so often alludes, was widely 
 recognised as one of its most admirable qualities 
 and was frequently commemorated in art. Thus 
 among the wall-frescoes of Pompeii the dog is 
 often introduced into the figure subjects. In one 
 of the paintings of Mars and Venus, seated at 
 the foot of a rugged rock, with trees in the 
 distance, their attendant dog lies beside them. 
 In another of these pictures, where Narcissus is 
 represented resting on a rock beside a calm pool 
 and looking at his reflection on the surface of 
 the water, while the background shows various 
 conventionalised types of trees, his dog is his 
 only companion. Another subject is that of 
 Venus with the dying Adonis on her knees. She 
 looks on him in an agony of grief, while Cupid 
 
 1 De Rer. Nat. VI. 1222. 
 
 ' Varro gives an account of various kinds of dogs {De Be Bust. I. 
 xxi. ; II. ix. ; also Pliny, Hist. Nat. VIII. Ixi.-lxiii.). Martial's epigram 
 on the little pet dog of his friend Publius affords good evidence of the 
 mutual affection between master and animal that could be met with in 
 the Roman society of his day (Epig. I. cix.). 
 
186 ANIMAL WORLD IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. IX. 
 
 weeps, and a third mourner, as sincere- as the 
 other two, lies in front of the group in the 
 shape of his favourite dog. In a painting of 
 Diana and Endymion, the goddess appears in 
 the air floating towards the sleeping youth, but 
 his trusty dog, which has been watching by 
 his side, descries her and barks at her furiously, 
 to warn and protect him. It will be remembered, 
 too, how frequently the dog, as a symbol of fidelity 
 has been sculptured on ancient tombs. 
 
 The same kindly feeling with which dogs were 
 regarded was extended to other domestic animals, 
 and even to some with which most men do not 
 come into personal contact. Here again the 
 muse of Lucretius shows the tenderness of his 
 sympathy, as where he pictures the distress 
 of a cow that has been deprived of her young 
 calf: — 
 
 " Often before the fair shrines of the gods a calf 
 has fallen in sacrifice at the incense-bearing altars, 
 spirting from its breast a warm stream of blood. 
 But the bereaved mother, as she wanders over the 
 green glades, recognises the prints left on the 
 ground by the cloven hoofs, scanning all places, if 
 she can but catch sight of her lost youngling ; and 
 when she halts, she fills the leafy grove with her 
 plaints. Many a time she returns to the stall, 
 pierced to the heart with a yearning for her calf, 
 nor can the tender willows, and the grass freshened 
 with dew, and the brimming streams divert her 
 thoughts, or suddenly turn aside her care ; nor can 
 other calves among the gladsome pastures distract 
 her mind or lighten her sorrow ; so long does she 
 
VIRGIL'S SYMPATHY WITH ANIMALS 187 
 
 seek for something which she knows and which is 
 her own." ^ 
 
 In the poetry of Virgil the love of the whole 
 world of animated nature finds even fuller and more 
 frequent expression than in that of his great pre- 
 decessor. Bird, beast, and insect were scanned by his 
 closely observant eyes, with all the sympathy of his 
 gentle and kindly heart. He makes us feel how 
 keenly he realised that each living creature is a 
 sentient being, with habits and instincts worthy of 
 our attention, and subject to sufferings that appeal 
 to our compassion. As an example of how these 
 sufferings could call forth his pity, reference may 
 be made to his account of the effects of a plague 
 that had befallen Italy in autumn. Every kind of 
 cattle and wild beast had died, and the waters and 
 pastures were tainted with infection. The poet 
 gives an example of how suddenly and fatally the 
 disease struck down the animals, even in the midst 
 of their work : — 
 
 " Lo 1 at the toilsome plough the reeking bull 
 Drops down ; spirts from his mouth a mingled stream 
 Of blood and foam : then heaves his latest groan. 
 Sadly the ploughman now unyokes the steer 
 That mourns his brother's fate, leaving the plough 
 Fixed in mid-furrow, and the work half-done. 
 No shade of deepest grove, nor pasture soft 
 Can move him now ; nor yet the stream that rolls. 
 Clearer than amber, o'er its rocky bed 
 To seek the plain. His deep flanks are relaxed, 
 
 1 De Ber. Nat. II. 362-366. 
 
188 ANIMAL WORLD IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. IX. 
 
 While stupor steals into his leaden eyes, 
 And heavily his neck sinks to the ground. 
 What now avails his service and his toil ? 
 What, to have oft upturned the heavy glebe ? 
 And yet no Massic grape nor plenteous feasts 
 E'er harmed these creatures : leaves and simple grass 
 Are all their fare ; their cups the limpid spring 
 And hurrying streams ; nor is their healthful sleep 
 Disturbed by care." ^ 
 
 With the various animals employed on a farm 
 Virgil would make full acquaintance in his youth, 
 and his references to them have the vividness of 
 personal reminiscence. Among them the horse 
 meets with due appreciation in his verse. In 
 enumerating for the farmer's guidance the good 
 points of the animal, he alludes to its instinct 
 for military sounds, and he gives as one of the 
 marks of an excellent steed that " should he hear 
 the distant sound of arms he cannot stand still ; he 
 pricks up his ears, his limbs quiver, and he rolls the 
 fire from his nostrils." ^ The thought of the horse 
 brings the animal's galloping movement before the 
 poet's mind, and he breaks at once into dactyhc 
 hexameters, as in the famous line — 
 " Quadrupedante putrem sonitu quatit ungula campum." ^ 
 
 The contests of rival bulls were probably famiUar 
 enough on the pastures around the Mincius. Virgil 
 has sketched them with his usual picturesque touch, 
 and sometimes not without a trace of sympathy for 
 the vanquished hero, whom he follows into his 
 
 ' Geor. III. 615-630. ^ Id. III. 83-86. 
 
 = JEn. VIII. 696 ; also VI. 614, 616. 
 
ROMAN LOVE OF BIRDS 189 
 
 retirement, until the animal can renew the contest 
 and obtain the mastery of the field.^ Such incidents 
 supplied similes, at one time to illustrate the duels 
 between great chiefs on the field of battle," at 
 another to represent the fury of a mountainous 
 wave as it rushes against the shore.' 
 
 Of all wild creatures, birds have secured the 
 surest place in the affections of the mass of mankind 
 in every age and country. Their annual pairing 
 and nesting, their rearing of their fledgelings, their 
 endlessly diverse forms and colours, their marvellous 
 variety of notes, their regular appearances and dis- 
 appearances with the succession of the seasons, and 
 the familiarity of so many of them with man, have 
 given them a fascination all their own. Their 
 praises have been sung iq the literature of all 
 lands. In that of Rome they received much 
 appreciation, though of a more restrained kind 
 than that which has been so enthusiastically 
 bestowed upon them by our own bards. The 
 Latin poets, like those of modern days, have 
 especially associated birds with spring, and in 
 their descriptions of that season, how brief 
 soever, the voices of birds are seldom absent. 
 Virgil, with his abounding affection for living 
 things and his keen poetical instinct, evidently 
 delighted to watch the habits of birds which 
 he has so graphically depicted. The Eclogues 
 and Georgics are naturally full of references to 
 
 1 Geor. III. 220-236. 
 2 ^n. XII. 715. = Oeor. III. 237. 
 
190 ANIMAL WORLD IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. IX. 
 
 birds and their ways, but even in the ^neid the 
 poet's interest in these subjects has supplied 
 him with some of the similes used in that 
 epic. His most varied pictures of bird - life 
 are to be found in the first Georgic, where, 
 in considerable detail and with great charm of 
 language, he gives the portents of the weather 
 which popular observation had drawn from the 
 movements of birds. 
 
 The Greeks, who were active sailors and 
 traders, and therefore constrained to watch the 
 signs of the sky, had in the course of centuries 
 accumulated a considerable store of weather-lore, 
 drawn partly from inanimate nature and partly 
 from the movements of animals, especially of 
 birds. This popular meteorology was made use of 
 by the philosophers, Aristotle and Theophrastus 
 in their treatises, and by Aratus in his poem 
 on the Diosemeia. This latter work had been 
 turned into Latin verse by no less a literary 
 man than Cicero. Hence in Virgil's time a good 
 deal of published information on the subject 
 was ready to his hand, and of this he largely 
 availed himself, imitating or quoting freely from 
 Aratus.^ 
 
 ' With reference to Virgil's indebtedness to Aratus, the opinion of 
 Mr Warde Fowler is of great value as that of one who is entitled to 
 speak both as a scholar and a naturalist. " Let any one," he says, 
 " compare the translations of Aratus by other Roman hands, by Cicero, 
 Pestus, and Germanicus, with Virgil's first Georgic, and he will not fail 
 to mark the difference between the mere translator and the poet who 
 breathes into the work of his predecessors a new life and an immortal 
 one" ("A Year with the Birds," chap. vii. on the birds of Virgil). 
 
ANCIENT BIRD-LORE 191 
 
 The subject is introduced in the first Georgic 
 with the following brief prelude : — 
 
 " That we might learn from certain signs to guard 
 Against the coming heat or cold or rain, 
 The Father has himself ordained for us 
 What portents should the moon give month by month ; 
 What sign should bode the sinking of a gale ; 
 What oft-repeated signal should the farmer warn 
 To keep his cattle nearer to their stalls." ^ 
 
 The poet then proceeds to enumerate the 
 various portents which were popularly accepted in 
 his time as indications of coming weather. We 
 shall here deal only with those taken from the 
 habits of animals, leaving the meteorological signs 
 to be considered in the next chapter. 
 
 By far the most numerous presages were those 
 supplied by birds, both for fine and bad weather. 
 At the approach of a gale, we are told 
 
 " Back from mid-ocean swiftly fly the gulls, 
 And raise a clamour as they near the strand. 
 The sea-coots sport on shore ; the heron, too. 
 Forsakes his marsh to soar above the clouds." ^ 
 
 The coming of rain is heralded by noteworthy 
 bird-signs : — 
 
 " The cranes above the misty valleys soar ; 
 The twittering swallow skims around its mere ; 
 Quitting their feeding-ground in dense array. 
 The rooks fly off" with din of rustling wings. 
 And now the many sea-fowl and the birds 
 That search Cayster's pools by Asian meads 
 Delight to splash their shoulders with the spray, 
 
 ' Geor. I. 361-366. '' Id. I. 361-364, 
 
192 ANIMAL WORLD IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. IX. 
 
 Now diving down, now running to the waves, 
 Full of the wanton pleasure of the bath. 
 The villain raven calls aloud for rain 
 As by himself he stalks along the sand." ^ 
 
 Sunshine and clear weather have likewise their 
 feathered prophets — 
 
 " No more the halcyons, loved of Thetis, stand 
 Sunning their outspread wings upon the shore ; 
 The owl on roof-top views the setting sun, 
 And aimlessly repeats his nightly song. 
 High in the limpid air Nisus ^ appears 
 And Scylla, punished for that purple hair ; 
 Where'er she cuts the ether with her wings, 
 Her foe fierce Nisus, whirring through the breeze. 
 Pursues ; where Nisus mounts into the breeze 
 She swiftly cuts the ether with her wings. 
 Then twice or thrice the rooks, from narrowed throats, 
 Repeat their liquid cries, and often perched 
 Upon their lofty roosts among the leaves. 
 Most gleeful over some unwonted joy, 
 Caw to each other, pleased that now at last 
 The rain has ceased, and that they see again 
 Their little brood, and nests to them so dear. 
 
 I claim not that to birds the gods have given 
 Reason or foresight into destiny : 
 But that when weather and the fitful sky 
 Change mood, when dense grows rare, and rare turns dense. 
 The minds of birds are moved in sympathy : 
 And hence they make such concert in the fields. 
 The herds rejoice, and rooks exultant caw."^ 
 
 1 Geor. I. 374-389. 
 
 ^ Legend represents Nisus, King of Megara, as having purple hair^ 
 on which his life depended. His daughter Scylla cut this off. On his 
 death he was changed into an eagle^ while she was transformed into the 
 hird called Ciris. 
 
 ' Geor. I. 398-423. Some of these popular signs are still current 
 among country-folk in many lands. They were cleverly em- 
 
BIRDS AS WEATHER PROPHETS 193 
 
 The presages of weather afforded by birds are 
 also alluded to by Horace, who urged his friend 
 Aelius Lamia to get in his wood dry while this 
 was possible, for on the morrow, unless his augur, 
 the old raven, was mistaken, an easterly gale was 
 approaching that would strew the groves with 
 leaves and the shores with useless seaweed.* 
 
 The autumn migrations of birds were noted by 
 Virgil and referred to by him in simile. When 
 he depicts the crowd of departed spirits that 
 rushed towards Charon by the waves of Tartarian 
 Acheron he represents them to be numerous 
 
 " As leaves that fall when the first autumn chill 
 
 Touches the woods, or as the birds that flock 1 
 
 From the deep sea to shore, when winter comes i 
 
 And drives them far away to sunnier lands." ^ | 
 
 The most familiar birds, more especially those 
 that buUd their nests near the dwellings of man, 
 awakened kindly feelings among the poets. In 
 the Eclogues and Georgics these feehngs find 
 frequent expression. Above the hum of bees we 
 hear the crooning of the wood-pigeon, and the 
 
 bodied in verse by Dr Jenner from whose lines those that refer to 
 birds may be here quoted. 
 
 "Loud quack the ducks, the sea-fowl cry, 
 The distant hills are looking nigh, 
 Low o'er the grass the swallow wings 
 The crioket'too, how sharp he sings ! 
 The sky is green, the air is still, 
 The mellow blackbird's voice is shrill. 
 Behold the rooks, how odd their flight ! 
 They imitate the gliding kite, 
 And seem precipitate to fall 
 As if they felt the piercing ball." 
 
 ' (7am. III. ivii. 9. * ^w. VI. 309-312. 
 
 N 
 
194 ANIMAL WORLD IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. IX. 
 
 murmur of the turtle-dove. The nightingale 
 receives a sympathetic mention, as 
 
 " Grieving beneath the poplar's shade, she mourns 
 Her stolen brood, seen by some callous swain 
 Who tore her fledglings from the nest : she weeps 
 The livelong night, and sitting on a branch. 
 Renews her melancholy song that fills 
 The whole wide woodland with her sad complaints." ^ 
 
 To this quotation, as a further proof of the 
 poet's keen sympathy with the sorrows and 
 sufferings of the brute creation, may be added 
 another passage which seems to be reminiscent 
 of some scene of agricultural improvement which 
 he had himself regretfully watched in his younger 
 days, when 
 
 " A wrathful husbandman has cleared the wood. 
 Levelling the groves that stood for many years, 
 Uptearing by the roots the trees that bore 
 Full many an ancient nest ; the hapless birds 
 Driven from their fallen homes take to the sky ; 
 Now a rough plain lies trim beneath the plough." ^ 
 
 In the jEneid, birds have supplied a number 
 of similes, in some of which the details of bird- 
 movement are singularly vivid. Take, for example, 
 this picture of a rock-dove : — 
 
 " Suddenly startled from her cave, where within 
 the shady rock are her home and dear nestlings, 
 she flies off and makes for the fields, in her fright 
 loudly clapping her wings as she escapes from her 
 abode ; but soon, gliding through the still air, she 
 
 1 Oeor. rV. 611-616. Cf. Odyssey XIX. 618. 
 ^ Gear. II. 207-211. 
 
VIRGIL'S BIRD-SIMILES 195 
 
 skims along on her liquid way, nor ever moves her 
 swift wings." ^ 
 
 Virgil must have attentively watched this bird 
 ere he could have given so accurate a descrip- 
 tion of the contrast between its frightened and 
 fluttering course, when first aroused from its 
 shady covert among the rocks, and the later 
 floating movement when, freed from danger and 
 hardly waving a wing, it makes for some place of 
 rest until the disturbance is past and the nest 
 can be revisited. Another charming bird-simile 
 occurs in the twelfth Book where the warrior- 
 maid Juturna, as she raced to and fro among 
 the host, is comp3,red to 
 
 "a black swallow that flits about in the great 
 mansion of some rich lord, and as she speeds on 
 her wings through his lofty courts, picks up little 
 crumbs of food for her chattering nestlings, and 
 twitters now in the empty arcades and now around 
 the ponds." « 
 
 The owl is referred to more than once in the 
 jEneid. Thus the Fury sent down by Jove to 
 confront Juturna is said to have shrunk into " the 
 shape of the little bird that oft at night, sitting 
 on tombs or lonely roofs, sings in the dark its 
 late and lamentable ditty."* An incident which 
 heightens the weirdness of the scene in the palace 
 
 ^ Mn. V. 213-217. It is impossible to couvey in a translation the 
 imitative music of the last line — 
 
 "Badit iter liquidum, celeris neque commoTet alas." 
 2 Id. XII. 437-477. ' Id. XII. 862-864. 
 
196 ANIMAL WORLD IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. IX. 
 
 of the disconsolate Dido is added when through 
 the darkness of the night the only sound that 
 breaks the silence is the frequent sepulchral song 
 of the owl on the house-top, with its long-drawn 
 melancholy notes.^ ' 
 
 Among birds of prey the hawk appears in 
 the ^neid, swooping from a lofty cliff, overtaking 
 in the air a dove which it tears to pieces, while 
 the blood and feathers fall earthward from aloft.* 
 The eagle supplied the poet with some apposite 
 comparisons. Thus Turnus, tearing down Lycus 
 from the wall, reminds him of the armour-bearing 
 bird of Jove seizing a hare or white swan.^ In 
 another instance chase is given by all the birds 
 to an eagle that has carried off a swan. Assaulted 
 on all sides and unable to defend himself and yet 
 keep hold of his prey, the huge bird flings the 
 swan from his talons into the river and flees far 
 within the clouds.* Again, when Tarchon, on 
 horseback, charged down upon Venulus and 
 bore him and his arms from the field, his deed 
 is likened to that of 
 
 "a golden eagle which, mounting aloft with a 
 captured snake, entwines it in her feet and holds it 
 fast with her talons ; the wounded serpent twists its 
 winding coils, bristles ^ith its erected scales, and 
 hisses with its mouth as it rises upward ; but the 
 bird none the less presses her struggling prey with 
 
 I ^ii. IV. 461-463. 
 
 ' Id. XI. 721 . This and the following bird-similes in the Mneid have 
 been partly suggested by passages in the Hiad and Odyssey. 
 3 Id. IX. 663. ♦ Id. XII. 247-256. 
 
LESBIA'S "PASSER" 197 
 
 her curved beak while with her pinions she beats 
 the air ; in such wise does Tarchon bear away his 
 spoil in triumph from the ranks of the Tiburtines." ^ 
 
 The birds that frequented a poet's little country 
 home are enumerated by Martial from his Nomentan 
 farm. He writes to a friend that if he could supply 
 him with fattened field -fares or choice fish, he 
 would gladly send him a birthday present. But 
 his fields could hear only wretched starlings, and 
 complaining finches, and the shrill-chirping sparrow, 
 with here a magpie chattering to the ploughman, 
 and there a kite soaring into the sky. All he can 
 furnish is only some small gifts from his little 
 court-yard.^ 
 
 Some of the commoner birds were caught 
 by the Romans and domesticated as household 
 pets. Of these the most memorable example is 
 Lesbia's " passer," to the memory of which Catullus 
 dedicated two of his most charming sonnets. There 
 is some doubt as to what was the species of this 
 bird. We can hardly suppose the capricious beauty 
 to have given her affections to the most impudent, 
 pugnacious, greedy, and shrill- voiced of all European 
 birds — the house-sparrow. It was probably one of 
 the thrushes. At all events it was exceedingly 
 tame, would never leave its mistress, to whom only 
 it would sing its little song, and who when it died 
 wept with red and swollen eyes for her loss.^ 
 
 1 JUn. XI. 751-768. 2 Epig. IX. liv. 
 
 ' Catullus, Carm. II., III. Ovid composed an elegy on the death of 
 Corinna's parrot (Amor. II. vi.). It is in his characteristic style, full 
 of conceits. The birds are invited to come in numbers to the burial 
 
198 ANIMAL WORLD IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. IX. 
 
 Among the birds which were kept in confinement 
 and taught to imitate human speech were the 
 nightingale, starling, raven, magpie, and parrot. 
 
 The Romans were noted bee-keepers. Virgil, 
 who could see much more of interest in these 
 insects than the honey they yielded, has given the 
 fuUest and most vivacious account of them and 
 their ways, which may still be read with profit, 
 even though it mistakes the sex of the queen-bees 
 and represents them as kings. Especially graphic 
 is his account of the battling at the hives, and 
 there is a touch of human pathos in his remark 
 that all this display of passion and these mighty 
 conflicts may be stiUed by the throwing of a 
 handful of dust.^ Virgil also extended his insect 
 observations to ants, and we could wish that he 
 had put on record as ample and entertaining a 
 statement of their habits as he has given of those 
 of bees. He makes effective use of his acquaint- 
 ance with these insects when he introduces them 
 as an illustration of the hurrying to and fro and 
 ceaseless industry of the Trojans in the prepara- 
 tion of their fleet to depart from Carthage." 
 
 Among the blessings that Nature has showered 
 on Italy, which called forth unstinted praise from 
 the poet of the Georgics, was the absence of savage 
 tigers and of fierce lions from all the borders of 
 
 of the parrot, and are bidden to beat their breasts with their wings and 
 to scratch their tender cheeks with their sharp claws — a strange 
 contrast to the simplicity and pathos of Catullus. 
 
 ' Geor. IV. 86. 
 
 2 ^n. IV. 402-407. 
 
WILD BEASTS OF ITALY 199 
 
 the land.'^ The largest and most important wild 
 beasts in the country were wolves, bears, and wild 
 boars. All these animals required a good deal of 
 attention from the husbandman in country districts. 
 In the early days of the Republic wolves were 
 probably numerous among the wooded hills near 
 Rome. From these retreats they came in winter 
 to prowl round the farms and carry of such of the 
 live stock as they could reach. Their numbers 
 were gradually thinned as agriculture crept up into 
 the hills. But they still survive in the remoter 
 parts of the peninsula. The wolf was in ancient 
 times disliked and feared by the country people, as 
 it still is to-day.^ It appears in Virgil's Eclogues as 
 one of the enemies of the farmer, for it was " triste 
 stabulis." But a fuller picture of its prowling 
 habits is given in the ^neid as a simile for the 
 conduct of Turnus and his warriors around the 
 Teucrian walls. They are likened to 
 
 "a lurking wolf at a well-filled sheep-fold, when 
 braving wind and rain he howls round the cote 
 at midnight, while safe beneath their mothers the 
 lambs keep bleating ; fierce and angry and wearied 
 with long hunger and thirst for blood, he rages 
 at the prey which he cannot reach." ' 
 
 The Lupus montanus or wolf of the mountains 
 was a fierce animal, and when collected in 
 
 1 Lucau gives a gruesome catalogue of the beasts and birds of prey 
 
 that hurried from all quarters to the field of slain at Fharsalia {Phars. 
 
 VII. 825-846). 
 
 ^ "Odimus acoiptrem, quia vivit semper in armis, 
 
 Et payidum solitos in pecus ire lupos," — Ovid, An, Amai, II. 147. 
 
 » ^n. IX. 59-64. 
 
200 ANIMAL WORLD IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. IX. 
 
 companies, was a serious menace to the flocks 
 and herds on the high-ljring pastures. These 
 distant tracts required a race of specially stalwart 
 shepherds and a powerful breed of dogs.^ But 
 not only were the flocks liable to be plundered by 
 the voracious wolves ; sometimes even a shepherd 
 would lose his life from their attack. Such an 
 incident is alluded to as an appropriate simile for 
 the conduct of Arruns at the death of Camilla: 
 
 " When a wolf has slain a shepherd or a stout 
 young bullock, conscious of his audacious deed, 
 before hostile arms pursue him, he straightway 
 hides himself far off among the hUls, and drooping 
 his coward tail beneath his belly makes for the 
 woods." ^ 
 
 Horace, in recording his adventure with a wolf, 
 has held it up in his inimitably playful manner as 
 a proof of the safety enjoyed by a virtuous man in 
 the presence of danger. He tells how once when 
 wandering beyond the usual limits of his rambles, 
 unarmed and carelessly singing the charms of his 
 Lalage, a wolf met him in a Sabine wood and fled — 
 such a monster as was not to be found in the oak 
 forests of Daunia, nor even in Mauretania, so 
 famous for its lions.* The wolf was probably as 
 much surprised and alarmed at the sight and voice 
 of the poet, as the poet was at the appearance of 
 
 1 Varro, as already quoted, ante p. 26. 
 
 2 ^n. XI. 809-813. In this and the previous simile from the ^neid 
 Virgil has taken the idea from the Greek, but has worked it out more 
 fully. 
 
 ^ Garm. I, xxii. 9. 
 
WILD BEASTS OF ITALY 201 
 
 the wolf. But, recovered from his fright, Horace 
 welcomed the adventure as another prodigy of 
 the higher powers in his favour, for it showed 
 that whether or not virtue is always safeguarded, 
 a votary of the Muses may certainly count on 
 their protection. 
 
 The brown bear was also probably common 
 enough in some parts of Italy during at least the 
 earlier centuries of the Republic, before its numbers 
 were thinned by the spread of agriculture and the 
 demands of the amphitheatre. VirgU alludes to 
 the season when "the shapeless bears deal most 
 death and destruction in the woods." ^ Ovid 
 mentions the shaggy bears that haunt the higher 
 mountains.^ It was another of the half-serious, 
 half-playful boasts of Horace that even in child- 
 hood he had the protection of the Muses, for on 
 the occasion, already referred to, when he wandered 
 to the foot of Mount Vultur and fell asleep there, 
 he was not only covered with leaves by the doves, 
 but was also protected from the vipers and bears 
 that infested the glades of that mountain.^ When 
 in one of his despondent moods about the future 
 destiny of Rome, he counselled the people to 
 forsake their native country and emigrate to the 
 blessed isles of the Western Ocean, which had 
 been reserved by Jove for a worthy race, he 
 enumerated as one of the attractions of that 
 happy region, that there "no bear at eventide 
 
 1 Geor. III. 247. 
 2 Metam. XIII. 836. ' Carm. III. iv. 9-20. 
 
202 ANIMAL WORLD IN ROMAN LIFE [Chap. IX. 
 
 growls around the sheepfold, nor is the teeming 
 soil raised up by vipers.^ 
 
 The wild boar abounded in all the wooded parts 
 of Italy. Besides running free in the forests, it was 
 also preserved on large estates, for it afforded one 
 of the favourite kinds of hunting. Catullus calls 
 it aper nemorivagus, and couples it with the cerva 
 silvicultrix as creatures with which Attis feared 
 to spend his Ufe among the peaks of Phrygia.^ 
 Boar-hunts involved some personal danger when 
 the huntsmen came to close quarters with the 
 infuriated animal, which was driven towards a 
 space partially enclosed with nets. Some courage 
 was needed to approach it, for to fail with the 
 spear might let the boar rush forward and deal 
 that sidelong blow {obliquus ictus) which gives 
 such a ghastly wound. Descriptions of various 
 boar - hunts are to be found among the poets. 
 Virgil gives one in a few lines as an illustration 
 of the conduct of the warriors who feared to close 
 with Mezentius.* Ovid relates at some length 
 the hunting of the Calydonian boar — a story 
 which afforded him ample scope for his fancy 
 and power of narration.* Hunting, which Cicero 
 admitted to be a respectable form of athletic 
 exercise,® had the advantage of taking men into 
 the wilder parts of the country, especially into 
 the fastnesses of the hills and the depths of the 
 
 ' Epod. XVI. 61. 2 Carm LXIII. 71. 
 
 ' Mn. X. 707. * Metam. VIII. 329 seq. 
 
 ' De Off. I. xxix. 
 
A GAME-PRESERVE 
 
 forests. It showed them Nature in her freest 
 and most unchanged guise, and it braced them 
 to endure the hardships of weather beneath the 
 open sky by night as well as by day.^ 
 
 With regard to the preserves in which wild 
 animals were enclosed, an interesting account has 
 been given by Varro, of one that belonged to 
 the orator Q. Hortensius. It lay among the 
 sandy flats and dunes of Laurentum, close to the 
 site where afterwards the younger Pliny had the 
 villa already referred to. 
 
 " A tract of more than fifty jugera was surrounded 
 with a fence so as to be an enclosure for wild 
 beasts rather than a warren for hares. There was 
 one part of it, raised above the rest, on which 
 a dining-room had been erected and where we 
 supped. A musician was ordered to attend. 
 When he came in his long gown, holding his 
 cithern and was bidden to play, he blew his 
 horn, whereupon we were surrounded with such 
 a multitude of stags, wild boars and other quad- 
 rupeds that the spectacle seemed to me not less 
 fine than the venationes of the Aediles in the 
 Circus Maximus, on occasions when the perform- 
 ance includes no African beasts."^ 
 
 1 As Horace tells, 
 
 " Manet sub Jove frigido 
 - Venator." — Carm, I. i, 25. 
 
 ^ He Re. Rust. III. xiii. 2. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 DAY AND NIGHT 
 
 Feom the infancy of mankind no part of Nature 
 has been so constantly watched as the face of 
 the sky — that "corslet of heaven"^ as Lucretius 
 picturesquely calls it, which with all its glories 
 and its mysteries clasps the earth. From dawn 
 to dusk, day after day, and season after season, 
 man has scanned its changing aspects, now with 
 hope and now with fear, as its look has seemed 
 to him to presage calm or storm, peace or war, 
 prosperity or disaster. How varied soever his 
 creed, he has realised his dependence and that of 
 all living things, upon the light, warmth, and 
 moisture which come to him from the sky. In 
 that upper region, far above the stir and din of 
 earth, he has placed the dwelling-place of his 
 gods, and has fondly trusted that there, too, he 
 wiU himself find an eternal home. The splendour 
 of the day he has seen to be succeeded by the 
 brilliance of the night. In the clear air of southern 
 climes he has fancifully mapped out the nocturnal 
 firmament into constellations. Far back in pre- 
 
 > "Caeli lorica" (X»e Eer. Nat. VI. 954). 
 204 
 
THE ITALIAN SKY 205 
 
 historic time he had observed that the stars seem 
 to be moving across the sky, that they have 
 their risings and their settings, and that year 
 after year they follow the same route. Thus 
 watching, his first vague wonderment was ex- 
 changed for admiration and for an assured con- 
 fidence that he could count on the movements of 
 sun and stars as faithfully marking out for him 
 the progress of the seasons and the length of 
 the year. 
 
 In such a climate as that of Italy, where " the 
 witchery of the soft blue sky " is so powerful, these 
 diurnal and nocturnal aspects of the heavens appeal 
 with fullest force to the human imagination. They 
 were well appreciated by the Romans, and have 
 found ample recognition in Latin literature. 
 Lucretius, in a graphic passage, enumerates some 
 of the more imposing features of the celestial 
 regions — the clear, pure, blue sky, the splendour of 
 the sun, the stars that wander across the firmament, 
 the moon in her course — and he asks whether 
 if all these marvels were suddenly and for the 
 first time brought before our eyes, we could have 
 dared beforehand to believe that such wonders 
 could exist. Assuredly nothing else in the world 
 so marvellous could be presented to us. And 
 yet, he continues, because we are tired of having 
 seen these sights so long, nobody deigns to look 
 up at the shining circuit of heaven.' The poet, 
 however, was well aware that in spite of its 
 
 ' De Ber. Nat. II. 1030-1039. 
 
206 DAY AND NIGHT [Chap. X. 
 
 familiarity the fascination of the heavens can 
 never become stale. Certainly no man was more 
 keenly alive to that fascination than Lucretius 
 himself Throughout his poem many scattered 
 allusions and descriptions record the impressions 
 made on his ovirn mind by dififerent aspects of 
 the heavens. He haUs the sethereal sun as our 
 bountiful fountain of liquid light, which continually 
 floods the sky with new splendour, ever replacing 
 with fresh light the light which comes to us and 
 then disappears.^ Perhaps the most remarkable 
 passage wherein he deals with this subject is 
 that in which, considering the reason why men 
 placed the abodes of the gods in the serene region 
 of the sky, he seems to be actually swept onward 
 by the enthusiasm of his contemplation of the 
 universe — 
 
 "the sun and moon are seen to roll along their 
 paths through the heavens, with day and night, 
 and the stern constellations of night, and the night- 
 wandering torches of heaven, and the flying flames, 
 the clouds, the dew, the rain-storms, the snow, the 
 winds, the lightnings, the hail, and the rapid roar 
 and mighty murmur of heaven's menacings."^ 
 
 The changes in the aspects of Nature during 
 the course of a day from dawn to dusk have 
 awakened many responsive notes from the Roman 
 poets. Lucretius dwells on the charms of sunrise, 
 
 1 De Ber. Nat. V. 281. 
 
 2 Op. cit. V. 1189. The poet's love of alliteration lends an effective 
 touch to the close of this passage — 
 
 "rapidi fremitua et murmura magna minarum." 
 
VIRGIL'S DESCRIPTIONS OF MORNING 207 
 
 "when the golden rays of morning fall with 
 ruddy glow on the grass begemmed with dew- 
 drops," and " the dawn strews the land with new 
 light, while the many -coloured birds, flitting in 
 the soft air through the pathless woods, fill the 
 scene with their liquid notes." ^ 
 
 Virgil, too, cherished the memories of early 
 morning at his youthful home among the 
 meadows of the Mincius, where at the call of 
 the west wind, the glad summer sent the flocks 
 to their glades and pastures, and the shepherds 
 betook themselves to the cool fields at the first 
 peep of the morning star, while the grass was 
 hoar with rime and the dew on the tender blade 
 was pleasantest to the cattle.^ Even in the 
 j:Eneid, amid the din of arms, the poet now 
 and then intercalates an allusion to the quiet 
 beauty of early dawn, as where at the close 
 of the struggle wherein Euryalus and Nisus fell, 
 the day which was to renew the carnage is 
 ushered in with a reference to the saffron dawn 
 that was besprinkling the land with new light.' 
 And again, another contrast is introduced where 
 the narrative transports us from the cave of 
 the Cyclopes, with its blazing forge and thundering 
 anvils, to the humble home of Evander on which 
 the fostering light of dawn was then falling, 
 while the birds under the eaves were carolling 
 
 » De Ber. Nat. II. 145 ; V. 461. 
 » 6eor. III. 324 ; Eclog. VIII. 16. 
 3 jEn. IX. 459. 
 
208 DAY AND NIGHT [Chap. X. 
 
 their morning songs.^ Ovid's touch is character- 
 istically more diffuse — 
 
 "lo the vigilant Daw^n, from the golden east, 
 throws open her purple doors, and her halls filled 
 with roses. The stars fade away whose ranks 
 Lucifer marshalls, and he himself vanishes last 
 from his place in the sky. 
 
 "2 
 
 The heat of an Italian noon in summer, and 
 the languor which then falls upon the landscape 
 are vividly brought before us in Virgil's second 
 Eclogue, when even the cattle take to the cool 
 shade, the green lizards hide themselves among 
 the thorns, the reapers are weary with the fierce 
 heat, and under the burning sun the trees resound 
 with the hoarse notes of the cicala. Each 
 successive touch in this picture heightens the 
 impression made by the scene, until when all 
 visible sign of animal life has retreated from the 
 hot glare, the twittering of the cicala is left as 
 the only sound to reach the ear.' Another sketch 
 of a similar scene is given in the second Georgic : — 
 
 " the fierce Dog-star scorching the thirsty Indians 
 was blazing in the sky, and the fiery sun had run 
 half his circuit, the grass was withering and the 
 streams in their parched channels were being 
 dried up, down to the very mud on their floors." 
 
 ' y®i. VIII. 465. * Metam. II. 113. 
 
 ° With this passage we may compare the appeal made hy a similar 
 scene to a poetic spirit of modern times : — 
 
 " The poetry of earth is never dead : 
 
 When all the birds are faint with the hot snn, 
 And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run 
 From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead ; 
 That is the grasshopper's," 
 
A SUMMER EVENING 209 
 
 It was only at such a sultry time, "when the 
 sun had kindled his noontide heats, when the 
 herbage was athirst and shade was most welcome 
 to the cattle," that there was any chance of 
 catching and securing the many shaped Proteus.^ 
 Horace in his cool and shady upland valley 
 thoroughly appreciated his escape from the heat 
 and glare of the Dog-days, and often took occa- 
 sion to refer to that trying season 
 
 " When Procyon and Leo's star 
 Are raging, and the sun 
 
 Brings back the days of drought : 
 Now the tired shepherd with his panting flock 
 Makes for the shade of rough Silvanus' glades. 
 Where flows the quiet stream 
 Unruffled by a breath." ^ 
 
 The charms of evening found a responsive 
 echo in Virgil's heart. They have their recogni- 
 tion both in the Eclogues and in the Georgics. 
 How delicately the feeling of the close of day 
 is implied rather than expressed in the last 
 two lines of the first Eclogue — the aspect of 
 sundown and the return of the wearied labourers 
 to their modest homes, where their wives are 
 lighting the fires to prepare their welcome evening 
 meal I 
 
 " Now the far cottage roofs begin to smoke 
 And longer shadows from the mountains fall." ' 
 
 ' Geor. IV. 401, 426. ' Carm. III. xxix. 18. 
 
 ° Echg. I. 82. Another evening scene occurs in II. 66, 67. 
 
 o 
 
210 DAY AND NIGHT [Chap. X. 
 
 An ampler picture of the various features 
 that make the delight of evening is given in 
 the third Georgic. 
 
 " The sun is set ; and the cool evening star 
 Tempers the air ; while now the dewy moon 
 Brings freshness to the woodland pasturage. 
 The halcyon's notes resound along the shores ; 
 The brakes are loud with warblings of the finch." ^ 
 
 As daylight goes and darkness comes on how 
 vividly one feels the beauty and the force of 
 Virgil's striking phrase that "the stars are lead- 
 ing forth the night." ^ 
 
 It was a primitive belief that when the sun 
 sets he sinks beneath the sea. Long before the 
 Augustan age, however, more correct notions 
 regarding the relations of the earth to the 
 heavenly bodies had been arrived at by philoso- 
 phers. Yet allusions to the old notion con- 
 tinued to be made for poetic effect, sometimes 
 even with such definiteness of language as to 
 suggest that the primitive conception was not 
 yet wholly abandoned ; as where Statius ex- 
 presses the opinion that Italy was blest in that 
 she "sees the courses of Hyperion sink beneath 
 the ocean waves, and hears the hiss of his 
 descending chariot wheels."^ In his Ulysses 
 Tennyson appropriately introduces an allusion 
 
 ' Gear. III. 336. 
 
 2 "nootem ducentibusastris." — Cfeor. Ill, 156. 
 
 ' Sih. II. vii. 26. 
 
LUCRETIUS ON CLOUDLAND 211 
 
 to the early belief when he makes the hero 
 resolve 
 
 " To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths 
 Of all the western stars." ^ 
 
 The changing aspects of the sky, as shown 
 in the shapes and movements of the clouds, seem 
 to have greatly interested Lucretius. By no 
 other Latin poet have such vivid pictures of 
 cloudland been drawn. He watched the sky 
 with the eager attention and curiosity of a man 
 of science, as well as with the rapture of a poet. 
 Nor was he content to study clouds as they 
 can be seen from the plains. He climbed 
 mountains and had there an opportunity of 
 observing them as they grow and disappear. He 
 noted how, on the higher crests, vapours are 
 gathered into clouds and are borne away by the 
 winds till they burst in a fierce storm. ^ But he 
 appreciated also their beauty and grandeur, and 
 found in them fit subjects for poetic treatment. 
 In one passage he gives a graphic description of 
 their movements and changes of shape : — 
 
 " Sometimes we see clouds massing together 
 aloft, overcasting a serene sky and gently moving 
 through the air. Often they seem to take the form 
 of giant faces that fly across the heavens and cast 
 
 ' Milton makes the angel Raphael teach this philosophy to 
 Adam in Eden. 
 
 "The sun. ... at eren 
 Sups with the Ocean."— Par. Lost V. 423. 
 
 " De Ber. Nat. VI. 469. 
 
212 DAY AND NIGHT [Chap. X. 
 
 their shadows far and wide, or like vast mountains 
 and rocks borne away from the mountains, they 
 go on in front and mount past the sun, or they 
 shape themselves into the likeness of some huge 
 beast that drags forward other rain-clouds."^ 
 
 In another picture he shows the clouds 
 gathering for a thunderstorm : — 
 
 " Look when next through the air the winds 
 shaU sweep clouds shaped like mountains, or 
 when you shall see them piled up one above 
 another upon lofty mountains, and when from 
 above they are pressing downwards on the places 
 where they are at rest, and the winds are 
 everywhere buried. Then wiU you be able to 
 perceive their huge mass and to mark their 
 caves, seemingly built up of hanging rocks. 
 When a storm has risen, the winds which have 
 filled the openings and are shut up within the 
 clouds wax wroth with loud tumult, and threaten 
 like wild beasts in their dens, roaring through 
 the clouds, now on this side, now on that, and 
 wheeling all round in search of an outlet, they 
 roll up the seeds of fire from out the clouds, 
 and thus driving many of these together, they 
 whirl the flame within the hollow furnaces, until, 
 bursting the clouds asunder, the lightning flashes 
 forth."* 
 
 The theory here expressed that thunder and 
 lightning are due to the violent struggling of 
 winds to escape from caverns in the clouds where 
 they have been imprisoned and where they "roU 
 up the seeds of fire," had been formulated in 
 Greek philosophy long before the poet's time, 
 
 > De Ber. Nat. IV. 133. ^ Op. cit. VI. 189-203. 
 
LUCRETIUS ON CLOUDLAND 213 
 
 and it held its place in the general belief of man- 
 kind for many centuries. Nor could any more 
 satisfactory explanation have been proposed until 
 the existence of electricity was discovered, and 
 the science of meteorology took definite shape. 
 
 Lucretius appears to have often watched, as it 
 gathered far away at sea, such a thunderstorm as 
 he has sketched in another part of his poem: — 
 
 " Many a time over the sea a black cloud, filled from 
 afar with darkness, like a stream of pitch falling 
 from the sky, descends upon the waves, dragging 
 along a dark tempest big with lightnings and 
 hurricanes, itself filled full of fires and winds, in so 
 much that even on land men shudder and seek 
 refuge beneath their roofs." ^ 
 
 In connection with the Lucretian cloud-pictures 
 it may be mentioned that not only do they include 
 studies of thunderstorms, when the landscape is 
 involved in such darkness as to suggest that all 
 the gloom of Acheron has risen into the sky,^ 
 but they also show the poet's observation of cloud- 
 land at night. He has recorded an appearance 
 that is familiar enough in northern more cloudy 
 climates, when 
 
 " in the night season, winds sometimes carry 
 scattered clouds athwart the heavens, and then 
 the brilliant stars seem to be gliding across 
 the rack and moving aloft in a direction far 
 different from that in which they are really 
 travelling."' 
 
