MASTER NEGA TIVE NO. 91-80315 MICROFILMED 1991 COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES/NEW YORK as part of the Foundations of Western Civilization Preservation Project" Funded by the NATIONAL ENDOWMENT FOR THE HUMANITIES Reproductions may not be made without permission from Columbia University Library COPYRIGHT STATEMENT W??^^^^^ ^^^ °^ the United States - Title 17. United T^ZurtfL': T""^"^' u ^ f"^^^ °f photocopies or other reproductions of copynghted material ... Columbia University Library reserves the right to refuse to S fnvT °'^T '^' ^" i' judgement, ftilffument of Ae order would mvolve violation of the copyright law. AUTHOR: CATULLUS, C. VALERIUS TITLE: CATULLUS; TRANSLATED INTO PLACE: LONDON DA TE : 1879 COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES PRESERVATION DEPARTMENT BIBLIOGRAPHIC MICROFORM TARHFT Master Negative # Restrictions on Use: Original Material as Filmed - Existing Bibliographic Record 87C34 Works. Kng. Catullus, C. Valerius. Catullus; translated into English verse, by T Hart-Davles... London. C. Kegan Paul & co.. xlii, 167 p. 19^ cm. •. 7UI2 TECHNICAL MICROFORM DATA FILM SIZE: l3-?-JhJ^^ REDUCTION RATIO- IMAGE PLACEMENT: lA HA IB IIB """ DATE FILMED: _„ INITIALS A^J^ ^ FILMED BY: RESEARCH PUBLICATIONS. INC WOODBR inf^F CT /zx. BIBLIOGRAPHIC IRREGULARITIES MAIN ENTRY; O^Vollos^C. \lc{\e\i\\;S Bibliographic Irrggulari Hes in the Original Documpnf List volumes and pages affected; include name of institution if filming borrowed text. Page(s) missing/not available: ^^^ yolumes(s) missing/not available:. Illegible and/ or damaged page(s):. .Page(s) or volimies(s) misnumbered: .Bound out of sequence:. Page(s) or illustration(s) filmed from copy borrowed from: OV\\\. 0^ ©tecjcvi. i5l-l5u. iA^-/A«=^ -^ ci 51-15^ ik-^-ib^ Other: FILMED IN WHOLE OR PART FROM A COPY BORROWED FROM UNIVERSITY OF OREGON c Association for information and Image Management 1 1 00 Wayne Avenue. Suite 1 1 00 Silver Spring. Maryland 20910 301/587-8202 Centimeter 12 3 4 liiiiliiiili mi I I iiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiini Inches I IT 1 5 6 liiiiliiiili 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 mm iiilimliiiiliiiilmiliiiiliiiilniilnnliiiiliiiiliiiili T I ITT 1.0 1^ 1 2.8 150 = 1^ M I.I 1.4 1.25 2.5 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.6 TTl ^ klf\f \ f \ I MFlNUFfiCTURED TO fillM STONDORDS BY fiPPLIED IMAGE, INC. ^ 1 » KY « :,.T.' HAKT^DAVIES, BOMBAY CIVIL SERVICE, FOKMKKLV EXHIBITIONER OF I'EMBROKE COLLEGE. OXKOKU. London: c. kegan paul & co., i paternoster square. 1879. ""■»"•■■••"■■►' CONTENTS. -**- • * I « • t • • • • • • • • 4 • • » • • « • • • • • •. • • • • :•;, • • • • « • • • • • • • • • ■ V f • < • • • ••• • : * • • « PREFACE ..... INTRODUCTION . . . CARMEN I.— TO CORNELIUS NEPOS CARMEN II.— TO LESBIANS SPARROW CARMEN III.— ELEGY ON LESBIANS SPARROW CARMEN IV.— THE DEDICATION OF THE PINNACE CARMEN v.— TO LESBIA . CARMEN VI.— TO FLAVIUS CARMEN VII.— TO LESBIA CARMEN VIII.— TO HIMSELF CARMEN IX.— TO VERANNIUS CARMEN X.— ON VARUS* MISTRESS CARMEN XL— TO FURIUS AND AURELIUS CARMEN XII.— TO ASINIUS CARMEN XIII. — TO FABULLUS CARMEN XIV.— TO CALVUS LICINUS CARMEN XVII.— TO A COLONIA . CARMEN XVIII. — THE GARDEN GOD CARMEN XIX.— THE GARDEN GOD CARMEN XX.— THE GARDEN GOD CARMEN XXII.— TO VARRUS PAGE ix xiii I 2 J 3 4 6 7 8 9 lo II 13 15 i6 i6 i8 19 20 21 23 ^if^ VI Contents, I PAGE CARMEN XXIII.— TO FURIUS .... 24 CARMEN XXIV.— TO JUVENTIUS . . . . 25 CARMEN XXV.— TO THAT.LUS .... 25 CARMEN XXVI.— TO FURIUS .... 26 CARMEN XXVIL— TO HIS CUP BEARER ... 27 CARMEN XXVIIL— TO VERANNIUS AND FABULLUS . 2^ CARMEN XXIX.— ON CAESAR . . . . * 28 CARMEN XXX.— TO ALPHENUS .... 30 CARMEN XXXI.— TO SIRMIO . . . . 3 1 CARMEN XXXIV. — TO DIANA .... 32 CARMEN XXXV.— INVITATION TO CiECILIUS . . 33 CARMEN XXXVI. — ON VOLUSIUS' ANNALS . . 34 CARMEN XXXVIII.— TO CORNIFICIUS ... 35 CARMEN XXXIX.— ON EGNATIUS ... 36 CARMEN XL.— TO RAVIDUS . . .. . 38 CARMEN XLII. ...... 38 CARMEN XLIII. — ON MAMURRA'S MISTRESS . . 40 CARMEN XLIV.— TO HIS FARM .... 40 CARMEN XLV.— ON ACME AND SEPTIMIUS . , 42 CARMEN XLVL— ON THE COMING OF SPRING {Addressed to himself) ...... CARMEN XLVIL— TO PORCIUS AND SOCRATION . \ CARMEN XLVIIL— TO JUVENTIUS CARMEN XLIX.— TO M. T. CICERO CARMEN L.— TO LICINIUS .... CARMEN LI. — TO LESBIA ...... CARMEN LIL— ON STRUMA AND VATINIUS(yi^^r^JJ^^/^^/wje'^ 48 CARMEN LIIL— ON CALVUS . ' . . . 48 43 44 45 45 46 47 Contents, Vll CARMEN LV.— TO CAMERIUS • • • CARMEN LVII. — ON MAMURRA AND CiESAR CARMEN LVIIL— TO CALIUS ON LESBIA . CARMEN LIX. — ON RUFA AND RUFULUS . CARMEN LX. * CARMEN LXL— ON THE MARRIAGE OF JULIA AND MANLIUS CARMEN LXIL— NUPTIAL SONG .... CARMEN LXIIL— ATYS • • • . CARMEN LXIV.— THE MARRIAGE OF PELEUS AND THETIS CARMEN LXV.— TO HORTALUS .... CARMEN LXVL— ON BERENICE'S HAIR . CARMEN LXVII.— LINES ON A WANTON'S DOOR CARMEN LXVIIL— TO MANLIUS . CARMEN LXX.— ON THE INCONSTANCY OF WOMAN'S LOVE CARMEN LXXIL— TO LESBIA CARMEN LXXIII.