 ' De Ber. Nat. VI. 256-261. 
 ^ Op. cit. VI. 250. s Op. (At. IV. 443. 
 
214 DAY AND NIGHT [Chap. X. 
 
 No phenomena in Nature ate more familiar and 
 at the same time seemingly more capricious and 
 inexplicable than the various movements of the air 
 by which we are surrounded and continually 
 affected. There are times when these movements 
 would appear to have entirely ceased. We speak 
 of a calm when not a leaf is quivering, when 
 
 " The water stretches smooth and still 
 And all the murmurings of the breeze have sunk," ^ 
 
 The solemn quietude that sometimes precedes a 
 thunderstorm is not the least impressive of the 
 features of a summer day. But as may be seen 
 when any minute particles, such as those of smoke, 
 escape into the air, the atmosphere is really always 
 in motion, and for the most part its movements are 
 sensibly felt by us. The gentler of these may be 
 audible when they cause vibrations in trees or other 
 objects. From hardly perceptible whispers endless 
 varieties of sound may be heard up to the moan or 
 waU or loud roar of the forest in a gale. The 
 attentive ear may detect distinctions in the notes 
 according to the character of the foliage and the 
 strength of the wind that blows through it. Virgil 
 seems to have been specially sensitive to these 
 various cadences of Nature. He has noted the 
 rustle or murmur of the ilex and the speaking voice 
 of the pines. And when the gale blew strongly he 
 heard the wail of the forest.^ Ovid compared the 
 
 ' Virgil, Eelog. IX. 57. 
 
 2 Eclog. VII. 1 ; VIII. 22 ; Geor. I. 334. 
 
ROMAN NAMES FOR THE WINDS 215 
 
 timid shuddering of Ariadne, surprised by the 
 Satyrs and Silenus, to the quivering of barren 
 corn-ears as the wind stirs them, or the slender 
 reed that trembles in the watery marsh.^ 
 
 To these natural voices Lucretius traced back 
 the earliest form of instrumental music : 
 
 "The whistling of the zephyr through the 
 hollow stems of reeds first taught the rustics 
 to blow into hollowed hemlock-stalks. Thence 
 by degrees they learnt the sweet laments which 
 the pipe pours forth when struck by the fingers 
 of the players, and which are heard among the 
 trackless groves and the forests and glades, amidst 
 the lonely haunts and the divine resting-places 
 of the shepherds."^ 
 
 The Romans had a separate name, generally 
 euphonious, for each wind ; not only those which 
 blow from the cardinal points, but for certain of 
 those that come from the intermediate quarters. 
 Some of the names belonged to the old Latin 
 language, while others had been adopted from 
 Greece. It sometimes happened that the Greek 
 name had not wholly supplanted the native term, 
 and the same wind might have two appellations. 
 Thus the old word Favonius and the Greek 
 Zephyrus were both names for the west wind. 
 The poets found this enlarged nomenclature con- 
 venient for metrical purposes. Besides Favonius, 
 among the old native names for the winds which 
 
 1 Ars. Amat. I. 653. 
 
 ^ De Ber. Nat. V. 1382-1387 (pastorum otia dia). 
 
216 DAY AND NIGHT [Chap. X. 
 
 held their place in current use, were Aquilo the 
 north wind, Auster the warm south wind, and 
 Vulturnus the south-east wind.^ The gentle airs 
 of the balmy Favonius with their heralding of 
 spring, and the music they make as they pass 
 through the woodlands, find frequent eulogy among 
 the poets of Rome. VirgU evidently took pleasure 
 in listening to the rustle of the coming Auster.* 
 Ovid, too, knew the charm of the pine-woods when 
 the wild Eurus (south-east wind) whistles through 
 them.^ 
 
 The ancient habit of clothing the forces of 
 Nature with the personal attributes of supernatural 
 beings that could be incorporated into the 
 national mythology, found special scope for its 
 exercise among the winds, which were often spoken 
 of as if they were conscious intelligences. Thus, 
 when Horace wished the poetaster Maevius every 
 kind of bad luck on his proposed voyage to Greece, 
 he prayed Auster to remember to lash both sides 
 of the vessel with, angry waves. Dark Eurus was 
 enjoined to scatter her rigging and broken spars 
 over the upturned sea; Aquilo was to mount as 
 
 ' The Latin writers of verse, in their allusions to the winds, were in 
 much better case than their English successors. For not only had they 
 distinctive and euphonious designations ready to hand, but these 
 naturally lent themselves to personification and thus an added 
 picturesqueness was obtainable. Our English " north-easter," " sou' 
 wester," east wind, west wind, etc., have geographical precision, but no 
 musical charm. Hence in our poetry, though the winds fill an ample 
 space, they have not that distinctive character which they wear in the 
 poetry of Rome. 
 
 2 Eclog. V. 82. ' Metam. XV. 603. 
 
THE WINDS PERSONIFIED 217 
 
 high as when he breaks down the ilexes on the 
 lofty mountains. And if the wretched victim 
 escaped from all these assaults, the poet hoped that 
 the Ionian guK, roaring before the rainy Notus, 
 would tear the ship asunder.^ 
 
 By none of the Latin poets was the personifica- 
 tion of the winds more graphically carried out than 
 by Ovid. As he loved to make the personages in 
 his tales as life-like and picturesque as possible, he 
 employed all the resources of his brilliant fancy in 
 a picture of the south wind with which, as he 
 narrates, Jupiter had resolved to destroy the human 
 race. The father of gods and men, having first 
 shut up, under the iEolian Islands, the north wind 
 and all the other breezes that blow away the clouds 
 and bring fair weather, then let out Notus, the 
 south wind, as the special blast that would gather 
 the rain-clouds together and precipitate a deluge. 
 
 " With soaking wings the south wind issues forth, 
 His hideous face in pitchy darkness wrapped, 
 His beard all heavy with downpouring rains. 
 The water streaming from his hoary locks ; 
 Thick clouds aroimd his head ; his wings 
 And every vesture-fold adrip with wet. 
 His broad hand, pressing on the pendant clouds, 
 Evokes a crash, when from the livid sky 
 The pent-up torrents swoop upon the earth." ^ 
 
 That the winds should have been fabled to be 
 imprisoned in a vast cave underneath the Lipari 
 or iEolian Islands, no doubt arose from the con- 
 spicuous volcanic activity of that district. The 
 
 1 Epod. X. ^ Metam. I. 264-269. 
 
218 DAY AND NIGHT [Chap. X. 
 
 rumblings, earthquakes, and eruptions of the islands 
 were regarded throughout antiquity as manifesta- 
 tions of the movements of subterranean winds 
 strugghng to find an escape to the surface, but 
 kept in order by their regent ^olus.^ It is to this 
 subterranean potentate that Virgil represents Juno 
 having recourse in order to obtain the storm 
 wherewith she meant to wreck the Trojan fleet. 
 At the request of the goddess he smote the hollow 
 mountain with his spear, whereupon the winds, like 
 an army in battle array, poured out through the 
 opened gateway and swept over the land and sea. 
 
 " Eurus and Notus and the stormy Africus 
 Rushed out together ; to its utmost depths 
 They stirred the sea, and rolled vast waves ashore." ^ 
 
 The Greeks and Romans had a profound 
 sense of the force of a tempest. They realised that 
 it was the greatest display of physical energy in 
 their experience, or of which they had any con- 
 ception. Not unnaturally, therefore, the Romans 
 in their deification of abstract qualities and of 
 the powers of Nature, included storms among 
 
 ' See postea chap. xvi. 
 
 '' Mn. I. 81-86. Seneca in quoting this passage remarks that snch 
 a collocation of winds is a physical impossibility {Quaest. Nat. V. xvi.). 
 Virgil of course saw no difficulty in supposing that, as the different winds 
 were imprisoned together, they might also escape together by the opened 
 gate. But, curiously enough, from one point of view the order in which 
 Virgil mentions the winds is that in which they follow each other in 
 one of our normal cyclones in Europe. A gale which may begin blowing 
 from the south-east gradually shifts round by south to south-west, and 
 may iinally be coming from the north-west before the whole vortex has 
 passed on. 
 
WORSHIP OF THE « TEMPESTATES " 219 
 
 their divinities, who had to be propitiated and 
 to whom gratitude was due from men who had 
 escaped from the perils of the deep. The 
 " Tempestates " accordingly had their shrines and 
 their rites.^ 
 
 Lucretius, to whom the elemental forces of 
 Nature were a subject of supreme interest, has left 
 some vivid allusions to the tumult of a great gale 
 and the havoc which it works on sea and land. 
 He speaks of its piercing shrieks and angry roar 
 as it rushes along with rapid whirl, breaking down 
 the. woods on the mountains, strewing the fields 
 with the largest trees, wrecking the great ships at 
 sea, and sweeping along the clouds in the sky." 
 
 Catullus, in the course of his varied wanderings 
 by sea and land during his short life, saw a good 
 deal of Nature in her diiFerent moods, and he has 
 left a few all too brief reminiscences of his experi- 
 ences. Some of these which refer chiefly to the 
 sea will be dealt with in chapter xv. His poem 
 on the marriage of Peleus and Thetis is especially 
 rich in allusions and short descriptive passages, 
 which lightly but vividly sketch various scenes and 
 landscapes. One of these passages traces in a few 
 
 ' Cicero, Nat. Dmr. III. xx. 61. Lucius Scipio, who was Consul in 
 B.C. 269, and in that year narrowly escaped with his fleet from a great 
 gale, had inscribed on his tomb that he took Corsica and the town of 
 Aleria, and dedicated a temple to the Tempestates. Horace, after 
 heaping maledictions on the voyage of Maevius {ante p. 216), concluded 
 his imprecations by vowing that if the body of that wretched poet 
 should be cast ashore as a dainty repast for the sea-fowl, a goat and a 
 lamb would be offered in sacrifice to the Tempestates. 
 
 2 De Eer. Nat. I. 271-276. 
 
220 DAY AND NIGHT [Chap. X. 
 
 lines the work of a cyclone among the mountains, 
 as a simile to heighten the effect of the picture 
 of Theseus and the Minotaur. The hero is repre- 
 sented prostrating the monster: — 
 
 " As when a raging hurricane assails 
 An oak that waves its boughs on Taurus' crest, 
 Or pine-tree with its cones and sweating bark ; 
 The blast with whirling fiiry straight tears up 
 By its far-stretching roots the giant trunk, 
 Which, falling prone, comes crashing down the crags." ^ 
 
 Virgil has drawn from his own experience a 
 detailed picture of the summer storms which, even 
 in so genial a climate as that of Italy, sometimes 
 burst upon the cultivated lands and spread dire 
 ruin all along their track. 
 
 " In autumn time, when to the golden fields 
 The reapers have been mustered for their task. 
 And the first swaths of barley have been cut. 
 Oft have I watched the winds in battle fierce 
 Tear, even from the roots and fling aloft, 
 Whole breadths of heavy com, and, swirling round, 
 Sweep blade and stubble through the darkened air. 
 Full often at such times a vast array 
 Of sombre rain-clouds gathers in the sky. 
 And the foul tempest, rolling from the deep, 
 Descends in torrents that soon wash away 
 The farmer's smiling crops, and bring to naught 
 The labours of his oxen in the fields. 
 The dykes are filled ; the rivers in their beds 
 Swell with the spate that loudly roars along, 
 While ocean boils among its seething firths. 
 Throned in the midnight of the clouds, great Jove 
 Wields inliis red right hand the flaming bolts 
 
 ^ Carm. LXIV. 106-109. 
 
STORMS DESCRIBED BY ROMAN HISTORIANS 221 
 
 That make the huge earth shudder to the core ; 
 The wild blasts slink away, and mortal hearts 
 Through all the nations tremble with dismay. 
 And as the flashing levin strikes the peaks 
 Of Athos, Rhodope or Ceraunian cliffs, 
 The wet south-winds redouble their turmoil, 
 The rains fall denser still, while now the groves 
 And now the shores lie wailing 'neath the blast." ^ 
 
 In Latin prose two narratives of storms are 
 specially noteworthy for their graphic details of 
 the feeble resistance that can be offered by man 
 to the uncontrollable energy of the elements. 
 One of these descriptions is that given by Livy of 
 the prolonged and diversified tempest encountered 
 by Hannibal and his army in their attempt to cross 
 the ridge of the Apennines;^ the other is the 
 narrative in which Tacitus so vividly describes the 
 gale that dispersed the fleet of Germanicus in the 
 North Sea.* Both accounts are too long for quota- 
 tion here, and they are familiar to readers of the 
 classics. But they may be referred to as excellent 
 examples of how a historian may effectively inter- 
 rupt the current of his human story in order to 
 dwell for a moment on some extraordinary display 
 of the forces of Nature. 
 
 The pleasure and fascination of listening to or 
 watching a storm from a safe and comfortable 
 shelter is more than once referred to by the 
 Roman poets. Besides the famous passage with 
 
 » Oeor. I. 316-334. ' Hist. XXI. Iviii. 
 
 ' Ann. n. xxiii., xxiv. 
 
DAY AND NIGHT [Chap. X. 
 
 which Lucretius begins the second Book of his 
 poem — 
 
 " Suave, mari magno turbantibus aequora ventis, 
 e terra magnum alterius spectare laborem," 
 
 the sentiment is more fully expressed by Tibullus 
 who, wrapped in luxurious repose, exclaims : " How 
 pleasant it is to hear the pitiless winds when one 
 lies abed, or, when the wintry south wind pours 
 out its icy waters, to prolong one's secure slumbers, 
 lulled by the plash of the rain." ^ 
 
 Besides the weather portents derived from the 
 habits of animals, as referred to in the foregoing 
 chapter, the Greeks and Romans, in the course of 
 the experience of many generations, had noted a 
 number more in the aspect of the sky, in the 
 appearance of sun, moon, and stars as influenced 
 by the varying conditions of the atmosphere, and 
 in the sounds uttered by the sea or by woods. 
 These, whether well founded or not, are interesting 
 as further indications of the close watch which 
 in ancient times was kept upon the changes that 
 supervene on the face of Nature, and of the 
 real or fanciful relations which were inferred to 
 exist between these changes and the variations in 
 the weather. Virgil, in musical language, teUs 
 how a coming gale is heralded on sea and land, 
 how the ocean - straits begin to heave, how a 
 dry crackling sound is heard coming from the 
 mountains, how the shores give forth a mingled 
 
 ' Eleg. I. i. 4S. 
 
VIRGIL'S WEATHER PROGNOSTICS 223 
 
 long-resounding noise, and the murmur of the 
 woodlands waxes louder. As for rain, he holds 
 that never does it injure us without first having 
 warned us of its advent, and he gives that 
 picturesque list of portents, already cited, wherein 
 beasts and birds all conspire to make known its 
 approach. To these signs from Nature outside, 
 he adds one from the domestic hearth, where 
 " even the girls as they spin the nightly wool, are 
 not unaware of the coming storm, when they see 
 the oil sparkle in the lighted lamp, and crumbling 
 soot gather on the wick." ^ 
 
 Virgil, following Aratus, lays much stress on 
 the value of the indications of weather-changes 
 furnished by the variable aspects of the sun and 
 moon, as the conditions of the atmosphere vary. 
 Especially important were the warnings furnished 
 by the sun beUeved to be. Trusting to the 
 prognostics of that great luminary, we shall not be 
 deceived ; the treacherous snares of a calm night 
 will never catch us unprepared. Are we eager to 
 know what kind of skies the evening has in store 
 for usi Do we ask whence the wind will bring 
 us fair weather, and what the moist south is 
 meditating for us? The sun will give us sure 
 forecasts of what we may expect. And who shall 
 say that the sun is false?* 
 
 ' Geor. 1. 390. 
 
 ' Id. 424, 461. The physical portents in the poem as well as those 
 from animal life are selected from the fuller list in Aratus. Pliny 
 has much to say ahout weather prognostics ; he culls freely from 
 previous writers, Greek and Latin {Hist. Nat. XVIII. Ixxviii.). 
 
224 DAY AND NIGHT [Chap. X. 
 
 Who that has ever enjoyed it can forget the 
 beauty of an Italian night, when the languor of the 
 day has "gone, and in the cool fresh air life revives, 
 while the stars in a sky of darkest blue shine with 
 a brilliance and in a visible multitude such as 
 the dweller in a mistier clime can hardly ever see ? 
 These features could not but impress and delight 
 the Roman poets. Lucretius appears to have been 
 especially struck by the darkness and silence of 
 night, for he refers to them again and again. He 
 alludes to dreams wherein we seem to be actively 
 engaged, yet we are reaUy lying still " in the blind 
 darkness of night," and though we think we hear 
 sounds and believe we are answering them, "the 
 stern silence of night " encompasses us all the 
 while.* The starry sky must sometimes have 
 awakened in his mind doubts as to the foundations 
 of his Epicurean philosophy. In the wonderful 
 fifth Book of his poem he writes : 
 
 "When we look up at the celestial spaces of 
 the great world, and the steadfast ether above the 
 twinkling stars, and it occurs to us to think of the 
 courses of the sun and moon, then into our hearts, 
 already weighed down with other ills, this doubt 
 also begins to raise its awakened head, whether 
 there may not perchance be some vast power of 
 
 Lucan's peasant boatman gives a list of weather presages un&vourable 
 to the attempt to boat across the ^gean, which Caesar was determined 
 to do {Phars. V. 640-669). 
 
 * De. Ber. Nat. IV. 466-461. Shakespeare's noble line may be quoted : 
 "In the deftd vast and middle of the night." 
 He more than once uses the expression " the deep of night." 
 
THE STERN SILENCE OF NIGHT 
 
 the gods over us, which whirls the stars along 
 in their various motions."^ 
 
 To many minds the silence of night is oppres- 
 sive, and the mere barking of a dog or the cry 
 of a hooting owl is felt by them to be a relief 
 from the stillness that seems to lie as a crushing 
 weight upon the dark and death -like face of 
 Nature. In one of the passages from Lucretius, 
 cited above, he calls this silence " stern " {sever a) ; 
 in another place he emphasises the stillness in 
 his expression "taciturna silentia."^ Virgil, who 
 so frequently alludes to the silence of night, tells 
 how this very silence may be a source of terror. 
 One of the fullest expressions of this feeling occurs 
 in two lines of Valerius Flaccus : " The very quiet 
 of things, the silence of the world, the stars, and 
 the ether begemmed with its far-spread constella- 
 tions all fill us with fear."* 
 
 Among the brief allusions in the Eclogues 
 which bring the Virgilian country and its cUmate 
 before us, the pleasant cool nights are not for- 
 gotten. In purple spring, when the ground was 
 carpeted with flowers beside the river, when the 
 poplar was hanging its white foliage over the 
 cave, when the trailing vines were weaving a 
 shady covert, when the surface of river and lake 
 was motionless, and the murmur of the breeze 
 had died away, delightful it was for the poet to 
 outstay the day amidst such a scene, and to 
 
 1 De Ber. Nat. V. 1204-1210. " Id. IV. 460, 683. 
 
 » Argon. II. 41, 42. 
 
 P 
 
DAY AND NIGHT [Chap. X. 
 
 return home when the stars were up, or still to 
 stay singing alone under the clear night.^ 
 
 The little vignette of night, which for a 
 moment relieves the tension of the death-scene 
 of Dido, forms a pleasing episode in the u^ndd. 
 
 " 'Twas night when wearied mortals in all lands 
 Were sunk in peaceful slumber ; and the woods 
 And wrathful sea were still ; it was the hour 
 When stars above are mid-way on their course, 
 When every field is quiet, and the herds 
 And birds of varied hue that haunt the meres, 
 Or make their homes among the thorny brakes, 
 Are all asleep beneath the silent night." ^ 
 
 Possibly Ovid may have had this passage 
 floating in his memory when he described Medea 
 stepping out barefoot at midnight to perform the 
 incantations whereby she restored Jason's father 
 to youth : 
 
 " The moon was fiill, and with her radiant orb 
 Looked down upon the countries of the earth. 
 Deep sleep had fallen on men and birds and beasts ; 
 No insect-murmur from the hedgerow comes ; 
 Silent and motionless the foliage hangs ; 
 Silent the dewy air ; while far above, 
 The stars alone are twinkling in the sky." ^ 
 
 But apart from the fascination of its beauty 
 and grandeur, the starry sky came to acquire a 
 paramount importance in practical life. In the 
 
 i Eckg. IX. 40. » Mn. IV. 522-627. 
 
 ^ Metam. VII. 180-188. Ovid expresses tersely another aspect of 
 night when he descrihes it as — 
 
 " Curarum maxima uutriz nox " — Id. VIII. 81. 
 
THE NIGHTLY SKY AS TIME-KEEPER 227 
 
 clear atmosphere of southern and eastern climes, 
 where the nocturnal heavens had long been 
 attentively watched and studied, the planets had 
 been named and distinguished from the fixed 
 stars, among which the brightest had received 
 special designations. Moreover, the apparent 
 movements of the various heavenly bodies across 
 the sky had been carefully observed, the times 
 of the rising and the setting of particular stars 
 had been noted, and thus the year could be 
 divided into seasons, each of which had its 
 beginning and ending defined by the regularly 
 recurring position of some stars or groups of 
 stars. This knowledge, originally acquired by 
 eastern astronomers and astrologers, was gradually 
 diffused among the surrounding peoples to an 
 extent which we now find it difficult to realise. 
 The nightly sky became the time-keeper of the 
 ancient world. A mere reference to the rising 
 or setting of a star was generally understood as 
 an indication of a particular season, or even of 
 a special day. Tables were constructed showing 
 the times of the successive appearances of different 
 stars on the horizon, and this information was 
 engraved on plates that served the purpose of 
 calendars or almanacs. The data contained in 
 them were perhaps seldom strictly accurate, for 
 though they might be so at the places where 
 the observations and calculations were originally 
 made, they became more and more erroneous in 
 proportion to the difference in the geographical 
 
228 DAY AND NIGHT [Chap. X. 
 
 position of the places to which they were removed. 
 The motions of the stars were regular and certain, 
 whereas the calendar by months was often in great 
 confusion before its reformation by Julius Csesar. 
 
 In their treatises on agriculture Cato and Varro 
 distributed the farmer's year rather according to 
 the rising and setting of the stars or constellations, 
 than to the months of the calendar which could 
 never be precisely counted upon. Varro, for 
 instance, refers to the beginning of spring as 
 being in Aquarius, of summer in Taurus, of 
 autumn in Leo, and of winter in Scorpio, and 
 he assigns the several operations of the farm to 
 the dates fixed by the appearance or disappearance 
 of weU-known stars.' Virgil, although he clothes 
 in more poetical language his directions for the 
 proper ordering of the husbandman's labours, 
 nevertheless constantly makes use of the same 
 astronomical index. He refers to the need of 
 observing the rising and setting of the heavenly 
 bodies, which he considers to be a duty not less 
 incumbent on the farmer than on the seaman.* 
 Thus he recommends that in the case of land 
 which is not naturally fertile, it should be lightly 
 
 ^ De Be Rust. I. xxviii., where he gives also the dates by the 
 reformed calendar. He mentions that some plants, such as the olive, 
 white poplar, and willow, indicate by the movement of their leaves 
 the time of the year {Id. xlvi.). 
 
 ° Qeor. I. 204. Pliny also lays great streas on the importance to 
 agriculture of attending to the rising and setting of the stars. He 
 gives precise directions as to the farm-work proper to each section of 
 the year as marked by the movement of the heavenly bodies (ffirf. 
 Nat. XVIII. Iviii.). 
 
THE CALENDAR BY CONSTELLATIONS 229 
 
 furrowed " hard upon the rising of Arcturus," in 
 other words, about the middle of September.^ If 
 the crop be wheat or spelt he advises that the 
 seed should be sown at the morning setting of 
 the Pleiads (or about 25th October), when the 
 blazing star of the Cretan Crown has departed, 
 and he adds that "many farmers have begun 
 before Maia " (one of the Pleiad group) " has set, 
 but have reaped only a harvest of barren straw." 
 For the sowing of vetches, kidney - beans, and 
 lentils the setting of Bootes affords a trustworthy 
 guide.^ But what would a modern farmer make 
 of such instructions? 
 
 Again in his delightful account of bees and 
 their ways and management, the poet mentions 
 that there are two seasons for gathering the honey, 
 and his directions as to the time for these two 
 harvests are thus expressed : — 
 
 " Either when Taygete the Pleiad shows 
 Her honoured face, and with disdainful foot 
 Has spumed the streams of old Oceanus ; 
 Or when she flees before the watery Fish 
 And sadly sinkji^ beneath the wintry waves." ^ 
 
 To how many modern bee-keepers would these 
 instructions convey the faintest idea? Yet those 
 for whom Virgil wrote would no doubt understand 
 them to mean that the one honey harvest might 
 be ready early in May while the other might be 
 expected about the end of October. It is reason- 
 
 1 Oeor. I. 67. ' Id. 219-230. 
 
 » Id. IV. 231-236. 
 
2a0 DAY AND NIGHT [Chap. X. 
 
 able to assume that the amount of astronomical 
 knowledge which the poet takes for granted in 
 his readers, must have been fairly general among 
 the more intelligent farmers of his time. It is 
 a kind of knowledge, however, which has nearly 
 disappeared from the same class of men in our 
 own day. They have their watches and clocks, 
 their almanacs and calendars, their daily news- 
 papers and aU the other multifarious indications 
 of the steady march of time in the modern world. 
 There can be little doubt that, in spite of the 
 progress of science and the spread of education, 
 the average man in civilised countries to-day is 
 much less familiar with the starry sky than were 
 the farmers and shepherds of Republican and 
 Imperial Rome. 
 
 In the navigation of the Mediterranean Sea 
 an acquaintance with the starry firmament was 
 obviously of paramount importance, for though 
 much of the sailing was kept near the coast, and 
 vessels in such voyages often anchored for the 
 night in some port or bay, it was constantly 
 necessary to be out of sight of land and to be 
 for many nights together on the open sea. 
 (Chapter xv.) 
 
 But it was not only in the agricultural and 
 sea - faring communities that this astronomical 
 knowledge became familiar. An acquaintance 
 with the principal constellations and stars, their 
 relative places in the sky, and the times at which 
 they rise or set or are prominent in the heavens, 
 
OVID'S ASTRONOMICAL LORE 231 
 
 seems to have been general among the educated 
 classes of Rome, if, at least, we may draw an 
 inference from the frequent allusions in Latin 
 literature to these matters, as things of every- 
 day familiarity. The poets make abundant refer- 
 ence to them, not only in their more serious 
 works, but even in their lightest and gayest 
 lyrics, where recondite allusions would have 
 been wholly out of place. Ovid is perhaps the 
 writer in whose verse this kind of knowledge 
 finds most frequent expression. In his Fasti, 
 or poetical treatment of the Roman calendar, he 
 naturally had ample scope for making use of it, 
 and he has availed himself of his opportunity. 
 He must have been at infinite pains to collect 
 the large amount of astronomical information 
 which he there embodies. But he was evidently 
 unable to judge of the relative value of the 
 authorities which he consulted. Some of his 
 dates are quite correct, while others are far 
 wrong. It would almost seem from his final 
 and somewhat disparaging reference to a con- 
 stellation on the last page of his poem, that he 
 had become tired by the time and trouble which 
 the collection of all this information had cost 
 him, and was relieved to have done with it. He 
 there writes : 
 
 " Here is a fellow who comes back not quite 
 sober from a suburban temple, and utters such 
 words as these — ' Your belt, Orion, is now 
 hidden ; perhaps it will still be hidden, to-morrow ; 
 
232 DAY AND NIGHT [Chap. X. 
 
 thereafter it will be visible to me.' But had he 
 not been tipsy, he would have simply said : * The 
 solstice will be here on that same day.'"^ 
 
 In his other poems Ovid also makes frequent use 
 of astronomical indications of time, as if he were 
 rather proud of his acquaintance with the subject. 
 Even in those written in the dreary years of his 
 exile, he continues this practice ; but at Tomi he 
 could refer more pointedly to the constellations 
 which never set in the northern sky, and he seems 
 to have felt that additional poignancy was given 
 to his banishment to so remote a region, in that 
 the stars that never plunge beneath the ocean 
 were so close to his eyes. 
 
 The habit of indicating a time or date by 
 allusion to constellations could be carried to a 
 point of absurdity, as where Martial takes two 
 verses to announce that "Now the Tyrian Bull 
 looks back upon the Ram of Phryxus, and winter 
 flees before Castor and his twin brother,"^ when 
 all that he meant to say was "it is the month 
 of May." As a protest against this kind of 
 affectation Juvenal protests his ignorance of 
 many of the fashionable topics of his day, and 
 among these he takes care to specify that he 
 knows nothing of the movements of the stars.* 
 
 Besides their use as chronometers, the stars 
 were in ancient times widely believed to have a 
 potent influence on the earth and its inhabitants, 
 
 ' Fast. VI. 785-790. 
 X. li. » Sat. III. 42. 
 
SIRIUS, THE DOG-STAR 
 
 and many illustrations of this belief are to be 
 found in the oldest literature. That the seasons 
 and the weather were immediately affected by 
 stellar action was a firm conviction, and this 
 obstinate persuasion has come down to our own 
 day. Such of the constellations or their more 
 conspicuous stars as rose or set coincidently with 
 more or less definitely recurring conditions of 
 the atmosphere, such as great heat, copious rain, 
 or violent winds, came to be popularly associated 
 with these meteorological conditions, and to be 
 regarded, or at least spoken of, as their actual 
 cause. Thus from remote antiquity the rising 
 of the brightest fixed star in the heavens, Sirius 
 or the Dog-star, in the constellation of Canis or 
 the Dog, about the middle of July, was looked 
 upon as in some way the cause of the great heats 
 of that season, and therefore of all the human 
 ills which a high temperature and its accompani- 
 ments involve. Virgil speaks of the rise of this 
 brilliant star as bringing thirst and disease to 
 weak mortals, and saddening heaven with its 
 maleficent light.^ Horace, too, repeatedly refers 
 to the star as a symbol of the exhausting days 
 of midsummer. In his eyes, as we have seen, 
 one of the charms of his far-withdrawn valley 
 was the shelter it afforded him from that trying 
 season ; the fierce hour of the blazing Dog-star 
 could not reach his cool Bandusian spring. The 
 evil repute of Sirius has descended to modern 
 
 1 ^Jn. X. 273. 
 
234 DAY AND NIGHT [Chap. X. 
 
 time, for the heats and maladies of the height of 
 summer are still associated with the " Dog-days." 
 But the most brilliant of the fixed stars was 
 not the only luminary in the firmament which 
 was blamed in old days for the evils that befall 
 humanity. Orion was held answerable for the 
 gales and rains that attend his winter setting, about 
 the middle of November. The epithets applied 
 to him by Virgil are various, but all uncompli- 
 mentary — such as watery, stormy, fierce.^ Horace 
 is not less vituperative. He calls the star gloomy 
 and hostile to sailors, and when he urges his friend 
 Galatea not to venture on a proposed voyage late 
 in the season he asks her to note with what stormy 
 weather Orion is hastening to his setting.^ The 
 so-called "equinoctial gales" were laid to the 
 charge of another constellation, the Kids, of which 
 the evening rising took place near the end of 
 September. Virgil alludes to the heavy rains, 
 storms of hail, and southern gales that attend 
 the " showery Kids," * while Horace refers to the 
 fell fury of the setting Arcturus and the rising 
 Kids. The constellation of the Hyades was 
 actually so named from its supposed connection 
 with wet weather. Virgil calls them " rainy," ^ 
 and Horace cites, among the terrors which the 
 first navigator did not fear to meet, the "tristes 
 Hyades."^ Lastly Aquarius has acquired an 
 
 > JSn. I. 636 ; IV. 62 ; VII. 719. ^ Carm. III. xxvii. 17. 
 
 ' ^n. IX. 668. * Id. I. 744 ; III. 616. 
 
 ' Oarm. I. iii. 14. 
 
ROMAN KNOWLEDGE OF THE STARS 
 
 equally disagreeable reputation which is indicated 
 in his name. Virgil speaks of the chilly showers 
 wherewith that constellation besprinkles the close 
 of the year, and Horace adds his testimony to 
 the saddening of that season from the same 
 cause.^ In all these allusions to the stellar world, 
 so profusely scattered through the writings of 
 the Roman poets, we must assume that they 
 were generally understood and appreciated by 
 readers in those days ; but to what proportion 
 of modern readers are they intelligible without 
 some explanation ? 
 
 1 Oeor. III. 304 ; Horace, Sat. I. i. 36. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE SEASONS 
 
 Although the Roman poets loved to boast of 
 Italy's perpetual spring, the country was not 
 unacquainted with the other seasons of the year. 
 The peculiar geographical shape and position of the 
 peninsula, however, have undoubtedly given it a 
 more insular climate than is experienced by the 
 central and eastern parts of Europe. While these 
 regions in mid- winter lie under a mean temperature 
 not above the freezing point, the lowlands of Italy, 
 from the Riviera down to the most southerly 
 promontory are favoured with a milder air. Frost 
 and snow, though for months they keep hold of the 
 uplands all along the chain of the Apennines, make 
 their appearance only fitfully on the plains, where 
 for the most part they are neither severe nor of 
 long continuance. On the other hand, the sea- 
 breezes on either side of the country and the winds 
 from the central chain of cool heights temper the 
 heats of summer. Thus, exempt from the great 
 extremes of a truly continental climate, Italy in its 
 meteorological conditions is one of the most 
 favoured countries of Europe, and well deserves 
 the enthusiastic appreciation of its poets. 
 
 2i6 
 
LUCRETIUS ON THE SEASONS 237 
 
 The regularity of the succession of the seasons 
 has impressed mankind from the earliest ages, and 
 has been the subject of comment in the literature 
 of every race. 
 
 " Spring goes forth," says Lucretius, " and 
 Venus and the winged herald of Venus steps 
 before them : close on the wake of Zephyr comes 
 Mother Flora, strewing all the ways and filling 
 them with the choicest colours and scents. Next 
 follows parching Heat and as its only companion 
 dust-covered Ceres, and the Etesian breezes of the 
 Northern winds. Then Autumn approaches and, 
 keeping step with him, Euan Bacchus. Next 
 other seasons follow and their winds — the loud 
 thundering Volturnus (south-east) and Auster 
 (so,uth) with his mighty lightning. At last the 
 close of the year brings on the snows, and mid- 
 winter deals out his benumbing frost and the cold 
 that sets teeth chattering."^ 
 
 The constancy but fleetingness that marks 
 the advent of the stages in this invariable suc- 
 cession seemed to Horace emblematic of the 
 shortness of human life, with no suggestion of 
 any hereafter beyond the grave. He impressed 
 on Torquatus that the lesson to be learnt from 
 the rapid flight of hours and years is that we 
 must not hope for immortality — 
 
 "the winter chills grow mild under the breath 
 of the Zephyrs, summer treads closely on spring, 
 soon herself to perish when apple-bearing autumn 
 shall have poured forth his fruits, and then im- 
 mediately sluggish winter returns once more. Yet 
 
 1 Be Ber. Nat. V. 737-747. 
 
238 THE SEASONS [Chap. XI. 
 
 the swift moons repair such losses as the heavens 
 may suifer. We, when we have descended to 
 where pious Aeneas and wealthy TuUus and 
 Ancus have gone, are no more than mere dust 
 and a shadow." * 
 
 In the gorgeous picture of the Palace of the 
 Sun where Ovid's imagination and descriptive 
 power reach so high a level, the great luminary is 
 represented as the central figure, with the seasons 
 attending around him, each personified as an 
 individual being, and portrayed with distinctive 
 attributes : 
 
 " Arrayed in purple vesture, on a throne 
 That sparkled with the gleam of emeralds 
 Great Phcebus sat ; on either hand stood round 
 The Days, the Months, the Year, the Ages, too, 
 And Hours disposed at equal intervals. 
 There stood young Spring, with chaplet of fresh flowers, 
 And Summer, naked, crowned with ears of corn ; 
 There Autumn stood, befouled with trodden grapes. 
 And icy Winter, rough with hoary locks." ^ 
 
 ' Carm. IV. vii. 7-16. Among his earlier Odes (I. iv. ; p. 240), 
 Horace drew the same lesson, with the added Epicurean infer- 
 ence that it is our duty to enjoy this life whilst it is ours. In his 
 somewhat stilted style Edward Yoimg described the same &cts and 
 drew another conclusion : — 
 
 " Look Nature through, 'tis revolution all ; 
 All change ; no death. Day follows night, and night 
 The dying day ; stars rise, and set, and rise ; 
 Earth takes th' example. See, the summer gay, 
 With her green chaplet, and ambrosial flowers. 
 Droops into pallid autumn : winter gray. 
 Horrid with frost, and turbulent with storm, 
 Blows autumn, and his golden fruits away : 
 Then melts into the spring : soft spring, with breath 
 Favonian, from warm chambers of the South, 
 Recalls the first. All to re-flourish, fades ; 
 As in a wheel, all sinks, to re-ascend. 
 Emblems of man, who passes, not expires." — Night Thoughts, VI. 
 
 ^ Metam. II. 24-30. Ovid's habit of personification set the fashion 
 
 to our own early poets. Spenser employed it with much effect in his 
 
SEVERE ITALIAN WINTERS 239 
 
 The return of the time when 
 
 " The Spring shall blow 
 Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth," 
 
 has naturally been hailed with special delight 
 among the northern nations who have ample 
 experience of the trials of a long winter. The zest 
 with which the same season has been celebrated by 
 the Latin poets has led to the supposition that the 
 winters in Italy must formerly have been consider- 
 ably more severe than they are now. The inference 
 may possibly be well-founded, though for its 
 acceptance a sounder basis than the impassioned 
 language of poetry seems to be required. In our 
 own day we are famihar with the popular belief 
 that the seasons have changed much during the 
 last few generations, that the cold was much 
 greater and more prolonged and the summers 
 warmer and more proUfic in the times of our great- 
 grandfathers than they have since become. But as 
 far back as meteorological observations have been 
 recorded^ no certain proof of such secular change 
 has been found. Severe and prolonged winters 
 and excessively hot and rainless summers have 
 undoubtedly been chronicled during the last few 
 
 description of the seasons. Compare, for instance, his amplification of 
 the aspect and attributes of Spring. 
 
 " So forth issew'd the Seasons of the yeare : 
 
 First, lusty Spring, all dight in leaves of floweres, 
 That freshly budded and new bloosmes did beare, 
 (In which a thousand birds had built their boures 
 That sweetly sung to call forth paramours) 
 And in his hand a javelin he did beare, 
 And on his head (as fit for warlike stoures) 
 A guilt engraven morion he did weare ; 
 That as some did him love, so others did him feare." 
 
 — Faerie Queeiu, C. vii. 
 
240 THE SEASONS [Chap. XI. 
 
 centuries, but they were probably as exceptional 
 then as they are now. It may have been much 
 the same in Italy in bygone days. Men are prone 
 to remember and to record the occasional trying 
 winters or summers, while of the ordinary or 
 average seasons no notice is taken. 
 
 None of the Roman singers enjoyed and com- 
 memorated the pleasures of spring more heartily 
 than Horace. Some of his lyrics were directly 
 inspired by them. Addressing Sextius he wrote : — 
 
 " Keen Winter melts beneath the breath of Zephyr and of 
 Spring : 
 The dried-up ships are dragged again to shore, 
 The kine no longer keep their stalls ; the ploughman quits 
 his fire ; 
 And fields are whitened by the frost no more. 
 
 " Now Cytherea leads the dance, the Graces and the Nymphs 
 Join hands and beat the ground with rhythmic feet, 
 Beneath the full and cloudless moon ; while glowing 
 
 Vulcan toils 
 His Cyclopes' forges once again to heat. 
 
 " Now is the fitting time anew our perfumed heads to crown 
 With myrtle or flowers from the loosened land ; 
 Now too in shady groves to Faun we sacrifice a lamb 
 Or kidling, as he pleases to command." ^ 
 
 To another friend whom he urges to join him 
 
 in a festive meeting, Horace pleads the invitation 
 
 which the returning vernal season seems to offer 
 
 them for joyous intercourse : — 
 
 " Companions of the Spring that calm the sea, 
 The Thracian winds are filling now the sails ; 
 The frosts no longer stiflen all the lea, 
 Nor snow-swollen rivers roar beneath the gales ; 
 
 ' Ctt/rm. I. iv. 
 
HORACE AND VIRGIL ON SPRING 241 
 
 " The heart-sick bird that mourns her Itys dead. 
 
 Renews her nest ; the shepherds as they fare 
 With their plump sheep across the fertile mead, 
 
 Pipe once again their ditties to the air. 
 Pleasing the god who ever loves to see 
 Flocks and the sombre hills of Arcady." ^ 
 
 The same Book of the Odes contains another 
 little picture of spring coupled with the same 
 moral reflection that this season of the year 
 especially invites us to enjoy while we may the 
 pleasures of this brief and uncertain life : — 
 
 " The snows have fled ; the fields renew their sward. 
 
 The trees their leaves : 
 Earth keeps her changes ; falling streams now flow 
 
 Between their banks. 
 Unclothed, the sister Graces and the Nymphs 
 
 Now dare to dance." ^ 
 
 Virgil, to whom the return of spring evidently 
 brought keen pleasure, has left some brief but 
 graphic allusions to the vernal changes in the 
 aspect of Nature, in which his close observation 
 and happy descriptive power are well shown. 
 Thus he refers to " early spring when chilly runnels 
 trickle from the snowy hills, and the crumbling 
 glebe thaws under the west wind."^ Again he 
 speaks of the time "when first the west winds 
 ripple the waters, or ever the meadows blush 
 with fresh tints, before the chattering martin 
 hangs her nest beneath the rafters."* But his 
 ample eulogy of the season and the full expression 
 
 ' Carm. IV. xii. 1-12. ' Id. TV. vii. 1-6. 
 
 ' Geor. I. 43. * Op. cit. TV. 306. 
 
 Q 
 
242 THE SEASONS [Chap. XI. 
 
 of his enthusiasm for this part of the year are to 
 be found in a passage in the second Georgic : — 
 
 " In spring the earth yearns for the fruitful seed : 
 And then the Almighty Father in the sky 
 Descends in fecund showers upon the lap 
 Of his glad consort, when his mighty power 
 Mingling with hers, gives life to all her brood. 
 Then through the pathless copses, far and near, 
 The notes of many a warbling bird resound. 
 The bounteous soil brings quickly into birth ; 
 The fields disclose their bosom to the breath 
 Of warm west- winds ; the tender moisture flows 
 Through all ; the herbage, now secure, can dare 
 Safely to trust the vernal suns and skies ; 
 Nor does the vine shrink timorously back, 
 Through fear of Auster's tempests from the south. 
 Or northern sleety showers of Aquilo, 
 But swells its buds, uncurling all its leaves. 
 