— ON AN INGRATE CARMEN LXXIV. — ON GELLIUS . . ' . . CARMEN LXXV.— TO LESBIA .... CARMEN LXXVL— TO HIMSELF . CARMEN LXXVII. — TO RUFUS CARMEN LXXVIII. — ON GALLUS .... CARMEN LXXIX.— ON LESBIUS .... CARMEN LXXXL— TO JUVENTIUS CARMEN LXXXIL— TO QUINTIUS CARMEN LXXXIIL— ON LESBIA'S HUSBAND CARMEN LXXXIV.— ON ARRIUS . CARMEN LXXXV.— ON HIS LOVE . CARMEN LXXXVL— ON QUINCTIA AND LESBIA . PAGE 49 51 51 52 52 53 64 69 75 95 97 102 105 '13 113 114 114 115 116 118 119 119 120 120 121 121 122 123 VIU Contents, CARMEN XCI. — ON GELLIUS CARMEN XCII. — ON LESBIA CARMEN XCIIL— ON GiESAR CARMEN XCV.— ON THE SMYRNA OF CINNA THE POET CARMEN XCVI. — TO CALVUS ON QUINCTILIA CARMEN XCVIII. — TO VETTIUS CARMEN XCIX.— TO JUVENTIUS . CARMEN C. — ON CiELIUS AND QUINTIUS CARMEN CI. — LINES ON HIS BROTHER'S GRAVE CARMEN CII. — TO CORNELIUS CARMEN cm.— TO SILO . CARMEN CIV. — ON LESBIA CARMEN CV. — ON MENTULA CARMEN CVI. — ON THE BOY AND CARMEN CVII. — TO LESBIA CARMEN CVIIL— TO COMINIUS CARMEN CIX.- TO LESBIA ^ CARMEN ex. — TO AUFILENA CARMEN CXIV. — ON MENTULA CARMEN CXV. — ON MENTULA CARMEN CXVI.— TO GELLIUS^ NOTES THE AUCI'IONEER PAGE 123 124 124 125 126 126 127 128 129 130 130 131 J3I 131 132 133 133 134 134 135 136 ^yi PREFACE. When Albinus requested that some allowance might be made by his readers for the badness of the Greek in which his Roman History was written, he was met by Cato with the obvious answer that he had no right to claim indulgence for a work which he had taken upon himself to perform without any external pressure. I should be open to much the same retort were I to claim any indulgence for the present essay at rendering Catullus into English verse, but it is as an attempt, |'\ however feeble, to popularize still further the productions of so unique and radiant a genius that the present version is in all humility offered. Indocti discant et ament meminisse periti. ^ At all events, though the task be self-imposed, the condi- tions under which these translations were produced may reasonably claim some forbearance for their shortcomings. Written, for the most part, during the not too frequent leisure hours of an Indian official life, and at times when I was often necessarily reduced to even less than the one 'capsula' of books which Catullus had with him at Verona, these versions can at any rate, claim perfect originality, though an originality dearly purchased at the hazard of committing mistakes from which the perusal of a wider circle of authorities might have A 14 I I Preface, Preface. XI saved n,e. It cannot be said that the world is overstocked w>th translations of Catullus. In comparison with the other grea writers of antiquity his merits can hardly be sa.d to have been duly recognized, and, compared with the numerous versions which exist of Virgil and Horace, the translations of Catullus are markedly few in number. With Mr Theodore Martin's admirable and scholarly rendering of the poems the present version does not, of course, pretend to enter mto any competition, but one brilliant success should hardly be considered a bar to all subsequent enterprise, and it can scarcely be said that the other translations of the entire senes, such as Lamb's and Elton's, are altogether satisfactory. Some individual poems have been more translated and .m.tated than any similar works in any language, but few extant versions embody the whole of Catullus' writings, as with the exception of a few passages I have attempted to do m the present volume. I need hardly premise that Catullus is peculiarly untrans- latable. Mr Lewes in his 'Life of Goethe ' has expatiated so fully on the impossibility of any translation conveying an adequate idea of the original, that the illustrations and arguments to prove the point need not be re-stated, and it cannot be denied that Catullus is beyond all other poets difficult to render. The subtle charm of his dainty versifica- tion must necessarily evaporate in the process of transcnption into another language, and at the best only a faint adumbra- tion of the original can be conveyed. I have not attempted, except in the case of the Atys, to represent any of the poems in the metres of the original Compared with the difficulty of such a task, the advantages that could be attained by doing so seemed to me to be exceedingly meagre. The genius of the English language is not suited to metrical versions of any kind, even ' hexameters and elegiacs have only an artificial beauty, and do not appeal to the ear with the harmony for which the same metres in Latin and Greek, and even in German, are distinguished. The charm of Hermann and Dorothea, and of the Roman and Venetian elegies, is far greater, from the rhythmical point of view, than that of Evangeline, or the occasional attempts of Clough, and this not so much owing to the superiority of Goethe's genius as to the fact that he had a more serviceable medium at his com- mand. Even Tennyson in his attempts at hendecasyllabic versification has admitted as much, and when so great a master of rhythm has failed, or at all events not succeeded, who could hope to essay with confidence ? With regard to the Atys the case is somewhat different The undoubted success of the fine experiment of 'Boadicea,' and the impossibility of finding any metre in English which does not lose entirely the rush and vigour of the original, rendered it almost a duty to make an attempt from which I should other- wise have shrunk, and though I am painfully conscious of the inadequacy of my version, it may perhaps encourage some one Preface, saved me. It cannot be said that the world is overstocked with translations of Catullus. In comparison with the other great writers of antiquity his merits can hardly be said to have been duly recognized, and, compared with the numerous versions which exist of Virgil and Horace, the translations of Catullus are markedly few in number. With Mr Theodore Martin's admirable and scholarly rendering of the poems the present version does not, of course, pretend to enter into any competition, but one brilliant success should hardly be considered a bar to all subsequent enterprise, and it can scarcely be said that the other translations of the entire series, such as Lamb's and Elton's, are altogether satisfactory. Some individual poems have been more translated and imitated than any similar works in any language, but few extant versions embody the whole of Catullus' writings, as with the exception of a few passages I have attempted to do in the present volume. I need hardly premise that Catullus is peculiarly untrans- latable. Mr Lewes in his * Life of Goethe ' has expatiated so fully on the impossibility of any translation conveying an adequate idea of the original, that the illustrations and arguments to prove the point need not be re-stated, and it cannot be denied that Catullus is beyond all other poets difficult to render. The subtle charm of his dainty versifica- tion must necessarily evaporate in the process of transcription into another language, and at the best only a faint adumbra- Preface, XI tion of the original can be conveyed. I have not attempted, except in the case of the Atys, to represent any of the poems in the metres of the original. Compared with the difficulty of such a task, the advantages that could be attained by doing so seemed to me to be exceedingly meagre. The genius of the English language is not suited to metrical versions of any kind, even 'hexameters and elegiacs have only an artificial beauty, and do not appeal to the ear with the harmony for which the same metres in Latin and Greek, and even in German, are distinguished. The charm of Hermann and Dorothea, and of the Roman and Venetian elegies, is far greater, from the rhythmical point of view, than that of Evangeline, or the occasional attempts of Clough, and this not so much owing to the superiority of Goethe's genius as to the fact that he had a more serviceable medium at his com- mand. Even Tennyson in his attempts at hendecasyllabic versification has admitted as much, and when so great a master of rhythm has failed, or at all events not succeeded, who could hope to essay with confidence ? With regard to the Atys the case is somewhat different The undoubted success of the fine experiment of *Boadicea,' and the impossibility of finding any metre in English which does not lose entirely the rush and vigour of the original, rendered it almost a duty to make an attempt from which I should other- wise have shrunk, and though I am painfully conscious of the inadequacy of my version, it may perhaps encourage some one Xll Preface, to make the same experiment with greater effect I have throughout the poem adhered to the Tennysonian rather than to the CatuUian form of galliambics, having a trochaic rhythm in the first half of the line, and the addition generally of an unaccented syllable at the close. For facility of reference the ordinary arrangement has been followed, the fact of its being chronologically inaccurate seems hardly sufficient warrant for any alteration. The text to which I have usually had recourse is that of Doering, though Lachmann and Rossbach have also been laid under contribution. I must express my indebtedness to Professor R. Ellis's admirable Commentary and Text, a life- work which has entitled him to the warmest gratitude of all lovers of Catullus, and 1 have also derived much assistance from Schwabe's and Heyse's labours. I have also read with profit, M. Couat*s sympathetic essay, especially on the influ- ence exercised by Alexandrinism on the style of Catullus. T. H.