 Such was the season, I could well believe, 
 At the first dawning of the infant world. 
 Yea, Spring it was ; vast Earth was keeping Spring. 
 The east winds surely spared their wintry blasts, 
 When cattle drank their first deep draught of light ; 
 When, too, the earth-born brood of men upreared 
 Their head above the hard and stony fields, 
 When beasts were loosed in woods, and stars in heaven."* 
 
 The spring songs of the birds suggested a 
 quaint conceit to Statius : — 
 
 " Now every tree is hung all o'er 
 
 With tresses of the spring ; 
 The birds their new complainings pour 
 
 And untried carols sing, 
 Which through the silent winter hour 
 
 They have been pondering." ^ 
 
 1 Gear. II. 324-342. " Sih. IV. v. 9-12. 
 
OVID'S PICTURES OF SPRING 243 
 
 In his Roman calendar Ovid intercalates an 
 occasional picture of the season with which he 
 is dealing. Thus, when he treats of the cere- 
 monies and traditions associated with the month 
 of March, he throws in a few descriptive lines : — 
 
 " Ice-mantled Winter now at last departs ; 
 The snows are vanishing beneath the sun ; 
 The foliage, shorn away by frost, returns 
 To bush and tree ; buds swell on tender shoots ; 
 The fertile grass, so long concealed, now finds 
 The hidden paths wlfcreby it comes to light. 
 Each field with life is teeming, and the birds 
 Are building on the boughs their nests and homes." ^ 
 
 Still more characteristic of the poet is a passage 
 in the first Book of the Fasti where, in his wonted 
 free - and - easy attitude towards the deities of the 
 Itahan pantheon, he subjects the god Janus to 
 an examination as to why the year should have 
 been made to begin in January — a rather personal 
 question in this case, which the god might well 
 resent, seeing that the month which stood at 
 the head of the year had actually been named 
 after him. But the poet has no scruples in his 
 interrogatory. He gives to the god a series of 
 reasons for his opinion that the arrangement in 
 the calendar is a mistake: — 
 
 " Come, tell me why the year 'begins with frosts ; 
 Far better had it started with the Spring. 
 Then is the fresh time of the year, and all 
 Is blooming ; then the vine begins to bud 
 And every tree re-clothes itself with leaves. 
 While the young blade peeps forth above the soil. 
 
 ~ 1 Fast. III. 236-242. 
 
244 THE SEASONS [Chap. XL 
 
 The birds in concert sooth the tepid air, 
 And frolic herds disport among the meads, 
 Then with the pleasant sunshine comes again 
 The stranger swallow to the lofty eaves, 
 Where yet once more she piles her clay-built nest, 
 Then can the plough break up the loosened fields : 
 Sure such a time might best begin the year." ^ 
 
 Ovid adds that while he had put his argumenta- 
 tion into many words, the god courteously, though 
 curtly, gave him in two lines the reason for the 
 present arrangement — that the winter solstice 
 forms the natural end of one year and the beginning 
 of another. 
 
 One of the genial influences of spring is 
 recognised by Catullus in the joyous lyric that 
 so well expresses the delight of travel which that 
 season awakens after a trying winter. In his case, 
 there were, indeed, special reasons why he should 
 have been glad to begin his homeward journey 
 from the far Phrygian plains. The winter there 
 is apt to be long and chiUy ; when the winds blow 
 down from the snowy mountain ranges. The 
 poet had come to the region on the staff of the 
 praetor Memmius, in the expectation of being 
 able to replenish a fortune which he seems to 
 have impaired by extravagance. But it is clear 
 from several of his poems that this expectation 
 was not realised. The praetor would not allow 
 him to prosecute the too common official habit 
 of enrichment at the cost of the provincials. So 
 he determined to return to Italy as soon as the 
 
 ' Fast. I. 149-160. 
 
CATULLUS ON SPRING 245 
 
 season would permit, leaving some of his com- 
 panions behind. The lyric in question, like others 
 written at eventful periods of his life, is addressed 
 to himself. 
 
 " Now Spring brings back the tepid air ; 
 The fury of the equinox 
 Is stilled before the joyful breath 
 Of Zephyr with his golden locks. 
 
 " Now let us quit the Phrygian plains, 
 Catullus, and the teeming land 
 Of hot Nicaea ; let us fly 
 
 To the splendid towns on Asia's strand. 
 
 " My mind, so fluttered at the thought, 
 Longs eagerly to wander on, 
 My very feet begin to beat 
 
 The ground impatient to be gone. 
 
 " Farewell ! dear band of comrades true. 
 Who with me left our far-off Rome ; 
 Other and diverse journey ings 
 
 At last will bring you also home." ^ 
 
 Summer has received less unstinted praise than 
 spring from the Roman lovers of Nature. They 
 thoroughly appreciated the joy of the escape from 
 summer heat to the cool retreat of shady woods, 
 and the music of running water. This feature of 
 summer life calls forth frequent reference in 
 Horace's poetry. He seems to have been some- 
 what sensitive to the " rabies Canis," the " aestus 
 Caniculae," the "atrox hora flagrantis Caniculae," 
 
 ' Catullus, xlvi. His homeward journey as he accomplished and 
 described it, will come before us in chapter xv. in connection with 
 his love of the sea. 
 
246 THE SEASONS [Chap. XI. 
 
 the " furor Procyonis," and the " momenta Leonis," 
 by which variety of epithets he denotes the season 
 of mid-summer. How he preferred to spend the 
 Dog-days may be gathered from various allusions, 
 such as that in the second Epode : — 
 
 " 'Tis sweet to lie beneath an old holm-oak, 
 
 Or stretched at length on matted grass, 
 
 While birds are singing in the shady woods, 
 
 And steep-banked streamlets softly pass, 
 
 With babbling springs whence limpid waters leap — 
 
 A scene that much invites to gentle sleep." ^ 
 
 The references to summer in Virgil's poetry 
 stand on a higher plain. He speaks of "the 
 joyful summer with its zephyrs calling." As was 
 pointed out in the foregoing chapter, he delights 
 in the beauty of the early summer morning, ere 
 the sun has climbed the sky, and again he has a 
 keen appreciation of the charm of the cool evenings 
 when the labours of the day are over, and the 
 stars begin to appear. Even when he describes 
 the languor of a mid-summer noon, as in the 
 passages already cited, there is no note of com- 
 plaint or disparagement of "the heavy summer 
 lying on the parched crags." He recognises the 
 beneficence of the provision of the shelter from 
 heat and glare afforded by trees to man and 
 beast. Even the sparse shade of the arbutus 
 shields the cattle from the sun, beside mossy 
 springs and grass softer than sleep.' 
 
 But the Italian summer, though tempered by 
 
 1 Epod. II. 23-28. - ^ Eclog. VII. 45. 
 
HAIL-STORMS OF ITALIAN SUMMER 247 
 
 breezes from the mountains and from the sea, cannot 
 escape from one of the consequences of the rise 
 of temperature proper to that season, and the 
 consequent disturbance of the atmosphere which 
 results in hail -storms. These throughout the 
 peninsula are sometimes extremely disastrous to 
 growing vegetation and even to animal life. They 
 have been noted among the accompaniments of 
 summer by the Latin poets. Virgil alludes to 
 the rattling of hail on the roofs, and, as one 
 of his similes in the ^neid, he describes how 
 
 "when the storm-clouds descend in showers of 
 hail every ploughman and farmer flees from the 
 fields and the traveller lies hidden in some safe 
 shelter — the banks of a river or some high over- 
 arching rock — in order that when the sun shines 
 out again they may be able to return to the 
 labours of the day."^ 
 
 Horace complains of the hail beating his 
 vines to pieces, while the heat was devouring 
 his olives.^ 
 
 In respect to such sudden and destructive 
 storms, when vegetation which has been parched 
 in a torrid heat is the next hour beaten down 
 by lumps of ice, the present time fares no better 
 than did the Augustan age. Thus on 22nd July 
 1911, when the thermometer had reached 93° Fahr. 
 in the shade, a heavy hail- storm and furious wind 
 fell on Rome and the surrounding country. Part 
 
 1 Gem: I. 449 ; Mn. X. 803-808. 
 
 2 Epist. I. vii. 4, and again of "verberatae grandine vineae" 
 {Carm III. i. 29). 
 
248 THE SEASONS [Chap. XI. 
 
 of the zinc roof of the railway station was torn 
 off, the column of Victory in the grounds of the 
 Exhibition fell, and the wall of the Sardinian 
 pavilion was much injured. When the storm 
 passed away, Monte Gennaro, above Tivoli, the 
 highest summit of the Sabine Hills and so con- 
 spicuous a landmark from Rome, presented an 
 extraordinary appearance, being covered with hail 
 and as white as in mid-winter.^ 
 
 To the practical Roman mind Autumn would 
 naturally appeal on account of its harvests of all 
 kinds. Virgil in depicting this season, writes 
 thus : — 
 
 " Winter is coming : the Sicyonian berry is 
 crushed in the olive-mill ; the swine return joy- 
 fully from their acorns; the woods yield their 
 arbute-berries ; the autumn drops his varied pro- 
 duce, and high up on the sunny rocks the meUow 
 vintage is ripened."^ 
 
 In another of the rural similes that diversify 
 the jEneid, the poet introduces "the abundant 
 leaves that faU in the woods at the first touch 
 of the chills of autumn."^ Horace has a more 
 domestic feeling in his reference to this season: 
 
 " When Autumn has raised from the fields his 
 head adorned with mellow fruit, how joyful is it 
 to gather the pears of one's own grafting and the 
 grapes that vie with the purpfe dye, as an offering 
 to Priapus and to Father Silvanus, the guardian 
 of one's bounds 1 " * 
 
 1 Morning Post, 24th July 1911. " Gear. II. 619-522. 
 
 » JUn. VI. 309. 
 
 * C(wm. II. V. 11 ; IV. vii. 11 ; Epod. II. 17. 
 
THE ILLS OF AUTUMN 249 
 
 The " season of mists and mellow fruitfiilness " 
 is accompanied in Italy with some of the enervating 
 and feverish influences which are experienced in 
 less favoured climes. From the frequency with 
 which this feature is alluded to by Horace he 
 would seem to have stood in especial fear of it. 
 "Through the autumn we. dread the south wind 
 that brings suffering to our bodies," is the language 
 he uses to Postumus.^ One of the great advantages 
 of his home among the hiUs was in his eyes that 
 it saved him from the leaden breath of the south- 
 wind and the heavy autumn, which were such 
 sources of profit to the goddess of funerals.* 
 
 He wrote to Maecenas that he disliked the 
 season of the year 
 
 " when the first fig and the hot weather furnish the 
 undertaker with his black attendants, when every 
 father and tender mother grow pale on account of 
 their sons, and when assiduous courtesies and petty 
 service at the bar, bring on fevers, and lead to the 
 breaking of the seals of wills." ' 
 
 Ovid, too, testifies that 
 
 " often as autumn comes, when the year is at its 
 loveliest, and the full grape is getting red with its 
 purple wine, when we are at one time chilled with 
 cold and anon melted with heat, the uncertain air 
 brings on a feebleness of the body."* 
 
 1 Garm. II. xiv. 16. » Sat. II. vi. 18. 
 
 ' Epist. I. vii. 6, and also xvi. 16 (" Septembribus horis"), already 
 cited, p. 80. 
 
 * Ara Amat. II. 316-318. These autumnal returns of great heat 
 are referred to in one of Cicero's letters to his brother Quintus, written 
 towards the end of September : — " After very hot weather, I do not 
 
250 THE SEASONS [Chap. XL 
 
 With regard to winter it may be frankly 
 admitted that the Romans had little or no 
 appreciation of what we now regard as some of 
 the characteristic charms of that season. The 
 keen clear frosty air that braces us to exercise, 
 the firmly frozen roads and pathways that ring 
 under our feet and often surprise us with the 
 beauty of the fern-like crystallisations on their 
 surface, the leafless trees with their purple skeletons 
 standing out against the sky in all their manifold 
 variety of form and colour ; the snow-storm in 
 its various stages of progress, as it fills the air 
 with flakes, and ends by wrapping the whole land- 
 scape in one vast pall of dazzling white ; the fairy- 
 like scene after this transformation, and the way 
 in which the gentlest inequalities and unevennesses 
 of the ground are revealed by a thousand delicate 
 blue-shaded dimples that disclose features never 
 otherwise noticed ; the marvellous grace of the 
 trees when every branch and twig bears its cornice 
 of snow, or has been silvered by hoar-frost with 
 a crystalline crust that sparkles gem-like in the 
 sun ere it melts away ; the lakes and rivers lying 
 smooth and still under their cake of ice on which 
 we can walk or skate — these and other delights 
 which far more than compensate in our eyes for 
 the discomfort and gloom of many days in our 
 northern winter seem to have awakened no 
 
 remember greater heat, I have come to Arpinum, where, while the 
 games were going on, I have been refreshing myself with the extreme 
 charm of the river " (Epist. Quint. Frat. III. i.). 
 
WINTER IN ITALY 261 
 
 admiration among the Roman poets when now 
 and then the winters happened to be severe 
 enough to let such landscapes be seen in Italy. 
 This absence of appreciation is doubtless mainly 
 attributable to the fact that, as a whole, winter at 
 Rome and in the surrounding Campagna, then 
 as now, was seldom long enough or severe enough 
 to give the people an opportunity of becoming 
 familiar with the varied characteristics which are 
 so well-known to us. To this day it is common 
 to find in the houses of that part of Italy no 
 adequate provision for heating in cold weather. 
 The winters are for the most part so short and 
 comparatively so mild that the abundant fire- 
 places and hot pipes of more northern countries 
 are not thought either necessary or desirable. 
 
 Yet now and then, in ancient as in modern 
 times, winter has descended with great rigour upon 
 the lowlands of Italy. We learn, for instance, 
 from one of Cicero's letters that in the month of 
 February B.C. 54, the cold in Rome was so great 
 that the assembled Senate raised a clamour about 
 it, and forced the Consul to dismiss them.^ Horace 
 tells how one winter Mount Soracte, the con- 
 spicuous conical hill that rises out of the plain 
 some five-and-twenty miles to the north of the 
 city, was covered with deep snow, "when the 
 straining woods were no longer able to bear their 
 wintry burden, and the rivers were motionless 
 under the keen frost." ^ When the cold was 
 
 1 Epist. Quint. Frat. II. x. ^ Carm. I. ix. 
 
252 THE SEASONS [Chap. XL 
 
 continued under a clear sky the new-fallen snow 
 might be frozen hard.^ 
 
 Virgil's allusions to winter are mainly connected 
 with the labours of agriculture. He refers, indeed, 
 to times " when the snow lies deep, and rivers push 
 along their blocks of ice," " when the vine has shed 
 its latest leaves, and the icy north-wind has shaken 
 down the glory of the woods." ^ But he does not 
 dwell on those features and their accompaniments 
 in a severe winter, as if they gave him pleasure. 
 From the point of view of the husbandman, 
 winter was the idle time of the year, when work 
 of various kinds fell to be undertaken indoors, but 
 not much outside. Looked at from this agri- 
 cultural point of view, the poet could speak of 
 " genial winter " when the farmer could afford to 
 take a holiday and to enjoy merrymakings with his 
 friends and neighbours.* Winter, too, was the 
 time for sport, the proper season " to set gins for 
 the cranes and nets for the stags, to hunt the long- 
 eared hares, to transfix the fallow-deer with the 
 whirling sling."* Horace also, among the occupa- 
 tions of a country gentleman cultivating his own 
 acres, mentions the sports of winter, when, as 
 Jupiter tonans gathers his rains and his snows, it 
 is the time with many a dog to drive the fierce 
 wild - boars into the hunting - nets, to spread nets 
 for the voracious thrushes, or to snare the timid 
 hare and the immigrant crane,* 
 
 1 Horace, Garm. III. x. 7. ^ Gear. I. 310 ; II. 403. 
 
 > Id. I. 299-304. * Id. 307. " Epod. II. 29. 
 
ROMAN DISLIKE OF WINTER 258 
 
 Among the characteristic features of woodlands 
 in winter there is one which did not escape Virgil's 
 observant eye, and of which he makes use as a 
 simile in the j^ndd — the conspicuous visibility of 
 the mistletoe when every leaf has fallen from the 
 trees. 
 
 " In winter's chill, among the leafless woods, 
 The mistletoe, not sown by its own tree, 
 Is wont to bloom, and with its saffron shoots 
 To clasp in firm embrace the tapering stems." ' 
 
 The general impression conveyed by Latin 
 literature is that on the whole, except by those who 
 were strongly addicted to field-sports, dwellers in 
 the city, as well as in the countiy, disliked winter. 
 It was with them apt to be a chilly, cloudy, and 
 wet season, when no doubt the streets were muddy 
 and the air full of smoke. ^ There was a general 
 sigh of relief when the warm west-winds returned 
 as harbingers of spring. The prevalent feeling was 
 probably expressed by Horace when in an epistle 
 to Maecenas he wrote that 
 
 " if winter shall smear snow on the Alban fields, 
 your poet will come down to the sea, and take 
 care of himself and read his books in narrower 
 quarters. If you will let him, he wiU revisit you 
 with the Zephyrs and the first swallow."* 
 
 His choice of the expression " smear " (illinet) 
 would hardly have been made had the sight of 
 a snowy landscape appealed to him as a thing 
 
 » ^n. VI. 206-207. 
 
 s Martial alludes to " fiimosus Decembris" (V. xxx.). 
 
 ' Epiit. I. vii. 10. 
 
254 THE SEASONS [Chap. XL 
 
 of beauty, worthy of a poet's admiration. He 
 probably used the word to convey his repugnance. 
 In another poem he asks when he is to be free 
 from the cold weather, and he exaggerates its 
 severity by calling it Pelignian,^ as if he were 
 living on the very highest and coldest part of the 
 Apennine chain. And in his disUke of wintry 
 weather he even goes so far as to reproach his 
 own beloved valley by calling its village of 
 Mandela "wrinkled with cold."^ 
 
 Not improbably the popular judgment of winter 
 was strengthened by the reports that came to Rome 
 from the northern and eastern parts of the empire. 
 Virgil has embodied some of this information 
 from abroad in his longest and most detailed 
 reference to this season of the year, where he 
 describes the exaggerated horrors of the Scythian 
 winter. But his description, being from hearsay, 
 lacks the vivid simplicity and picturesque terseness 
 and truth which are so characteristic of what he 
 narrates from his own observation. 
 
 The fullest accounts of these north-eastern 
 winters to be found in any of the poets are those 
 which are scattered through the poems written by 
 Ovid in his exile at Tomi. Coming to that distant 
 spot with the national prejudice against the cold 
 season of the year, and finding there that the 
 discomforts and trials of an Italian winter were 
 aggravated tenfold, he was easily led to exaggerate 
 them. His narratives contain statements which 
 
 > Carm. III. xix. 8. " Epist. I. xviii. 105. 
 
OVID'S PICTURES OF SARMATIAN WINTER 255 
 
 we know to be erroneous, such, for instance, as the 
 assertion that at Tomi the snow in many places 
 lasts for two years. Yet where he describes what 
 he has seen with his own eyes, his great descriptive 
 power does not forsake him even in that cold 
 region. He makes us realise the intensity of the 
 effects of frost not only in hardening the fields but 
 in covering the rivers with ice, so that where ships 
 had once sailed men could walk dry-shod, and 
 Sarmatian oxen could drag the barbarian waggons. 
 And not the rivers only but the very sea was 
 frozen. 
 
 " I shall hardly be beheved," he says, " but 
 where there is no gain from falsehood the 
 word of an eye-witness should be accepted. I 
 have seen the wide sea lie stiff with ice, while 
 a slippery crust pressed upon the motionless 
 waters. Nor is it enough to have merely seen 
 this : I have myself trodden on the hard surface 
 of the deep which lay beneath my unwetted 
 feet. Although Boreas may howl with tossing 
 wings, there wiU be not a wave upon the 
 blocked up gulf, and the ships will stand en- 
 closed in the ice, as if in marble, nor could an 
 oar cleave the rigid waters."^ 
 
 It was a relief to the misery of his banishment to 
 send home these pictures of his surroundings, and 
 we can read them stUl with interest and sympathy. 
 
 " Should any one ask," he says, " why I tell these 
 things and describe them in verse, I will confess 
 
 ' Trist. III. X. 35-48. See also V. x. ; Pont. III. i. 7-16 ; IV. ix. 86 ; 
 X. 32 ; xiv. 61 ; xv. 36. 
 
256 THE SEASONS [Chap. XI. 
 
 that I have thereby whiled away the time and 
 beguiled my sorrows. Such is the fruit which 
 the present hour has brought me. While writing, 
 I have been away from my grief, and have not 
 felt that I was still in the midst of the savage 
 Getae."^ 
 
 ' Pont. IV. X. 66. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 SPRINGS, MVERS, AND LAKES 
 
 If mankind are prone, as Lucretius complained, 
 to let familiarity with the firmament by day and 
 night dull their perception of its glories, even 
 more are they wont to leave unnoticed the mani- 
 fold evidence of that ordered system of phenomena 
 upon the surface of the earth on the due sequence 
 of which their very Uves depend. How seldom, 
 for instance, is it intelUgently appreciated that 
 the presence of Ufe upon this planet, whether 
 plant or animal, is bound up with the circulation 
 of water. Not only do we owe our continued 
 existence to this circulation, but we derive from 
 it, in a thousand ways, the pleasures of that 
 existence. It is not necessary to journey through 
 a waterless and lifeless desert to have this depen- 
 dence brought vividly home to our minds. A 
 little reflection should impress it alike on our 
 reason and our imagination. When we think 
 of the clouds that gather m the sky; of the 
 showers that fall from them to refresh the earth ; 
 of the springs that gush forth from underneath 
 the land and feed the brooks and rivulets; of 
 
 257 R 
 
^58 SPRINGS, RIVERS, AND LAKES [Chap. XII. 
 
 the thousands of ample rivers which all over the 
 globe are ceaselessly carrying the drainage of the 
 continents and islands to the sea, which never- 
 theless receives it all without overflowing; of 
 the ceaseless evaporation from the surface of the 
 ocean, from aU terrestrial waters and from all 
 lands; of the diffusion of this unseen vapour 
 through the air, there to be condensed into clouds 
 and thence to descend once more upon land and 
 sea — when aU this complex but exquisitely adjusted 
 machinery is reflectively contemplated, it should 
 fiU the mind with wonder and admiration. But 
 how seldom do these familiar things awaken any 
 such feelings? 
 
 The general features of the circulation of water 
 over land and sea were understood by Lucretius, 
 and are clearly portrayed by him in the sixth 
 Book of his poem, though he imperfectly conceived 
 some parts of the system. His scientific insight 
 served to increase his delight as a poet in the 
 contemplation of the regulated economy of Nature, 
 and in the ever-renewed beauty and harmonious 
 activity of Nature's processes. The movement 
 of water upon the land was happily expressed 
 in Latin by the phrase " aqua viva," living water, 
 as especially displayed in springs and rivers. 
 In his impressive account of primitive man and 
 the gradual evolution of human knowledge and 
 habits, Lucretius alludes to the way in which 
 he supposed that running water was discovered 
 and utilised by the earliest race of mankind. 
 
SANCTITY OF SPRINGS 259 
 
 After stating that these primitive men must 
 have betaken themselves to springs and streams 
 in the same vsray that the thirsty tribes of wild 
 beasts do still, he tells how they sought the 
 woodland retreats of the nymphs where waters 
 issued with copious overflow, washing the wet 
 and slippery stones and dripping on the green 
 moss, and in places gushing forth upon the level 
 plain.' In coupling the nymphs with the doings 
 of the first human beings, the poet sees no 
 anachronism in the association, nor does he allow 
 his own antipathy to the national divinities to 
 withhold him from a seeming acceptance of the 
 popular and picturesque belief in the sanctity of 
 springs and the guardianship of this sanctity by 
 appropriate local numina. 
 
 While springs in general were regarded as 
 sacred spots, a special sanctity was attached to 
 those which served as the immediate sources of 
 large streams, and particularly of important rivers. 
 When Seneca enumerated various natural scenes 
 that strongly appeal to the religious instincts of 
 man, he included the fountain-heads of great 
 rivers.^ Virgil, in referring to the departure of 
 the shepherd Aristaeus from the Vale of Tempe, 
 tells how he sadly stood at the sacred source 
 of the Peneus, and called to his divine mother 
 in her chamber beneath the deep river,' Of all 
 
 1 De Eer. Nat. V. 945. 
 
 2 " Magnomm flnminum capita veneramur." — Epist. XLI. 3. 
 ' Gear. V. 319. 
 
260 SPRINGS, RIVERS, AND LAKES [Chap. XII. 
 
 the fountain-heads in Italy the most famous for 
 the picturesqueness of its scenery, and the most 
 deserving of its reputation, was that of the river 
 Clitumnus, in Umbria. The Apennine limestone 
 has there been tunnelled by underground waters 
 that issue to the surface in such volume as almost 
 at once to become a navigable stream, which is 
 further augmented by other lesser springs from 
 the rocks around. This sudden appearance of 
 an ample 'river was one of the natural wonders 
 of the country, to which visitors repaired from 
 all quarters. The younger Pliny has left an 
 excellent and accurate account of the place in 
 a letter, in which he blames himself for never 
 having seen it before, and urges his friend Romanus 
 to pay it a visit as soon as he can. The broad 
 basin in which the various outpourings of water 
 unite is described by him as being as cold as 
 snow, and so clear that the pebbles and the 
 pieces of money thrown in by pious pilgrims 
 could be seen lying at the bottom. This basin 
 lay in a shady ravine covered with some old 
 cypresses and with many ash-trees and poplars 
 which were mirrored on the tranquil surface of 
 the water. An ancient and sacred temple of 
 the river-god and other shrines around showed 
 the place to have been long venerated. PUny 
 remarks that beside the statue of Clitumnus, 
 clothed in his robe, the actual presence of the 
 divinity was further indicated by the prophetic 
 responses which visitors could there obtain, and 
 
ATTRACTIONS OF SPRINGS AND BROOKS 261 
 
 he adds that the popidarity of the locality was 
 made evident by the vast number of inscriptions 
 in praise of the place and its tutelary god, which 
 had been scribbled all over the piUars and the 
 wall. The sanctity of the portion of the stream 
 immediately below the well-head was protected 
 by a bridge above which no swimming was 
 permitted.^ 
 
 While the sacred character of such places was 
 respected, they were often in themselves so 
 attractive as to draw people to them for the 
 purpose of social reunions. Reference has already 
 been made (p. 152) to the pleasure which the 
 Romans found in refreshing themselves under 
 trees by the side of running water. And no 
 form of this pleasure could be greater than to 
 enjoy it at the very fountain head of a river- 
 Horace, who has celebrated these al fresco meals 
 with such fervour, was fortunate in possessing in 
 his Bandusian spring, the source of the stream 
 Digentia which watered his land and all the 
 valley below. So that he had not to go far to 
 find the delight of being 
 
 " Stratus nunc ad aquae lene caput sacrae." ^ 
 
 One of the blessings for which the neighbours 
 of Tityrus envied him was that, while they 
 would have to seek other homes, he would be 
 left undisturbed "to enjoy the cool shade among 
 the familiar streams and by the sacred springs."' 
 
 ' Pliny, EpiH. VII. viii. ^ Horace, Carm. I. i. 22. 
 
 » VirgU, Eclog. I. 61. 
 
262 SPRINGS, RIVERS, AND LAKES [Chap. XIL 
 
 When Propertius sought to convince Tullus 
 that, in spite of all his foreign travel, he would 
 find no land to equal the charm of Italy, the 
 poet enumerated among the attractions of that 
 country some of the varied streams and lakes of 
 which it could boast — the Anio of Tibur, the 
 Clitumnus of Umbria, the Marcian aqueduct, built 
 for eternity, the Alban Lake with its neighbour 
 in the Nemus, and that healthful spring whereat 
 Pollux's steed drank.* His selection of waters was 
 excellent. The Anio was almost as dear to the 
 citizens of Rome as the Tiber itself. The attrac- 
 tions of the Clitumnus have just been aUuded 
 to, and they would be especially dear to the heart 
 of an Umbrian like Propertius. The MarCian 
 conduit might well be cited by the poet as a 
 work meant to endure for ever ; restored in modem 
 times, it still brings into Rome the coolest and 
 purest water from the Sabine hills. The Alban 
 and Nemi lakes continue to attract every year 
 thousands of admiring visitors. And the fountain 
 of Juturna, whether healthful now or not, still 
 rises in the Forum of Rome, where the Twin 
 Brethren watered their horses at it, when an- 
 nouncing the Roman victory at Lake Regillus. 
 
 The brooks and rivers of Italy are, as a whole, 
 distinguished by two characters. Owing to the 
 configuration of the country — a central backbone 
 of mountains with flatter tracts on either side — the 
 earlier portion of the courses of the larger streams 
 
 0. IV. xxii. 23-26. 
 
THE SOLACE OF RIVERS 
 
 is more or less rapid. Their little tributaries are 
 indeed often impetuous torrents. Where the 
 streams quit the hills and debouch upon the plains, 
 their rate of motion speedily lessens, and they are 
 then prone to meander in serpentine curves. The 
 nearness to the mountains and the heavier rainfall 
 over these heights lead to a rapid swellmg of the 
 rivers in their lower course, and hence serious floods 
 have been chronicled from the earliest times down 
 to the present day. 
 
 These varied features, materially affecting, as 
 they did, the prosperity and comfort of the popula- 
 tion, necessarily attracted much attention on the 
 part of the governing powers in Rome. While 
 they engaged the practical energies of the skilled 
 Roman engineers, they also appealed to the 
 imagination of the poets. Thus Catullus, grateful 
 for all the helpful kindnesses that had been shown 
 to him by Mallius, compares the beneficence of his 
 friend to the bounteous service rendered by a stream 
 to the land through which it flows, from its source 
 to the populous plains : 
 
 " As from the mossy rocks on some high mountain-crest, 
 A limpid stream leaps out into the day. 
 And pours in headlong course adown its sloping vale, 
 But through the plain more gently takes its way ; 
 
 " Winding by thorpe and farm, where the fierce summer sun 
 Has burnt and cracked the soil on holm and lea, 
 And bringing solace sweet to weary wayfarers — 
 Such help has Mallius bestowed on me." ^ 
 
 1 CatuUus, LXVIII. 67-62. 
 
264 SPRINGS, RIVERS, AND LAKES [Chap. XII. 
 
 It is, however, the destructive aspect of running 
 water that finds most frequent treatment by the 
 Roman poets. Such a form of terrestrial energy 
 would naturally appeal to the scientific interest and 
 poetic imagination of Lucretius. He has sketched 
 a flood in a few vigorous lines: — 
 
 " When after heavy rains a vast body of water 
 rushes down from the high mountains, sweeping 
 along broken branches and whole -trunks of trees ; 
 the strongest bridges cannot withstand the sudden 
 energy of the rising flood, which, made muddy by 
 the great rainfall, assails the piles with all its force, 
 and with mighty roar spreads ruin in its course 
 engulfing under its waters huge rocks and what- 
 ever opposes its onset." ^ 
 
 Virgil has left some vivid pictures of swollen 
 rivers, of which he doubtless had experience both 
 in his early home and afterwards in more southern 
 parts of Italy. Even in his youth he had learnt 
 that rivers have no regard for their banks.* Again 
 and again in the JEneid he makes use of the irre- 
 sistible force of river-floods as an image to illustrate 
 the unbridled fury of onsets in battle. 0» each 
 occasion, however, he varies the description of the 
 flood. In one scene he pictures a mountain-torrent, 
 rushing across the fields, destroying the smiUng 
 crops, tearing up and carrying away headlong the 
 forests, while the shepherd, hearing the uproar, 
 stands dumfoundered on the crest of a high rock.^ 
 In another fight the simile is that of a foaming river 
 
 1 De Ber. Nat. I. 280-289. = Eclog. VII. 62. 
 
 3 uSn. II. 305-308. 
 
OVID'S PICTURE OF A TORRENT 265 
 
 which has burst its barriers and, escaping in furious 
 mass, sweeps herds and their stalls all over the 
 fields.^ In a third comparison it is the sight of 
 froth-laden torrents which resound in their rapid 
 rush from lofty mountains, and speed over the 
 plains, each on its own path of devastation.^ 
 
 Some of the aspects of a mountain-stream are 
 sketched in a whimsical elegy of Ovid's, in which 
 he represents himself as stopped on a journey to 
 his lady-love by the unexpectedly swollen condition 
 of a brook. Whether or not the incident ever 
 really occurred as depicted, and whether the lady 
 was or was not a mere creation of his own lively 
 imagination, there can be little doubt that his 
 description of the stream is a faithful representation 
 of what he must have been familiar with among the 
 rivulets around his early home at Sulmo, in the 
 heart of the high Pelignian hills. He tells how he 
 had previously been easily able to ford the brook 
 which would scarcely reach to his ankles. But in 
 that mountainous region where snow lingers on 
 into summer and may be rapidly melted on a 
 warm day, the rivulets which, in many cases, may 
 be mere dry channels in the morning, will some- 
 times fill their beds and continue to swell rapidly 
 as the day advances. The brook in question, on 
 the day of Ovid's visit, had undergone this change. 
 It could boast neither of bridges nor of ferry-boats, 
 and as the poet could not cross its torrent, his love 
 of legend led him to conjure up visions of some of 
 
 ' ^n. II. 496. " .®». XII. 623. 
 
266 SPRINGS, RIVERS, AND LAKES [Chap. XII. 
 
 the means of transport celebrated in ancient myths. 
 He wished that he could borrow the winged shoes 
 of Mercury or the dragon-drawn chariot of Ceres ; 
 but he consoled himself with the reflection that, 
 after all, these tales were only the marvellous 
 inventions of poets, as such things had never really 
 existed and never would exist. The thought then 
 came into his head that rivers, instead of opposing, 
 ought to assist lovers in their adventures, and he 
 thereupon indulged in a retrospect of cases in 
 Greek and Roman legend where famous rivers 
 had experienced the pleasures and pains of love. 
 But while he was engaged in his rhapsody, the 
 remorseless water had been continuing its rise. 
 On recognising its indifference to his plight he 
 reproached and reviled the stream as a nameless 
 thing, fed by no constant spring (that is, without 
 a capiit sacrum), but by rain or melted snow, so 
 as to be either muddy in winter or fiUed with 
 dust in the hot weather. His tirade ends with 
 the expression of a hope that the brook which 
 has so shamefully used him may be fitly recom- 
 pensed with summers always fiercely hot and 
 winters always dry.* 
 
 As each Italian river had its own tutelary 
 deity, it possessed a certain kind of individuality 
 by which it was more or less marked off from the 
 rest of its brethren, and which was recognised 
 as embodying its own distinctive features. By 
 general consent, the Po was allowed to stand at 
 
 ' Amor. III. vi. 
 
THE RIVER PO 267 
 
 the head of all the rivers of the country,^ although 
 
 the Tiber came first in the affections of Roman 
 
 citizens. Among the sights with which, according 
 
 to Virgil, Aeneas was favoured in his subterranean 
 
 journey to the Seats of the Blest, he was permitted to 
 
 behold the fountain head or sacred source of Italy's 
 
 greatest river. We are told that "in a scented 
 
 grove of laurel the mighty Eridanus issues from 
 
 below and rolls his waters through the forest."" 
 
 Elsewhere the poet pictures this stream " with its 
 
 golden horns and buU-hke countenance, than which 
 
 no more impetuous river flows through the fertile 
 
 plains to the purple sea." ' And among the direful 
 
 omens that accompanied the assassination of Julius 
 
 Ceesar, we learn that " Eridanus, King of rivers, 
 
 seizing the woods in his mad whirl, swept away 
 
 whole fields, and carried off the cattle and their 
 
 stalls."* The poet's own Mincius, one of the 
 
 tributaries which help to swell the Po in its course 
 
 across the Lombardy plains, is called by him the 
 
 " Son of Benacus " from its flowing out of the 
 
 lake of that name (Lago di Garda). He loved to 
 
 remember its ample volume as it slowly wanders 
 
 in wide curves across the plains, between its 
 
 banks fringed with tender reeds.* 
 
 Of all the Italian rivers the Tiber naturally 
 receives most notice in the literature of ancient 
 Rome. Though inferior to the Po in the length 
 
 1 ' ' Pater ipse superbus aquarum 
 Ausonidum Eridanus." — Sit. Ital. Pun. IX. 187. 
 
 2 Ain. VI. 658. ' Gew. IV. 372. 
 
 * Id. I. 481. " Id. III. 14 ; Mn. X. 206. 
 
268 SPRINGS, RIVERS, AND LAKES [Chap. XII. 
 
 of its course and the volume of its waters, it far 
 surpassed that river in the number and interest 
 of its historical associations. The Romans were 
 with good reason proud of their river, which 
 had been so intimately associated with their 
 history since before the first settlement of the 
 state and the building of the city. " Horn-bearing 
 river, sovereign of the western waters,"^ is the 
 title given to the stream by Virgil, who, in his 
 patriotic devotion to Rome, loses no opportunity 
 of celebrating its natural features. Rising among 
 the Etruscan Apennines, and making a long 
 journey through successive ridges of that central 
 chain of heights, the Tiber, for the greater part 
 of its course, has many of the aspects of a 
 mountain-stream. Only after it quits the lime- 
 stone hills and enters upon the volcanic district 
 does it assume the fuU character of a river of 
 the plains. But, even there, its nearness to the 
 flanks of the hill -country and its reception of 
 several tributaries, notably the Anio, that come 
 directly from the uplands, continue to impart 
 to the Tiber a more variable disposition than a 
 longer journey on low ground at a progressively 
 greater distance from the hills would have 
 produced. 
 
 Flowing through the city of Rome and Uable 
 
 to the usual changes of mood in rivers of such 
 
 a type, the Tiber was always a source of lively 
 
 interest to the inhabitants. Pater Tiberinus had 
 
 ' ^n. VIII. 77. 
 
PATER TIBERINUS 269 
 
 been one of their early numina, to whom they offered 
 worship. He seemed to be almost a fellow-citizen. 
 They loved his characteristic tawny hue derived 
 from the yellow sand and clay so abundantly 
 suspended in the water, which was consequently 
 so different from the clearer tributaries among 
 the hard limestone hills. They called him 
 "amoenus," charming in his quieter moods, but 
 apt to become violent, overflowing his banks, 
 and bearing along, under the bridges and past 
 the streets of the city, the wreck of fields and 
 farms over which he had swept in his furious 
 career. 
 
 In the scene depicted by Virgil when Aeneas 
 first catches sight of the Tiber, the poet displays 
 his consummate art, and at the same time his 
 proud appreciation of the river so dear to every 
 Roman. He takes care to place the incident in 
 early morning, and in spring or opening summer, 
 when the landscape would be at its loveliest, and 
 when the first impression of the scene would be 
 such as might well delight the hearts of the 
 Trojans as they entered on their promised 
 land : — 
 
 " Now from her rosy car the golden Dawn 
 Was reddening with her rays the tranquil sea. 
 The winds sank down, and still was every breath, 
 While through the sluggish tide the oarsmen toiled. 
 Aeneas from the deep beholds a grove, 
 In midst whereof the Tiber's pleasant stream, 
 With rapid swirls and freight of yellow sand, 
 Impetuous sweeps into the open sea. 
 
270 SPRINGS, RIVERS, AND LAKES [Chap. XII. 
 
 All round and overhead were flocks of birds 
 Of many varied hues, that haunted then 
 The banks and channel of the ample stream. 
 Soothing the air with diverse melody, 
 And flitting through the umbrage of the grove. 
 Aeneas bids his men to change their course : 
 Turning their prows towards the verdant land, 
 He gladly steers into the river's shade." ^ 
 
 In a later part of the epic the poet introduces 
 the river-god himself into the scene. Aeneas, 
 weary and anxious, is represented as having 
 stretched his hmbs for rest by the banks of the 
 river, whereupon "the god himself, Tiberinus 
 of the pleasant stream" appears to the hero, 
 raising his venerable head from among the poplar 
 leaves, draped in thin flaxen mantle of silver- 
 grey, with his hair wrapped round with shady 
 reeds. After speaking some comfortable words 
 of advice and prophecy to the Trojan leader, and 
 promising his assistance, he concludes his address 
 thus : " I am he whom thou beholdest, gently 
 touching my banks with my brimming stream 
 and winding through the teeming fields, caerulean 
 Tiber, river dearest of all to heaven."^ The 
 adjective "caerulean" which he here applies to 
 himself was in common use among the poets 
 as an epithet for river - gods, but there was 
 probably no river in the country the waters of 
 which less deserved it. Yet every one who has 
 wandered by its banks will remember times when 
 the sky overhead wore its deepest ItaUan blue, 
 
 ' ^ffi». VII. 26-36. 2 Id. VIII. 28-65. 
 
VIRGIL'S PICTURES OF THE TIBER 271 
 
 when the air was still, and when the smooth 
 unrippled surface of the river in its wider reaches, 
 seen at the proper angle, reflected in perfection 
 the colour of the heavens above, though when 
 looked into from the bank, the water was seen 
 to be as yeUow and turbid as ever. 
 
 In continuation of the passage just cited, 
 Virgil, proceeding to recount how Father Tiber 
 fulfilled his promise of aid to Aeneas, takes 
 another opportunity of dwelling on the varied 
 beauties of the Roman river : — 
 
 " That livelong night the Tiber calmed his stream, 
 And stilled its brimming current till it lay 
 Silent and smooth, like to a placid lake 
 Whereon no hindrance would retard the oar. 
 So now, the warriors, raising shouts of joy, 
 Speed fast upon their way. The well-caulked pine 
 Glides o'er the depths. The water and the grove, 
 Unused to such array, are sore amazed 
 As flashing shields and painted galleys pass. 
 All night and day the men toil at the oar. 
 Sweeping around the long bends of the stream, 
 Beneath the shade of many varied trees. 
 And cutting through the sylvan greenery 
 Mirrored upon the glassy flood below. 
 The fiery sun had scaled the vault of heaven 
 Ere they descry walls, tower, and scattered roofs — 
 Where mighty Rome has now built to the skies, 
 But in those days Evander's poor domain — 
 They steer to shore, and soon draw near the town." * 
 
 Disastrous floods of the Tiber have been 
 recorded in history, some of them vdthin the 
 decades with which we are dealing in these 
 
 ' ^®». VIII. 86-101. 
 