-D. INTRODUCTION. There is hardly one of the great writers of antiquity of whose life we possess any authentic contemporaneous record, and the brief and brilliant existence of Catullus offers no exception to the rule. Indeed, it was by the merest accident that the Veronese poet did not become a name as vague and shadowy as Menander, Sappho, or Alcaeus. One single manu- script of his works survived the devastation of the barbarian conquest, and was discovered in a mutilated state in the fourteenth century. It is curious to reflect how nearly a great genius had perished out of the world, and it is a striking proof of the barbarism which followed on the ruin of the Western Empire, that a poet so well known and quoted as Catullus had been by all the later Roman writers, should have been virtually forgotten for nearly ten centuries. The only sources from which his individual history can be constructed are his poems, and a few meagre notices in the writings of Suetonius, Cicero, Pliny, and Appuleius. His praenomen is said by Appuleius to have beei^ Caius, and by Pliny he is spoken of as Quintus, but it appears nearly certain that the former appellation is the correct one. He was bom, according to the Eusebian Chronicle, in 87 B.C., and died in 57 B.C. That the second of these dates is erroneous is clearly shown by the fact that in Carmen cxiii. XIV Introduction, he speaks of Pompeius' second consulship, which did not take place till b.c. 55, and in Carmina xi. and xxix. he mentions Caesar's invasion of Britain, which happened in B.C. 55-54. Also in Carmen liii. he refers to the speech of Licinius Calvus against Vatinius, which was delivered in opposition to Cicero's advocacy in B.C. 54. No political event of any date subsequent to this is mentioned in his poems, if we except the words in Carmen lii * Per consula- tum pejerat Vatinius,' but it has been plausibly conjectured that this passage refers not to Vatinius' actual consulship, which took place in B.C. 47, but to the habit that worthy is said by Cicero to have had of swearing by his future consul- ship ; an oath by no means a piece of simple bombast when a man had attained a rank which would naturally culminate in the highest honours. It is certain, at all events, that Catullus died young, as is shown by a passage in Ovid's Amores, " Obvius huic venias hedera juvenilia cinctus Tempora cum Calvo, docte Catulle tuo," for a man much over thirty was not usually regarded as * juvenis.' It seems, then, probable on the whole either that Catullus died three years later than the date given by Jerome in the Eusebian Chronicle, and so was thirty-three at the time of his death, or if Jerome's statement that he died at the age of thirty must be accepted, the dates both of his birth and death must be put forward three years. Either view would agree with the assertion of Cornelius Nepos who hitroduction. XV mentions him as a contemporary of Lucretius, who died or committed suicide in b.c. 50. Catullus was bom at Verona, of a good family, and his father was the friend and host of Julius Caesar, which shows that he must have been a citizen of considerable local importance. The son, either sent there for his education or impelled pos- sibly by the same strong passion for a larger sphere of life which drove Shakspere to London, took up his abode at Rome at an early age, and for the rest of his life always regarded Rome as his head-quarters. He did not indeed totally abandon Verona. His circle of acquaintance there seems to have been considerable, and he probably not unfrequently retired to his native place, for change of air, or to visit some of the Veronese beauties who appear to have captivated his fancy. But he always looked upon Rome as his home from the day when he first entered the city, no doubt with good introductions, a well-replenished purse, a handsome person and that indescribable fascination which early genius exercises on all with whom it comes in contact, and plunged into all the dissipation of the gay society of the day. He must emphatically have been a youth to whom was given * So much of earth, so much of heaven, And such imperious blood,' ' and his own words bear out this impression. * Multa satis lusi ' he says of himself when the white robe was first con- ferred upon him, and there is no reason to suppose that his i I XIV Inl7^oduction. he speaks of Pompeius* second consulship, which did not take place till b.c. 55, and in Carmina xi. and xxix. he mentions Caesar's invasion of Britain, which happened in B.C. 55-54. Also in Carmen liii. he refers to the speech of Licinius Calvus against Vatinius, which was delivered in opposition to Cicero's advocacy in b.c. 54. No political event of any date subsequent to this is mentioned in his poems, if we except the words in Carmen lii ' Per consula- tum pejerat Vatinius,' but it has been plausibly conjectured that this passage refers not to Vatinius' actual consulship, which took place in B.C. 47, but to the habit that worthy is said by Cicero to have had of swearing by his future consul- ship ; an oath by no means a piece of simple bombast when a man had attained a rank which would naturally culminate in the highest honours. It is certain, at all events, that Catullus died young, as is shown by a passage in Ovid's Amores, "Obvius huic venias hedera juvenilia cinctus Tempora cum Calvo, docte CatuUe tuo," for a man much over