272 SPRINGS, RIVERS, AND LAKES [Chap. XII. 
 
 chapters. Thus Cicero, writmg to his brother in 
 November B.C. 54, refers to a great inundation 
 which extended on the Via Appia, as far as the 
 temple of Mars, washing away promenades, 
 pleasure-grounds, and a great many shops, and 
 accumulating as a wide sheet of water that 
 stretched up to the public fish-ponds.'' To most 
 readers of the classics, however, the most familiar 
 of these floods is that so vividly described by 
 Horace in his first Ode to Augustus, when the 
 waters penetrated into the very heart of the city, as 
 if to destroy the Regia and the Temple of Vesta in 
 the Forum. The poet draws a doleful picture of 
 what might be expected. The city and the country 
 had been terrified by storms of snow, hail, and 
 lightning. Men feared lest Pyrrha's deluge was 
 coming back, when seals and fishes would swim 
 about the high hills, and among the tops of the 
 elms which had hitherto been the haunt of wood- 
 pigeons." Horace gives another graphic picture of 
 the Tiber in flood in the Ode wherein he compares 
 the vicissitudes of human life to those of the 
 familiar river of Rome, which at one time glides 
 peacefully along in the midst of its channel down 
 to the Etruscan Sea, but at another time sweeps 
 aloilg huge boulders, tree-trunks, cattle and houses, 
 in one vortex of destruction, not without clamour 
 re-echoing from the hills and neighbouring woods, 
 when the fierce deluge chafes the quiet streams.* 
 
 ' Epiit. Quint. Frat. III. vu. 
 a Carm. I. ii. * Id. III. xxix. 33-41. 
 
THE ANIO 273 
 
 About three miles above Rome, the Tiber 
 receives the Anio, which, after its course among 
 the Apennine valleys, plunges over the falls at 
 Tivoli, and winds for a direct distance of some 
 sixteen miles across the volcanic plain of the 
 Campagna. Where it quits the hills it well 
 deserves the epithet " headlong " {irraeceps) which 
 Horace applies to it. But from that picturesque 
 spot onward its speed slackens, and its course on 
 the plain is, on a smaller scale, not unlike that 
 of the Tiber itself in the Campagna. In the 
 first century of our era the banks of the Anio 
 vied with those of the Tiber in the number of their 
 villas and the beauty of their surroundings. Pliny 
 the Younger called it "the most delightful of 
 "rivers," and he thought that it looked as if it were 
 invited and detained by the attractions of the 
 villas and gardens through which it flowed. He 
 was referring, of course, to its route below the 
 falls. In the higher part of its course it is 
 rather a mountain stream. Though it may remain 
 for some time with little change of volume, it 
 is liable to be rapidly swollen by heavy rains 
 among the hills or by the melting of snow, and 
 it then sweeps an enormous body of water into 
 the main river, Pliny describes one of these 
 disastrous floods on this stream which broke 
 down and carried away a great part of the shady 
 woods along its banks, undermined hills, blocked 
 up its channel, and in the effort to force a passage 
 pushed down houses and spread itself over their 
 
274 SPRINGS, RIVERS, AND LAKES [Chap. XII. 
 
 ruins, while on the raging torrent, the movables 
 and heavy furniture of wealthy families, agri- 
 cultural implements, oxen, ploughs, herdsmen, 
 scattered herds of cattle, tree-trunks, beams, and 
 roofs of villas floated far and wide. ^ 
 
 The frequent and appreciative allusions made 
 by Horace to the great Aufidus of his native 
 Apulia have already been referred to (p. 73). 
 While he hked to recall the impetuosity of that 
 river, he had also a regard for gentle streams, and he 
 especially singles out for remark the Liris, once so 
 dear to Cicero (p. 51). He calls it a quiet and silent 
 stream,^ and Silius Italicus repeats these epithets 
 when he describes the river as concealing its current 
 by its quiet flow, and, unaffected by rain-storms, 
 kissing the silent banks with its sparkling stream.' 
 The Sabine bard, however, seems to have noticed 
 that not only did the rushing Aufidus sweep away 
 its banks, but that even the gently gliding Liris 
 was no exception to the rule that moving water 
 tends to corrode and remove the surfaces over 
 which it flows ; for he speaks of the Liris eating 
 away the fields through which it traced its way. 
 Elsewhere he alludes to the smoothed rocks of his 
 low-lying Ustica, and the worn blocks of stone 
 swept along by a river-flood, and he may perhaps 
 have connected these signs of tear and wear with 
 
 ^ Epist. VIII. xvii. Silius Italicus gives a vivid picture of the 
 turbulent Durance, in its descent from the Alps, and its changing 
 course across the plains below (Pure. III. 468-476). 
 
 8 Carm, I. xxxi. 7. ' Pun. IV. 348. 
 
DECAY OF THE SURFACE OF THE LAND 275 
 
 the abrading action of running water, which is so 
 obvious to observant eyes.^ 
 
 That hard stone may be worn away by the 
 long continued fall of water had long been famiUar, 
 and the fact had often been made use of by the 
 poets. None of these writers, however, nor any of 
 the philosophers of Rome realised it so vividly 
 as Lucretius, whose observant and poetic, eye 
 perceived 
 
 " Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay." 
 
 He recognised with singular clearness the striking 
 evidence that aU over the surface of the earth a 
 continual process of disintegration is at work, 
 whereby minute particles of matter are separated 
 from solid bodies and diffused through the world.^ 
 His observations are forcibly expressed in the 
 following passage: — 
 
 "Do you not see that stones are vanquished 
 by age ; that high towers tumble to the ground ; 
 that rocks crumble away ; that the monuments 
 of men fall down ; that the temples of the gods 
 and their images, worn out with time, come to 
 pieces; and that not even the holy deity can 
 protract the bounds of fate or strive against the 
 laws of Nature ? " ' 
 
 The effect of the water-drop and the corroding 
 influence of the atmosphere even on hard stone were 
 often alluded to by the successors of Lucretius. 
 
 '"Levia saxa" and "lapides adesos'' {Carm. I. xvii. 12; III. 
 xxix. 36). 
 
 « De Ber. Nat. I. 313, s Id. V. 306-310. 
 
276 SPRINGS, RIVERS, AND LAKES [Chap. XII. 
 
 Ovid, for instance, is fond of quoting it for widely 
 different purposes. Thus, in the hey-day of his 
 prosperity, he makes use of it as an argument in 
 favour of his recommendation that a lover should 
 persist in his addresses, despite all obstacles.^ In 
 his exile, however, it served him in a sadder way, 
 for he made it the ground of a complaint that 
 while even the hard stone is hollowed by the 
 water-drop, and gnawing time consumes everjrthing, 
 the poet himself is left unregarded to endure his 
 misery.^ 
 
 Martial, amid aU his clever trifling, was observant 
 enough to note the sad reality of this universal 
 disintegration which spares no human monument, 
 not even those that have been erected at vast cost 
 and with loving care in the hope that they will 
 last for ever. He read this lesson along the public 
 highways with their flanking rows of tombs. 
 Such structures, often ample in size and elaborate 
 in ornamentation, enjoy no immunity from the 
 universal progress of decay, but require to be kept 
 in repair. When the generation that erected them 
 has, however, passed away, the needful care of 
 them is apt to be neglected by the dwindling 
 circle of surviving relatives and friends. Even the 
 monuments of men who were great personages in 
 their day at Rome were allowed to fall into 
 ruin. Martial was impressed by some instances 
 of this neglect. He saw the marble tomb of the 
 illustrious Messala to have been spUt open by the 
 
 ' Art. Amat. I. 475. ^ Pont. IV. x. 5. 
 
DECAY OF TOMBSTONES 277 
 
 growth of a wild fig-tree. He noticed too that 
 the horses on the costly monument of the rich 
 Crispus, half gone to decay, were a source of 
 merriment to the passing muleteer. But he con- 
 soled himself with the reflection that a poet's 
 immortality does not depend upon a tombstone, 
 how large and costly soever. He looked forward 
 to a time when the stones of Messala's tomb would 
 be disrupted from their place and lie scattered 
 about, and when the lofty marbles of the splendid 
 monument of Licinus, the wealthy freedman of 
 Augustus, would be dust.^ He could wish for a 
 friend's last resting-place no nodding pile of Parian 
 stone, which was a vain and perishabLe offering to 
 the dead. He would rather have easily-trimmed 
 box-trees and shady palms and flowers from the 
 dewy meadows, which he could water with his 
 tears. As for himself, he felt sure that he would 
 live to future ages : " for literary work cannot be 
 injured by thieves and gains by the lapse of time ; 
 such are the only monuments that know not 
 death.'"' 
 
 Propertius, as we have seen (p. 94), averred 
 that he had made a proAdsion, with the knowledge 
 and sanction of Apollo, whereby his tomb was to 
 be protected from desecration or destruction. The 
 
 ^ This tomb on the Salarian Way gave rise to the following epigram: — 
 
 ' ' Marmoreo Licinus tumulo jaoet ; at Cato parvo, 
 Pompeius nullo ; quis putet esse deos ? " 
 
 ^ Epig. I. Ixxxviii. ; VIII. iii. 6 ; X. ii. 9-12. Ovid had already made 
 the same reflection (Pont. TV. viii. 49-62), and Pliny the Younger also 
 expressed it [Epist I. iii.). 
 
S78 SPRINGS, RIVERS, AND LARES [Chap. XII. 
 
 suggestion has been made that he may perhaps 
 have referred to the admission of his poems into 
 the Palatine library. Certainly if he imagined 
 that any means could be devised, other than 
 perennial human care, for the upkeep of his actual 
 tomb, he could have read no such lesson as Martial 
 did from the sepulchral monuments along the 
 public highways, where he would have learnt 
 that even the benevolent interposition of Apollo, 
 whose aid he thought he had secured, would be 
 of no avail to ward oflF the attacks of "Tempus 
 edax rerum." But, like Martial, though his grave 
 is unknown, he still lives in his poems, and wil 
 continue to be read as long as Latin literature 
 has readers. 
 
 The Lakes of Italy take a less conspicuous 
 place than the rivers in the poetry of ancient 
 Rome. Those in the northern part of the country 
 include the largest and noblest sheets of water 
 in the southern half of Europe, while those in 
 the central and southern districts, lying as they 
 do at the bottoms of extinct volcanic craters, are 
 often wonderfully picturesque. Reference has 
 already been made to the latter series of lakes, and 
 to the impressive features which led to some 
 of them being considered as sacred places and 
 dedicated to special divinities, like the Lake of Nemi 
 consecrated to Diana. To what extent the crater 
 lakes of Central Italy were chosen as localities 
 for the erection of country-houses has not been 
 definitely ascertained. Professor Lanciani, indeed, 
 
THE ITALIAN LAKES 279 
 
 has expressed the opinion that the Romans did 
 not care for lakes, and he states by way of illustra- 
 tion that the remains of only one villa have been 
 found along the shores of the Lake Bracciano.^ 
 But the lakes of Albano and Ariccia had viUas on 
 their slopes, and from the language of Seneca, 
 already cited (p. 46), it might be inferred that such 
 places were rather sought after as country retreats. 
 In the north, too, the Lake of Como had villas on 
 its shores, and the Lago di Garda was similarly 
 furnished. 
 
 Of the great northern lakes the two just 
 mentioned are more particularly referred to by 
 the poets of Rome and by other writers in 
 prose. The Lacus Larius, or Lake of Como, finds 
 pleasant mention in the letters of the younger 
 Pliny. Himself a native of Comum on the banks 
 of that sheet of water, he possessed several vUlas 
 there. In v^riting to his friends in this home 
 of his youth he affectionately called the lake 
 "Larius noster." His love of the place and 
 appreciation of *its attractions are manifest in 
 the letter to Caninius Rufus which has been 
 already quoted (p. 33). In another letter to the 
 same correspondent he expatiates on the numerous 
 advantages of that locality. If a man loved sport 
 the lake would furnish him with fishing, and the 
 woods with game; while if he were disposed to 
 study he would find his taste abundantly provided 
 for in that deepest seclusion {altissimus secessus).^ 
 
 1 " Wanderings in the Roman Campagna,'' p. 46. " Epist. II. viii. 
 
280 SPRINGS, RIVERS, AND LAKES [Chap. XII. 
 
 To another friend who was erecting a house on 
 the sea- coast, he gave a pleasant account of 
 building operations which he too was at the same 
 time carrying on upon the banks of the Lake of 
 Como. In his letter he enlarges upon the attrac- 
 tions of two of his viUas there, each of which had 
 its own special charm. He remarks upon the 
 amusement and gratification that he found in 
 adding to each of them other beauties in which 
 it might be deficient.^ The district, besides its 
 charm for him as his native place, had many- 
 attractions for a studious and observant man, who 
 loved the country and country life, and took his 
 daily walks with his eyes open to every change 
 in the aspects of Nature. When Pliny chose to 
 record what he had observed he showed an un- 
 common descriptive power, of which an excellent 
 instance occurs in one of his letters from Comum, 
 wherein he gives a detailed account of an oscillating 
 spring which he had come upon in one of his 
 walks, and which he found to rise and fall regularly 
 three times a day.^ 
 
 In his enumeration of the glories of Italy 
 Virgil includes its great lakes, of which he invokes 
 two by name, those of Como and Garda.' The 
 former he merely mentions, giving it the name 
 of "Larius maximus," as if he beUeved it to be 
 
 ' Epist. IX. vii. 
 
 2 Id. IV. XXX. There is said to be still a spring of this kind at 
 Torno on the side of the lake ; not improbably the same as that 
 described by Pliny. 
 
 ' Gear. II. 169. 
 
THE LAGO DI GARDA 281 
 
 the largest of the northern group of lakes. But 
 he adds no words which might indicate that he 
 had himself seen the place. In the case of the 
 Lacus Benacus/ or Lago di Garda, however, he 
 accompanies the mention of its name with a few 
 words that suggest personal acquaintance. He 
 had not improbably seen this lake in stormy 
 weather, when the winds from the mountains 
 were sweeping down upon the water, for he 
 speaks of the lake as "surging with the billows 
 and tumult of the sea." Elsewhere, in the midst 
 of his narrative of the warfare of Aeneas with his 
 Italian foes, he introduces an allusion which again 
 brings up his own personal recollections. He calls 
 the lake Father Benacus, as the parent of his 
 beloved Mincius, on whose reed-fringed stream 
 the five hundred warriors of Mezentius were borne 
 down into the main.^ But the chief claim of this 
 lake to the affectionate regard of all lovers of 
 Latin literature arises from the association of the 
 scene with the muse of Catullus. To these restful 
 shores this poet returned, weary with travel and 
 saddened by the death of his brother, to find 
 there the quiet and repose of which his ardent 
 spirit stood so much in need. The little pro- 
 montory of Sirmio which he has immortalised in 
 
 ' This name has a curiously Celtic look. Its first syllable is the 
 same as the familiar Gaelic term for a mountain, and the last two may 
 be the Latinised equivalent of some Celtic designation of a particular 
 height near the lake. It may be compared with Benachran, the name 
 of a lake in Ross-shire. 
 
 " ^n. X. 205. 
 
SPRINGS, RIVERS, AND LAKES [Chap. XII. 
 
 one of the most exquisite odes in the Latin or 
 any language, has become a place of pilgrimage, 
 and among the varied beauties and interests of 
 the Lago di Garda there mingles in the mind 
 the recollection that it was the home of Catullus 
 and has been consecrated by his genius. 
 
 " Paeninsularum, Sirmio, insularumque 
 Ocelle, quascumque in liquentibus stagnis 
 Marique vasto fert uterque Neptunus, 
 Quam te libenter quamque laetus inviso, 
 Vix mi ipse credens Thyniam atque Bithynos 
 Liquisse campos et videre te in tuto ! 
 quid solutis est beatius curis. 
 Cum mens onus reponit, ac peregrino 
 Labore fessi, venimus larem ad nostrum 
 Desideratoque acquiescimus lecto ! 
 Hoc est, quod unum est pro laboribus tantis, 
 Salve, o venusta Sirmio, atque hero gaude : 
 Gaudete vosque, o Lydiae lacus undae : 
 Ridete, quicquid est domi cachinnorum ! " ^ 
 
 ' Carm. XXXI. The original language is here given, for no 
 translation can reproduce its music. But the following version is 
 perhaps as nearly literal as English octosyllahic versBj even without 
 rhymfij will allow. 
 
 " Sirmio, thou dearest little eye 
 Of all peninsulas and isles 
 Which Neptune rules in liquid lakes 
 And on his mighty realm of sea ! 
 How willingly, how glad at heart. 
 Do I revisit thee once more, 
 Scarce crediting that I have left 
 Bithynia and Bithynians, 
 And safely gaze on thee again ! 
 what more blest than cares dispelled, 
 When the tired mind has dropped its load. 
 And, worn out with our foreign toil 
 We come at last to our own home, 
 And rest upon the longed-for bed ! 
 This, this alone is recompense 
 For all the toils that we have borne. 
 HaU to thee, lovely Sirmio ! 
 Bejoice to have thy master here I 
 Bejoice, wavelets on the lake, 
 And laugh in merriest mood with me 1 " 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 MOUNTAINS 
 
 Wordsworth, contemplating the subjugation of 
 Switzerland, wrote: 
 
 " Two voices are there ; one is of the Sea, 
 One of the Mountains ; each a mighty voice." 
 
 And he thought with grief of the possibility 
 that their appeals to the spirit of Liberty might 
 be in vain, 
 
 " That Mountain-floods should thunder as before, 
 And Ocean bellow from his rocky shore. 
 And neither awful voice be heard." 
 
 Appreciation of the solemn majesty of the 
 
 mountains and of the infinite beauty and grandeur 
 
 of the ocean is of comparatively recent growth. 
 
 The Romans as a people were insensible to it, 
 
 though by some of their finer spirits its early 
 
 stirrings were felt. Until hardly more than a 
 
 century and a half ago, as is well-known, mountains 
 
 all the world over were commonly looked upon 
 
 with more or less abhorrence, as barren, repulsive, 
 
 and dangerous parts of the earth's surface, haunted 
 
 by wild beasts, and in some places by still 
 
 wilder men. They were therefore places to be 
 
 283 
 
284 MOUNTAINS [Chap. XIII. 
 
 avoided, or only to be traversed when necessity 
 compelled, and then not until every precaution 
 had been taken against possible disaster. When we 
 remember the conspicuous place which mountains 
 hold in Italian landscape, it may seem strange 
 that they should have received such scant and 
 unappreciative treatment in Latin literature. On 
 the northern frontier of the country, the chain of 
 the Alps, which Hannibal had proved to be no 
 insuperable barrier to invasion, had to be crossed 
 in later years by the Roman armies before the 
 Transalpine territories could be conquered and 
 incorporated into the empire. After the conquest 
 came the crowd of traders who, following the 
 standards, established commercial communications 
 with all parts of the subject lands. The various 
 passes through the mountains, especially after 
 good roads had been constructed in them, must 
 have been frequently traversed, and had become 
 fairly well-known by the beginning of the Christian 
 era. Again, the range of the Apennines brought 
 mountain-scenery of a lesser tjrpe within reach or 
 sight from one end of the peninsula to the other. 
 Yet to our modern eyes it may seem astonishing 
 that not only is little notice taken of these 
 conspicuous features in the scenery of the country 
 by the writers either of verse or prose, but that 
 such brief references as are made to them not 
 unusually include some accompanying epithet of 
 disparagement. 
 
 It is deserving of remark that the Romans 
 
THE LATIN WORD "MONS" 285 
 
 employed their word "mons" in reference to 
 any eminence, altogether irrespective of its size 
 or height.^ The most trifling elevations and the 
 loftiest chain of mountains were all " montes." 
 Thus the Mons Sacer to which the plebeian 
 legionaries seceded from Rome is a hardly notice- 
 able prominence on the volcanic plain through 
 which the Anio winds. The hills on which the 
 city of Rome was built are of no great altitude, 
 yet they also were "montes," and their appella- 
 tion and number were perpetuated" in the name 
 of the festival of the Septimontium. As there 
 was no other word in use that could distinguish 
 the lofty mountain-chains of the Alps and the 
 Apennines, they too were "montes," and unless 
 they were mentioned by name, some qualifying 
 epithet was needed to denote their greater height 
 and importance. But in the application of such 
 epithets Latin writers were no more precise than 
 in the use of the word "mons." Thus when 
 they speak of the " Alpes aeriae " or of " aetherius 
 Olympus," we recognise at once the appropriate- 
 ness of the adjectives as expressive of portions of 
 the earth's surface that tower far up into higher 
 regions of the air. But our satisfaction is damped 
 
 ' The word is even occasionally applied io loose masses of stone 
 which can he moved from one place to another. Thus Virgil, in 
 referring to river-floods, speaks of them as whirling in their waters the 
 blocks of rock which they have swept together 
 
 ("Flumina oorreptosque unda torquentia montes," Gear. Ill, 254), 
 
 and Juvenal alludes to the collapse of a wagon laden with Ligurian 
 stone and the fall of the "mons" upon the crowd in the street 
 (Id. III. 267;. 
 
286 MOUNTAINS [Chap. XIII. 
 
 when we find the same epithets given to mere low 
 prominences on the plains. The most frequent 
 adjective applied to mountains is "altus," which, 
 if translated "lofty," would be a fitting designa- 
 tion for any mountain chain. But the word is 
 affixed also to quite minor eminences on the 
 low grounds.^ 
 
 Interesting proofs of how real among the 
 Romans was the dread of wild mountain scenery 
 have been found in some of the higher Alpine 
 passes in the form of offerings to the local 
 divinities to propitiate their favourable notice or 
 to express gratitude when the dangers had been 
 surmounted. Pious travellers in recognition of 
 the protection thus afforded would leave money 
 or votive tablets on which they recorded their 
 thanks and their names. A number of such 
 bronze tablets have been found at the passes of 
 the Great and Little St Bernard. One fi-om 
 the latter locality in the British Museum bears 
 an inscription in dotted letters which may have 
 been punched with some sharp-pointed instrument 
 by the dedicator himself — " Poenino sachum. 
 P. Blattius Creticus." This grateful traveller 
 
 1 Virgil applies " aerins " not only to the Alps, but to the Aventine 
 Hill of Rome and to the headland of Misenum on the Bay of Naples 
 (j^n. VI. 234 ; VIII. 221), and he speaks of peasants with straining neck 
 dragging their creaking wains " montes per altos " (Geor. III. 636). The 
 same wide acceptation of the word " mons " has been transmitted to the 
 languages directly derived from the Latin. Thus in French the highest 
 mountain in Europe has been named Mont Blanc, but the same word is 
 shared all over France by thousands of eminences of all dimensions 
 down to scarcely perceptible mounds upon the plains, 
 
LUCRETIUS AND MOUNTAINS 287 
 
 recognised that he owed his safety to the favour 
 of Jupiter Poeninus, the local deity whose name 
 is still perpetuated in that of the Pennine Alps. 
 
 On the other hand, there were callous spirits 
 who cared neither for the grandeur nor the dangers 
 of the mountains, with their storms of snow and 
 their thundering avalanches. The mercantile men 
 who braved the dangers of the deep were not 
 likely to quail before those of the Alps. How 
 completely some men of commanding genius could 
 detach themselves from even the most imposing 
 aspects of Nature is indicated in the remark of 
 Suetonius that Julius Caesar, in traversing the 
 Alps from Cisalpine Gaul to rejoin his troops on 
 the other further side of the mountains, employed 
 himself in composing his treatise on the Latin 
 language.^ 
 
 Of all the poets of the golden age of Latin 
 literature, Lucretius is the only one who appears 
 to have himself climbed mountains and to have 
 taken pleasure in their ascent. His keen interest 
 in the grand elemental forces of Nature would 
 induce him to venture into those rugged, lofty, 
 and solitary regions, where cloud and storm have 
 the noblest theatre for their display. He com- 
 plains, indeed, that half of the surface of the 
 earth has been greedily seized on by mountains, 
 forests of wild beasts, rocks, desolate swamps, 
 
 1 Julius CtBsar, cap. 56. This may well have been after the passes of 
 the mountains had become familiar to him from frequent journeys 
 through them. 
 
288 MOUNTAINS [Chap. XHl. 
 
 and the sea.^ He alludes to some of his own 
 experience in the ascent of mountains, and in 
 watching the movements of clouds above their 
 summits {antea p. 211). After a picturesque 
 account of a review of great legions on the 
 plains, with their marches and charges of infantry 
 and cavalry, he adds that, seen from a place 
 among the high mountains, this tumultuous 
 mass of men appears to be at rest. In another 
 passage he alludes to forest fires among the 
 mighty mountains, when, as the fierce south- 
 winds blow, the tops of the tall trees are rubbed 
 together, until at last they burst into flame. His 
 excursions vidth friends into the sombre recesses 
 of the mountains gave him experience of the 
 reverberation of echoes, six or seven times re- 
 peated, till these rocky places seemed ftiU of 
 voices, and he could easily understand how such 
 solitary retreats had come to be regarded by 
 the country-folk as the haunt of goat -footed 
 satyrs, fauns and nymphs, that keep up their 
 revels through the night, while " Pan, tossing the 
 pine wreaths on his half-bestial head, often with 
 curved lip runs over the open reeds and pours 
 forth unceasingly a woodland music. "^ 
 
 Although Virgil was born and spent his youth 
 with the Alps at no great distance on one side 
 and the Apennines on the other, neither range 
 draws from him any description or encomium. 
 
 1 De Ber. Nat. V. 200. 
 
 2 Id. I. 897 ; II. 323 ; IV. 672-689. 
 
VIRGIL ON MOUNTAINS 289 
 
 He several times merely mentions the Alps. 
 Among the weird prodigies that preceded or 
 accompanied the assassination of Julius Caesar 
 he enumerates the sympathy of ^tna which 
 boiled up among the Cyclopean fields, surging 
 and bursting through its furnaces, and hurUng 
 forth balls of flame and molten rocks, while 
 the Alps shook with unwonted tremors. He 
 speaks of the northern lofty {aerias) Alps and 
 alludes to their snows. In one passage Jupiter 
 is represented as prophesying Hannibal's invasion 
 of Italy, "when through the opened Alps fierce 
 Carthage shall hurl vast ruin against the towers 
 of Rome."^ The poet once singles out a special 
 Alpine peak, that of the pine - clad Vesulus 
 (Monte Viso) — the loftiest and most conspicuous 
 height to the west of the basin of the Po. 
 The Eclogues contain allusions to " montes " 
 that are not named, and it is uncertain, even 
 when they are coupled with the adjective 
 "altus," whether they belonged to the higher 
 ranges of Northern Italy or to minor eleva- 
 tions on the plains, or were not rather part of 
 the imaginary half - Sicihan, half - Greek land- 
 scapes that figure in these poems. Virgil's most 
 detailed reference to an Italian mountain is, if 
 I mistake not, that in which he alludes to " great 
 Father Apenninus as he soars through his quiver- 
 ing ilexes, and joys to raise his snowy crest into 
 
 ^ ^n. X. 12. Juvenal wrote that against Hannibal 
 "Oppoeuit Natura Alpemque nivemque." — Sat, X. 152. 
 
 T 
 
290 MOUNTAINS [Chap. XIII. 
 
 the air."^ The poet's allusions are usually to 
 mountains at a. distance which form the back- 
 ground of his landscapes. Of their inner scenery 
 he says nothiag. The Apennine range is more 
 than once briefly alluded to by SUius Italicus. In 
 one passage he speaks of it bristling with ice 
 among its slippery rocks, and mingling its pine- 
 bearing crest with the highest heaven. Elsewhere 
 he refers to "Apenninus with his snoAvy mass, 
 raising his head in rivalry with the Alps."' 
 
 From Horace, whose home lay in a valley 
 among hmestone hills and crags, near to some 
 of the wildest ground in the Sabine district, we 
 might expect some indications of how the more 
 rugged kinds of scenery impressed him. But 
 though he was devotedly attached to that home 
 and its immediate surroundings and received from 
 them the inspiration that has given us some of 
 his most delightful poetry, it was not the sterner 
 features that he loved to dwell upon. That these 
 features were not without their influence upon 
 him may well be believed, but he more especially 
 deUghted in the peaceful fertility of his landscape 
 with its woods and fields, its vines and oUves, 
 
 ' JEn. XII. 701. The representation of Atlas (Id. IV. 246-261) is 
 not from Virgil's own observation. 
 
 ^ Pun. IV. 741 ; II. 313. Shelley appreciated these hills more 
 warmly than any of his Roman predecessors : — 
 
 " The Apennine, in the light of day, 
 Is a mighty mountain dim and grey 
 Which between the earth and sky doth lay ; 
 But, when night comes, a chaos dr6ad 
 On the dim sUirlight then is spread. 
 And the Apennine walks abroad with the storm," 
 
HORACE AND MOUNTAINS 291 
 
 its fountain and stream that refreshed the whole 
 valley, its cool upland air, its sequestered solitude 
 and yet its nearness to the haunts of men. The 
 only hill that he repeatedly alludes to is Mount 
 Algidus, but it can hardly be regarded as repre- 
 sentative of true mountain scenery. It forms 
 part of the eastern rim of the great volcanic crater 
 of the Alban hills, and rises from the wide plain 
 of the Campagna to a height of nearly 3,000 feet 
 above the sea. Densely wooded in Horace's time, 
 as it still is, it was sacred to Diana, with whom 
 the poet associates it. Its lower slopes were dotted 
 over with the villas of wealthy Romans, and as 
 these retreats lay not many miles from Tibur, 
 Horace may now and then have paid a visit to 
 friends there. He refers to the cool air around 
 the snowy hill, and we might beUeve him to have 
 been an eye-witness of some destruction of the 
 forest, for he speaks of the ilexes shorn down by 
 ruthless axes on dark-foliaged Algidus.^ 
 
 Horace merely mentions the highest of his own 
 Sabine hiUs, if the identification of his Lucretilis 
 with Monte Gennaro be correct. He calls it 
 charming (amoenum), and he gives it the encomium 
 of being a place to which many a time Faunus 
 comes swiftly from his loved Lycaeus, to shelter 
 the poet's she-goats from the summer heat and the 
 rainy winds.^ The five miles of country, with its 
 rocky valleys, woods, and pastures, that lay between 
 his farm and the top of Lucretilis would perhaps 
 
 ' Carm. I. xxi. 6 ; III. xxiii. 9 ; IV. iv. 68. ' Id. I. xvii. 1. 
 
292 MOUNTAINS [Chap. XIII. 
 
 prevent his visits to it from being frequent. In 
 one of his rapturous odes in which he recounts the 
 favours received by him from Calliope and her 
 sisters he speaks of being borne up into the steep 
 Sabine hills (" in arduos tollor Sabinos ").^ But this 
 figurative journey in the company of the Muses 
 belonged to the "amabUis insania'" which makes 
 the ode so delightful. It may not impossibly have 
 been the only visit which he ever paid to the 
 remoter and wilder fastnesses of his surrounding 
 mountains. The epithets which he applies to 
 mountains are usually more or less depreciatory, 
 such as cold, wintry, snowy, remote, inhospitable, 
 frightful; and they are unaccompanied by any 
 appreciation of the beauty or grandeur of the 
 scenery. 
 
 Even Catullus, with a home on the Lago di 
 Garda, in view of the encircling mountain-ridges 
 and the snowy Alps at no great distance beyond, 
 makes no mention of these features which to 
 modern taste are the noblest in his landscape, save 
 in one passage wherein he speaks of "marching 
 across the lofty Alps." His sonnet on Sirmio 
 contains no allusion to the mountainous . girdle 
 that encircles the lake (p. 282). 
 
 The prevailing impression among the Romans 
 in regard to mountain scenery is well expressed by 
 Silius Italicus in the following passage which 
 occurs in his description of the passage of the Alps 
 by Hannibal. 
 
 1 Oarm, III. iv, 21. 
 
SILIUS ITALICUS ON THE ALPS 293 
 
 "As the soldiers drew near to the mountains 
 the recollection of their previous toils was for- 
 gotten in face of the far more serious trials that 
 now confronted them. Here everything is wrapped 
 in eternal frost, white with snow, and held in the 
 grip of primeval ice. The mountain steeps are 
 so stiff with cold that although they tower up 
 into the sky, the warmth of the sunshine cannot 
 soften their hardened rime. Deep as the Tartarean 
 abyss of the underworld lies beneath the ground, 
 even so far does the earth here mount into the air, 
 shutting out with its shade the light of heaven. 
 No Spring comes to this region, nor the charms of 
 Summer. Misshapen Winter dwells alone on these 
 dread crests, and guards them as her perpetual 
 abode. Thither from all sides she gathers the 
 sombre mists and the thunder-clouds mingled with 
 hail. Here, too, in this Alpine home, have the 
 winds and the tempests fixed their furious 
 dominion. Men grow dizzy amidst the lofty 
 crags, and the mountains disappear in the clouds. 
 Were Athos piled on Taurus, Rhodope on Mimas, 
 Ossa on Pelion, and Othrys on Haemus, they 
 would aU yield to the Alps. 
 
 " Hercules was the first to scale these yet-un- 
 attempted citadels. The gods above gazed at him 
 as, cleaving the clouds, he conquered the steeps of 
 the mountain, and with mighty force overcame the 
 rocks which from the beginning of time no 
 footsteps had ever violated."^ 
 
 Prose-writers were not more appreciative than 
 poets of the grander elements in Italian scenery. 
 
 * Punic. III. 477-499. The narrative of Polybius, descriptive of 
 Hannibal's passage of the Alps, and the later account by Livy, based on 
 that narrative, must have helped to strengthen the popular dislike of 
 mountain-scenery. Livy alludes to the Alps as the " prope inexsuper- 
 abilem fiuem " between Italy and Gaul. 
 
294 MOUNTAINS [Chap. XIII. 
 
 Cicero, for example, when discussing the force of 
 habit which reconciles us to what we may naturally 
 dishke, remarks that we may come to find pleasure 
 even in mountainous and wooded places, if we have 
 lived long enough in them.^ The younger Pliny, 
 while, in letters to a friend, he praises the view of 
 the Lake of Como as seen from one or other of his 
 villas there, has nothing to say of the mountains 
 on which, to our modern eyes, the charm of the 
 scenery there so greatly depends. Again, when he 
 describes in some detail the views to be seen from 
 his Tuscan villa in the vale of the Tiber, he makes 
 no further reference to the adjacent Apennines than 
 that their summits bear taU and ancient woods. 
 
 Little can be learnt from the extant ancient 
 frescoes as to the conception which Koman artists 
 had of mountain forms. An attentive examina- 
 tion of the Pompeian pictures has led me to 
 recognise among them three different types in 
 the delineation of hOly or rocky landscape, and to 
 form the opinion that some at least of the subjects 
 depicted were taken from scenes in Campania." 
 
 1. Among the backgrounds of the larger 
 Pompeian pictures, and also of the little landscapes 
 inserted amidst the mural decorations, there are 
 some which include conical hills that remind one 
 
 1 De Amic. XIX. 
 
 ' Wolfgang Helbig was of opinion in 1873 that only one landscape 
 yet discovered could certainly be referred to a Campanian origin, 
 namely the riot between the Pompeians and Nucerians in the 
 amphitheatre of Pompeii (" Untersuchungen iiber die Campanische 
 Wandmalerei," p. 96). But this, though Pompeian, can hardly be 
 called a landscape. 
 
LANDSCAPES IN ROMAN FRESCOES 295 
 
 of Vesuvius or some of the abundant volcanic cones 
 of the Campi Phlegraei. In the House of the 
 Centenario one such hill was depicted with wooded 
 sides, like Astroni or Gauro. In another picture, 
 showing part of the garden of a villa with its 
 impluvium, there rises beyond the boundary-wall 
 a group of pine-clad conical hills. The perspective 
 is peculiar, but the scene would recall to the 
 dweller in Pompeii the aspect of the heights to 
 the west of Naples, In a dainty little picture 
 representing a chariot-race of winged cupids with 
 stags yoked to the cars, the grassy foreground is 
 bounded in the middle distance by a group of 
 conical hills beyond which a blue mountain range 
 rises against the sky — a combination of Campanian 
 scenery which could hardly fail to please those who 
 dwelt among the narrow streets within the walls 
 of the httle city, 
 
 2. In a number of the Pompeian mural 
 paintings the rocky foregrounds may have been 
 taken from studies among the flanks of the lime- 
 stone hills between Rome and Naples, The two 
 sets of divisional planes caused by bedding and 
 jointing, whereby the rocks split up into rudely 
 quadrangular blocks have been more or less truth- 
 fully rendered. In one picture of a leopard 
 attacking a bull in the midst of rocks, the bedded 
 structure of the limestone is well-expressed. In 
 another painting, where Europa is represented as 
 being bound to the bull, an effective back-ground 
 of vertical limestone beds rises into peaks, from 
 
296 MOUNTAINS [Chap. XIII. 
 
 which flat slabs have been detached by the weather. 
 One of these blocks lies horizontally on the tops of 
 some of the lower peaks, while another is inclined 
 against the cliff behind. The artist has evidently 
 been impressed by the ruinous aspect of the scene, 
 as any modern observer wiU be who enters one of 
 the narrow, rugged valleys on the flanks of the 
 Apennine chain. In another picture of Europa 
 and the Bull, the scene is laid among mountains 
 which rise into forest-clothed crests in the distance, 
 while craggy rocks protrude among trees in the fore- 
 ground. Elsewhere a glimpse is obtained beyond 
 the broken rocks in front into a mountainous 
 country which is accessible by a path frequented 
 by shepherds with their flocks. Or we meet with 
 a rock-bounded valley traversed by a stream or 
 clothed with flowery meadows. In these and 
 similar subjects it is only the outer fringe of the 
 mountain- world which is depicted. Care is usually 
 taken by the insertion of a rustic temple with its 
 overshadowing sacred tree, to give a human touch 
 to the scene, and this impression is sometimes 
 heightened by a sacrificial procession approaching 
 the little shrine. 
 
 3. In some respects the third type of delinea- 
 tions of rocky scenery is the most interesting, 
 though least artistic. To modern eyes the land- 
 scapes look like gross and clumsy caricatures of 
 what they are intended to represent. Thus, in a 
 picture of Diana, surprised by Actaeon, found in 
 the House of Sallust, a group of perilously over- 
 
POMPEIAN FRESCOES 297 
 
 hanging rocks has been placed in the background. 
 In another painting which depicts a bull-baiting, 
 the rocks are represented as branching out into 
 huge fantastic arms from a narrow base on the 
 ground. It would seem that in these and other 
 delineations of scenery where the rocks are placed 
 in impossible positions, impending in such evident 
 instability as to convey the impression of serious 
 danger in approaching them, the artists endeavoured, 
 out of their own imagination, to embody in visible 
 form the widespread popular conception of the 
 mountain-world, where crags and cliffs, in all 
 varieties of strange and threatening shapes, forbade 
 the approach of man. 
 
300 THE SEA-SHORES [Chap. XIV. 
 
 and to the shores of India on the other, and the 
 Romans could justly be regarded as 
 
 " Lords of the wide world, and wild watery seas." ^ 
 
 Yet although a considerable sea-faring element 
 may have grown up in the population from the 
 early years of the Empire onward, the changes 
 and excitements of sea-voyages do not seem to 
 have had much attraction for civilians. Here and 
 there a philosopher journeyed for the purpose of 
 making acquaintance with far countries, or a tourist 
 travelled to scenes of historic, picturesque, or 
 scientific interest, and youths went in numbers to 
 Greece for the prosecution of their education ; but 
 for the most part, only men who had some official 
 or other duty abroad or an overmastering curiosity 
 to visit foreign scenes chose to run the risks of the 
 open sea.* 
 
 As already pointed out, however (p. 40), in 
 one respect the sea had great attractions for the 
 Romans. While they were chary of venturing on 
 
 ^ My friend Mr J. W. Mackail has pointed out to me that the 
 difference between the Greeks and Romans in their respective relations 
 to the sea must have been largely due to the question of the food 
 supply, as determined by the physical characters of the two countries. 
 Greece, from its comparative sterility and poverty in water, was ill fitted 
 for raising crops and rearing herds, and was thus in great measure 
 dependent on the supply of fish, which, owing to the lack of abundant 
 rivers and lakes, could only be obtained from the sea. The Romans on 
 the other hand had wide, fertile, well-watered plains, where they could 
 obtain all the necessaries of life, and hence for generations they were 
 under no imperative necessity to venture on the sea. 
 
 ^ The Italian &rmer was at all times distrustful of the sea. One of 
 the three things in his life which Cato regretted was, that he had 
 travelled by sea, when he might have gone by land (Mommsen, 
 "History of Rome," Book III. chap. ii.). 
 
ATTRACTIONS OF THE SEA-COAST 301 
 
 its surface far from the shore, they were in the 
 habit of flocking in large numbers every summer 
 to the coast, where they could look out upon the 
 wide Mediterranean and enjoy the freshness of the 
 sea-breezes. From the mouth of the Tiber south- 
 ward to Naples, somewhere about a dozen of little 
 towns were disposed at irregular intervals along 
 the coast, while in the spaces between them many 
 villas with their surrounding gardens and pleasure- 
 grounds were to be found. Some of these towns 
 were doubtless pleasant watering-places, at least 
 for the wealthier citizens who owned houses in 
 them, A special interest is attached to those of 
 them, already enumerated (p. 42), where Cicero had 
 his seaside residences, and from which he wrote so 
 many of his delightful letters — Antium, Astura, 
 Formiae, Cumae, Puteoli, Pompeii.^ So long as 
 he possessed his house at Antium he was much 
 attached to it. Writing thence he assured Atticus 
 that nothing could be quieter, cooler, or prettier 
 than his own dear home at that place, that he was 
 even thinking of spending the rest of his life there, 
 and that during his stay he had fallen so completely 
 into the arms of idleness that he could not extricate 
 himself, but was enjoying his books, of which he 
 had a delightful supply, all arranged in the cases 
 wherewith the kindness of Atticus had furnished 
 him. In the intervals of reading he betook himself 
 to the shore and counted the waves, when the 
 
 ' Besides these places there were others much frequented, such as 
 Tarracina (Anxur) of which Martial wrote so appreciatively {Epig. X. 8). 
 
THE SEA-SHORES [Chap. XIV. 
 
 weather prevented him from indulging in the sport 
 of catching lizards.^ At a later date it was at the 
 little islet of Astura that he sought the solitude in 
 which he could indulge his overmastering grief 
 at the loss of his daughter. In his own words, 
 this was 
 
 " indeed a charming spot, standing right in the sea, 
 and within sight of Antium on the one side and 
 Circeii on the other. . . . Nothing is pleasanter than 
 this seclusion. I cannot think that anything can 
 be more delightful than my villa here, the shore, the 
 sea-view, the hills and all the rest." 
 
 There in the midst of his deep sorrow he spent 
 whole days in literary composition, finishing the 
 long treatises of the Academicae Quaestiones and 
 De Finibus.^ Next year in reply to a question 
 put to him by Atticus, Cicero wrote : — 
 
 "You have asked me, and you even think I 
 can't answer, whether I would choose hills and a 
 view, or a walk on a flat shore. By Hercules, as 
 you say, the charm of either is so great that I am 
 in doubt which is to be preferred."^ 
 
 When Cicero visited his villas in the Bay of 
 Naples, as he seems to have done once each summer, 
 he found the journey from his residence at Puteoli 
 to that at Pompeii to be shorter and, unless in 
 
 * Epist. Att. II. vi. ; IV. viii. Strabo describes Antium as the resort 
 of statesmen for leisure and refreshment after their political duties, 
 and it was thus covered with sumptuous mansions appropriate for such 
 rustication {Geog. V. iii. 6). 
 
 ^ Op. oit. XII. ix., xiv., xix., xx. 
 
 ' Id. XIV. xiii. 
 
CICERO AT THE SEA-SIDE 303 
 
 rough weather, more agreeable, by pinnace across 
 the bay, than by the circuitous coast road, which 
 was probably uneven enough to make a journey 
 on it somewhat fatiguing. Even at Puteoli, when 
 the statesman was going to dine with his friend 
 Vestorius, the Puteoli banker, he sometimes pre- 
 ferred to make the little trip by boat. Much as 
 he shrank from voyages on the open sea, he could 
 enjoy boating on the smooth waters of the bay. 
 There is a pathetic sadness in the last letter which 
 he wrote from Pompeii.^ He had reluctantly 
 made up his mind to leave Italy for a time, where 
 the clouds of civil war were gathering so ominously, 
 and go to Greece. He wrote to Atticus that he 
 was about to spend in foreign travel the time that 
 might have been passed at his little country-places, 
 which were so well constructed and so charming. 
 These words were penned just as he was about to 
 embark from the harbour of Pompeii, with his 
 household in three ten-oared barges, his intention 
 being to make for Sicily and thence to secure a 
 passage to Greece. But he was a bad sailor, and 
 the prospect of the voyage distressed him. In the 
 end he turned his face once more towards Rome, 
 plunged into the seething political vortex there, 
 and fulminated his Philippics against Antony. 
 At these towns and elsewhere along the coast 
 
 ' Before the coast was so much altered hy the eruption of Vesuvius 
 in A.D. 79 this little town, with its harbour and the river Sarnus winding 
 to the sea, must have been an agreeable spot Statius speaks of the 
 " Pompeiani otia Sarni " (/Sife. I. ii. 266), and Silius Italicus alludes to 
 the "mitis Sarnus" {Pun. VIII. 637). 
 
THE SEA-SHORES [Ch«. XIV. 
 
 a favourite amusement of the wealthier proprietors 
 was to construct artificial fish-preserves (piscinae) 
 into which the weak Mediterranean tide entered 
 freely. These were stocked with fish caught in 
 the open sea, which were prevented from escaping 
 by a grating across the entrance. The old fish 
 became tame, and it was one of the attractions 
 to visitors to see these creatures come when 
 called and when food was offered. Martial has 
 left an account of one of these fish-ponds at 
 Formiae. He describes the sea there as being 
 stirred only by a gentle wind that bore along 
 the painted yacht, and was pleasant and cool, 
 like the air wafted by the purple fan of a 
 maiden who disliked the heat. Nor had the 
 fishing-line to seek its catch in the open sea, 
 for from one's bedroom, and even from bed, the 
 fish in the piscina might be seen taking the 
 bait that was thrown to it. Should foul weather 
 come, the table, sure of its supply, could laugh 
 at the storm, for the enclosed pool fed the 
 turbot and the bass ; the delicious sea-eel would 
 swim up to its master ; the sea-mullet came at 
 the call of the keeper, and the old mullets made 
 their appearance when summoned.^ 
 
 ^ Epig. X. XXX. There were likewise extensive piscinae at Baiae ; 
 Martial gives a less pleasing description of those of Domitiau at that 
 place. Cicero refers sarcastically to certain rich and stupid fish-breeders 
 (piscinarii) who cared not whether the Republic were destroyed, so 
 long as their pisciruie were safe {AdAtt. I. zviii. 6). Varro makes a rather 
 depreciatory allusion to the fish-ponds, which he thinks were meant 
 more for the eye than the purse ; they were expensive to make, 
 to stock, and to keep up (Be Rust. III. xvii, 2). 
 
ROUGH COUNTRY ROADS 305 
 
 How far the little coast - towns provided 
 accommodation for visitors who had no villas 
 of their own is a matter on which further in- 
 formation would be welcome. It was possible 
 in some of them to purchase a mere "dever- 
 sorium" or house-of-caU, where one could break 
 a journey to a more distant residence. This 
 was desirable in the case of the journeys which 
 involved more than a day on the road, unless 
 the traveller could claim the hospitahty of a 
 friend on the way. But a frequent repeti- 
 tion of this claim would in many cases be 
 inconvenient. 
 
 Owing to the state of some of the roads, 
 travelling to the sea - side resorts might be 
 neither expeditious nor comfortable. Admir- 
 ably devised as was the system of highways 
 through Italy, and excellently as these main 
 roads were generally constructed, they were not 
 everywhere smooth enough for easy travelling 
 in the carriages then in use. While the chief 
 lines of route were usually kept in good repair, 
 the cross-roads and less frequented tracks might 
 become uncomfortably rough. Even the Via 
 Appia, the " queen of highways," does not 
 appear to have been everywhere as smooth 
 as its reputation required, for Horace in his 
 famous journey to Brundisium, found that great 
 road to be uneven enough to make the travellers 
 glad to lessen the fatigue of driving on it by 
 going slowly, and taking two days to traverse 
 
 u 
 
306 THE SEA-SHORES [Chap. XIV. 
 
 a distance which more active tourists would 
 have accomphshed in a single day.^ 
 
 The roads in some parts of Southern Italy 
 left much to be desired. Statius gives a lively 
 picture of one to the north of Cumae, travelUng 
 on which was hke sailing on a tempestuous sea. 
 The improvement of this road was undertaken 
 by Domitian, and after his operations were com- 
 pleted, a journey which had previously taken a 
 whole day could then be accomplished in less 
 than two hours. As a result of this repair of 
 the line of through communication, it became 
 possible to leave the Tiber at daybreak and sail 
 on the Lucrine Lake by the evening.' There 
 are stiU to be seen at Pompeii examples of the 
 roads of that region as they existed in the time 
 of Statius. Those within the walls of the town, 
 being under the control of a municipality, would 
 probably have a greater share of attention than 
 those across the adjoining open country. Yet 
 nobody can walk along the ancient streets of 
 Pompeii to-day without vividly realising that a 
 few hours of jolting on such pavements in a 
 biga, or even in a modern vehicle with springs of 
 
 ' " Nimis est gravis Appia tardis " (Sat. !• v. 6). In Ovid's time 
 the Appian Way must have heen sensihly uneven in some places, for 
 he alludes to its being worn away by the curved wheels (Pont. II. vii. 
 44). Statius, who, as a resident in Campania, must have had constant 
 occasion to make use of the road bestows several complimentary epithets 
 upon it. He calls it " longarum regina viarum '' and speaks of it as 
 " nobilis," " annosa," and " ingens," but he admits that it is also 
 " saxosa." 
 
 ' Sih. IV. iii. 
 
MANSIONS BUILT ON THE BEACH 307 
 
 the utmost strength, would be an experience in 
 travel which he would never forget, and would 
 be careful not to repeat. 
 
 To enjoy a wide view of the sea was evidently 
 a prime object with the citizens of Rome in their 
 choice of residences on the coast. By the 
 wealthier portion of the community the pursuit 
 of this object was often carried to an extravagant 
 length. At a vast expense huge moles were 
 piled up on the beach and pushed out into the 
 sea. On these substructures palatial mansions 
 were erected.' The owners had thus nothing 
 to interrupt their outlook on the open sea, 
 whose surface rippled against the base of their 
 walls. So common had this practice become 
 in Horace's time that he again and again 
 alludes to it, going even so far as, with pardon- 
 able poetical exaggeration, to declare that the 
 luxury of his time was covering the seas 
 on both sides of Italy with these amphibious 
 structures.^ 
 
 It may readily be believed that as regards 
 a large proportion of the visitors to the seaside 
 their cup of pleasure would not be filled by 
 merely gazing at the blue Mediterranean or 
 
 ' The way in which huge blocks of stone were brought in barges 
 and discharged into the sea to form such moles is described by the 
 younger Pliny {Epist. VI. zzxi.), as having been witnessed by him at 
 the construction of Trajan's harbour at Centumcellae (Civita Vecchia). 
 The operation must have been seen and heard by Virgil at Baiae 
 {see postea p. 316). 
 
 ' Garm. II. xviii. 20 ; III. i. 33 ; xxiv. 3. Ovid also notices the 
 practice {Ars Amat. III. 126). 
 
308 THE SEA-SHORES [Chap. XIV. 
 
 serenading each other in gaily decorated boats 
 upon its surface. Each of the populous seaside 
 resorts presented other attractions more akin to 
 those of the city. At some of these places, such 
 as Baiae, there were luxurious thermae ; at others, 
 like Puteoli and Pompeii, there were theatres 
 and amphitheatres, where the performances were 
 modelled on those of the capital. And there was 
 always the perennial and predominant pleasure, 
 so tersely expressed by Ovid : — 
 
 " Spectatum veniunt ; veniunt, spectentur ut ipsae." 
 
 Besides the local establishments for amusement 
 the wealthier visitors no doubt brought with 
 them their portable luxuries and pastimes from 
 Rome. The lower orders, besides the public 
 shows and the itinerant jugglers, had their 
 savoury cook - shops and wine - taverns. Thus 
 places which in themselves were fraught with 
 natural beauty, tended to become more and 
 more vulgarised, and less agreeable to those 
 who sought rest in the quiet enjoyment of 
 Nature. Baiae, with its glorious bay, its unrivalled 
 distant view, its inland lakes, its hot springs and 
 baths, was the favourite Roman watering-place, 
 and its praises were sung by successive genera- 
 tions of poets : — 
 
 " Nullus in orbe sinus Baiis praelucet amoenis." 
 
 But it shared the fate of other choice spots, and 
 in the end acquired such a reputation for vice 
 
POMPEIAN PAINTINGS OF COAST SCENES 309 
 
 and extravagance that respectable people pre- 
 ferred not to stay there.^ 
 
 The kind of coast that was popular among 
 the Romans in the first century of the Empire 
 may probably be fairly judged from the Pompeiian 
 frescoes. Among these paintings, inserted here 
 and there in the mural decorations, a number of 
 the little landscapes include representations of 
 various shore-scenes. These are characterised by 
 a pervading feeling of brightness and repose. The 
 sun seems to be ever shining, while the blue sea 
 is uniformly calm or, at most, only ruffled by a 
 gentle ripple. Nothing wild or solitary is depicted. 
 No storm-clouds, nor angry seas, nor surf-beaten 
 cliifs are to be seen. Everywhere buildings of 
 some kind betoken the presence of man. Little 
 shrines or sanctuaries look out, each from under 
 its sacred tree, with perhaps groups of peasants 
 coming with their offerings to the divinity of 
 the place. In other examples some of the 
 palatial mansions are shown built on their massive 
 submarine foundations, or harbour scenes are 
 
 * From a reference to Baiae in one of Cicero's letters to Attious it 
 would appear that to have been seen at Baiae might be made a reproach 
 {Att. I. xvi. 10). Propertius gave the place his malediction (I. xi. 30). 
 Seneca tells how he had to leave Baiae the day after his arrival, on 
 account of the drunken revellers on shore and afloat in every kind of 
 variously painted boats, the lake strewn with floating roses, and the air 
 loud with the clamour of the singers. The place had become in his eyes 
 the abode of iniquity, and was not a fit residence for a wise man 
 {Epist. LI). Statius refers to it as a place where " Romanus honos et 
 Graia licentia miscent.'' (Silv. III. v. 94). The crowded state of the 
 seaside resorts in summer is referred to by Cicero, who writing to 
 Atticus from Astura, says that he was unable to stay at his little places 
 on that coast because of the throng of visitors {Att. XII. xl.). 
 
310 THE SEA-SHORES [Chap. XIV. 
 
 represented with ships and vistas of open sea 
 beyond. Where the space of placid sea is large 
 enough, it may bear one or more vessels in full 
 sail or manned with oars, and sometimes a ship 
 appiears drawn up on the beach. In these pictures 
 the topographical facts are portrayed clear and 
 hard, under the brilliance of an Italian sjin, but 
 with no attempt to give the eifect of atmosphere, 
 and with only a feeble appreciation of the elements 
 of perspective. Yet though poor as works of 
 art, these old frescoes possess much interest, 
 inasmuch as they bring vividly before our eyes 
 those aspects of sea-shore scenery which seem 
 to have specially appealed to Roman taste. 
 
 For the seaside visitors who wished to be 
 thoroughly but innocently idle, there was the 
 time - honoured pastime of gathering shells and 
 pebbles on the beach.^ They might remember 
 the example of such great men as Scipio and 
 Laehus, who, when they could escape from town, 
 as if from prison, were wont to rusticate together, 
 playing as boys again on the shore at Caieta and 
 Laurentum, gathering shells, and happy in descend- 
 ing to all kinds of relaxation and frolic.^ Corinna 
 was counselled by Ovid not to venture on the 
 
 ' To Lucretius the gathering of shells was not a mere idle amuse- 
 ment. He speaks with evident appreciation of the beauty of form and 
 colour in the shells which lie on the beach, where the sea with its 
 gentle waves beats on the thirsty sand of an embayed shore (II. 374). 
 
 ^ Cicero, I)e Oral. II. 22. Scipio and Laelius are said to have been 
 as sportive indoors, with the poet Lucilius as their playmate, chasing 
 each other round the table while supper was cooking (Horace, Sat. 
 'll. i. 72). 
 
THE TIDES OF THE MEDITERRANEAN 811 
 
 open sea, but to remain on the bibulous sands of 
 the shore, where she might enjoy a protracted 
 pleasure in collecting the delicate shells and 
 variegated pebbles.^ Cicero, as we have seen, 
 found solace from the fatigue of Hterary work in 
 merely counting the waves. 
 
 But to lovers of Nature and men of an 
 observant turn of mind, there was much on the 
 less frequented parts of the coast to engage their 
 attention, in the movements of the sea and sky 
 and the life of the shores. Of one striking coast- . 
 feature of the outer ocean they could have no 
 real experience on the nearly tideless beaches of 
 the Mediterranean — ^the alternate tidal retreat and 
 advance of the sea, whereby such wide spaces of 
 sand are elsewhere laid bare at low-water, and 
 such remarkable changes in the scenery of a 
 coast-line are brought about twice a day. Natives 
 of the Mediterranean lands were astonished when 
 for the first time they beheld these tidal effects 
 on the margin of the outer ocean. SiUus ItaUcus, 
 for example, contrasts the astonishment of Hannibal 
 and his Carthaginians, when they saw the tides 
 at Cadiz, with the indifference of the native sailors 
 who sat on their benches quietly waiting till the 
 rising tide would set their boats afloat once more.^ 
 
 To Virgil in his Campanian home, the margin 
 
 1 Amor. II. xi. 13. The sandy beaches furnished Juvenal with a 
 telling simile descriptive of the Grub Street writers of his day, 
 " Litus sterili versamus aratro."— )Sa<. VII. 49. 
 * Pun. III. 45-60. 
 
812 THE SEA-SHORES [Chap. XIV. 
 
 of the sea seems to have been a favourite place 
 for observation and meditation, and he has put 
 into words some memorable records of his musings 
 there. Although his youth was passed in an 
 inland district, he may, as already remarked, 
 have beheld with his own eyes the mirror-Uke 
 surface of the neighbouring Adriatic, and listened 
 to the murmur of its waves breaking along the 
 flat shores. But it was only after he had made 
 his home on the Bay of Naples that he became 
 fully familiar with all the varying moods of the 
 deep. 
 
 The aspect of the sea depicted in the Eclogues, 
 and undoubtedly imitated from Theocritus, har- 
 monises with the air of slumberous quiet and 
 bucolic peace that reigns over the inland scenes 
 in these poems. In one passage we catch sight 
 of the wide surface of the deep, stilled into silence, 
 while the lightest breathings of the air have sunk 
 to sleep. On such a glassy surface the shepherd 
 sees his own reflection and feels sure that, unless 
 that mirror is speaking falsely, he is not less 
 handsome than his rival. Yet even towards its 
 head the Adriatic is not always motionless, and 
 its agitation likewise finds expression in these 
 poems, but in association with images of gentle 
 movement. When Mopsus wishes to thank 
 Menalcas for his lay, he can find no fitter com- 
 pliment than to aver that the song has given 
 him more pleasure than the rustle of the coming 
 south wind, or the breaking of the swell upon the 
 
VIRGIL'S STUDIES OF THE COAST 313 
 
 shores, or the murmur of the streams down their 
 rock^ valleys.^ 
 
 Virgil's enlarged acquaintance with the sea 
 after he had made his home on the Campanian 
 coast is traceable all through the Georgics and 
 the ^neid. No one can read these poems 
 attentively, with recollections of one's own sojourn- 
 ings on a coast, and fail to feel that the poet 
 must have been in the habit of musing by the 
 shore, watching the various aspects of the deep, 
 now in calm, now in storm, at one time on the 
 flatter selvage of the curving Bay of Naples, at 
 another on the western cliffs where the full swell 
 of the open sea breaks against the land. His 
 marvellous acuteness of observation, his sympathy 
 with Nature in all her moods, and his gift of 
 concise and melodiously onomatopoeic expression 
 are nowhere more conspicuous than in the similes 
 connected with the sea in his two great poems. 
 We can imagine that the line — 
 
 " Qua vada non spirant nee fracta remurmurat unda " ^ 
 
 was inspired by the remembrance of a day or 
 days when, on the flat shore, he stood watching 
 the little broken Mediterranean waves rolling 
 across the shallows with a continuous melancholy 
 cadence. 
 
 In the neighbourhood of Naples there are 
 ranges of cliff which command wide views of the 
 
 1 Eclog. II. 26 ; IX. 67. 
 
 " Nee perouBsa juvant fluotu tam litora." — V. 83. 
 • ^'n. X. 291. 
 
314 THE SEA-SHORES [Chap. XIV. 
 
 open sea, and furnish excellent opportunities of 
 witnessing the bursting of the waves against 
 precipitous faces of rock. Immediately to the 
 west of the town the ridge of Posilipo is readily 
 accessible, while further west the island of Nisida, 
 the headlands of Miseno and Monte di Procida, 
 and the islands of Procida and Ischia are all 
 within easy reach. That Virgil often availed him- 
 self of the facilities for observation thus afforded 
 cannot be doubted. The graphic details of his 
 sea-pictures are evidently the result of long and 
 frequent study. We can imagine him seated on 
 one of these eminences after a south-west gale 
 has subsided, but when the long swell is still 
 roUing to the shore, and penning the lines which 
 may be thus translated : — 
 
 " The wave that speeds from out the midmost deep 
 Begins afar to whiten as it comes : 
 Bearing an ample breast it rolls to land, 
 Falls like a mountain-mass with thund'rous din 
 Upon the rocks, and stirs up from the depths 
 A surge that whirls the black sand high aloft." ^ 
 
 The application of the term " black " to sand 
 in this passage deserves remark, for ordinary shore 
 sand is familiarly known to be pale yellow or even 
 white. Virgil was well aware of its common 
 colour. The "flavus Tiberis" had printed itself 
 deeply on his mind. In this same book" of the 
 Georgics he mentions the " fulvas arenas " of the 
 Circus, and the " flaventes arenas " of the eddying 
 
 1 Qeor. III. 237-241. 
 
VIRGIL'S STUDIES OF BREAKING WAVES 815 
 
 Danube.^ There can be little doubt, however, 
 that the epithet {nigram) in the passage quoted 
 was deliberately chosen, and accurately describes 
 what the poet himself had actually seen some- 
 where. My own belief is that the storm which 
 furnished the simile was witnessed by VirgU on 
 a part of the Bay of Naples where the shore sand 
 is black from the trituration of the dark lavas of 
 the district. This peculiarity is now more especially 
 visible along that portion of the coast-line where 
 the lava-streams from Vesuvius have flowed down 
 to the sea, and where south-west gales break with 
 great violence upon the rocks. That the black 
 sand was seen by the poet in the Bay of Naples 
 is made certain by a simile in the ^neid, in 
 which he describes the disturbance of the water 
 caused by the building of the moles for the con- 
 struction of the shore villas at Baiae. The huge 
 masses of stone that were there cast into the deep, 
 raised such a tumult of waves as to stir up the 
 black sands from the bottom, while lofty Procida 
 trembled at the commotion, and Ischia too, where 
 lay the hard subterranean couch to which Typhoeus 
 was hurled by the commands of Jove.^ 
 
 In his numerous allusions to the breaking of 
 rough seas upon the land Virgil varies his descrip- 
 tions, and introduces into each of them some fresh 
 aspect of the scene. Thus Mezentius, assailed by 
 
 ' Oeor. III. 110, 350. In the underworld, too, he represents the 
 Blest as sporting on the " fulva arena " {^n. VI. 648). 
 
 " ^n. IX. 710-716. This simile is used to illustrate the thunderous 
 fall of men and armour pierced hy the weapons ef Turnus. 
 
320 THE SEA-SHORES [Chap. XIV. 
 
 One further quotation may be given as proof 
 that VirgU'i^ marine studies were not confined to 
 the shores of the mainland. The charming picture 
 which he has drawn of the gull-haunted rock, 
 chosen by Aeneas as the goal for his boat-race, 
 was probably a reminiscence of some boating 
 excursion made by the poet himself along a rocky 
 part of the Italian coast : — 
 
 " Far out at sea, fronting the spray-lashed shore 
 There stands a solitary rock, at times submerged, 
 And swept by swelling waves, when all the stars 
 Are hidden from sight by wintry north-west gales ; 
 But when the heavens are clear, the ocean calm, 
 It lifts its silent, level summit to the air, — 
 A place where sea-fowl love to sun themselves." ^ 
 
 In both the Georgics and in the ^neid Virgil 
 has introduced coast-scenes which are not perhaps 
 referable to any special localities, but must be 
 regarded as fanciful generalisations. Much in- 
 genuity has been shown by commentators in 
 tracing among the Greek poets passages from 
 which Virgil may have borrowed some of the 
 features of his pictures. Even if the debt be 
 acknowledged, we may contend that he generally 
 expands and improves his materials. But it is 
 also permissible to believe that the vividness of 
 his descriptions may sometimes have been inspired 
 by recollections of scenes which he had himself 
 visited in the course of his travels. As examples 
 of these pictures may be cited the cavern of 
 
 1 ^». V. 124. 
 
VIRGIL'S SHORE SCENES 321 
 
 Proteus on the side of a sea-girt mountain, with its 
 sheltered anchorage for storm -stayed mariners,* 
 and the lively sketch of the Libyan bay, walled 
 round with cliflfs and a background of forest, and 
 screened from wind and waves, where Aeneas and 
 his battered fleet found refuge after Juno's storm.^ 
 The poems of Catullus contain some charm- 
 ing allusions to sea-shores. But as most of his 
 sea-pieces are taken rather from the open sea 
 than from the land, the whole will be considered 
 in the following chapter. 
 
 ' Oeor. IV. 418. ^ Mn,. V. 169-169. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE OPEN SEA 
 
 Great as was the attraction of a wide view of the 
 sea to all classes of Roman citizens, to be far out 
 on the surface of the open Mediterranean was a 
 situation which few enjoyed. In calm summer 
 weather and in sheltered bays like that of Baiae,* 
 boating and yachting were doubtless favourite 
 pastimes. But there was nevertheless a prevalent 
 conviction that the sea, on the whole, was most 
 safely and pleasantly viewed from the land. And 
 this belief is amply expressed in Latin literature. 
 We look there in vain for anything akin to the 
 enthusiastic admiration of the grandeur and beauty 
 of the open ocean, now so fully recognised by the 
 modern world. We can hardly conceive how a 
 Roman audience would have received one of our 
 joyous sea- songs, which awaken a responsive chord 
 in the heart of every average Englishman, or what 
 would have been thought in the Augustan age of 
 the sanity of a poet who could have penned the 
 stanzas on the Ocean in Childe Harold. 
 
 The general burden of Roman writers in their 
 
 • The Baiana cymba, or skiff of Baiae, was a well-known object at 
 that place. It was only adapted for smooth water. 
 
 322 
 
ROMAN DISLIKE OF THE SEA 323 
 
 allusions to the sea is one of disparagement and 
 complaint, sometimes even of passionate invective. 
 The fickleness and treachery, the fury and destruc- 
 tiveness of the deep are continually dwelt upon, 
 and the risks of venturing on its surface are painted 
 vidth wearisome iteration. Even Lucretius, whose 
 imagination was so alive to the mightier forms of 
 physical energy in the world, could see in disastrous 
 storms, which strew the shores with wreckage, only 
 a " warning to mortals to shun the wiles of the 
 sea, its force and its snares, nor ever to trust it, 
 even when it treacherously smiles with an alluring 
 calm."^ The same caution is repeated again and 
 again by later poets. Thus Propertius, in his 
 touching lament over the death of Paetus, bitterly 
 complains that by taking to the sea men have 
 introduced another opening for their own destruc- 
 tion ; as if the land had not been fateful enough, 
 we have added the waves ; and the risks of chance 
 we have increased by art. Whatsoever we may 
 gain belongs to the winds ; no ship ever grows 
 old ; the very harbour is deceitful." 
 
 Ovid in his earlier poems, before the sad experi- 
 ences of his exUe, is loud in his warnings against 
 venturing on the sea. He asserts that there is no 
 safety further than the beach, all that lies beyond 
 that terraqueous limit being a blind path.' In his 
 version of the legend of Ceyx and Alcyone, he puts 
 into the mouth of the heroine sentiments which 
 
 ' Dt Ber. Nat. II. 552. ^ Eleg. IV. vii. 29-36. 
 
 ' Amor. II. xi. 16. 
 
824 THE OPEN SEA [Chap. XV. 
 
 were also frankly his own — "the waves affright 
 nae, and the sad thought of the deep ; lately have 
 I seen broken planks upon the shore, and often 
 have I read the names on tombs wherein no 
 body lay." ^ In his later poetry written at Tomi 
 after the rough experiences of his voyage thither, 
 references to the sea become more frequent and 
 more melancholy, for they are used in illustration 
 of his own shipwrecked life. Thus in the last 
 Book of the Tristia, he speaks in one elegy 
 of his ship having been broken, not sunk nor 
 overwhelmed, and though without a harbour 
 yet stUl standing above the waters. In another 
 place he says that his friends looked on at his 
 shipwreck from their safe hill, and never held 
 out a hand to him as he swam in the cruel 
 deep. Again he complains that whereas formerly, 
 when a prosperous breeze fiUed his sails, he 
 was borne along by the splendour of reputation, 
 now he cares not for glory and would fain be 
 unknown to any one ; his enfeebled poetic vigour 
 leads him to compare himself to a skiff that has 
 been long out of water and is now gaping with 
 cracks and turning to mere crumbling tinder. He 
 is full of fears and forebodings, as one who has 
 been shipwrecked shudders at the sight even of 
 calm waters.^ 
 Nowhere does the general Roman dislike or even 
 
 » Melam. XI. 427. 
 
 2 Trist. v. ix. 17, 18 ; XI. 13, 14 ; XII. 27, 39, 60 ; Pont. II. 
 vii. 8. The Pontic Epistles contain many similar marine allusions, e.g., 
 II. iii. 25 ; vi. 9 ; ix. 9. 
 
HORACE'S ABHORRENCE OF THE SEA 325 
 
 abhorrence of the open sea find such repeated and 
 characteristic expression as in Horace's poems. 
 This writer makes no attempt to disguise or 
 apologise for the intensity of his feeling on the 
 subject. In the course of his life he had several 
 times occasion to cross the Adriatic Sea, and his 
 experiences on those voyages left an indeUbly un- 
 pleasant impression on his memory. He hardly 
 ever mentions the name of that sea, without the 
 addition of some uncompUmentary epithet, such 
 as unquiet, black, hoarse, wicked.^ Like Lucretius, 
 he preferred to behold the fury of the deep from 
 a firm and safe platform on land.^ It was his 
 conviction that a man who sailed three or four 
 times a year into the Atlantic and came back each 
 time safe and sound, must certainly be under the 
 protection of the very gods themselves.^ He 
 evidently found a difficulty in believing that any- 
 thing but the lust of gain or the dread of poverty 
 could induce a man voluntarily to make a sea- 
 voyage. And he seems to have had a convic- 
 tion that when they went to sea neither the 
 sailor nor the trader could possibly divest him- 
 self of the terror which the poet thought should 
 be the uppermost sentiment in all seafaring 
 minds. He speaks with commiseration of the 
 
 ^ Horace's vituperative vocabulary when he has occasion to allude to 
 the sea is remarkably varied. I have noted the following epithets and 
 doubtless the list is not exhaustive — curvans, raucusj inquietus^ 
 improbus, ater, turgidus, ventosus, belluosus, dissociabilis, avarus, 
 hibernus, iratus, inversus, furens. 
 
 ' Epist. I. xi. 10. ' Carm. I. xxxi. 13. 
 
326 THE OPEN SEA [Chap. XV. 
 
 "pavidus nauta" and of the "mercator metuens 
 Africum."^ 
 
 If we try to account for this general national 
 dislike of the sea, we may, 1 think, recognise two 
 chief causes to which it may be assigned. In spite 
 of all the prognostics, physical and biological, which 
 observation and tradition had handed down (in 
 large part, however, only useful on land) it 
 was impossible to guard against the sudden and 
 unexpected rise of a storm, and the vessels, often 
 deckless and leaky, were not always well-fitted to 
 cope with a rough sea. In those days there were 
 no Admiralty charts, nor any organised service of 
 local pilots. Sunken reefs and shoals were doubt- 
 less often only detected by vessels actually ground- 
 ing on them even in clear daylight. Hence 
 shipwrecks were of common occurrence, and as 
 we know of no life-saving apparatus carried on 
 ship-board, the average proportion of survivors 
 from wrecks was probably much smaller than 
 it is now. The Romans were certainly not 
 adventurous sailors. They laid up their ships 
 and boats in winter, and the close time for 
 navigation on the open sea seems to have lasted 
 from the middle of November to the middle of 
 March. When spring returned, the vessels were 
 hauled down again on rollers into the sea, often 
 
 1 Oarm. I. i. In another poem he refers to the trader who only 
 through fear of poverty is driven to brave the perils of the sea, of rocks, 
 and of fires (Epist. I. i. 46). Cato's opinion of the merchant's calling 
 has already been referred to (p. 27). 
 
ITALIAN LIABILITY TO SEA-SICKNESS 327 
 
 with their dried-up timbers for a time leaky and 
 unseaworthy.^ 
 
 In the second place, I have little doubt that 
 another powerful influence which contributed to 
 the wide-spread Roman dislike of the open sea was 
 to be found in a general constitutional tempera- 
 ment that made the population specially liable to 
 sea-sickness. Then, as now, no rank of society 
 was exempt from the complaint; the wealthy 
 owner in his own luxurious trireme being, as 
 Horace remarks, as liable to be prostrated as the 
 man who had to content himself with a hired boat.' 
 Poets who had once undergone the miseries of 
 this malady revenged themselves and their fellow- 
 sufferers by heaping opprobrious epithets on the 
 cause of their distress. And the Sabine bard leaves 
 us in no doubt as to what his sufferings had been 
 on the Adriatic Sea.' 
 
 It became a habit of the poets to utter male- 
 dictions even on the invention of ships. Lucretius 
 dwells on the safety of primitive man, for whom 
 the sea would rage in vain, and who could not be 
 lured to his destruction by the wiles of the laugh- 
 ing waves, because the wicked art of shipbuilding 
 lay still unborn.* The theme was congenial to the 
 exuberant imagination of Ovid. In the golden 
 age, he wrote, the pine had not yet come down 
 from the mountains to the waves, and men knew 
 
 ' Seethe Ode of Horace cited ante p. 240 ; also Ovid, Fast. IV. 131-132. 
 i* Epist. I. i. 92. ' Carm. III. xxvii. 18. 
 
 * De. Rer. Nat. V. 1002. 
 
328 THE OPEN SEA [Chap. XV. 
 
 no coasts but their own. The sea was disturbed for 
 the first time by the oarsmen of Jason ; and would 
 that the Argo had foundered, so that there might 
 then have been no navigation.^ Horace held that 
 the first sailor must have had a heart cased in the 
 strength of triple brass. " Propertius cursed the same 
 daring navigator, but as the imprecation was drawn 
 forth in the midst of a storm off the Greek coast, 
 the poet's strong language was perhaps excusable.* 
 Statins carried the idea to a still higher flight of 
 exaggeration when he said that before there were 
 vessels of any kind, the ocean lay in sluggish 
 slumber, and dared not foam and sprinkle the 
 clouds with its spray ; but that at the first sight of 
 ships the waves began to swell and the tempest 
 arose against men.* 
 
 A vivid perception of how seafaring was looked 
 upon by an accomphshed Roman is obtained from 
 a perusal of Cicero's letters. This great man, as 
 was remarked in the last chapter, had a full com- 
 plement of the national dislike of the sea. In the 
 course of his life he was under the necessity of 
 making a voyage to take up his duties as pro-consul 
 of Ciciha. The letters written by him to his friend 
 
 1 Metam. I. 94 ; Pont. III. i. 1 ; Amor. II. xi. 5. Lucan repeats the 
 charge that by the Argo another mode of death had been added to the 
 fate of mankind {Phars. III. 193). 
 
 " Carm. I. iii. 9. 
 
 ° Eleg, I. xvii. 13. His deliberate judgment is expressed in his 
 
 Ekgy IV. ix. 36. 
 
 " Non ego velifera tumid um mare findo carina : 
 Tuta sub eziguo flumine nostra morast." 
 
 '■ Silv. III. ii. 71. 
 
CICERO'S SEA-VOYAGES 829 
 
 Atticus during the journey allow us, as it were, to 
 accompany him in his crossing 'of the Adriatic and 
 as he threaded his way among the Greek islands. 
 It will be understood that he was seldom or never 
 out of sight of land, and he appears to have usually 
 spent the night in some sheltered anchorage. 
 
 He left Brundisium early in June B.C. 51. 
 His crossing of the Adriatic is described by 
 him as "most disagreeable," so that on reaching 
 Actium he determined not to face the seas that 
 might await him in rounding the headlands of 
 Leucadia, but, quitting the vessel, to cross by 
 land to Athens. He arrived there on the 24th 
 of the month, and after a stay of about a fortnight, 
 set sail from the Piraeus on 6th July. On that 
 day, however, he only got as far as Zoster at 
 the foot of Hymettus, a few miles down the 
 coast, where, as the wind proved unfavourable, 
 he remained for a day. On the 8th the crossing to 
 Ceos was agreeable, but from that island a strong 
 wind carried him to Gyaros and thence by Syros 
 to Delos, more rapidly (and we may suppose on 
 a rougher sea) than was pleasant to him. He thus 
 took six days from Athens to Delos, a distance of 
 somewhere about 100 English miles. Well might 
 he begin a letter to Atticus — "travelling by sea is a 
 mighty business, especially in the month of July." ^ 
 
 ' If the aphract Rhodian vessel which carried Cicero had its full 
 complement of rowers as well as sails, so that when the wind fell, 
 it was ''juvenum sudantibus acta lacertis,'' we can imagine how trying 
 to his landsman's susceptibilities must have been the odours of the ship 
 on a hot July day. 
 
3S0 THE OPEN SEA [Chap. XV. 
 
 He adds that Atticus knew the kind of vessel he 
 was sailing in — one of the deckless Rhodian 
 craft, than which nothing was less able to stand 
 the sea. So he will not be in a hurry, nor 
 stir from Delos till he sees all the headlands of 
 Gyise clear. It was a fortnight from the time of 
 his leaving Athens before he landed at Ephesus. 
 He wrote again from that city to Atticus, telling 
 quite frankly that he had accomplished the voyage 
 from Delos "without fear and without sea-sick- 
 ness, but rather slowly because of the feebleness 
 of these open vessels of the Rhodians." The rest 
 of the journey was made by land, and he reached 
 Laodicea on 31st July.* Thus from the time he 
 left Rome he must have been altogether some 
 two months on the way. 
 
 Next year on his journey back to Italy Cicero 
 again encountered contrary winds as well as fair 
 weather, and he found a deckless Rhodian vessel 
 to be no faster nor more comfortable than in the 
 previous year. He complained of being much 
 hindered by the Etesian winds, of the slowness 
 of the ship which had taken twenty whole days to 
 reach Ephesus, and of having had to wait at that 
 port for the calm weather which these Rhodian 
 barks required. The passage from Ephesus to 
 Athens again took up a fortnight, and is described 
 by him as "slow and disagreeable." Contrary 
 winds and rough weather caused various irksome 
 detentions between Athens and Corcyra, but he 
 
 ' Ad Alt. V. ix., xii., liii. 
 
CICERO'S ANXIETY ABOUT FRIENDS AT SEA S31 
 
 was at least fortunate in having a pleasant traverse 
 of the Adriatic Sea, and on 24th November B.C. 50 
 he had the happiness of landing once more at 
 Brundisium. 
 
 Cicero had left his faithful amanuensis, Tiro, 
 ill at Patrae, and after making all arrangements 
 for his being taken care of there, wrote some 
 affectionate letters to him from halting places on 
 the journey, showing at once his regard for his 
 devoted secretary and his anxiety for any one 
 who had to make a sea-voyage. His first care 
 on setting foot again upon Italian soil was to 
 send Tiro a solicitous letter which contained the 
 following injunctions : — 
 
 "Let me beg and beseech you not to set sail 
 rashly (seamen are apt to hurry for the sake of 
 their own profit) : be cautious, my dear Tiro ; 
 there remains for you a wide and difficult sea 
 to cross. If you can, come with Mescinius, for 
 he is wont to sail with prudence; if not, come 
 with some person of consideration, by whose 
 authority the shipowner may be influenced."^ 
 
 From his repugnance to sea -faring, Cicero's 
 sympathy was at once enlisted for any relative 
 or friend who had to make a voyage, and at 
 times it rose to keen anxiety. This kindly 
 feeling is well shown in his correspondence with 
 his brother Quintus. When the latter was about 
 to return from his official duties in Sardinia, Cicero 
 wrote begging him to act cautiously and carefully 
 
 1 Ad AH. VI. viii. ; VII. ii.; Ad Fam. XIV. v. ; XVI. ix. 
 
332 THE OPEN SEA [Chap. XV. 
 
 in regard to sailing in December. While he 
 longed to see his brother again, he hoped Quintus 
 would not think of starting unless in settled 
 weather. Again, when his brother was with 
 Julius Caesar in Gaul and Britain, Cicero's anxieties 
 increased in proportion to the distance between 
 them, and to his own ignorance of the character 
 of those far distant regions. He wrote : " How 
 delightful to me was your letter from Britain. 
 I was afraid of the ocean : I was afraid of the 
 shore of the island." And when no tidings had 
 come from the north for a space of more than 
 fifty days he wrote again that "both land and 
 sea out there make me anxious, nor can I help 
 thinking of what I least wish to happen."^ 
 
 When during those weary months of hesitation 
 whether or not to join Pompey in Epirus, Cicero 
 had at last planned to cast in his fortunes with 
 that leader, he wrote to Atticus from Formiae 
 that he had arranged for everything save a con- 
 cealed and safe journey across the Adriatic Sea, 
 for at that season of the year (March) he could 
 not venture on the Tyrrhenian sea in front of 
 him. And five years later, when, amidst the 
 political convulsions of his country, he seriously 
 attempted to quit Italy for a time, the thought of 
 the inevitable sea-voyage distressed him. Atticus 
 had told him that the Adriatic might be crossed 
 in five hours from Hydruntum, to the south of 
 Brundisium, and at one time he had thought of 
 
 ' Ad Quint. Frat. II. i., xv. ; III. iii. 
 
CICERO'S LAST DAYS 
 
 starting from there, as he shrank from the long 
 voyage from the west coast of Italy. Eventually 
 he sailed and got as far as Syracuse. Starting 
 from that port he was compelled by the south 
 wind to put into Rhegium, where, hearing news 
 from Rome that led him to hope that he might 
 stUl be of use to the Repubhc, he abandoned the 
 voyage, hurried back to the city and plunged once 
 more into the political arena. But the end was 
 now near. When he heard that his name was 
 included in the proscription he tried to escape by 
 sea. Finding a vessel at Astura, he sailed as far 
 as Circeii. Plutarch states that the pilots wished 
 at once to put out to sea from that place; but 
 whether or not from dread of another voyage, 
 Cicero quitted the ship and returned to Astura. 
 He was persuaded by his servants to sail to Caieta, 
 near which was his villa at Formiae, and thus for 
 the last time he ventured upon the surface of the 
 deep. But the assassins had tracked him to his 
 villa. As they were approaching, his attendants 
 attempted once more to carry him down to the 
 sea ; but they were overtaken, and he boldly met 
 the death that awaited him. 
 
 That even a Stoic philosopher, who could pen 
 admirable precepts of fortitude in all the ills of 
 Ufe, and who showed his own courage in calmly 
 committing the suicide which the cruelty of 
 Nero assigned to him, yet quailed before the 
 discomforts of sea-sickness, has been revealed by 
 himself. Seneca, in one of the letters with which 
 
334 THE OPEN SEA [Chap. XV. 
 
 he amused and instructed his friend Lucilius 
 Junior, gives an account of his experience in a 
 boating expedition of some nine miles from Naples 
 to Puteoli. The day was overcast, but there was 
 no storm ; the sea, however, was unquiet enough 
 to make him sick, and in the end he imperatively 
 insisted on being put ashore anywhere. When 
 the reluctant skipper, who said he was more 
 afraid of the land than of the sea, brought the 
 boat near the beach, so eager was the philosopher 
 to escape from the discomforts of the deep that, 
 donning a garment of thick frieze, he jumped into 
 the water and scrambled up the rough shore. 
 The details of this adventure were thought by 
 him to be of such moment as to deserve ample 
 recital, since they fiU nearly half of the letter, 
 and, after the writer's characteristic manner, are 
 made the text for a moral exhortation.^ 
 
 The impressions of sea -voyages from the 
 landsman's point of view, recorded in Latin 
 literature, are not, however, invariably clouded 
 with reminiscences of bodily discomfort. Lucretius 
 has expressed the pleasure of scudding before a 
 breeze, when 
 
 " the ship in which we are carried, though it seems 
 to be at rest, is yet borne along, while another 
 which is at anchor looks as if it were actually 
 passing us. The hills and fields seem to be 
 fleeing astern, as we drive past them, and fly 
 along under sail."^ 
 
 1 Epist. LIII. ^ De Rtr. Nat. IV. 386. 
 
VIRGIL'S IMPRESSIONS OF SEA-VOYAGING 385 
 
 That Catullus, too, enjoyed cruising in his yacht 
 in Eastern waters wiU be more particularly noticed 
 later in this chapter, p. 342. 
 