thirty was not usually regarded as * juvenis.' It seems, then, probable on the whole either that Catullus died three years later than the date given by Jerome in the Eusebian Chronicle, and so was thirty-three at the time of his death, or if Jerome's statement that he died at the age of thirty must be accepted, the dates both of his birth and death must be put forward three years. Either view would agree with the assertion of Cornelius Nepos who Introduction. XV mentions him as a contemporary of Lucretius, who died or committed suicide in b.c. 50. Catullus was bom at Verona, of a good family, and his father was the friend and host of Julius Caesar, which shows that he must have been a citizen of considerable local importance. The son, either sent there for his education or impelled pos- sibly by the same strong passion for a larger sphere of life which drove Shakspere to London, took up his abode at Rome at an early age, and for the rest of his life always regarded Rome as his head-quarters. He did not indeed totally abandon Verona. His circle of acquaintance there seems to have been considerable, and he probably not unfrequently retired to his native place, for change of air, or to visit some of the Veronese beauties who appear to have captivated his fancy. But he always looked upon Rome as his home from the day when he first entered the city, no doubt with good introductions, a well-replenished purse, a handsome person and that indescribable fascination which early genius exercises on all with whom it comes in contact, and plunged into all the dissipation of the gay society of the day. He must emphatically have been a youth to whom was given * So much of earth, so much of heaven, And such imperious blood,' ' and his own words bear out this impression. * Multa satis lusi ' he says of himself when the white robe was first con- ferred upon him, and there is no reason to suppose that his !/// XVI Introduction, Introduction, xvu pleasures were restrained by any slendemess of means, and certainly not by any stem philosophical contempt for those enjoyments to which the ' fervida juventus * of all ages has recklessly abandoned itself. There are, indeed, allusions in his poems which might imply that his finances were not always in the most flourishing condition, but most of them refer humorously to his failure to make a fortune out of his journey to Bithynia, and the point of one of the epigrams which has been relied upon to prove his poverty, depends on a disputed reading, ' vestra ' for * nostra,' a change which would of course totally alter the conclusion to be drawn from it. That he cannot have been in distressed circumstances is proved by the fact that he possessed a house at Rome, a farm at Tibur, or in Sabine territory, and a villa at Sirmio, and this is sufiicient to outweigh any presumption which might be drawn from his allusion to the cobwebs in his purse, in the * Invitation to Fabullus,' or his humorous account of his crazy truckle bed, and lack of litter-bearers. Many men who have never felt the real sting of want have jested about the pressure of poverty, and though Catullus mingled in the best and the worst society of the day, and was a patron of such dealers in * wholesome iniquities' as the worthy Silo there is nothing to show that anything approaching to real destitution either prompted or resulted from his unlucky expedition in the suite of Memmius. It must have been during his first residence at Rome that he became acquainted with the Lesbia whom he has rendered immortal in his verse, and this permanent amour, coupled with his association with such eminent men as Cicero, Cornelius Nepos, Licinius Calvus, and Asinius PoUio, must have prevented him from sinking into the merely vulgar debauchee, which some accounts aim at representing him to have been. However, as his waste, like that of Falstaff, was great, some slight re- plenishment of his fortunes was considered advisable, and he consequently took the opportunity of restoring fulness to his purse from the spoils of the provinces— a by no means uncommon resource of needy young Romans-— and left for Asia in the train of Memmius. It has been generally assumed that his brother's death pre- ceded this visit to Bithynia, and that Carmen ci. comme- morated a visit paid to his brother's grave while on his way thither. That this conjecture must be wrong has been clearly shown by Professor Ramsay and Mr Martin, who observe that the fact of this great loss not being alluded to in the poems which treat of his return from Asia is fatal to the supposition that his brother's death preceded his first departure from Rome. It was therefore with all the buoyancy of youth that he started with his band of friends to seek unknown regions, and there is an air of levity thrown over his otherwise bitter parting address to Lesbia who had already given him cause for uneasi- ness by the increasing vagrancy of her amours. But life is one perpetual series of ' illusions