 In his narrative of the journey of Aeneas 
 with his fleet from Troy to the Tiber, Virgil has 
 succeeded in presenting a vivid impression of the 
 variety of incident, of scene, and of weather in a long 
 sea voyage. Though he was undoubtedly indebted 
 to the Odyssey, even borrowing whole descriptive 
 lines from that poem, it is yet difficult to avoid 
 at least the suspicion that he also drew on personal 
 reminiscences of some early wanderings of his own 
 in the same delightful region. There is some 
 ground of probability for the opinion that he 
 had been to Greece long before the visit which 
 he paid to that country in the last year of his 
 life. Horace's early ode, addressed to the vessel 
 that was to carry Virgil to Attica, shows at least 
 that the journey was planned, and on the eve of 
 being actually undertaken.^ The earlier part of 
 Aeneas's seafaring is somewhat vaguely described, 
 but after the Trojans quitted Crete and entered 
 scenes which the poet may himself have beheld, 
 the narrative becomes more detailed and lively. 
 The voyage from the Strophad Isles up the 
 west coast of Greece, reads like the account of 
 a writer to whom the localities were not unfamiliar, 
 and who remembered the succession of islands, 
 hills and towns that came, one after another, into 
 
 ' Carm. I. iii. See Sellar'a Roman Poets of the Augustan Age — 
 Virgil, p. 118. 
 
336 THE OPEN SEA [Chap. XV. 
 
 sight to right and left, as his vessel threaded its 
 way northward to Actium. 
 
 " The southerly breezes filled our sails ; we 
 sped over the foaming waves whither the wind 
 and our steersman willed. And now in mid- 
 ocean came into sight the grove-clad Zacynthus, 
 and Duhchium and Same, and the steep crags 
 of Mount Neritos. We shunned the rocks of 
 Ithaca, the kingdom of Laertes, and cursed the 
 land that bred the fierce Ulysses. Then the cloud- 
 capped crests of Mount Leucata opened out to 
 view, and the Apollo so feared by sailors. Wearied 
 we make for the little town (Actium), the anchor 
 is thrown out from the prow and the stems are 
 ranged upon the shore."* 
 
 When the poet brings the fleet to his own 
 more familiar Italian coast, his narrative becomes 
 increasingly detailed and spirited. In the rosy 
 dawn, as the low hills of Italy rise into view on 
 the far horizon, the excitement of the crews finds 
 vent in shouts of " Italy." The shores of Magna 
 Graecia are skirted, each little town or temple 
 being noted as the ships pass along, till the Sicilian 
 strait is entered. There the terrors of Scylla and 
 Charybdis are duly encountered and surmounted, 
 and at last, within hearing of the thunders of 
 Etna and in a night of darkness and gloom, 
 anchors are cast at the iEolian Isles.^ The 
 rest of the voyage up to the Tiber is lightly 
 sketched, but room is found for one or two 
 effective touches. After Aeneas has had his 
 
 » Ml. III. 268-277. ^ Id. III. 668-686. 
 
AENEAS'S VOYAGE UP THE ITALIAN COAST 337 
 
 journey into the nether world and has rejoined 
 the ships that were drawn up on the Cumaean 
 shore, the fleet is represented as renewing its 
 voyage to Caieta. In the evening they sailed 
 thence when the deep was stiU and the breeze 
 was freshening as the night came on, while 
 the pale light of the moon gleamed over the 
 tremulous sea.^ They came near to the famous 
 hold of Circe and her sorceries. But lest the 
 good Trojans should run the risk of falling under 
 her foul spells, Neptune filled their sails with a 
 favouring wind that carried them past the fateful 
 headland, and brought them to the mouth of 
 the Tiber just as the rosy dawn was reddening 
 the sea. The end of their long wanderings 
 being thus over, they entered the promised land 
 amidst aU the glories and happy auguries of 
 sunrise.^ 
 
 Since the treachery and blind fury of the 
 sea were so vividly reaUsed by the Latin poets, 
 descriptions of storms and allusions to shipwrecks 
 are not infrequent in their writings. For the 
 most part, however, these descriptions are pictures 
 taken from safe shelter on land. Lucretius makes 
 several references to the subject, besides the famous 
 Epicurean passage already referred to (pp. 212, 222, 
 223). Virgil has portrayed various storms, chief 
 among which is his account of that invoked by 
 Juno for the destruction of the Trojan fleet (p. 218). 
 
 1 ^n. VII. 6-9. 
 
 ^ The description of this dawn has been already cited (p, 
 
 Y 
 
3S8 THE OPEN SEA [Chap. XV. 
 
 Another tempest described from his own experience 
 has also been quoted (p. 220). 
 
 Probably, however, the fullest and most vivid 
 descriptions from actual participation in storms at 
 sea are those of the facile Ovid. The picture 
 which he has drawn of the tempest wherein Ceyx, 
 the husband of Alcyone was lost, is a brilliant 
 example of his power in word-painting.^ Its details 
 may have been partly supplied by some experience 
 of the poet's own in his youthful travels to the 
 East. The account of the rise of the storm, and 
 of the various actions of the captain and crew, is 
 forcible enough to have been derived from personal 
 recollection of rough weather at sea. But certainly 
 in later years, during that miserable journey into life- 
 long banishment, of which the poet has left such a 
 melancholy record, he had ample opportunity of 
 knowing what it was to be in a storm at sea. His 
 narratives of the tempests through which he came 
 on the Adriatic and ^Egean seas, while less detailed, 
 are more impressive than his description of the 
 Ceyx storm. They bring us more directly into the 
 fury of the wind and sea, and make us realise more 
 vividly the despair of those on board. Ovid assures 
 us that the verses in which he describes these 
 storms were not composed, as of old, in his gardens, 
 but under wintry skies on the boisterous deep, 
 which was dashing its blue waters over the very 
 paper on which he was writing.^ 
 
 It is deserving of remark, however, that though 
 
 1 Metam. XI. 461-672. 2 jf^f. I. ii., iv., x., xL 
 
OVID'S PICTURES OF STORMS AT SEA 339 
 
 he was not shipwrecked, but arrived at his dreary 
 destination and could look back in safety upon the 
 perils from which he had escaped, he found no 
 words of admiration for the grandeur of the storms. 
 He could remember only their horrors — the groan- 
 ing ship, battered by the waves, alternately sinking 
 into deep Tartarean abysses and mounting towards 
 the stars ; the deluges of salt spray that swept over 
 him ; the brilliance of the lightning and the instan- 
 taneous rattle of the thunder ; but, above all, his 
 own sore bodily discomfort, his sense of imminent 
 danger, and the dread of being drowned. He 
 declares that he did not fear death ; that he would, 
 indeed, have counted it a boon to die a natural 
 death ashore, or to perish by the sword, so as at 
 least to be buried on firm ground and to hope for 
 a tomb. But to be shipwrecked, "et aequoreis 
 piscibus esse cibus," was a thought that added 
 tenfold to the misery of the storm.^ 
 
 In voyages upon the Mediterranean Sea, vessels 
 whether with sail or oars were often necessarily for 
 days together out of sight of land — 
 
 " Nee amplius ulla 
 Occurrit tellus, maria undique et undique caelum." 
 
 There was, however, at least among boatmen and 
 the owners of small craft, a natural and pardon- 
 able reluctance to be on the open sea after dark. 
 Lucan no doubt expresses the prevalent feeling 
 
 1 Juvenal, perhaps in allusion more especially to Ovid, makes sarcastic 
 reference to " poetical tempests," where everything happens so violently 
 {Sat. XII. 22). 
 
340 THE OPEN SEA [Chap. XV. 
 
 when he makes the peasant boatman reply to 
 
 Caesar who had roused him out of bed and 
 
 demanded to be ferried across the ^gean Sea to 
 
 the shores of Italy, "there is much to keep us 
 
 from trusting the sea by night. "^ But unless for 
 
 mere coasting voyages, when, under the most 
 
 favourable conditions, it might be practicable to 
 
 anchor each night in some harbour or sheltered 
 
 bay, it was impossible to avoid being on the sea 
 
 night after night for days together. The navigator 
 
 had therefore to learn how to steer by the sun 
 
 during the day and by the stars at night. Hence 
 
 to him, when 
 
 "Nocte sublustri nihil astra praeter 
 Vidit et undas," 
 
 an acquaintance with the chief stars in the nightly 
 sky and their varying positions was essential. 
 Before Palinurus gave the signal for the sailing of 
 the Trojan fleet, we are told that " he first noted all 
 the stars that were gliding through the silent 
 heavens — Arcturus and the rainy Hyades, and the 
 twin Bears; he marked likewise Orion clad in 
 armour of gold." ^ And when at a later time the 
 treacherous God of Sleep tried to tempt him from 
 his post, the heroic pilot kept his hand firm on 
 the rudder and his eye on the stars.* 
 
 1 Phars. v. 540. The forebodings of the poor fisherman proved to 
 be true. Lucan gives a graphic account of the storm through which 
 CsBsar was carried back to rouse his tardy followers. The poet says of 
 that great warrior that he was 
 
 " In omnia praeoeps, 
 Nil actum oredens quum quid supereaset agendum. " — Id. ii. 656. 
 a Mn. III. fil6. 3 Id. V. 852. 
 
THE STARRY SKY AND THE POET^ 841 
 
 The contemplation of the starry heavens at sea 
 awakened thoughts which have here and there found 
 expression among the Latin poets. Amid all the 
 incessant changes of earth and sea and sky, the 
 stars retain their places seemingly unchanged and 
 their lustre undimmed as the centuries roll on, 
 so that they have served to mankind as emblems 
 of steadfastness. Horace speaks of the "certa 
 sidera." Tibullus, in a single pregnant line, has 
 drawn a contrast between the unsteady ships and 
 the sure fixedness of the stars by which they are 
 steered. 
 
 " Ducunt instabiles sidera certa rates." ^ 
 
 Virgil in lamenting the dead Daphnis, pictures 
 the mother clasping the lifeless body of her son, 
 and appealing to the gods and the " astra crudelia " 
 which in their cold, silent apathy remain unmoved.^ 
 Among the natural phenomena to be seen at 
 sea there is none more weird and impressive than 
 what is known as St Elmo's Fire — a silent form of 
 electric discharge, which in certain states of the 
 weather appears as a ball of pale light on the tops 
 of masts of vessels and the ends of yard-arms. Such 
 an appearance could not fail to excite the imagina- 
 tion of the ancients. Unlike lightning, it is noise- 
 less, harmless, and persistent for some time on the 
 same spot. As it did no injury, it was naturally 
 enough looked upon as a good sign, and by the 
 Greeks and Romans was associated with the great 
 
 1 Eleg. I. ix. 10. " Eclog. V. 23. 
 
THE OPEN SEA [Chap. XV. 
 
 twin-brethren, Castor and Pollux, who, as legend 
 told, had taken part in the famous voyage of the 
 Argonauts, during which stars were said to have 
 appeared on their heads. These mythical heroes 
 became the protectors of travellers, especially by 
 sea, and the luminous orbs of St Elmo's Fire, 
 settling on the projecting spars and masts of ships 
 at sea, were looked upon as visible manifestations 
 of the active and benign interposition of these 
 divinities. Thus Horace calls Helen's two brothers 
 " lucida sidera," when he invokes their protection 
 for Virgil in his voyage to Greece. Elsewhere the 
 poet speaks of them as a bright star {clarum sidus) 
 that rescues shattered barks from the depths of the 
 waves, and still more fuUy he says that " no sooner 
 has this white star beamed upon sailors than the 
 foaming water streams off the rocks, the winds fall, 
 the clouds flee away, and the threatening billow 
 sinks down upon the deep."^ Statins expresses 
 still more precisely the popular conception when 
 he invokes "the Spartan brethren to bring out 
 their benign stars, and settle upon the twin horns 
 of the sail-yard," in order that Maecius Celer may 
 have a prosperous voyage.* 
 
 Of all the Latin poets none has so fully fore- 
 shadowed as CatuUus has done the modern love 
 of the sea, and none has clothed his appreciation 
 in such joyously expressive language. We hear 
 
 1 Garm. I. iii. 2 ; xii. 27 ; IV. viii. 31. 
 
 ^ Sih. III. ii. 8. Seneca, as a philosopher, treated the appearance 
 as a natural phenomenon, hut he had no conception of its nature and 
 origin {Quaest. Nat. I. i., ii.) 
 
CATULLUS AND SEA-VOYAGING 343 
 
 from him no complaints of the discomforts and 
 perils of sea-faring. On the contrary, he conveys 
 to us something of his own pleasure in being upon 
 the water, and watching there the ever-changing 
 aspects of sea and sky. Although he died when 
 he was no more than thirty years of age, he had 
 already travelled far both by land and sea, and in 
 the precious little volume of poems which is all 
 that has descended to us as his memorial, many 
 reminiscences of his journeys are preserved. 
 
 When he determined to end his sojourn in 
 Bithynia, whither, as above referred to (p. 244), he 
 had gone on the staff of the praetor Memmius, 
 he purchased and manned a yacht, with which to 
 make the long voyage home. In the charming 
 sonnet, already quoted, wherein he bids farewell 
 to his companions, he gives words to his exuberant 
 delight that the coming of spring allows him to 
 escape from the Phrygian plains. During the 
 many weeks in which the yacht was his home, 
 he came to look on the vessel almost as a living 
 friend that shared with him the daily pleasures 
 and risks of the voyage. The pride and affection 
 with which he regarded his "phaselus" found 
 vent in another exquisite little poem, written on 
 his return, in which he bids his friends Usten to 
 the tale which the ship has to tell them of her 
 adventures : — how no craft afloat could ever out- 
 strip her, whether with sails or oars ; how she 
 had braved the threatening Adriatic, had threaded 
 her way among the Cyclad Isles and past famous 
 
344 THE OPEN SEA [Chap. XV. 
 
 Khodes, had sailed over the Mgean, had coasted 
 Thrace and the Propontis, and had made acquaint- 
 ance with the wild Euxine. It was from the 
 Pontic shores that the timbers had been brought 
 of which her frame was built. He was evidently 
 gratified to have visited the birthplace of his 
 favourite yacht, to have seen her native forest, 
 and even perhaps to have heard the wind whistling 
 through the surviving pines. He appealed to 
 Pontic Amastris and box-clad Cytorus as witnesses 
 that her timbers had once waved green on their 
 mountains, and that her oars had first been dipped 
 in their waters. From that far-distant clime the 
 vessel had borne her master through many stormy 
 seas, and through all kinds of weather, until at last, 
 quitting the salt main, she was steered up the 
 broad rivers Po and Mincio into the placid Lake 
 of Garda, where in peaceful old age she was 
 dedicated to the sailor's friends Castor and Pollux.^ 
 Recollections of this voyage, or of others made 
 by the poet, seem to be sprinkled all through his 
 poetry. There can be little doubt, for instance, 
 that the beautiful description of the dawn at sea, 
 in the Peleus and Thetis, represents a scene 
 which he himself witnessed from the deck, when 
 
 ' Catullus, IV. The vessel into which Ovid was transhipped at 
 Cenchreae, and which bore him through various perils in the ^gean 
 Sea to Samothrace, elicited from the poet a grateful eulogy. But 
 though she was praised by him as the faithful leader and companion 
 of his anxious voyage, she was, at the same time, the prison in which 
 he was being carried into distant exile, and his language naturally 
 lacks the joyful tone with which Catullus celebrates the bringing of 
 his yacht to the smooth waters of his beloved lake {Triit. I. x.). 
 
THE ARGONAUTS 345 
 
 the first breath of morning was roughening the 
 placid deep, and the wavelets, rippHng gently 
 with a sound of laughter against the sides of the 
 vessel, broadened more and more as the breeze 
 freshened and as they glided far away from the 
 brilliant reflection of the rising sun. 
 
 The same masterpiece among his poems begins 
 with a striking exordium wherein the thought of 
 the voyage of the Argonauts at once calls up with 
 characteristic enthusiasm a vision of the pine- 
 clad Mount Pelion, whence, according to tradition, 
 the timbers of their vessel were brought, Pallas 
 herself had built the frame, joining the ribs to 
 the curved keel, and completing a sea- chariot that 
 would fly before the lightest breath of wind. The 
 memory of the deeds of his own yacht may well 
 have risen in the poet's remembrance as he pictures 
 the Argo, the first vessel that ever dared to scour 
 the blue deep, now under sail and scudding across 
 a windy sea, and now speeding along under oars 
 that lashed the water into white foam. As in 
 imagination he watches her progress, he thinks 
 how in that heroic age {nimis optato saeclorum 
 tempore) when gods and men were young, the faces 
 of the Nereids would peer above the waves to 
 gaze with wonder on this new monster of the 
 Ocean.^ 
 
 Although he makes little account of them in 
 his verse, Catullus did not wholly escape the 
 storms that sometimes beset the Adriatic and 
 
 ' Catullus, LXIV. 12-16. 
 
846 THE OPEN SEA [Chap. XV. 
 
 Mgean waters. He speaks of having sailed 
 through many furious seas {tot impotentia freta), 
 but he avers that never did he make any vows 
 for safety to the gods of the shores by which he 
 sailed,^ whence we may perhaps infer that he 
 rather enjoyed rough weather at sea. But his 
 crew were probably less self-possessed, and he 
 may have been thinking of them when, in an 
 ode to Mallius, he alludes to the prayers to Castor 
 and Pollux for a calm and prosperous voyage 
 offered up by sailors who have been tossed about 
 in a dark tempest.^ 
 
 In his cruises the poet would learn the seaman's 
 habit of scanning the changes of the winds and 
 other aspects of the sky and the weather. The 
 fickleness of atmospheric conditions, together with 
 their independence and disregard of all human 
 wishes and efforts, had doubtless impressed him 
 in his musings on ship-board. He puts his own 
 experience into the mouth of Ariadne when he 
 makes her exclaim, " Why do I vainly complain 
 to the regardless and senseless winds, which can 
 neither hear the words addressed to them, nor 
 return any reply."' And when she is forsaken 
 by Theseus, the faithless memory of the hero is 
 likened by the poet to the clouds which, driven 
 by the breath of the winds, leave the lofty crest 
 
 1 Catullus, IV. 18, 22. In the touching poem on his brother's 
 tomb he speaks of himself as 
 
 "multas per gentes, et multa per aequora vectus." — Id. CI. i, 
 
 2 Id. LXVIII. 63. = Id. LXIV. 164. 
 
CATULLUS ON EASITRN SHORES 347 
 
 of a snowy mountain^ — a simile which may be 
 a recollection of what he had seen when coasting 
 past the ranges of Thrace, or perhaps a remini- 
 scence of the Alps beyond the far recesses of the 
 Lago di Garda. 
 
 The epithets applied by Catullus to the sea and 
 its shores are always happily descriptive, and such 
 as would naturally be selected by a man to whom 
 the objects were familiar and pleasant to recall. 
 The frequency of these marine allusions is especially 
 noticeable in his longest poem, the Peleus and 
 Thetis. He there more than once picturesquely 
 varies the word for " shore " (litus) by using in its 
 stead the word for " sea- weed " (alga) in allusion to a 
 characteristic feature of the strand.^ His sea-faring 
 experience suggested the figurative language in 
 which he often alludes to human grief, as where he 
 compares his sorrowing friend Mallius to a " ship- 
 wrecked man who has been cast ashore by the 
 foaming waves of the deep," and speaks of himself 
 mourning the loss of a beloved brother, as " plunged 
 in the billows of misfortune." ^ His eye had been 
 continually fixed with delight on the waves break- 
 ing along lines of beach, and he refers again and 
 again to a whitening shore {albicans litus), foaming 
 shores and frothy waves {spumosa litora, mare 
 ^ spumantibus expuit undis). * The vast expanse 
 of the open sea and its ceaseless motion greatly 
 impressed his imagination ; he speaks of the "pelagi 
 
 1 Catullus, LXIV. 239. ^ Id. LXIV. 60, 168. 
 
 3 Id. LXVIII. 3, 13. * Id. LXIII. 87 ; LXIV. 121, 156. 
 
348 THE OPEN SEA [Chap. XV. 
 
 vastos aestus," the " tremuli salis adversas undas," 
 the "ponti truculentum aequor," and the "rapidum 
 salum truculentaque pelagi."^ The cadence of 
 his verse seems at times to be charged with the 
 life and movement of the waves, as where in two 
 lines he brings before eye and ear the plunge of 
 the breakers on a long stretch of sandy beach : — 
 
 " Litus ut longe resonante Eoa 
 Tunditur unda.*'' « 
 
 1 CatuUus, LXIV. 127, 128, 179 ; LXIII. 16. 
 
 ' Id. XI. 3. It would even seem that the common language ot 
 his day was sometimes unequal to express the wave-music that dwelt 
 in his memory, so that he had to coin new epithets for his purpose, as 
 where he represents Ariadne gazing from the " fluentisono litore Diae'' 
 (LXIV. 52). 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE UNDERWORLD 
 
 In no country of Europe does the underground heat 
 of the earth show itself in such abundant and 
 varied forms as in Italy. From one end of the 
 peninsula to the other hot springs are numerous. 
 There are many mysterious-looking places from 
 which steam and other vapours and gases escape 
 to the surface. And, above all, the great active 
 volcanic centre of Europe lies entirely within the 
 Italian borders. 
 
 Prominent as these features are to-day they 
 were not improbably even more conspicuous in 
 the infancy of Rome. During upwards of twenty- 
 six centuries, which have elapsed since the founda- 
 tion of the city, there has been time for some of 
 at least the feebler manifestations to grow weaker 
 or to become extinct. The whole of the region 
 around Rome has once been the theatre of vigorous 
 volcanic activity. Although the full energy of the 
 volcanoes had spent itself long before either City or 
 State had come into existence, it is possible that 
 some of the later waning eruptions may have been 
 witnessed by the earliest human inhabitants of the 
 
 349 
 
350 THE UNDERWORLD [Chap. XVI. 
 
 country, although the evidence that has been 
 adduced to prove that they came within what 
 may be regarded as historic time is not wholly 
 satisfactory. Among the records that have been 
 preserved of the early centuries of Roman history 
 showers of stones are chronicled. The Alban 
 Mount is said by Livy to have been visited in the 
 hundredth year of the city by one of these portents, 
 which was accompanied by loud noises from the 
 wood on the top of the mountain. More than four 
 hundred years later a fall of stones at the same 
 place is recorded to have lasted continuously for 
 two days amidst alarming storms. And in sub- 
 sequent years, it is reported, there was a rain of 
 stones at Aricia, Lanuvium, and on the Aventine. 
 Such incidents have been set aside as part of the 
 mythical marvels with which legendary history is 
 so apt to be crowded. But there does not seem 
 to be any inherent improbability that some of these 
 tales may have had a foundation in fact. The 
 phenomena may have been of a nature similar to 
 that of a remarkable case which occurred so recently 
 as the year 1831, when at the site of a dried-up fetid 
 lake near Mount Soracte, a series of loud reports, 
 like the thundering of cannon, issued from the 
 ground, accompanied with an outrush of mephitic 
 gases, white dust, and large blocks of erupted earth. 
 From time to time during the Republic, and after- 
 wards under the Empire, occurrences of this kind 
 may have taken place near Rome, which have not 
 found mention in the chronicles of history. 
 
THE VOLCANIC REGIONS OF ITALY 851 
 
 As the Roman sway was extended over the 
 rest of the country, the conquerors met with other 
 and more striking manifestations of subterranean 
 energy than they were familiar with in their 
 own territory. By contact with the Greek 
 colonists to the south of them they doubtless 
 heard of the marvels of Etna long before a single . 
 legionary had set foot on Sicily. From the same 
 source they would learn that not only Sicily but 
 some of the islands between that island and Naples 
 had been devastated by terrific eruptions from 
 which the inhabitants had to flee elsewhere. They 
 would be told, too, that one of the chief portals of 
 the infernal regions lay close to the sea in the Bay 
 of Naples. When they had made themselves 
 masters of Magna Graecia, and had wrested Sicily 
 from the Carthaginians, they came immediately 
 face to face with all these places and would gain a 
 more vivid appreciation of the Greek legends that 
 had gathered round them. What impression these 
 various indications of the underworld of Greek 
 imagination made on the minds of the early 
 Romans must be matter of conjecture. The 
 literature of later times, however, indicates how 
 the phenomena were looked upon by subsequent 
 generations. The quieter displays of underground 
 heat, such as the uprise of the abundant hot springs 
 of Italy, would no doubt be regarded as part of 
 the ordinary economy of Nature, evoking little or 
 no surprise at their occurrence. Like springs in 
 general, these thermal waters would be held to be 
 
362 THE UNDERWORLD [Chap. XVI. 
 
 sacred and under the care of local or national 
 divinities. When their beneficial therapeutic 
 properties were found out, they in many places 
 became the centres of extensive and much 
 frequented bath-establishments.^ 
 
 The displays of subterranean energy in the 
 form of volcanic eruptions could not fail to impress 
 the Roman mind as they had impressed the 
 Grecian. Etna, the greatest of the volcanoes of 
 Europe, had been at various times seen in vigorous 
 activity by the Greek colonists before it was 
 included within the conquered territories of Rome. 
 Its characteristic features had been vividly por- 
 trayed by Aeschylus and Pindar, and through 
 their poems had been made familiar to cultivated 
 Romans. The lively Greek imagination had like- 
 wise created a legend that connected Etna with 
 the primseval conflict between Zeus and the Titans. 
 One of these monsters was fabled to have been 
 hurled to earth and buried beneath the vast mass 
 of the volcano. The tremors, rumblings, and fiery 
 
 ' Within a few miles of Rome, the warm sulphur springs of the 
 Aquae Albulae between the city and Tibur and the hot sulphur waters 
 of the Aquae ApoUinares near Bracciano were much in request for 
 medical treatment among the Romans, and their reputation is still 
 maintained in modern days. At the latter place large numbers of 
 coins, bronze vessels, goblets and cups of silver and gold, rings and 
 other objects have been found which the patients in-old days left as 
 memorials of their gratitude to the divinity of the place for the 
 benefit they had derived from the waters. Such establishments were 
 created by the Romans all over their vast empire where suitable hot 
 springs were met with. On the utmost limit of the Roman dominions 
 the hot waters of Bath were thus utilised, and the buildings erected 
 there by the Romans still form part of the modern and popular 
 establishment. 
 
THE ANCIENT THEORY OF VOLCANOES 353 
 
 blasts of the mountain were said to mark the 
 efforts of the imprisoned Titan to turn his body 
 for ease as he lay on his burning pallet. 
 
 The Greek philosophers, too, had considered 
 the problems presented by Etna. .Regarding them, 
 of course, as entirely arising from natural causes, 
 these writers had come to the conclusion that, 
 as air in tempestuous motion was the mightiest 
 form of physical energy of which they had ex- 
 perience, nothing short of this motive force could 
 be conceived to account for volcanic eruptions. 
 They accordingly framed a theory that inside the 
 earth there must be vast cavernous spaces wherein 
 wind is imprisoned, which from time to time works 
 itself up into furious tempests, as it does above 
 the ground. The violent efforts of these caged 
 subterranean hurricanes to find some escape to 
 the surface, were looked upon as the cause of 
 the tremblings and earthquakes that precede or 
 accompany volcanic eruptions ; and as in the 
 atmosphere, the clouds were seen to evolve 
 lightning, apparently by their violent concussions 
 when the wind drove them together, so it could 
 be believed that the underground tempests in their 
 whirling fury would strike out fire which would 
 catch and inflame the sulphur, bitumen, and 
 other combustible materials within the earth. 
 When the over-arching roof of the great sub- 
 terranean caverns, shaken and riven by the 
 mighty energy of the wind, at last gave way, the 
 pent-up tempest with its accompanying steam, 
 
354 THE UNDERWORLD [Chap. XVI 
 
 smoke, flames, and molten rock would rush out 
 into the upper air and devastate the surrounding 
 country. 
 
 By the time that these questions found their 
 way into Latin literature, Greek philosophy and 
 Greek mjrths had to a large extent become 
 acclimatised in the Roman Republic. As the chief 
 old Italian divinities had been one after another 
 identified with gods in the Hellenic pantheon, so 
 the Greek materialistic explanations of natural 
 phenomena were in like manner adopted by those 
 who studied philosophy at Rome. Hence when 
 the Latin poets came to touch on the volcanoes 
 of the Mediterranean it was natural that both 
 their ideas and their modes of expressing them 
 should bear strong evidence of Greek influence. 
 
 The eruptions of Etna might be separated 
 from each other by long intervals of quiescence, 
 during which the traces of devastation were well 
 nigh effaced by the progress of renewed cultivation. 
 To younger generations the reaUties of eruption 
 might thus become little more than a mere tradi- 
 tion. In so fruitful a soU and in so genial a climate 
 as that of Sicily, it is marvellous how soon the 
 healing hand of Nature, combined with the busy 
 hand of man, can efface the superficial marks of 
 even the most disastrous calamities. There was a 
 severe eruption of the volcano in the year B.C. 121. 
 As this event happened only about a quarter of a 
 century before Lucretius was born, he may have 
 had accounts of it from eye-witnesses. In his 
 
LUCRETIUS AND VIRGIL ON ETNA 355 
 
 allusion to the wonders of Sicily, the birthplace 
 of Empedocles, he naturally gives a leading place 
 to the great volcano. He says that 
 
 "the Etnean rumblings are threatening again to 
 wake the flaming wrath of the mountain, and 
 it may yet once more belch fires from its throat, 
 and cast again to the heavens the flashing of its 
 lightnings." 
 
 In another passage he refers to the 
 
 "Etnean fires that are breathed forth with so 
 mighty a whirl from the throat of the mountain. 
 With no common destruction did the flaming 
 tempest overwhelm the Sicilian fields, and draw 
 to itself the eyes of the neighbouring peoples, 
 who saw all the circuit of heaven smoking and 
 gleaming, and whose dismayed hearts were filled 
 with dread of what new design Nature might 
 be planning."^ 
 
 Lucretius accepts and expounds the Greek 
 wind-theory as the explanation of volcanic out- 
 bursts. 
 
 Virgil, also, may have heard in his youth from 
 old men, accoimts of the havoc which they had 
 seen to have been wrought by the eruption of 
 Etna in B.C. 121. During the years 49 and 44, 
 when less destructive outpourings of the mountain 
 occurred, he was probably living at home on the 
 plains of the Mincio. He alludes to the eruption 
 of the latter year as one of the portents that 
 heralded or accompanied the assassination of Juhus 
 
 ' De Ber. Nat. I. 722.; VI. 639. 
 
356 THE UNDERWORLD [Chap. XVI. 
 
 Caesar.^ During his occasional residences in Sicily- 
 he may himself have seen the mountain in one 
 of its minor phases of activity. It is in his latest 
 poem that he makes the fullest references to Etna 
 and volcanic matters. He there tells, as already 
 mentioned, how Aeneas and his fleet, after their 
 long and trying journeyings, cast anchor among 
 the iEolian Isles, and heard the ominous growlings 
 of Etna not many miles distant. As the scene 
 which he describes, shaped itself in his imagination, 
 all that he had read and all that he had ever heard 
 or seen of the stupendous mountain would crowd 
 into his mind. The graphic pictures drawn by 
 the Greek poets, the legend of the buried Titan 
 and all the human associations of the volcano 
 were present before him, heightened perhaps and 
 defined by what with his own eyes he may have 
 witnessed. The well-known passage in the ^neid, 
 wherein he briefly sketches an eruption, has a 
 special interest from the way in which he has 
 seized upon the leading features in the phenomena, 
 and has grouped them, on the whole, in the order 
 of sequence which they usually follow — the uprise 
 of the dark cloud that marks the earliest phase 
 of explosion when the imprisoned vapours are 
 clearing the throat of the volcano, then the 
 whirling masses of black detritus, the rain of 
 
 ^ Geor. I. 471. Ovid reconuts a doleful list of portents on that , 
 occasiou (Metam. XV. 780-798. Compare the account of prodigies given 
 by Lucan, Phars. I. 622 seq.; VII. 161 seq.). There were eruptions of 
 Etna in the years b.c. 38 and 32, of one or other of which Virgil may 
 possibly have been an eye-witness, 
 
ETNA IN ERUPTION 357 
 
 white ashes, the uprise of red -hot stones like 
 globes of fire, the huge blocks torn from the 
 very heart of the mountain, and at last the ascent 
 and outflow of molten lava : — 
 
 " With startling uproar Etna thunders near, 
 Now launching to the sky a darksome cloud, 
 With whirls of pitchy smoke and white-hot ash. 
 And balls of flame that mount even to the stars : 
 Now belching from its heart huge crags of rock. 
 And rolling to the air the molten stone. 
 It groans and surges from its lowest depths. 
 
 'Tis said the body of Enceladus, 
 Half-burnt up by the thunder-bolt of Jove, 
 Lies pressed beneath the mighty mountain-pile 
 Of Etna, breathing flame from every vent ; 
 And often as he turns his weary side, 
 Through Sicily a rumbling tremor runs, 
 And all the heavens above are veil'd with smoke." ^ 
 
 In the Greek myth as recounted by Aeschylus 
 and Pindar, the Titan buried under Etna bore 
 the name of Typhoeus. In the passage just cited 
 Virgil calls him Enceladus, and in another part 
 of the poem he says that Typhoeus was entombed 
 beneath the volcanic piles of the islands of Procida 
 and Ischia, on the north-west side of the Bay 
 of Naples.^ He would thus seem to indicate 
 that two different monsters were plunged below 
 the volcanoes of Southern Italy, for he would 
 hardly be Ukely to regard the two names as 
 designations of the same being, who in that 
 
 » ^n. III. 671-682. 
 
 " Id. IX. 71S. The statement is repeated by Lucau who speaks of 
 Enceladus as lying below Etna (Phars. V. 100 ; VI. 293). 
 
358 THE UNDERWORLD [Chap. XVI. 
 
 case would have been well entitled to rank 
 among the giants and Jove's most formidable 
 opponents, for his frame must have been some 
 sixty English miles in length.^ 
 
 Ovid, who in his version of the legend 
 restores Typhoeus to his place under Etna, 
 relates in characteristic detail under which tracts 
 of Sicily the various parts of the Titan's body 
 lay. He makes Typhoeus a more vigorous 
 prisoner than Virgil represents him, for he 
 describes him as fiercely belching sand and flame, 
 struggling to throw off his load and to roll 
 aside the huge hills and the cities that rested 
 upon him, till the earth trembles and Pluto 
 himself becomes nervous lest the ground be 
 rent open and daylight be let in to affright the 
 trembling shades that people his underworld.^ 
 Ovid had himself spent the greater part of a 
 year in Sicily with his friend Macer, and had 
 visited all that was thought to be worth seeing 
 in the island. In one of his Pontic Epistles 
 he reminds Macer that they had together watched 
 the heavens aglow with the fires of Etna. But 
 he neither gives any description of what he 
 saw nor states the impression which all this 
 varied and interesting scenery had left on his 
 
 ' Strabo, who has the credit of being the first traveller to recognise 
 the probable volcanic origin of Mount Vesuvius (he died long before 
 the great eruption of a.d. 79), was of opinion that the whole region 
 from Curaae to Sicily must be regarded as one continuous volcanic 
 traot, and he pointed out that Pindar has pictured Typhon as lying 
 underneath the whole of it ( Geog. V. iv. 9). 
 
 ' Metam. V. 346-368. 
 
ETNA AND THE .EOLIAN ISLES 359 
 
 mind. His epistle to his friend was sent from 
 Tomi, when the reminiscences of their journeyings 
 in company awakened all the horror of the 
 contrast to his former hfe presented by his exile 
 far away " under the north pole of the world." ' 
 The legend of the Titan beneath Etna is alluded 
 to by Horace, who remarks with regard to it 
 that fire, which usually does its work swiftly, has 
 not yet eaten through the overlying mass of 
 mountain, so that the load which presses upon 
 the entombed giant has not yet been sensibly 
 reduced in bulk." 
 
 Etna was made the subject of a poem called 
 jEtna consisting of 646 hexameter verses, the 
 authorship of which is not certainly known. As 
 a contribution to science it has little or no value, 
 and from the literary side is intolerably dull. Latin 
 literature, indeed, can hardly furnish a more striking 
 contrast than that between this ambitious but 
 jejune performance and the two famous letters of 
 the younger Pliny on the Vesuvian eruption of 
 A.D. 79, to which reference will be made later 
 in this chapter. 
 
 In the group of the JEolian Isles, lying not far 
 to the north of Sicily, volcanic outbreaks began 
 before the earliest times of human history. They 
 were on a smaller scale than at Etna, but on 
 the other hand, they were much more frequent 
 than in the great volcano. In one case, indeed, 
 that of StromboU, they appear to have been 
 
 ' Poni. II. X. ^ Gnrm. III. iv. 7. 
 
360 THE UNDERWORLD [Chap. XVI. 
 
 continuous till now all through the centuries 
 that have passed since the earliest Greek colonists 
 reported their eruptions to the mother country. 
 These islands were represented by the Alexandrian 
 poets as the workshop of the fire-god Hephaistus. 
 The Roman poets in this case also adopted the 
 legend as told by the Greeks. The island which in 
 their time was most remarkable for the activity of 
 its vent was named by the Greeks Hiera, being 
 regarded as sacred to Hephaistus, and where he had 
 his abode. The Romans who identified their fire- 
 god Vulcanus with the corresponding Greek divinity, 
 knew the island as Vulcan's Isle, and it still goes 
 by the name of Volcano and still from time to 
 time breaks out in eruption. 
 
 Virgil makes several allusions to this remark- 
 able centre of volcanic activity, the most detailed 
 of these being that in which he represents Vulcan, 
 at the urgent request of Venus, leaving his 
 couch in heaven, to repair to his Mohan furnaces 
 in order to arrange with his Cyclopes for the 
 fabrication of arms for Aeneas. The various 
 subterranean noises, sometimes alarming enough 
 to the population above ground, are described by 
 the poet as resounding from a vast workshop 
 down in the depths, where amidst the ruddy glow 
 from their furnaces, these legendary workmen 
 are busy smiting with mighty blows the hissing 
 bars of white-hot steel on their anvils. Out of 
 these bars, combined with shafts of hail, and 
 watery cloud, and fire, and the winged south wind, 
 
THE WINDS UNDERGROUND 361 
 
 mingled with appalling flashes, and sound and 
 fear and anger, they are fashioning the thunder- 
 bolts which the Father of gods and men hurls 
 forth from the wide heaven.^ 
 
 The widespread acceptation of the explanation 
 given by the philosophers that volcanic energy is 
 primarily due to the movements of wind imprisoned 
 in vast subterranean chasms led to the establishment 
 of another popular belief in connection with the 
 iEolian Isles. As some of the vents in that group 
 were so frequently in eruption as to give rise to 
 the belief that they marked the fii-e-god's favourite 
 abode, so they came to be associated also with 
 iEolus, the god of the winds, from whom they 
 actually received the name by which they are 
 known. This divinity was reputed to have his 
 dwelling under these islands, where he kept watch 
 and ward over the various winds, letting them 
 out or restraining them within their prison as 
 seemed good to him, or as might be required 
 by the powers above. 
 
 It is to these head-quarters of tempest that 
 Virgil brings Juno in quest of the storm wherewith 
 she sought to overwhelm Aeneas and his fleet. 
 The poet describes iEolia as the home of rain- 
 clouds and furious gales. He pictures iEolus 
 as seated there on his lofty citadel, sceptre in 
 hand, ruling over the struggUng winds and the 
 resounding tempests, and bridling them with chains 
 and prison. As they impatiently growl round 
 
 1 JEn. VIII. 416-432 ; Gear. IV. 170-176. 
 
362 THE UNDERWORLD [Chap. XVI. 
 
 their dungeon, the mountain overhead murmurs 
 loudly. But he moderates their impulse and 
 curbs their wrath, else would they assuredly, in 
 their swift flight, bear away sea and land and 
 even the high heavens. In fear of such a catas- 
 trophe, the almighty Father has hidden them in 
 dark caverns, has piled a huge mass of high 
 hiUs above them, and has given them a king 
 who by a settled compact knows, when com- 
 manded, both to tighten and to loosen the 
 reins.^ 
 
 Allusion may be made here to another belief 
 connected with the iEolian Isles which has survived 
 down to our own time. Polybius has recorded 
 that the weather could be foretold from the 
 behaviour of the volcanic vents. Before the 
 coming of the south wind, the little island 
 (probably Stromboli) was shrouded in mist, but 
 if the wind was to be northerly the summit was 
 clear and emitted flames that rose high into the 
 air with increased rumbling noises.* The ItaUan 
 fishermen stUl regard Stromboli as a weather- 
 glass w:hereby they are guided as to the kind of 
 weather that may be expected. There is probably 
 a foundation of truth in this long-established belief. 
 High atmospheric pressure, which generally brings 
 good weather, must tend to repress the eruptive 
 vapours in the chimney of the volcano, while low 
 
 ' ^n. I. 50-63. The storm resulting from Juno's visit has 
 been referred to on p. 218. 
 
 ^ Hist. XXXIV. xi. The observations are repeated by Strabo and 
 Pliny. 
 
PLINY'S LETTERS ON VESUVIAN ERUPTION 863 
 
 pressure will increase their facility of escape. The 
 greater activity of the vent therefore would be 
 an indication of stormy weather. It is perhaps 
 to this popular belief that Horace alludes when 
 in the ode already cited (p. 240) he speaks of 
 Vulcan kindling the forges of the Cyclopes. He 
 may allude to the return of spring as heralded 
 by storms that are succeeded by the balmy west 
 winds of that season. 
 
 The most interesting and important naiTative 
 of a great volcanic eruption which has come down 
 to us from antiquity is that by the younger 
 Pliny in the two famous letters already alluded 
 to. As an actual eye-witness he there describes 
 the memorable outbreak of Vesuvius in a.d. 79, 
 whereby the Campanian cities were overwhelmed. 
 Tacitus, desirous of handing down to posterity an 
 accurate account of the circumstances in which 
 Pliny's uncle, the illustrious author of the Historia 
 Naturalis, met his death, asked the nephew to 
 furnish it. This request was comphed with in 
 the two letters in question. The first of them 
 describes the keen interest of the naturalist in 
 the wonderful scene presented by the commence- 
 ment of the outbreak of Vesuvius, and goes on 
 to narrate how from Misenum, where he was in 
 command of the fleet, he sailed across the bay 
 to get a nearer view of the mountain, how he 
 landed on the further coast and courageously 
 advanced on foot along the shore in the direction 
 of the volcano, how a hot and sulphurous blast. 
 