dissipees,' and Catullus returned XVlll Introduction, Introduction. XIX V to Rome after a year's absence with a mind enlarged by travel, and contact with other forms of civilization, and with health probably braced up by his adventurous solitary voyage in his own yacht from Rhodes to Sirmio, but with the melancholy conviction that a fortune was not to be made out of the hapless provincials as rapidly as he anticipated. Indeed, it appears that what Anglo-Indians of a past generation used to call the pagoda-tree had been very considerably shaken before Catullus arrived in Bithynia, and owing to the increased strictness on the subject introduced by Pompey, or perhaps owing to his own high principle, Memmius neither pilfered himself nor allowed his suite to do so, so that they all returned worse off than when they started. This conduct of Memmius, which, indeed, to our modem ideas of duty towards subject races only implies simple honesty, — though such was the laxity of opinion at that time that it must be taken as showing a much higher moral standard in him— was made the subject of bitter reproach on the part of the poet, though on what grounds except purely selfish ones it is difficult to discover. It is curious to compare the bitterness expressed by Catullus against Memmius with the respect shown for him by Lucretius, and to our calmer judgments the fact that he did not allow Catullus to plunder the wretched Bithynians would rather tend to justify Lucretius' high opinion. In all Catullus' violent attacks upon in- dividuals, as also in all personal diatribes which the fame of their authors has preserved, it is as well to remember that we are from the very nature of the case debarred from forming an impartial judgment on the question at issue. I have often thought that if the ' witless Perses ' had been articulate, future ages might have chuckled over his sarcastic account of Hesiod's notion of business, and if the many other victims of the divine wrath of bards could speak in their own defence, our sympathy with the poet's indignation would often have to undergo considerable modification. However, Catullus may be excused if he failed to view his disappointment from any but a strictly subjective stand-point, though the charms of a tour through the famous cities of Asia, and his delight at reaching his lovely Sirmio at last, may have done much towards reconciling him to his ill-luck, so that he could bear to speak of it in jesting terms. The value of such an experience as the journey was to him can hardly be over- rated, a great part of the force and vividness of his descriptions of sea and land must be attributed to the opportunities he enjoyed of seeing Nature under her most lovely aspect in the ^gean Sea ; the delicate light, the XoLfiir^oraroi aldri^ over the hill-tops and groves, the dark wine-coloured depths of the sea, which strike the traveller in the Archipelago with a sense of Homer's accuracy as a word-painter, and the divine nights under the * earnest' stars or radiant moon— all these he must have viewed with a keen and exquisite delight, and have sought to embody in the charming landscape XX Introduction, Introduction, XXI I sketches of the Peleus and Thetis. Far different was his next voyage to the fatal Troad to pay the last rites on the tomb of his brother, a journey which he undertook for that express purpose. The great grief caused by his brother's death, and his own hopeless devotion to Lesbia, which only succumbed at last to her outrageous infidelities, and subsequent open degradation, are the two great passions which most deeply influenced Catullus' short and ardent life, and form the key-notes of the thrill of ecstasy and despair which vibrate through so many of his poems. * Die Geschichte des Menschen,' says Goethe, * ist sein charakter,' and if this be true— as it is, if we take character to mean that development of particular parts of a man's nature which is necessarily induced by circumstances — these two strong emotions must be regarded as the points on which the history of Catullus turns, and which more than any other influ- ences modified his personality. Of the brother whose loss he deplores we know nothing beyond what we read in the text; but the almost overpowering grief his death occasioned lies as an under-current in many of Catullus' most beautiful poems, and forms the direct subject of his epistle to Hortalus, and lines on his brother's grave. It is probable that this blow, coupled with the loss of Lesbia's love, had the effect of shortening the life of the gifted singer. To natures like his such strokes of bitter fortune become really mortal wounds, and although Dr Johnson's washerwoman would not have sobbed herself to death for such a reason, the tender and sensitive nature of Catullus may well have sunk under this accumulation of ills. The loss of Lesbia's love was also attended by many emotions which would render such an abandonment especially difficult to bear.' Frantic jealousy, contempt of himself for being led astray by a being so completely worthless, and mingled scorn and pity for the notorious object of his wasted affections, all these must have added a poignancy to the pangs following on the dissolution of a passion which had grown with years. Lesbia's real name is stated by Appuleius to have been Clodia, and critics appear to be satisfied that this fascinating enchantress, this embodiment of all grace and voluptuousness was the notorious Clodia rendered famous, or rather infamous, by Cicero's invective in the oration Pro Ccelio. This conclusion seems to have been drawn mainly from the impossibility of applying to any one else of that age whose name has descended to posterity, the circumstances which are told of the life of Lesbia, a chain of reasoning as conclusive as that which identifies Sir Philip Francis with the author of the ' Letters of Junius ' ; and the only serious argument that can be adduced against this view is that drawn from Carmen xlix, in which Catullus pronounces a panegyric on Cicero which, it is urged, he would scarcely have done if the orator had been the instrument of showing up to the world the degradation of his mistress. But besides the fact that there XXll Introduction, Introduction, XXlll is no evidence to show conclusively that the address to Cicero was written after the delivery of the oration Pro Coelio, there is nothing intrinsically improbable in the supposition that Cicero's scathing invective against Clodia may have almost gratified the vindictive feelings of the poet ; for though through his poems there is the deep regret for vanished joy, anger at desertion, and a keen perception of the shame into which his mistress has sunk, there is nothing approaching to that horror at the soiling of womanhood implied in such a degradation, nothing approaching that divine pity for sin, embodying a train of chivalrous sentiment which it was the peculiar mission of the Christian religion to introduce into our higher morality. The anger which vented itself in coarse and bitter re- proaches at Lesbians fall may well have found a fitting echo in Cicero's vigorous language, and under the influence of such feelings possibly Carmen xlix. may have been composed. At all events, it is certain from the poems that Lesbia, when Catullus first met her, was a married woman of fair reputation, and that if she was the wife of Metellus Celer, her rank and position were such as to make the intrigue hazardous ; that she subsequently indulged her passion with an increasing number of lovers, and at length became a woman of notori- ously licentious character ; that she lay under a suspicion of incest with her brother; and that she was a woman of rare and extraordinary beauty and fascination ; all which points, as we .1 learn from Cicero, can be affirmed with certainty about Clodia. Besides which Coelius Rufus was confessedly one of Clodia's lovers, and a Rufus is reviled for betraying the poet's friend- ship, and supplanting him in his love, and Cicero's description of her as "Yipa. BoZvig would seem to explain the constant allu- sions to Jupiter which are found in the verses devoted to her. It may also be added that the number of letters in each name is the same, following the rule laid down by the old gram- marians for the formation of such pseudonyms. We may, therefore, on the whole assume the identity of Lesbia with the Clodia whose course of life, her * libidines, amores, adultera, Baiis acta convivia,' and other licentious dissipations, are so graphically described by Cicero ; and it can hardly be denied that the extent and variety of her scandalous pleasures were enough to disgust any lover, however much he might, like Catullus, object on principle to exhibitions of jealousy. So we are brought face to face with the pathetic J^pectacle of genuine love wasted on an unworthy object, followed by a gradual awakening to the perception of the worthlessness of the idol, and eventually by the despairing renunciation— a renunciation which seems to tear the very heart-strings— of a love which had passed away, and lost itself in the mire of shameless and unbridled profligacy. Catullus' love, says M. Couat in his admirable essay, was not a mere physical passion, nor yet a mystical adoration of beauty in the Platonic sense, nor a matter of taste and if XXIV Introduction, Introduction. XXV elegance as in the Alexandrian writers, but all these together blended with a strong human element. *Ce n'est pas 4 Phddre, languissante, consum^e, proie deplorable de Vdnus, ce n'est pas I'amoureux de Lucr^ce couvrant de fleurs et usant de baisers une poste muette, insensible k tout, n'ecoutant que la fougue du desk, et la revolte du sang dans ses veines, encore moins est ce un litterateur en quete de formes gracieuses et d'images poetiques; c'est un coeur bless^ heureux de sa blessure,' and it is precisely this strongly marked human characteristic which gives it all its pathos. The steps in the