364 THE UNDERWORLD [Chap. XVI. 
 
 perhaps somewhat like the nu^e ardente which 
 proved fatal to so many thousand people at the 
 isle of Martinique in 1902, suflFocated him, and 
 how, when daylight returned after the eruption, 
 his body was found lying where he fell, uninjured, 
 and looking more like one asleep than dead. 
 
 The second letter records the writer's own 
 experience at Misenum, with that of his mother, 
 who was his only companion at this trying time. 
 They endeavoured to escape together, but in the 
 dense' darkness and amidst the rain of ashes and 
 stones, they withdrew from the public road to 
 escape being crushed by the crowd of terrified 
 fugitives, and sat down to await what he thought 
 was the end of the world, only rising now and 
 then to shake off the accumulating mass of debris 
 under which they might have been crushed. At 
 last the faU of volcanic material slackened, dim 
 dayUght began to reappear, and by degrees the 
 sun could be seen faintly through the lurid atmos- 
 phere. When the air had cleared the whole 
 country appeared under a deep covering of ashes 
 like snow. 
 
 This relation, so clearly and tersely composed, 
 is a document of high scientific interest, for it 
 gives a vivid picture of the successive phases of 
 one of the greatest and most disastrous volcanic 
 eruptions within the times of history. The writer 
 was not a scientific man and drew no conclusions 
 from what he witnessed. But he observed with 
 intelligence and tells his story in the simplest 
 
VESUVIUS AFTER ERUPTION OF A.D. 79 365 
 
 language. We obtain from his narrative a clear 
 conception of the wonderful scene as it appeared 
 to the eyes of a cultivated and observant Roman 
 gentleman. 
 
 But beyond their scientific importance these 
 two letters possess no little literary value. Even 
 if their stoical calm may seem a little forced, they 
 must be admitted to present a memorable example 
 of the Roman qualities of "firmitas et constantia," 
 calm courage and self-possession in the presence 
 of danger, and quiet restraint and dignity in 
 describing one of the most dreadful catastrophes 
 that man can behold. The appalling scene is 
 depicted with no floweriness of language, but with 
 a simpUcity and directness which make the narrative 
 not unworthy to have been incorporated in Tacitus's 
 own pages. We have to remember, moreover, 
 that the writer was at the time of the eruption 
 only a lad of eighteen. The proof of his devotion 
 to his mother and of hers to him, so lightly 
 indicated in his description, adds another charm 
 to the letters. 
 
 Among the later poets of the first century of 
 the Empire various references occur to this great 
 Vesuvian catastrophe and to the aspect of the 
 region after its devastation. Martial makes the 
 subject the theme of one of his epigrams : — 
 
 " This is Vesuvius, only lately so verdant with 
 umbrageous vines. Here the noble grape pressed 
 the moist vats ; these ridges were dearer to Bacchus 
 than even his Nysan hiUs. • Here was the dweUing 
 
366 THE UNDERWORLD [Chap. XVI. 
 
 of Venus, pleasanter to her than Lacedaemon. 
 Here, too, stood a place illustrious from bearing 
 the name of Hercules — the whole now lies buried 
 in flames and melancholy ashes. The gods must 
 surely wish that they had not been allowed to 
 inflict such evil."^ 
 
 Statius, though he Uved within sight of 
 Vesuvius, gives no description of the eruption in 
 his Silvae, but makes several allusions to it. 
 Writing at Cumae soon after the catastrophe, 
 he mentions that the volcano was still active, 
 though with lessened energy, 
 
 "pouring out his fires in emulation of the flames 
 of Sicily. How wonderful, yet true 1 Will the 
 coming generations of men believe, when the 
 crops shall have returned, and when these deserts 
 will once more be green, that towns and people 
 lie pressed below, and that the fields of their 
 grandfathers disappeared in a boiling sea? Nor 
 has the summit of the mountain yet ceased to 
 threaten death." 
 
 In another passage he refers to " the Vesuvian 
 fires, when the Father sent the mountain from 
 the earth to the skies, and hurled it far and wide 
 over the wretched towns." Again, alluding to 
 the revival of cheerfulness and life in the region 
 after the eruption, he rejoiced that the Vesuvian 
 peak and the fiery tempest of that dread mountain 
 had not yet drained the anxious cities of all 
 their men. There were still left Puteoli, with 
 its busy harbour, Baiae that welcomed all the 
 
 > Epig. IV. xliv. 
 
PLUTONIA OR CHARON'S DITCHES 367 
 
 world to its shores, and, above all, "our own 
 Naples, neither weak in her own population nor 
 scantily supplied with country-folk."^ 
 
 With the volcanic history of central and southern 
 Italy the popular Roman conception of the under- 
 world and of the future state of human beings after 
 death is curiously and closely linked. All over 
 that region, as has already been mentioned, among 
 the manifestations of decaying volcanic energy, 
 there are places where hot vapours and iU-smell- 
 ing or suffocating gases rise into the air. These 
 localities are not infrequently extinct volcanic vents 
 whence eruptions of ashes and stones once came, 
 but which, on the cessation of the explosions, gradu- 
 ally had their crater-bottoms fiUed with rain and 
 surface water. In some cases where the water has 
 mostly disappeared, it has left on its site an expanse 
 of fetid mud from which the malodorous vapours 
 continue to rise, sometimes with Uttle explosions 
 whereby the mud is spirted up into the air. Such 
 weird spots were called by the Romans " spiracles " 
 or "Charon's ditches," from the opinion that 
 they were outlets from the lower regions where 
 Charon and Pluto were believed to dwell.* The 
 Vadimonian lake, so well described by the younger 
 Pliny {antea p. 148), was one of these outlets. The 
 
 I Silv. 111. V. 72 ; IV. iv. 78 ; V. iii. 205. 
 
 'Pliny, Hist. Nat. IV. xcv., "spiracula, Charoneae scrobes, 
 mortiferum spiritum exhalantes.'' Pliny thought the only explanation 
 of them was to be found in the supposition that the whole of Nature is 
 pervaded by a spirit (numen) which is continually breaking forth, now 
 in one form, now in another. 
 
THE UNDERWORLD [Chap. XVI. 
 
 small circular lake or tarn of greenish- blue water, 
 lying in the cup of an ancient crater, which in 
 his day gave off sulphureous vapours, is now dried 
 up and is known as the Laghetto di Bassano. 
 Virgil mentions another example, the valley of 
 Amsanctus, which still retains much of the aspect 
 which it had in his day. He describes it as a place 
 lying in the middle of Italy, beneath high hills, 
 and renowned in legend on many shores. Pent 
 between wooded cliflfe and under gloomy over- 
 arching foliage, it shows in the midst a roaring 
 torrent that dashes in whirhng eddies over the 
 rocks; likewise a horrible cavern, "the breathing 
 vent of cruel Dis," and a ' vast pestilential abyss 
 that leads down to Acheron. Into this ghastly 
 hollow Virgil represents the Fury Allecto plunging 
 on her return to the lower world after the 
 accomplishment of her fateful errand on earth.^ 
 The noisome gases which stiU continue to rise from 
 the pool that fills the bottom of the hollow, escape 
 in bubbles that burst with some little noise, and 
 infect the air to such a degree as to suffocate birds 
 and other animals that venture near. 
 
 To the west of Naples lay a district fuU of 
 hot springs, sulphurous emanations, and mouths 
 that emitted steam, sometimes with loud noises. 
 Certain of these orifices still remain active, but 
 probably a number of them which were so in Virgil's 
 time are now quiescent. By far the most famous 
 of them all was the Lake Avernus — a sheet of 
 
 1 ^n. VII. 563-671. 
 
LAKE AVERNUS 369 
 
 water filling the bottom of an extinct volcanic 
 crater, close to Baiae on the shores of the Bay. 
 Long before the dawn of history this mysterious 
 hollow had so impressed the minds of the Greek 
 colonists of the neighbourhood that they carried 
 the report of its marvels back to the mother- 
 country, where its fame became widely spread. 
 The poet of the Odyssey brings Odysseus to the 
 spot as the portal from which he could come 
 into touch with the nether world. Even now 
 when the progress of time and the interference of 
 man have shorn the place of much of the weird 
 aspect which it must have worn more that two 
 thousand years ago, it is still an impressive spot.^ 
 But in the olden time, when the steep slopes of the 
 crater in which the lake was embosomed were 
 clothed with dense forest, when beneath the gloom 
 of the ti;ees deadly vapours escaped from many 
 rifts into the air, which became so pestilential as to 
 give rise to the general belief that no bird could 
 fly across the expanse without being suffocated, 
 and when the lake was thought to have no bottom, ^ 
 it requires little imagination to understand the 
 
 ' Strabo says that in his time, the woods having been cut down by 
 Agrippa, the hills about Avernus were well cultivated, but that in the 
 olden time they had been covered with wild, vast, and impenetrable 
 forest, which overshadowed the lake, and gave the place the feeling 
 of superstitious awe for which it was so famous. He adds that it was 
 a " Plutonium," where people make sacrifices and offerings to the 
 infernal deities (V. iv. 5). 
 
 " The belief that Avernus was fathomless lasted long. Lucan relates 
 that if the neighbouring mountain Gaurus, the largest among the 
 volcanic cones of the Campi Phlegraei, were to fall into the stagnant 
 Avernus, it would be swallowed up in the lake {Phars. II. 667). 
 
 2 A 
 
370 THE UNDERWORLD [Chap. XVI. 
 
 deep impression which it made on the minds of 
 men long ago. Its fame as the main gateway of 
 Orcus or the infernal regions was widely diffused 
 all over the Mediterranean shores. Reports of its 
 marvels had no doubt reached the Romans before 
 they had begun to annex the Greek colonies to 
 their dominions. And as the Greek legends gained 
 increasing acceptance among them, the high import- 
 ance of Avernus was sure to be recognised. The 
 conception of the underworld and of the future 
 state there, which Hellenic imagination had evolved, 
 having been assimilated by the Romans, together 
 with the rest of the mythology, the river Styx, with 
 its unkempt ferryman Charon, probably became 
 to the populace of Rome much more familiar 
 than Olympus and the doings of the higher deities. 
 For the belief had become general that the Styx 
 must sooner or later be crossed by every mortal. A 
 family would have been miserably poor that could 
 not afford to place in the mouth of their dead the 
 small coin that would pay for the passage of the 
 fatal stream.^ 
 
 How prevalent this belief had grown in Italy 
 long before the end of the Republic is apparent 
 from many allusions in contemporary literature. 
 It was denounced and ridiculed by the philosophers. 
 Lucretius in his earnest crusade against the religious 
 creed of his day, declared that " the fear of Acheron 
 must be driven headlong out of doors, for it 
 disturbs human life from its very foundations 
 
 ' Juvenal, III. 267. 
 
PERSISTENCE OF POPULAR SUPERSTITION 371 
 
 suffusing eyerything with the blackness of death, 
 and leaving no pleasure pure and unsullied." In 
 another passage he takes pains to point out the 
 real nature of Avernus, showing that there is 
 nothing supernatural or specially wonderfiil about 
 the spot, but that it is only one of many places in 
 the country whence poisonous vapours rise into 
 the air,^ The very vehemence of his denunciation 
 aflfbrds evidence of the wide popularity of the 
 belief which he opposed. Cicero, too, asked mock- 
 ingly whether any silly old woman could be found 
 in his day who stiU believed in these monstrosities 
 of the nether regions.^ A century later Seneca 
 affirmed that nobody was then so childish as to 
 give credence to the tales about Cerberus and the 
 shades below,' while Juvenal declared that the 
 boys of his day did not believe in departed spirits, 
 the underground realm, and the black frogs in the 
 Stygian gulf, or that a single skiff carries so many 
 thousand ghosts across the deep.* 
 
 It is evident, however, that a belief which had 
 been so firmly and widely estabhshed was not Ukely 
 to be easily discredited by the sarcasms and sneers 
 of either philosophers or satirists. And in actual 
 fact, though its hold on the popular mind was 
 gradually relaxing, it lasted as long as paganism 
 itself Avernus, too, retained its place as the gate- 
 way to the other world ; for so late as the end of 
 the fourth century of our era, as a Neapolitan 
 
 1 De Ber. Nat. III. 37 ; VI. 737- " Ve Nat. Dear. II. ii. 
 
 ' Epist. XXIV. 18. * Sat. II. 149-162. 
 
S72 THE UNDERWORLD [Chap. XVI. 
 
 inscription records, a procession of pious pilgrims 
 went from Capua on 27th July to visit that famous 
 spot.^ 
 
 There can hardly be any doubt that the pre- 
 valent conception of the underworld received fresh 
 and powerful support from the publication of 
 Virgil's jEneid. Of that poem, which attained 
 so wide a popularity,^ no portion, we may be sure, 
 would appeal more forcibly to the feelings of the 
 average Roman than the sixth Book. While it 
 would warm his patriotism to learn in the other 
 Books, from what early struggles the mighty 
 Roman Empire had been evolved; and while he 
 could read with enjoyment of the travels and 
 toils, the pious endurance and courage of Aeneas, 
 of the battles in Latium, and of the interest 
 which the gods and goddesses above took in the 
 foundation of Rome, it touched him far more 
 nearly to be told something authentic about the 
 next world. When, moreover, the intelligence 
 was communicated by a gifted poet who had 
 solemnly invoked the gods in charge of souls, 
 the silent Shades, Chaos and Phlegethon, to 
 permit him to tell to mortals what he had 
 heard, and to reveal the secrets of the world 
 below,' we can well believe that Virgil's verse 
 went far to impart fresh strength- to the beUef 
 
 1 Boissier, " La Religion Romaine," tome. I. p. 286. 
 
 " An indication of this popularity is furnished by the graffiti on the 
 walls of the houses in Pompeii, where the first words of several of the 
 Books of Mneid are found (Mau, " Pompeii," 2nd ed. p. 614). 
 
 s ^n. VI. 264-267. 
 
VIRGIL'S INFERNO 373 
 
 against which the philosophers had uttered their 
 protests or had thrown their scorn. 
 
 In this famous sixth Book, where the poet's 
 imaginative energy reaches its highest level, Aeneas 
 meets the Cumaean Sibyl at the dread Avernus. 
 Entering a yawning cavern with its poisonous 
 breath the two companions plunge into the dark- 
 ness of Orcus. They then pass, one after another, 
 the features so firmly impressed on the popular 
 imagination as landmarks in that gloomy region^ 
 — Acheron and Cocytus, the squalid Charon with 
 his ferry - boat on the Styx, the vast throng of 
 departed spirits pleading to be taken across the 
 river, huge Cerberus barking from his triple throat, 
 the Elysian fields on one side, Tartarus on the 
 other, and Lethe, the river of forgetfulne^s — until 
 Aeneas has the desired interview with his father, 
 who opens to him the book of the future and 
 unfolds the philosophical conception of the uni- 
 versal spirit that breathes through Nature. Instead, 
 however, of leading the hero back by the same 
 route to the entrance at Avernus, the poet makes 
 Anchises dismiss his son by the "Ivory Gate."^ 
 The poet, borrowing the idea of this gate from 
 Homer's two portals of dreamland, made use of it 
 as a convenient way of restoring Aeneas to day- 
 light without taking him through all the scenes 
 which he had already traversed. Virgil does not tell 
 
 ' Tibullus also gives a picture of the lower world (I. iii. 67-82). 
 
 " Id. VI. 895. Virgil states that through this gate false visions 
 were transmitted to the upper world. Why he should have chosen 
 this exit for his hero has never been satisfactorily explained. 
 
374 THE UNDERWORLD [Chap. XVI. 
 
 us, however, if indeed he had formed any conception 
 himself, whereabouts this second opening to upper 
 air was situated. He probably felt that among the 
 strangely mysterious Campi Phlegraei, with their 
 densely wooded lonely hills and valleys, their 
 mephitic pools arid their steaming crevices, there 
 must lie hidden some other "Charon's ditch" 
 that might serve as appropriately for exit, as 
 Avernus did for entrance, to the regions below.' 
 At all events, as Virgil described his hero's descent 
 into the underworld as a reality and not a mere 
 dream, he had to restore Aeneas to upper air not 
 too far away from the ships which were drawn up 
 on the beach at Cumae. That the Trojan leader 
 was supposed to emerge from his subterranean 
 journey at no great distance from where he had 
 begun it, is indicated by the abruptness and brevity 
 of the narrative : — " he took his way to the ships 
 and rejoined his comrades ; then bore straight 
 along the shore to the haven of Caieta." 
 
 In an earlier chapter (p. 70) reference was 
 made to the service that may have been rendered 
 to the reform movement of Augustus by the 
 publication of Virgil's Georgics. In a different 
 way and appealing to other human instincts, the 
 j^neid was probably still more effective for the 
 same purpose. From beginning to end that poem 
 is one grand pagan of patriotism. Legend and 
 
 ^ Ovid iu his account of the journey of Aeneas and the Sibyl into 
 the infernal regions^ does not make use of the Ivory Gate, but brings 
 the tvco travellers back through the darkness {Metam. XIV. 120). 
 
INFLUENCE OF VIRGIL'S ^NEID 375 
 
 history, poetry and romance, antiquarian research 
 and philosophical speculation, idylls of peace and 
 tumults of war, the rude dangers of the sea and 
 the quiet beauties of the land, the gods in heaven 
 and the spirits in Orcus are all enlisted in the 
 poet's service with the one grand object of the 
 glorification of Rome. In working out this theme, 
 Virgil displays in even a higher degree that regard 
 for the national religion which was so apparent in 
 the Georges. He brings us into the very presence 
 of the immortals and makes us witnesses of their 
 interest in human affairs. But above all, in spite 
 of inconsistences and self-contradictions which 
 seem so conspicuous to a modern reader, Virgil's 
 detailed picture of the underworld, the unquestion- 
 ing belief which he reveals in the immortality of 
 the soul and in the reality of future rewards and 
 punishments, could not fail to exert at the time 
 a powerful eflfect on the minds of the great body 
 of his fellow-countrymen. There is truly a deep 
 pathos in this sustained effort of the poet to stem 
 the advancing tide of indifference and scepticism, 
 and by his renewed and earnest presentation of 
 the national religion, to rally the community to 
 its acceptance. That faith had sufficed for the 
 men who, frugal and industrious in peace as they 
 were valiant and triumphant in war, had made 
 Rome the mistress of the world. Consecrated by 
 tradition, and intimately linked with a thousand 
 memories in the glorious history of the Republic, 
 it appealed to Virgil's loyal affection for the past. 
 
376 THE UNDERWORLD [Chap. XVI. 
 
 Yet while he clung to it, he was not insensible 
 to the teachings of philosophy and would fain 
 reconcile these with the faith of his fathers. 
 Never was his immortal line more applicable 
 than to his own case: — 
 
 " Sunt lacrimae reruin, et mentem mortalia tangunt." ^ 
 
 In these chapters I have tried to show that 
 during the last decades of the Roman Republic 
 and the first century of the Empire there lived 
 many men in whom the love of Nature was 
 strongly developed, and who found in her 
 presence, watching and wondering, some of their 
 purest pleasure and joy. This devotion, although 
 less comprehensive and intense than its repre- 
 sentative has grown to be in the modern world, 
 was warm and fruitful. It gave rest and refresh- 
 ment to politicians wearied with their labours 
 for the State, it afforded food for thought to 
 philosophers of every school, and it inspired some 
 of the greatest poets of antiquity who doubtless 
 kindled a reflex of their own enthusiasm among 
 readers all over the vast dominions of Rome. 
 While much of the inner life of men in the 
 
 ' The solemn exposition of the Stdic doctrine of the "Anima 
 Mundi," which Anchises delivers to his son Aeneas at their impressive 
 interview in the lower regions, would hardly have heen inserted in 
 this striking manner if it did not express the opinion of the poet 
 himself. There is a notable difference between the presentation of 
 the subject in this passage {^n. VI. 724), and the earlier statement 
 in Oeor. IV. 221, where Virgil refrains from committing himself to 
 the adoption of the doctrine. 
 
NATURE'S ENDURING APPEAL 677 
 
 antique world can with difficulty and only im- 
 perfectly be realised by us, since it was so largely 
 made up of features that undergo constant change 
 with the progress of time, such as religion, poUtics, 
 manners, customs, habits and associations. Nature, 
 on the other hand, though also e\rer changeful, 
 retains the same bright freshness and renews her 
 youth and beauty with each return of spring. Her 
 life and charm make their appeal to us as they 
 did to men two thousand years ago. The simple 
 chords which were then awakened in the stately 
 cadence of Latin prose and in the rich music 
 of Latin poetry still vibrate in our ears to-day. 
 Where they find a sympathetic response in our 
 hearts they bring us into closest touch with the 
 inner soul and spirit of the best of the Romans. 
 For they express the instinctive joy of man in 
 the world around him — ^that 
 
 Primal sympathy 
 Which having been must ever be, 
 
 and which, as a universal bond, gathers into one 
 common brotherhood the peoples of every century 
 and of every tongue. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Abruzzi^ the highest part of the 
 Apennine chain, Ovid's birth- 
 place, 99, 104, 106 
 
 Acheron, 193, 213, 368, 370, 373 
 
 Actium, 329, 336 
 
 Adriatic Sea, 61, 312, 326, 327, 
 329, 331, 332, 343, 345 
 
 ^gean Sea, 344, 346, 346 
 
 ^olian Islands, 16, 217, 336, 366, 
 359 
 
 ^olus, 218, 360 
 
 Aeschylus,J352, 357 
 
 ^sculus trees, 154, 156 
 
 j^tna, an anonymous poem, 359 
 
 Agriculture. See Farm-work 
 
 Air, sounds awakened in foliage, 
 etc., by movements of, 214 
 
 Alban fields, 253 ; Lake, 262, 279 
 
 Alder-trees, 164 
 
 Algidus, Mount, 40, 291 
 
 Alps, in Italian scenery, 16, 67, 
 143, 284, 286, 289 ; Hannibal's 
 passage of, 221 ; Roman traverses 
 of, 284, 286 ; described by Silius 
 Italicus, 293 ; Livy on, 293 
 
 Amphitheatre, the Roman, 170 ; 
 its universal and long-continued 
 popularity, 171 ; splendour of 
 the entertainment in, 172 ; 
 fascination of, 173 ; absence of 
 evidence of opposition to the 
 bloodshed of, 174; Cicero on, 
 175 ; Pliny the Younger on, 
 176 ; Seneca's denunciation of, 
 178 
 
 Amsanctus, valley of, 368 
 
 "Anima mundi," Stoic doctrine 
 of, 69, 376 
 
 Animism of the early Romans, 2 
 
 Anio, river, 40, 262, 268, 273, 285 
 
 Antium, 42, 51, 301 
 
 Anxur (Tarracina), 301 
 
 Apennines, features of the, 14 ; 
 
 grazing grounds of, 26 ; near 
 
 Virgil's birthplace, 57 ; Apulian, 
 
 72 ; their influence on Horace, 
 
 82 ; Ovid's birthplace, 99, 104, 
 
 106 ; Pliny's country house 
 
 near, 133 ; forests of, 143 ; 
 
 climate of, 106, 236, 254 ; 
 
 storm among, 221 ; rapid floods 
 
 among, 265 ; source of Tiber 
 
 in, 268 ; scenery of, 284, 285, 
 
 289, 294, 296 
 Apulia, 72, 73, 74 
 Apulian peasantry, virtues of, 36, 
 
 72 
 Aquarius, evil reputation of, 234 
 " Aqua viva," 268 
 Aquilo, the north wind, 216, 242 
 Aratus on weather prognostics, 
 
 190, 223 
 Arcturus, 229, 234, 340 
 Arena. See Amphitheatre 
 Argo, the first ship, 328, 345 
 Aristotle on birds as weather 
 
 prophets, 190 
 Arpinum, 61, 137, 260 
 Art, development of a Roman 
 
 type of, 161, 162, 166 
 , Rome's indebtedness to 
 
 Greece in, 12, 161, 162 
 Assisi, 89 
 Astronomical knowledge of the 
 
 ancients, 227 ; in Roman 
 
 practical life, 227-236 
 Astura, 42, 51, 301, 302, 333 
 Athens, 75, 99, 123, 131, 184, 329, 
 
 330 
 Atlantic Ocean, Hannibal and the 
 
 Carthaginians astonished by the 
 
 tides of, 311 
 Atticus at Cicero's country home 
 
 at Arpinum, 51 
 
 379 
 
380 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Aufidus, river, 73, 74, 274 
 
 Augustine, St, cited, 173 
 
 Augustus, befriended Virgil, 69, 
 60 ; rescued the JEneid from 
 destruction, 60 ; as reformer 
 of the State, 70, 374 ; created 
 strong fleets, 299 
 
 Auster, the warm south wind, 
 216, 242 
 
 Autumn, Ovid's pictures of, 238, 
 249; Virgil on, 248; Horace 
 on, 248, 349 
 
 Aventine HUl, 147, 286, 350 
 
 Avernus, Lake, 368 ; supposed to 
 be the main gate to the infernal 
 regions, 370; persistence of this 
 belief, 371 ; meeting of Aeneas 
 and the Cumaean Sibyl at, 373 
 
 Bacon, Fbancis, on gardens, 129, 
 
 134, 136 ; on the co-existence 
 
 of cruelty to men with affection 
 
 for animals, 182 
 Baiae, 304, 307, 308, 309, 322, 
 
 366, 369 
 Bandusian spring, Horace's, 79, 81 
 Bassano, Laghetto di, 148, 367 
 Bears in Italy, 1, 199, 201 
 Beech-tree, 160, 154 
 Bees, 193, 198, 229 
 Benacus, lacus (Lago di Garda), 
 
 18, 267, 281 
 Birds in iktin literature, 189 ; as 
 
 weather prophets, 190, 193 ; 
 
 Virgil on the influence of the 
 
 weather on, 192 
 Black Sea, Ovid's account of, 106, 
 
 110 
 Boissier, Gaston, cited, 12, 372 
 Box-wood, cultivation of, for orna- 
 mental purposes, 134 
 Britain, Cicero's brother in, 332 
 Brixia, antique manners and life 
 
 in, 36 
 Brundisium, 74, 305, 329, 331, 
 
 332 
 Bulls, Virgil's pictures of, 187, 
 
 188 
 Byron, Lord, cited, 17, 168, 322 
 
 Caere, volcanic crater near, 148 
 Csesar, Julius, at the Gaulish grove 
 near Marseilles, 150 ; plane-tree 
 at Corduba planted by, 161 ; 
 
 reformed the calendar, 228 ; 
 omens at the assassination of, 
 267, 289, 356; engaged in 
 literary work while crossing 
 the Alps, 287 ; Lucan's terse 
 description of, 340 
 
 Caieta, 310, 333, 337, 374 
 
 Calendar, reformed by Julius 
 Caesar, 228 ; as defined by the 
 rising and setting of stars, 229 
 
 Calm, descriptions of a, 214 
 
 Campania, 61, 71, 311, 313 
 
 Campi Fhlegraei, 374 
 
 Capitol, the temples on, 114, 147 ; 
 primitive aspect of site of, 146 
 
 Castor and Pollux, 342 
 
 Cato, the Censor, on agricultural 
 pursuits, 27 ; on the merchant's 
 calling, 27 ; piety of, 28 ; his 
 love of nature, 29 ; on garlands, 
 116 ; on a hortus, 130 ; on the 
 division of the year by the stars, 
 228 ; his three regrets, 300 ; 
 cited, 113 
 
 Cattle-rearing on the State lands 
 of the Roman Republic, 26 
 
 Catullus, patriotism expressed by, 
 20 ; born at Verona, 106 ; floral 
 similes of, 120 ; on Chiron's 
 sylvan gifts at the wedding of 
 Peleus and Thetis, 121 ; on 
 flowers as emblems, 124, 125 ; 
 his Lesbia, 124 ; his odes on 
 Lesbia's " passer," 197 ; on wild 
 boars and deer, 202 ; on a 
 destructive tempest, 219 ; on 
 spring, 244 ; his simile from 
 the course of a river, 263 ; his 
 home on the Lago di Garda, 
 281 ; his ode to Sirmio, 282 ; 
 absence of appreciation of 
 mountain scenery in his poetry, 
 292 ; his allusions to sea-shores, 
 321, 347 ; his love of the sea, 
 342 ; his appreciation of its 
 vastness and varied motion, 347 
 
 Celtic element in the population 
 of Northern Italy, 58 
 
 Ceos, 329 
 
 Cerberus, 373 
 
 Ceres, ears of corn offered as 
 crown to, 87, 118 
 
 Charon and the Shades, 193, 370, 
 373 
 
INDEX 
 
 381 
 
 Charybdis, 336 
 
 Chios, 38 
 
 Cicero on the continuity, unity, 
 andharmony of Nature, 8 ; con- 
 fessed Rome's indebtedness to 
 Greece, 12 ; patriotism of, 20 ; 
 found consolation in philosophy, 
 21 ; on the numbing effect of 
 political troubles, 21 ; on ignoble 
 trades, 23 ; his picture of Cato, 
 the Censor, 28 ; on the attrac- 
 tions of Rome, 37 ; various 
 country houses of, 42, 44, 46, 
 301 ; his fondness for diminu- 
 tives, 42 ; on the crowd of 
 callers from Rome, 48 ; bis in- 
 debtedness to the influences of 
 his country homes, 60, 260 ; on 
 a Roman " hortus," 129 ; on 
 his brother's garden, 137 ; his 
 villa at Pompeii, 165, 302, 303 ; 
 on gladiatorial exhibitions and 
 wild - beast hunts, 176, 176 ; 
 translated the Diosemeia of 
 Aratus, 190 ; on the deification 
 of tempests, 219 ; on the heats 
 of autumn, 249 ; on the occa- 
 sional severity of the winter in 
 Rome, 261 ; on the flooded 
 Tiber, 272 ; on mountainous, 
 places, 294 ; on his villas at 
 the sea-coast, 301, 302; his 
 occupations at the sea-side, 301, 
 311 ; a bad sailor, 303 ; on un- 
 patriotic fish-breeders, 304 ; on 
 the bad reputation of Baiae, 
 309 ; on the frolics of Scipio 
 and Laelius at the sea-side, 310 ; 
 his voyages and repugnance of 
 the sea, 303, 320-331, 332 ; his 
 anxiety for friends or relatives 
 at sea, 331 ; his vacillation, 
 303, 332 ; his courageous 
 death, 333 ; on the popular 
 belief in the infernal regions, 
 
 371 
 Cincinnatus and the plough, 24 
 Circe, 337 
 Circeii, 302, 333 
 Circus, the Roman, 170; its 
 
 universal and long - continued 
 
 popularity, 171 
 Civil wars, losses caused by, to 
 
 Roman poets, 69, 76, 83, 89 
 
 Civita Vecchia, building of Trajan's 
 harbour at, 307 
 
 Clients, crowds of importunate, 
 48,68 
 
 Climate, 14, 18, 106, 206, 208, 
 224, 226, 233, 236, 249 
 
 Clitumnus, river, 96, 260, 262 
 
 Clouds, Lucretius on, 211-213 
 
 Cocytus, 373 
 
 Coleridge, S. T., quoted, 298 
 
 Coloni, 28, 34 
 
 Como, Pliny's home at, 33 ; lake 
 of, 18, 279, 280 
 
 Constellations as indications of 
 the seasons of the year, 227, 
 232 
 
 Consuls, in early Republican 
 times, shared in the work of 
 the farm, 24 
 
 Corcyra, 84, 330 
 
 Corinna, Ovid's, 98, 197, 310 
 
 Country-folk, contrasted with the 
 urban community, 6, 30, 36, 36 ; 
 Virgil on, 67, 68 ; Horace on, 
 36, 72 ; Tibullus on, 86 ; Pro- 
 pertius on, 36, 97 
 
 gentlemen in ancient Rome," 
 
 24,27 
 
 houses, 41 ; multiplication of, 
 
 42 ; simplicity of, during the 
 Republic, 44 ; planning of, 46, 
 280 ; importance of a distant 
 view from, 46, 46 ; built out 
 into the sea on huge moles, 
 307 
 
 influences, 4 
 
 life, pleasures of, 48, 60, 68, 
 
 78, 85, 86 
 
 scenes, 65, 67, 64, 65, 67, 
 
 68, 78, 80, 82, 86, 88, 96, 96, 
 97, 103, 104 
 
 Cow, affection of, for its young, 
 as depicted by Lucretius, 186 
 
 Cowley, Abraham, cited, 36 
 
 Cowper, William, cited, 36 
 
 Cranes as weather indicators, 191 
 
 Crowns, floral, in religious obser- 
 vances, 87, 113, 114; as military 
 rewards, 116 ; in domestic life, 
 116, 120, 240; in sorrow and 
 mourning, 122 ; the wearing of, 
 in day-time, prohibited, 128 ; 
 worn by the Muse of Elegy, 149 
 
 Cumae, 42, 44, 301, 637, 366, 374 
 
382 
 
 INDEX 
 
 CyclopeSj Cave of the, 207 
 Cynthia, Propertius's, 89, 92, 93, 
 
 96 
 Cypress, 150, 164, 158 
 
 Dawn, beauties of, 207, 208, 269, 
 
 344 
 Delia, Tibullus's, 85 
 Delos, 329, 330 
 Deucalion and Pyrrha, Ovid on 
 
 the myth of, 108 
 Deversoria, or houses of call in 
 
 the country, 42, 305 
 Digentia, Horace's brook, 79 
 Dogs, in mountain pasturing, 27, 
 
 200 ; Lucretius on, 183 ; variety 
 
 of, bred by the Romans, 185 ; 
 
 their fidelity commemorated in 
 
 Roman art, 186 
 Dog-star, 208, 209, 233, 246 
 Domitian's repair of roads in 
 
 Southern Italy, 306 
 Dulichium, 336 
 Durance, Silius Italicus on floods 
 
 of, 274 
 
 Eaole, 196 
 
 Earthquakes, 16, 289 • 
 Echoes, Lucretius on, 288 
 Elephants, public slaughter of, 
 
 and compassion roused in the 
 
 populace for the fate of the 
 
 animals, 175 
 Elm-tree, 160, 154 
 Elysian Fields, 373 
 Empire, consequences of the 
 
 establishment of the Roman, on 
 
 public life, 20 
 Ennius, cited, 35 
 Ephesus, Cicero at, 330 
 Epicurean philosophy, 7, 9, 224, 
 
 238 
 Epicurus, " otii magister," 131 
 Eridanus (Po), 267 
 Etesian winds, 237, 330 
 Etna, Mount, 16, 336, 361, 362, 
 
 354-369 
 Eurus, the south-east wind, 216 
 Euxine, 344 
 Evening, charms of, 209 
 
 Falisci, sacred grove near, 149 
 Family divinities of early Rome, 
 2, 87, 113 
 
 Farm-work, in early Rome, 23 
 patricians shared in, 24, 85 
 yielded the best soldiers, 28 
 delights of, 29, 67, 68, 85 
 Virgil's sympathy with, 66, 67 
 observation of the nightly sky 
 necessary in, 228, 230 
 
 Fauns, in the forest, 3, 288 
 
 Faunus, at Horace's Lucretilis, 
 291 
 
 Favonius, the west wind, 216, 216 
 
 Festivals, Roman, 49, 68, 69, 86, 
 121, 122 
 
 Fibrenus, river, 61 
 
 Field-fares, 197 
 
 Filicaja, cited, 17 
 
 Finches, 197, 210 
 
 Fires, at night in Rome, 39 ; 
 forest, 156, 288 
 
 Fire-spirit at Roman hearths, 2 
 
 Fish-preserves of the Romans and 
 the tame fish therein, 304 
 
 Flowers in Roman life, 112 ; in 
 religious observances, 113 ; as 
 military rewards, 116 ; domestic 
 uses of, 115, 120 ; in courtship, 
 121 ; on festal days, 121 ; in 
 sorrow and mourning, 122 ; in 
 Latin literature, 123 ; cultiva- 
 tion of, in gardens, 130; in 
 fresco - painting, 163, 167 ; in 
 Roman sculpture, 168 ; in stucco 
 reliefs, 169 
 
 Forest, primeval of Italy, 1, 2, 
 143 ; wail or moan of, in a gale, 
 214, 221 
 
 Formiae, 42, 48, 301, 304, 332, 
 333 
 
 Fors Fortuna, 121 
 
 Fowler, Mr Warde, cited, 2, 190 
 
 Fresco-painting, ancient Roman, 
 162-169, 294, 309 
 
 Frost, occasional severity of, in 
 Italy, 251 
 
 Gabda, Lago di, 18, 267, 279, 
 280, 292, 344, 347 
 
 Gardens, Roman, 129 ; intramural, 
 131, 137 ; on the Janicnlan Hill 
 described by Martial, 132 ; pre- 
 ponderance of art in Roman, 
 138 
 
 Gaul, Transpadane, 58, 69, 61, 
 65 
 
INDEX 
 
 Gaurus, one of the volcanic hills in 
 
 the Campi Phlegraei, 369 
 Gladiators J whence taken, 171 ; in 
 the arena, 172 ; their relative 
 merits discussed, 174 
 Gods, early Roman conceptions 
 regarding, 2, 3, 6 ; introduction 
 of foreign, 6 ; growing disbelief 
 in, 7, 70,108-110,376 ; relegated 
 by the Epicureans to a remote 
 region of perpetual calm and 
 inactivity, 53 ; abode of, placed 
 in the heavens, 206 ; Lucretius 
 on the supposed existence of, 
 suggested by the wonders of the 
 firmament, 224 
 Goldsmith, Oliver, cited, 47 
 Graffiti, Roman, 64, 261, 372 
 Grazing - grounds of the Roman 
 
 Republic, 26 
 Greece, colonies from in Italy, 2, 
 6, 298 ; Virgil's description of 
 the voyage of Aeneas up the west 
 coast of, 335 
 Greek familiarly spoken by the 
 Romans, 34 
 
 philosophy in Rome, 7, 354 
 
 Greeks, influence of, on the 
 Romans, 3, 5, 6, 11, 12, 161, 
 166, 353, 364, 369 ; art of, pro- 
 fusely introduced by the Romans 
 into Italy, 161 
 Greenhouses for the supply of 
 
 floral decorations, 117 
 Groves, thinning of, and the ritual 
 observance connected therewith, 
 28 ; sacred, 146, 146, 147 
 Gulls, as weather prophets, 191 
 Gyaros, 329 
 
 Gymnastic games at Vienne on 
 the Rhone, suppression of, 177 
 Gyra, 330 
 
 Hail-stobms in Italy, 247 
 Halcyons, as weather signs, 192 ; 
 
 at evening, 210 
 Hannibal's passage of the Alps, 
 
 289, 293 ; of the Apennines, 221 
 Hawk, 196, 199 
 Heavens, as time-keeper for the 
 
 earth, 206, 227 ; impressiveness 
 
 of the starry, 224 
 Helbig, Wolfgang, on the frescoes 
 
 of Pompeii, 294 
 
 Hellenisation, influence of, on the 
 Romans, 3, 6, 161, 162 
 
 Hephaistus at the ^olian Islands, 
 360 
 
 Hercules, the poplar sacred to, 
 144 ; first scaled the Alps, 293 
 
 Herdsmen on the Apennines, 26 
 
 " Heredium," or farm, size of a 
 Roman's, 129 
 
 Heron, as weather-index, 191 
 
 Hill-scenery in the Porapeian 
 frescoes, 295 
 
 Horace on the influence of 
 Greece on Rome, 12, pride of, 
 in Italy, 19 ; at work on his 
 Sabine farm, 24, 76-82; his 
 advice to Bullatius to stay 
 at Rome, 38 ; on the virtuous 
 peasantry, 36 ; his appreciation 
 of Rome, 37, 76, 77 ; on Italian 
 country-inns, 41 ; on luxurious 
 villas, 43 ; on change of mind 
 rather than of scene, 44, 47 ; 
 on a house with a wide 
 country view, 46 ; on the growth 
 of Roman luxury, 46, 117 ; his 
 criticism of Virgil, 66 ; sketch 
 of life of, 72-82 ; on the scenes 
 of his boyhood, 73, 74 ; at the 
 disaster of PhUippi, 76 ; subse- 
 quent privations of, 75 ; be- 
 friended by Maecenas, 76 ; as a 
 man-about-town, 77 ; his love 
 of the country, 77, 78 ; his 
 description of himself, 77 ; his 
 description of his Sabine home, 
 80 ; his ode on the Bandusian 
 spring, 81, 261 ; on the poet 
 "ribuflus, 84 ; on religious 
 offerings, 1 14 ; on his own 
 chaplets, 117, 118 ; his love of 
 roses, 118 ; his denunciation of 
 Persian magnificence, 118 ; on 
 the grove in the courts of Lyce's 
 house, 161 ; his sketch of a 
 wooded dell, 162 ; his delight 
 in woodland, . 167, 168 ; nis 
 dedication of his pine-tree to 
 Diana, 167 ; on the cypress, 
 168 ; his imitation of Lucretius, 
 168 ; on weather signs afforded 
 by birds, 193 ; on his adventure 
 with a wolf, 200 ; protected as 
 a child from bears and vipers. 
 
384 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Horace — continued 
 201 ; on the hunter, 203 ; on 
 the Dog'daySj 209, 233 ; invokes 
 the winds against Maevius, 216 ; 
 makes a vow to the Tempesta- 
 tes, 219 ; on the Hyades, 234 ; 
 on Aquarius, 236 ; on the 
 fleetingsuccession of the seasons, 
 237 ; his pictures of spring, 240 ; 
 on hail-storms, 247 ; on the un- 
 wholesomeness of autumn, 249 ; 
 on winter, 262, 263 ; on the 
 floods of the Tiber, 272 ; on the 
 Anio, 273; on the river Liris, 
 274 ; absence of appreciation 
 of mountain - scenery in his 
 poems, 290 ; on Mount Algidus, 
 291 ; on Lucretilis, 291 ; on the 
 Via Appia, 306 ; on mansions 
 built into the sea, 307 ; on the 
 frolics of Scipio, Laelius, and 
 Lucilius, 310 ; his abhorrence 
 of the open sea, 325 ; preferred 
 to watch the sea from a safe 
 
 Elace on land, 326 ; his vocabu- 
 iry of vituperation on the sea, 
 326 ; his opinion of sailors, 326, 
 328 ; his ode to the vessel that 
 was to carry VirgU to Greece, 
 236, 342 ; on the steadfastness 
 of the stars, 341 ; on St Elmo's 
 Fire, 342 ; on Etna, 369 
 
 Horse, Virgil's regard for the, 
 188 
 
 Hortensius, Q., game preserve of, 
 at Laurentum, 203 
 
 Hunting, Pliny on, 169 ; Cicero 
 on, 202 ; Horace on, 262 
 
 Hyades, constellation of, 234, 340 
 
 Hydruntum, 332 
 
 iMx, 160, 164, 214, 217, 28£i, 291 
 Immortality not to be hoped for, 
 
 237 
 Inns in the country, 40 
 Ischia, a volcanic island, 16, 314, 
 
 367 
 Isis, rites of, 6 
 Italy, primeval forest of, 1, 142 ; 
 
 scenic charms of, 13, 17, 18, 
 
 67, 69, 64, 264, 267-274; 
 
 climate of, 14, 18, 106, 206, 
 
 208, 224, 226, 233, 236, 249 ; 
 
 sea-shores of, 16, 40, 301-321, 
 
 336 ; volcanic features of, 16, 
 147, 217, 349-370 ; earthquakes 
 in, 16 ; country inns of, 40, 
 41 ; multiplication of country 
 homes in, 42 ; landscapes of, 
 sketched by VirgQ, 67, 69, 264, 
 267-272, 289 ; waters of, 262 ; 
 rivers of, 262, 266-274; lakes 
 of, 14, 278 ; mountains of, 287- 
 294 ; system of roads in, 306 
 
 Ithaca, 336 
 
 Ivy, cultivation of, 134, 136, 137 
 
 Janits and Ovid, 243 
 
 Jenner on weather signs, 193 
 
 Jupiter, in early Rome, 3 ; Capito- 
 linus, 114, 116 
 
 Juturna, 196, 262 
 
 Juvenal, on the virtuous peasantry, 
 36 ; on drawbacks of Rome, 38 ; 
 on the country houses of retired 
 tradesmen, 42; on the high 
 rents in Rome, 42 ; on the 
 luxury of villas, 46 ; on doffing 
 the toga, 48 ; on floral offer- 
 ings to the Lares, 114 ; on a 
 poet's love of woods, 163 ; his 
 ridicule of astronomical ped- 
 antry, 232 ; on collapse of a 
 waggon carrying a "mons," 
 286 ; on Hannibal's invasion of 
 Italy, 289 ; his simile from a 
 sandy beach, 311 ; on ''poetical 
 tempests," 339 ; on the popular 
 belief in the infernal world, 371 
 
 Keats, John, quoted, 142, 208 
 Kids, constellation of the, 234 
 Kitchen-gardening, 136, 139 
 
 Lakes, Italian, 14, 147, 278 
 Lanciani, Commendatore, cited, 
 
 43, 278 
 Landscape art, in a rudimentary 
 
 condition among the Romans, 
 
 166, 296, 310 
 Laodicea, 330 
 Lares in early Rome, 2 ; crowned 
 
 with flowers on festal days, 113, 
 
 114 
 Larius lacus (Lake of Como), 18, 
 
 279, 280 
 Latinm, Saturnus an early King 
 
 of, 4 
 
INDEX 
 
 385 
 
 Laurelj leaves of, burnt on the 
 domestic altar, 113 ; used in 
 the Oorona triumphalis, 116 ; 
 sacred to Apollo, 114 
 
 Lanrentum, 43, 133, 136, 203, 310 
 
 Lesbia, CatuUus's, 124, 197 
 
 Leucata, Mount, 336 
 
 Lions in the arena, 175 
 
 Lipari Islands, 16, 217 
 
 Liris, river, 61, 274 
 
 Literary work as a permanent 
 possession, 34 
 
 Liternum, 44 
 
 Livy on crowns as offerings to the 
 gods, 114 ; his description of the 
 storm that overtook Hannibal 
 in his crossing of the Apennines, 
 221 ; on the Alps, 293 
 
 Lizards, 168, 208, 302 
 
 Love, as the theme of the Elegiac 
 poets, 83, 89, 92, 98 
 
 Lucan on the disastrous effects of 
 the civil wars, 20 ; his descrip- 
 tion of an ancient sacred oak, 
 144 ; on Romulus and the walls 
 of Rome, 146 ; on the Gaulish 
 grove near Marseilles, 149 ; on 
 the cypress, 168 ; on the birds 
 of carrion that hurried to the 
 field of Pharsalia, 199 ; on 
 weather - signs, 224 ; on the 
 Argo, 328 ; on the risks of sea- 
 faring, 339 ; on the tempera- 
 ment of Julius Caesar, 340 ; on 
 prodigies, 366 ; on the depth of 
 Lake Avernus, 369 
 
 Lucretius on the unity of Nature 
 and the reign of law, 9, 10, 62, 
 63 ; on the gods of the Roman 
 mythology, 9, 63 ; his atomic 
 theory, 9, 62 ; scientific devo- 
 tion of, 21 ; influence of country 
 sights and sounds on, 62, 57 ; 
 the Poet of Nature, 62 ; his 
 appreciation of the beauty and 
 order of the world, 62 ; on a 
 creative and governing spirit in 
 Nature, 52, 64 ; evidence of popu- 
 larity of, 64 ; Tennyson's render- 
 ing of the spiritual meaning of, 
 64 ; sympathetic soul of, 66 ; 
 his influence on Virgil, 62 ; on 
 the conquest of Nature by primi- 
 tive man, 143 ; on the sacred- 
 
 ness ascribed to groves, 145 ; 
 on repose under trees, 162 ; his 
 abounding love of the whole 
 animal world, 182 ; his special 
 affection for dogs, 182-186 ; his 
 touching picture of the affection 
 of the mother of a calf that has 
 been sacrificed at the altar, 186 ; 
 on the ''corslet of heaven," 
 204 ; on the varied magnificence 
 of die heavens, 286-207 ; on 
 sunrise, 207 ; on clouds, 211 
 on storms, 211, 219, 222, 337 
 climbed mountains, 211, 287 
 traced the origin of instru- 
 mental music to the sound made 
 by wind among hollow reeds, 
 216 ; on night, 224, 226 ; on 
 the succession of the seasons, 
 237 ; understood the general 
 system of circulation of water 
 over the globe, 268 ; on 
 primitive man, 258 ; on a river 
 flood, 264 ; recognised the 
 proofs of the universal decay 
 of the surface of the land, 276 ; 
 _ his appreciation of mountains, 
 287 ; on the beauty of form 
 and colour in sea-shells, 310 ; 
 on the sea, 323 ; on the 
 pleasure of watching a storm 
 on the sea from a safe place on 
 land, 222, 326 ; on the wicked 
 art of shipbuilding, 327 ; on 
 the pleasures of yachting, 334 ; 
 on Etna, 364, 366 ; denounced 
 the popular fear of Acheron, 
 370 ; explained the real nature 
 of Avernus, 371 
 
 Lucrine Lake, 306 
 
 Lustration, Cato and Ovid on, 28 j 
 country festivals at the time of, 
 49 
 
 Luxury, growth of in Rome, 36, 
 37, 44, 46, 117, 130 
 
 Mackail, J. W., on the relation 
 of Greeks and Romans to the 
 sea, 300 
 
 Maecenas, 60, 70, 76, 93, 119 
 
 Maevius, Horace's maledictions 
 on, 216 
 
 Magna Graecia, 6, 336, 351 
 
 Magpie, 196, 198 
 
 2b 
 
386 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Mandela, 80 
 
 Mantua, 68, 66, 106 
 
 Marcian aqueduct, 262 
 
 Marseilles, Gaulish grove near, 
 149 
 
 Martial, on the supreme merit of 
 Rome, 38, 39 ; on the noises 
 and other drawbacks of Rome, 
 89, 79 ; on the bleaching effect 
 of Rome in summer, 40 ; 
 Nomentan farm of, 41, 197 ; 
 on the multiplication of resi- 
 dences, 42 ; on the counter 
 attractions of town and country, 
 
 47 ; on the tunic in the country, 
 
 48 ; on the supply of flowers to 
 Rome,116,117; his floralflattery 
 of Domitian, 117 ; his descrip- 
 tion of a garden in the Janiculan 
 Hill, 132; on a plane-tree 
 planted by Julius Caesar, 161 ; 
 on a pet dog, 186 ; on the birds 
 that frequented his country 
 home, 197 ; his pedantic use of 
 astronomical knowledge, 232 ; 
 observed the decay of stone, 
 276 ; his presage of the im- 
 mortality of his writings, 277 ; 
 his praises of Anxur, 301 ; on 
 the fish-preserves of the coast, 
 304; on the eruption of Vesuvius 
 in A.D. 79, 366 
 
 Mau's " Pompeii," 64 
 Mediterranean, a nearly tideless 
 
 sea, 16, 304, 311 
 Mephitic vapours, uprise of, in 
 
 Italy, 16, 147, 367-371 
 Messalla, pro-consul of Aquitania, 
 
 84, 86 ; decay of tomb of, 276 
 Milton, John, quoted, 211 
 Mincius, river, 69, 64, 66, 71, 188, 
 
 207, 267, 281, 344, 356 
 Mistletoe, Virgil's description of, 
 
 263 
 Mithras, worship of, 6 
 Molossian dogs, 183 
 Monuusen, Professor, cited, 299, 
 
 300 
 Monotheism of the Stoics, 7 
 " Mons," Roman use of the word, 
 
 286 
 Mons Sacer, 286 
 Monte Gennaro, 80 
 Moonlight, 226, 240 
 
 Morning, varied charms of, 207, 
 
 246 
 Mountain-ash, 164 
 Mountains, Italian, 14, 15, 26, 57, 
 
 143 ; clouds among, 211 ; Roman 
 
 want of appreciation of, 283 ; 
 
 scenery of, in Pompeian frescoes, 
 
 294-297 
 Music, Lucretius on the origin of 
 
 instrumental, 216, 288 
 Myflis, Ovid's treatment of, 100, 
 
 101, 103, 108 ; as subjects for 
 
 mural decoration, 166 
 
 Naiads, 3, 269 
 
 Naples, Bay of, 40, 301, 302, 308, 
 309, 312, 313, 316, 334, 361, 
 357 
 
 , Virgil's home at, 60, 71, 
 
 312 ; Seneca at, 180, 309 ; after 
 the eruption of Vesuvius in a.d. 
 79, 367 ; hot springs and 
 emanations near, 368 
 
 Nature, as looked on by the early 
 Romans, 2 ; love of, not fostered 
 by the religion of Rome, 7 ; 
 essential unity of, proclaimed by 
 the philosophers, 8, 10 ; Cicero 
 on, 8 ; Lucretius on, 9 ; solace 
 afforded by, 21, 50, 94, 110; 
 man's struggle with, 67 ; when 
 untouched by art, 97, 139 ; con- 
 quest of, by primitive man, 143 ; 
 personification of parts of, 216, 
 217, 219, 238 
 
 Naval service, never much es- 
 teemed by the Romans, 299 
 
 Navigation, astronomical observa- 
 tions in, 230 ; close time for, 
 326, 332 ; example of Roman, 
 in Cicero's voyage to the Bast, 
 329-331 ; Virgil's description of, 
 in the ^neid, 336-337; by 
 night in the Mediterranean, 
 339, 340 
 
 Nemi, Lake, 40, 148, 262, 278 
 
 Nereids, 345 
 
 Neritos, Mount, 336 
 
 Nero, reference to, by Seneca, 179 
 
 Night, varied aspects of, 204, 213 ; 
 beauty of an Italian, 224 ; 
 silence of, 224-226 ; descrip- 
 tions of, 226 ; at sea, 339, 340 
 
 Nightingale, 194, 198 
 
INDEX 
 
 387 
 
 Nile, imporUtion of flowers from, 
 
 to Rome, 117 
 Nisus, King of Megara, 192 
 Noon, deseribed by the Roman 
 
 poets, 208 
 Notus, the south wind, 217 
 
 OcTAviANus, 69, 60, 89, 99 
 
 Olive-woods, 15, 143, 164 
 
 Orcus, 370, 373 
 
 Orion, 234, 340 
 
 Ovid on the agricultural employ- 
 ments of the early patricians, 
 24 ; on illegal grazing of public 
 lands, 26 ; on the lustration of 
 a hamlet, 28 ; his passionate 
 love of Rome, 37, 99 ; on 
 country festivals, 49 ; on the 
 penetration of the genius of 
 Pythagoras, 63 ; made Love the 
 theme of his Muse, 98 ; sketch 
 of his life, 99 ; his appreciation 
 of Nature, 100, 106, 110 ; his 
 favourite type of landscape, 
 101 ; his great descriptive and 
 narrative power, 102, 106 ; his 
 description of the spring at 
 Hymettus, 103 ; his " Cave of 
 Sleep," 103 ; his regard for his 
 native Sulmo, 104, 106 ; his 
 exile to the Black Sea, 106 ; his 
 tendency to exaggeration, 106 ; 
 contrast between his earlier and 
 later poetry, 107 ; his treatment 
 of Greek and Roman myths, 
 100, 101, 103, 108 ; his scepti- 
 cism vrith regard to the Roman 
 and Greek mythology, 108 ; his 
 profession of respect for the 
 authority of antiquity, 108 ; his 
 want of reverence, 109, 114 ; 
 his relation to the Roman re- 
 ligion, 108, and to philosophy, 
 110; his impatience of exile,ll] ; 
 on floral chaplets, 113, 114, 
 117, 119, 121 ; his desire that 
 his ashes should be brought 
 back to Rome, 122 ; on chaplets 
 and business, 123; his floral 
 simile for the death of Hya- 
 cinthus, 127 ; on the Aventine, 
 147 ; on the lake of the Neraus, 
 148 ; his fondness for sacred 
 groves, 149 ; on the trees drawn 
 
 after Orpheus, 160 ; on the 
 death of Corinna's parrot, 197 ; 
 on bears, 201 ; on the hunting 
 of the Calydonian boar, 202 ; 
 on the quivering of vegetable 
 forms, 215 ; on liie wind among 
 pine-woods, 216 ; personification 
 of the winds by, 217 ; on night, 
 226 ; his astronomical lore, 231 ; 
 his picture of the Palace of the 
 Sun, 238 ; his descriptions of 
 spring, 243 ; his disparagement 
 of autumn, 249 ; his descriptions 
 of winter at Tomi, 264 ; his 
 picture of a swollen brook, 265 ; 
 on the water-drop, 276 ; on per- 
 manence of literary work, 277 ; 
 on mansions built into the sea, 
 307 ; on the pleasure of seeing 
 and being seen, 308 ; on the 
 safety of the shore, 310 ; his 
 denunciation of sea-faring, 323 ; 
 marine allusions in his later 
 poetry, 324 ; on the first navi- 
 gator, 328 ; his description of 
 storms at sea, 338 ; his eulogy 
 of the vessel that carried him 
 across the jEgean Sea, 344 ; on 
 the portents at the assassination 
 of Julius Csesar, 366 ; on Etna, 
 358 ; on the journey of Aeneas 
 to the infernal regions, 374 
 Owl, 192, 196, 196 
 
 Paestum, 116, 139 
 
 Pales, the shepherd's god, 87 
 
 Pan and Silvanus, 63 
 
 and woodland music, 288 
 
 Panthers imported for the arena, 
 
 177 
 Parrots in Rome, 197, 198 
 Pastio villatiea and agrestis, 26 
 Patrae, 331 
 
 Patricians, various duties of, 24 
 Patriotism, Roman, 17, 18, 19, 
 
 69, 69, 374 
 Pausias and floral wreaths, 116 
 Peasantry of the old school, pious 
 
 and industrious, 4, 36, 68, 86, 
 
 97 
 Pelasgians, 148 
 
 Pelham's essay on " Pascua," 26 
 Peligni, 104, 106, 266 
 Pelignian cold, 264 
 
388 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Pelion, Mountj 293, 345 
 
 Penates in early Rome, 2 
 
 Peneus, River, 259 
 
 Pennine Alps and Jupiter 
 Poeninus, 287 
 
 Personification of Nature, 216,217, 
 219, 238 
 
 Pharsalia, Lucan on the field of, 
 199 
 
 PhUippi, battle of, 76 
 
 Philosophy, influence of, in re- 
 gard to the Roman outlook on 
 Nature, 7 
 
 Piety, Roman, 2, 3, 4, 10, 66, 68, 
 69, 71, 87, 97, 376 
 
 Pindar, 352, 357, 358 
 
 Pine-tree, 150, 214 
 
 Piscinae, see Fish-preserves 
 
 Plane-tree, cultivation of, 46, 134, 
 140, 150, 154 
 
 Plautus, cited, 113 
 
 Pleasure-grounds in Rome and the 
 country, 131, 132 
 
 Pliny the Elder, Natural History 
 of, 21 ; on materials for gar- 
 lands, 113, 116 ; on the wearing 
 ofchaplets abroad in daylight, 
 123 ; his eloquent praise of the 
 beauty of flowers, 124 ; on a 
 Roman's ." hortus," 129 ; on 
 window - gardening in Rome, 
 130 ; on town gardens, 131 ; 
 on the dedication of trees to 
 the gods, 144 ; on the venera- 
 tion inspired by groves, 146 ; 
 on the plane-tree, 150 ; on the 
 popular indignation roused by 
 the slaughter of elephants at 
 the exhibition given by Pompey, 
 175 ; on weather signs, 223 ; on 
 the importance of watching the 
 nightly sky in farm-work, 228 ; 
 his nephew's account of his 
 last days and death, 363 ; on 
 "Charon's ditches," 367 
 
 the Younger, training and 
 
 character of, 31 ; friend of 
 Tacitus, 31 ; letters of, 31 ; 
 Como, his native place, 33 ; on 
 literary work as a permanent 
 possession, 34 ; on the antique 
 language of his country neigh- 
 bours in Tuscany, 36 ; on Rome, 
 39 ; on rural retirement, 39, 
 
 61 ; his fbve of the sea-shore, 
 51 ; various country homes of, 
 43, 46, 61, 133 ; his account of 
 his Tuscan home, 133 ; on the 
 Vadimon Lake, 148, 367 ; his 
 boar-hunting and literary work 
 combined, 169 ; wall-painting 
 at his Tuscan villa, 164 ; on 
 a gladiatorial exhibition at 
 Verona, 176 ; on the River 
 Clitumnus, 260 ; on the Anio, 
 273 ; on permanence of literary 
 work, 277 ; his faculty of 
 observation and description, 
 280 ; absence of appreciation of 
 mountains in his letters, 294 ; 
 on the building of moles in the 
 sea, 307 ; his two letters to 
 Tacitus on the eruption of 
 Vesuvius in a.d. 79, 363-365 
 
 Plutonia or "Charon's ditches," 
 367, 369 
 
 Poets, ivy crowns the conventional 
 decoration for, 115 
 
 Pollux, 342 
 
 Polybius, cited, 40, 293, 299, 362 
 
 Pompeii, 42, 131, 137, 145, 164, 
 165, 167, 168, 185, 294, 301, 
 302, 303, 306, 308, 309 
 
 Pompey, compared by Lucan to a 
 venerable sacred oak, 144 ; his 
 lavish show in the amphitheatre, 
 176 ; cleared the sea of pirates, 
 299 ; Cicero's hesitation to join, 
 332 
 
 Po, River, 266, 344 
 
 Praeneste, 40, 43, 116 
 
 Priapus, 88, 248 
 
 Procida, 314, 367 
 
 Propertius, claimed the title of 
 the Roman Callimachus, 13, 
 96 ; patriotism of, 19 ; on 
 Romulus as a farmer, 23 ; on 
 the virtuous peasantry, 36, 97 ; 
 sketch of life of, 89 ; his attach- 
 ment to Cynthia, 89, 92, 94, 96 ; 
 his character, 90 ; his denuncia- 
 tions of a military life, 90 ; his 
 dislike of the sea, 91, 328 ; weak 
 health of, 93; his forebodings 
 of early death, S3 ; his provision 
 for the conservation of his tomb, 
 94, 277 ; on his solitude in a 
 country retreat, 96, 96 ; on un- 
 
INDEX 
 
 389 
 
 Propertius — continved 
 adorned Nature, 97, 139 ; pro- 
 posed in his old age to study 
 Nature, 98 ; on Cynthia's offer- 
 ing of frankincense at a country 
 shrine, 96, 114 ; on Vertumnus 
 and floral crowns, 114; on the 
 rose, 118 ; his advice to Cynthia 
 as to the keeping of her birth- 
 day, 120; on lovers' chaplets, 
 121 ; his employment of flowers 
 as images, 127 ; his love of 
 woods, 159 ; his choice of a site 
 for his tomb, 169 ; on the 
 rivers and lakes of Italy, 262 ; 
 his denunciation of Baiae, 309 ; 
 his invective against sea-faring, 
 323 ; denounces the first navi- 
 gator, 328 
 
 Proteus, 209 
 
 Puteoli, 42, 301, 302, 308, 334, 
 366 
 
 QuiNTiLiAN, quoted, 146 
 
 Rain, signs of, 191, 223 
 
 Raven, as a weather sign, 192, 193 ; 
 sometimes tamed as a pet, 198 
 
 RegilluB, Lake, 262 
 
 Religion, early Roman, 2, 3, 4 ; 
 began to lose its influence, 6 ; 
 affected by Greek influence, 6 ; 
 rejected by the philosophers, 7 ; 
 continued popularity of, 8 ; as 
 held by men like Virgil, 10, 
 31, 69, 87, 113, 373-376 
 
 Republic, consequences of fall of, 
 in public life, 20 ; simplicity of 
 life in the early, 24 
 
 Rivers, characters of Italian, 262, 
 267 ; floods of, 73, 220, 264,266, 
 271, 273; fountain-heads of, 
 259, 266 ; gods of, 3, 259, 260, 
 266, 270 
 
 Rhegium, 333 
 
 Rhodes, 38, 344 
 
 Rhodian vessels, Cicero's opinion 
 of, 329, 330 
 
 Roads, in Southern Italy, 305 
 
 Romans, character of early, 1, 4, 
 299 ; gradual deterioration of, 5, 
 36, 97 ; Hellenisation of, 5, 11 ; 
 alleged practical or prosaic char- 
 acter of, 11 ; their overwhelm- 
 
 ing indebtedness to the Greeks, 
 12, 161 ; patriotism of, 17, 18, 
 19, 20, 59, 69, 374 ; their love 
 of rural life, 23, 47 ; their 
 
 gastures, 26 ; their love of 
 owers, 112 ; their gardens, 
 129 ; uot naturally an artistic 
 people, 161 ; their fondness for 
 the shows of the amphitheatre 
 and circus, 170 ; co-existence 
 of much domestic affection and 
 devotion with the passion for 
 bloodshed, 181 ; their love of 
 animals, 181 - 203 ; their ap- 
 preciation of the aspects of the 
 sky, 205-235 ; their appreciation 
 of the seasons, 236-266 ; their re- 
 gard for springs and rivers, 267- 
 274 ; their observation of the 
 decay of rocks and monuments, 
 275 ; their indifference to 
 mountain scenery, 283 ; their 
 relation to the sea, 298 ; their 
 liking for the sea-shore, 301 ; 
 their dislike of the open sea, 
 91, 299, 300, 322 ; suggested 
 causes for this dislike, 326 ; their 
 impressions of volcanic pheno- 
 mena, 351-368 ; their ideas of 
 an underworld, 367-376 
 Rome, character of original 
 founders of, 1, 23 ; early re- 
 ligion of, 2 ; literature of, how 
 affected by the fall of the Re- 
 public and establishment of the 
 Empire, 21 ; the country- 
 gentlemen of, 24, 27, 29, 33, 
 42-49 ; growing attraction of, 
 37, 77; drawbacks of, 38, 39, 
 77, 79 ; streets of, 38 ; drainage 
 of, 39 ; urban gardens of, 39, 
 130, 131, 132 ; summer migi-a- 
 tion from, 40, 47 ; Via Sacra of, 
 91, 117 ; primitive aspect of site 
 of, 146, 271 ; vast number of 
 Greek works of art brought into, 
 161 ; development of a Roman 
 type of art in, 162 ; frescoes 
 disinterred at, 163 ; winter in, 
 253; the Tiber at, 267, 268; 
 Virgo's picture of the early 
 aspect of the site of, 271 ; 
 volcanic history of site of, 349 ; 
 hot springs near, 362 
 
390 
 
 INDEX 
 
 RookSj indicate the weather, 191, 
 
 192 
 RufiiSj Caninius, 33, 279 
 , Verginius, 33 
 
 Sabine peasantry, virtues of, 36, 
 97 ; HUls, Horace'shomeamong, 
 76, 79, 80 
 
 St Elmo's Fire, 341 
 
 Salarian Way, 132, 277 
 
 Same, 336 
 
 Samos, 38 
 
 Sand, colour of, usually pale 
 yellow, 314 ; Virgil's " black " 
 sand, 3l4, 316 
 
 Saturnian Land, 4, 19, 36, 86 
 
 Saturnus, King, 4 
 
 Satyrs, Lucretius's explanation of 
 supposed voices of, 288 
 
 Scipio Africanns, simple country- 
 house of, 44 
 
 , Lucius, dedicated a temple 
 
 to the Tempestates, 219 
 
 Sculpture at Rome, 161, 162, of 
 vegetation on the Ara Pacis and 
 other monuments, 168 
 
 Scylla, 336 
 
 Sea, apostrophe of Pliny the 
 Younger to, 51 ; influence of, 
 on Virgil's poetry, 61, 72 ; 
 Roman dislike of, 91, 299, 300, 
 323, 325; relation of Greeks 
 and Romans to, 298 ; voyages 
 on, not popular at Rome, 300 ; 
 Virgil's close study of the move- 
 ments of, 311 ; Virgil's simile 
 of the advancing and retreat- 
 ing waves on a beach of, 316 - 
 819; voyaging on, 323-348; 
 descriptions of storms on, 337- 
 339 ; frequent allusions to, in 
 the poetry of Catullus, 342- 
 348 
 
 Sea-coots as indicators of weather, 
 191 
 
 fowl and the weather, 191 
 
 — -■ sickness, Roman liahility to, 
 
 327, 330, 333 
 
 side, summer migration to, 
 
 40, 301 ; villas built at, on huge 
 moles pushed out into the sea, 
 307, life at, 308-310 ; paintings 
 of, 309 ; crowded state of, the 
 resorts at, 309 
 
 Sea-stack, Tibullns's simile of, 87 ; 
 Virgil's picture of, 320 
 
 view, much sought after by 
 
 the Romans, 307 
 
 Seasons, succession of, 237 
 
 Sellar, W. Y., cited, 336 
 
 Seneca, devotion of, to scientific 
 questions, 21 ; on the contrast 
 between the town and country 
 population, 37 ; on the habit 
 of changing residence, 43 ; 
 on the country-home of Scipio 
 Africanus, 44 ; on the growing 
 luxury of the Romans, 44, 46 ; 
 his denunciation of greenhouses, 
 117 ; his gardens, 131 ; objected 
 to orchards planted on roofs, 
 131 ; on Pompeii, 165 ; his 
 denunciation of the exhibitions 
 in the arena, 178 ; on the de- 
 basing effect of public spectacles, 
 178 ; his flattery of Nero, 179 ; 
 on Virgil's account of a storm, 
 218 ; on the fountain-heads of 
 great rivers, 269 ; his denuncia- 
 tion of Baiae, 309 ; his boating 
 experience in the Bay of Naples, 
 333 ; on St Elmo's Fire, 342 ; 
 on the popular belief in a 
 nether world, 371 
 
 Senators, shared in the work of 
 the farm, 24 ; varied duties of, 26 
 
 Septimontium, festival of, 286 
 
 Serpent, 196 
 
 Shakespeare, quoted, 97, 224, 275, 
 300 
 
 Shelley, Percy B., quoted, 76 
 
 Shepherds, 26, 166, 200, 207, 209, 
 216, 230, 241 
 
 Ships, laid up in winter by the 
 Romans, 326 ; maledictions on 
 the first builders of, 327 
 
 Shores, Virgil's studies of, 313- 
 321 ; Catullus's pictures of, 347 
 
 Sicilian landscape, 64, 66 
 
 Sicily, volcanic features of, 361, 
 364 
 
 Silence, reverence inspired by, 
 146 ; conducive to thought, 
 160 ; of night, 224, 226 
 
 Silenus, Ovid's ludicrous picture 
 of, llO ; VirgU's picture of, 120 
 
 SUius Italicus on the Liris, 274 ; 
 on floods of the Durance, 274 ; 
 
INDEX 
 
 391 
 
 Silius ItalicuB — continued 
 
 on the Apennines, 290; his 
 description of the Alps, 293; 
 on the river Sarnus of Pompeii, 
 303; on the Atlantic tides, 
 311 
 
 Silvanus, 3, 148, 209, 248 
 
 Sinuessa, 42 
 
 Sirmio, Catullus on, 281, 292 
 
 Sky, varied aspect and influence 
 of, 204 seq. ; nocturnal, at sea, 
 341 ; CatuUus's experience of, as 
 a yachtsman, 846 
 
 Slaves, increase of, at Rome, 36 ; 
 as gladiators, 171 
 
 Soracte, Mount, 251, 360 
 
 Sparrow, 197 
 
 Spenser, Edmund, cited, 168, 239 
 
 Spring, oscillating, observed by 
 the younger Pliny, 280 
 
 Springs, hot, 16, 361 ; sacred, 269 
 
 Spring, Virgil on, 225; Ovid's 
 representation of, 238 ; Horace's 
 joy in, 240 ; Virgil thought the 
 world began in, 242 
 
 Starlings, 197, 198 
 
 Stars, 204, 206, 206, 207, 208, 
 209, 210, 224, 226, 232, 341 
 
 Statins on the virtuous peasantry, 
 36 ; on Roman summer retreats, 
 40 ; on triumphs of landscape 
 gardening, 138 ; on a tree at 
 Tibur, 161 ; on sunset, 210 ; on 
 the spring songs of birds, 242 ; 
 on Pompeii, 303 ; his lively 
 picture of the roads in Southern 
 Italy, 306; on Baiae, 309; 
 affirms that ships have been the 
 cause of storms, 328 ; on St 
 Elmo's Fire, 342 ; his allusions 
 to the eruption of Vesuvius in 
 A.D. 79, 366 
 
 Stellar influences, supposed, 232 
 
 Stoics, philosophy of the, 7 ; their 
 doctrine of the " anima mundi," 
 69, 373, 376 ; their precept of 
 living according to Nature, 79 
 
 Stones, showers of, near Rome, 
 350 
 
 Storms, Lucretius's descriptions of, 
 211-213, 219 ; the greatest dis- 
 play of energy known to the 
 ancients, 218 ; Virgil on, 218, 
 220, 222; Catullus on, 220; 
 
 Livy on, 221 ; Tacitus on, 221 ; 
 portents of, given by the sky, 
 and the sounds uttered by the 
 sea and by woods, 222 
 
 Strabo, on the Bay of Naples, 40 ; 
 on the fate of the "Son of 
 ^tna " in the Arena at Rome, 
 172 ; on the volcanic phenomena 
 of Italy, 368 ; on Avernus, 369 
 
 Stromboli, volcanic island of, 16, 
 369, 362 
 
 Strong, Mrs, on Roman decorative 
 art, 169 
 
 Strophad Isles, 335 
 
 Stucco-reliefs, elegant floral scroll- 
 work in Roman, 169 
 
 Styx, river of infernal regions, 
 108, 370, 373 
 
 Suetonius, his effort to obtain 
 a country residence, 41 ; on 
 Virgil's visits to Sicily, 60 ; on 
 Julius Csesar, 287 
 
 Sulmo and Ovid, 99, 104, 266 
 
 Sulpicia's love of the City, 47 
 
 Summer, Ovid's picture of, 238 ; 
 Horace on, 246 ; Virgil on, 246 
 
 Sun, ancient conceptions regard- 
 ing, 210 ; Ovid's picture of the 
 Palace of, 238 
 
 Sunrise, 207 
 
 Sunset, 210 
 
 Swallow, 191, 195, 241, 244, 253 
 
 Syracuse, 333 
 
 Syros, 329 
 
 Tacitus, a friend of the younger 
 Pliny, 31 ; letters from Pliny 
 to, 169, 363 ; on Pompeii, 
 165 ; on the bloodthirstiness of 
 Drusus, 175 ; on the storm, that 
 scattered the fleet of Germanicus 
 in the North Sea, 221 
 
 Tarpeian Rock, 146 
 
 Tartarus, 373 
 
 Tempests, deified by the Romans, 
 218 
 
 Tempe, Vale of, 269 
 
 Tennyson, Alfred, quoted, 64, 
 107, 184, 210 
 
 Terentius Junior, 34 
 
 Terminus, the boundary god, 114 
 
 Theseus and the Minotaur, 
 Catullus's picture of, 220 
 
 Thrace, 344, 346 
 
392 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Thunderstorms, 212, 213 
 
 Tiber, vale of the, 133, 294 ; a 
 river dear to the Romans, 267 ; 
 source and course of, 268 ; 
 Virgil's pictures of, 269-271, 
 337 ; floods of, 271 
 
 Tibullus on noise of the streets 
 of Rome, 38 ; on Rome in 
 summer, 40 ; on country 
 festivals, 49 ; a friend of 
 Horace, 77, 83, 84 ; sketch of 
 life of, 83 ; his love of the 
 country, 85, 86 ; his simile of a 
 sea-stack, 87 ; on the crackling 
 of laurel on the altar-fire, 113 ; 
 on wine and flowers, 119 ; on 
 the chaplets of lovers, 121 ; on 
 the tomb of a maiden, 122, 123 
 on groves inside houses, 162 
 his account of himself, 158 
 on listening to a storm from the 
 shelter of bed, 222 ; on the 
 steadfastness of the stars con- 
 trasted with the instability of 
 the ships at sea, 341 ; his 
 picture of the underworld, 373 
 
 Tibur, 40, 43, 83, 151, 262, 273, 
 291 
 
 Time, mode of counting, 30 
 
 Tiro, Cicero's amanuensis, 331 
 
 Toga, left ofl^ in the country, 48 ; 
 worn in a great part of Italy 
 only by the dead, 48 
 
 Tombs, decay of, 276 
 
 Tomi, Ovid's banishment to, 106, 
 108 
 
 Topiarian art in Roman gardening, 
 134, 135 
 
 Torrents, devastation by, 264 
 
 Town and country in ancient 
 Rome, 5, 30, 35 
 
 Trajan, Pliny's correspondence 
 with, 32 ; council held by, 177 
 
 Trees, varied attractions of, 141 ; 
 dedicated by the Romans to 
 various divinities, 144 ; planted 
 around shrines, 145 ; planted 
 in the courts of houses, 161 ; 
 sleep and wine beneath, 162, 
 168, 261 ; varied shadows of, 
 154 ; descriptions of by Virgil, 
 166, 166 ; Horace's love of, 167 
 
 "Tunicataquies,"48 
 
 Turtle-dove, 194 
 
 Tuscany, the country-house of 
 
 the younger Pliny in, 133 
 Tusculum, 40, 42, 43, 46 
 Tyrrhenian Sea, 332 -' 
 
 Umbria, 89, 95, 96 
 Underground phenomena in Italy, 
 
 349 
 Underworld, Greek conception of, 
 
 wideljj? accepted in Italy, 6, 
 
 370 ; VirgU's great picture of, 
 
 372-374 
 
 Vadimon Lake, 148, 367 
 
 Varia, 80 
 
 Varro, eflforts of, to bring Greek 
 culture into Rome, 12 ; scene 
 described by, in temple of 
 Tellus, 17 ; on cattle-rearing, 
 26 ; age and accomplishments 
 of, 29 ; his treatise on agri- 
 culture, 30, 66 ; on decadence 
 of Rome, 36 ; on varieties of 
 dogs, 185 ; on a game preserve, 
 203 ; on seasons as defined by 
 rising and setting of stars, 
 228 
 
 Venationes, or animal hunts in 
 the arena, 174, 203 
 
 Venusia, 72 
 
 Verona, 106, 176 
 
 Vesuvius, eruption of, in a. p. 79, 
 163 ; Pliny's letters on eruption 
 of, 363-366 ; Martial on, 366 
 
 Via Appia, 272, 306 
 
 Clodia, 106 
 
 Flaminia, 106, 132 
 
 Sacra, 91, 117 
 
 Salaria, 132 
 
 Vienne on the Rhone, games sup- 
 pressed at, 177 
 
 View, consideration of, in villa- 
 planning, 46, 46, 133 
 
 Villas, see Country-houses 
 
 Vipers, 201, 202 
 
 Virgil and the national religion of 
 Rome, 10, 63, 69, 70, 375 ; his 
 acknowledgment of indebted- 
 ness to the Greek muses, 12 ; 
 his patriotism, 18, 69, 69, 374 ; 
 on the virtuous peasantry, 36, 
 68 ; on country festivals, 68, 
 69 ; outline of his life, 67-61 ; 
 his retentive memory, 67, 61 ; 
 
INDEX 
 
 393 
 
 Virgil — contitmed 
 
 possibly of Celtic race, 68j 70 ; 
 his love of the country, 60, 62, 
 63 ; his remarkable faculty of 
 accurate observation, 61, 72, 
 126, 195, 816 ; influence of the 
 sea on his poetry, 61, 311, 313- 
 321 ; influence of Lucretius on, 
 62 ; his first poetic inclinations, 
 62 ; his sympathy with the 
 life of the farmer, 67 ; natural 
 piety of, 69 ; his picture of 
 Silenus, 120 ; his love of flowers, 
 125 ; his floral similes in the 
 ^neid, 126, 127 ; on garden- 
 ing, 139 ; on the plane-tree, 
 140, 160 ; on the site of the 
 Capitol in primitive times, 146 ; 
 on the grove at Caere, 148 ; his 
 love of woodland, 163, 166 ; 
 on an sesculus tree, 166 ; on the 
 cutting down of a moiyitain-ash, 
 166 ; on a forest fire, 166 ; his 
 abounding affection for animals, 
 187 ; his picture of the death of 
 a bull from the plague in the 
 midst of its work, 187 ; his 
 regard for the horse, 188 ; his 
 love of birds, 189 ; his pictures 
 of bird life in the Georgics, 
 190 ; on signs of rain, 191, 
 223 ; on migrations of birds, 
 193 ; on the nightingale, 194 ; 
 on tree-felling and consequent 
 destruction of birds' nests, 194 ; 
 on the rock - dove, 194 ; on 
 Juturna, 196 ; his description of 
 a swallow, 196 ; on the owl, 196, 
 196 ; on the hawk and eagle, 
 196 ; on bees, 198 ; on ants, 
 198 ; on bears, 201 ; his refer- 
 ence to boar-hunting, 202 ; his 
 descriptions of morning, 207 ; 
 on the Dog-days, 208, 233 ; on 
 the charms of evening, 209, 
 210; on nightfell, 210; on a 
 calm, 214; his sensitive ear to 
 natural sounds, 214, 216; his 
 descriptions of storms, 218, 220, 
 222, 337; on weather-portents 
 furnished by the sun, 223 ; on 
 night, 225, 226 ; on the seasons 
 as determined by the rising and 
 setting of particular stars, 228 ; 
 
 on the two honey harvests as 
 defined by observation of the 
 stars, 229 ; on the evil influence 
 of Orion, the Kids, Hyades 
 and Arcturus, 234, 235 ; on the 
 pleasures of spring, 241, 242 ; 
 on hail-storms, 247 ; his refer- 
 ences to winter, 262 ; on river- 
 deities, 269, 270; on sacred 
 springs, 261 ; on river-floods, 
 264, 286; on the Tiber, 268, 
 269-271 ; on the lakes of Italy, 
 280 ; his epithets for mountains, 
 286 ; his silence regarding the 
 scenery of mountains, 288 ; his 
 studies of the various moods of 
 the sea in the Bay of Naples, 
 312 - 320 ; his onomatopoeic 
 similes from the sea, 313, 316- 
 319 ; on the black sand stirred 
 up by the building of the shore 
 villas at Baiae, 314 ; his probable 
 early visit to the East, 336 ; on 
 storms at sea, 218, 337 ; on the 
 cruel stars, 341 ; on Etna, 366 ; 
 his allusions to the ^olian 
 Isles, 360 ; his account of the 
 god of the winds, 361 ; on the 
 valley of Amsanctus, 368 ; his 
 picture of the Underworld, 
 372; influence of his ^neid, 
 374 
 
 Vitruvius, on the planting of 
 shrubs, 137 
 
 Volcanic features of Italy, 16, 
 147, 217, 349-367 ; popularly 
 connected with the supposed 
 underworld, 367 
 
 Volcanoes, Greek theory of, 363 
 
 Vulcan's Isle, now Volcano, 360 
 
 Vulgarisation of Baiae and other 
 places, 308 
 
 Vultur, Mons, 74, 201 
 
 Vulturnus, the south-east wind, 
 216 
 
 Water, circulation of, upon the 
 earth, 257 ; this circulation re- 
 cognised by Lucretius, 268 ; 
 erosive action of, 276 
 
 Weather portents given by birds, 
 191-193 ; furnished by the sky 
 222 224 
 
 West-wind, 215, 263 
 
S94 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Wild beasts in the amphitheatre, 
 172, 173, 174, 176 ; of Italy, 
 199 
 
 Wild boars in Italy, 1, 199, 202 ; 
 hunting of, 169, 202 
 
 Willow-trees, 164 
 
 Window-gardening in Rome, 130 
 
 Winds, Roman names for, 216, 
 216 ; personification of, 216, 
 217 ; subterranean, believed by 
 the ancients to be the cause of 
 volcanic action, 363 ; supposed 
 to be lodged under the ^olian 
 Isles in charge of ^olus, 
 361 
 
 Winter, Ovid's pictures of, 106, 
 110, 238, 264; alleged former 
 greater severity of, 239 ; in 
 Phrygia, 244 ; dislike of the 
 Romans for what are now re- 
 garded as its charms, 260 ; 
 occasional severity of, recorded 
 in Latin literature, 261, 262 ; 
 
 employments of, 252 ; iu the 
 
 north and east, 264 ; called 
 
 misshapen, 293 
 Wolves in Italy, 1, 199 
 Woodland, impressiveness of, 142; 
 
 sounds of, as the wind blows, 
 
 164, 222, 223 
 Wood-pigeon, 193 
 Wordsworth, William, quoted, 72, 
 
 97, 142, 206, 283 
 
 Yachting, Lucretius's pleasure in, 
 334 ; Catullus's enjoyment of, 
 836, 342 
 
 Year, seasons of the, marked by 
 the rising and setting of par- 
 ticular stars, 228 
 
 Yew-tree, 164 
 
 Young, Edward, quoted, 238 
 
 Zactnthus, 336 
 
 Zephyrus, the west wind, 216, 
 240, 241, 242, 246, 263 
 
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 9 and ii Young Street.