process of disenchantment, the mingled throbs of love and hate, temporary joy at a brief reconcilia- tion followed by anger at some fresh slight or infidelity, despairing faith trying to bear up against cruel certainty, the resolution to have done with his passion vanishing again in weak submission to the irresistible spell, and the last bitter scorn of the heartless woman who has descended into the very abyss of infamy — all these are brought vividly before us in the magic verse of Catullus, and form a panorama of heart- experience such as has been rarely presented to the world. Passion so true and lasting, though the sensual side of it appears to have been very strong, could only have been inspired in so rare a nature as that of Catullus by a person- ality of great potency, and what Goethe called * demonism,' and we can picture to ourselves Clodia as a kind of exaggerated Madame de Warens, * insatiable of love,' as \ M. Couat puts it, * and almost incapable of loving,' constitu- tionally unchaste, and yet one whose want of chastity has not the effect it has in so many of destroying qualities which fascinate by their perfect womanly charm. At all events her fascinations were sufficient to retain the poet in complete bondage, for there is not a trace of evidence to show that her unfaithfulness excused itself or was suggested by correspond- ing infidelities on his part, nor does he, as Propertius frequently does, endeavour to appease jealousy on the part of his mistress. The other women he addresses, such as Aufilena, Ipsithilla and others, seem to have been the objects of merely casual amours, and not to have influenced his life in any way; no thought of them as capable of affording consolation to his desolate state, after the loss of Lesbia, ever seemed to occur to him : he has lived and loved, and his love has been to him a mortal wound. It is instructive to notice the characteristic difference between his feelings and those of Horace under similar circumstances. The easy, philosophi- cal, and more superficial nature of the brilliant Augustan poet assumes as a natural consequence that it will be necessary to have recourse to a less faithless maid to console him for his disappointment, and contemplates calmly the probability of his rival and successor being deserted in a similar fashion when the brief fancy of the volatile beauty has passed. Such matter-of-fact reflections were totally alien B XXVI Introduction, to the sensitive and passionate mind of Catullus, as is also the cold-blooded strain of savage irony with which Horace triumphs over the decayed charms and vanished loveliness of Lyce. For Catullus no consolation remains but death, and some faint solace derived from the reflection that at all events he has not to reproach himself with any want of tenderness on his part, his 'pietas' must surely be appreciated by the all-seeing gods. J This, by the way, is almost the only passage in Catullus which shows any serious conviction of the existence of a pro- vidence. His sensuous and vivid nature seems to have found ample food in the phenomena of the world, and the pleasures of life as he actually found them, and he seems, like Goethe, though from different impelling motives, to have regarded the problem of a future life as practically insoluble and not worthy of our attention. Pure agnosticism may be said to have been his creed, if, indeed, he can be said to have had any creed at all, and there are passages in favour of making the most of the fleeting hour which might have been penned by that much deeper and more earnest thinker Omar Khayyam, the astronomer-poet of Persia, in the flippancy of scorn against the futile doctrines of * the saints and sages who discussed of the two worlds so learnedly.' Possibly the scepticism of his great contemporary Lucretius may have infected him, and his ardent and joyous mind may have interpreted Lucretius' speculations as conveying the undeniable moral that at all Introduction. xxvii I events the present life is something positive, and that as much as possible should be extracted from it before the endless night of death weighs on our eyes. This is a theory of life admirably suited to sensuous natures, and possesses the great advantage, shared, indeed, by every other theory of life, of being absolutely unassailable by any verbal argu- ment. Detailed criticism on the poems of Catullus would obviously be out of place within the limits of a preface, but it is well to mark the historical position of every great writer, and ascertain as far as possible the conditions of the age which gave him birth. In the case of Catullus this is peculiarly difficult, owing to the fact that all the works produced during the generation immediately preceding his lifetime have disappeared by the ravages, of time. Whether anything of real literary merit has thus vanished may indeed be an open question, but it would be of great assistance in estimating the character of the literature of the last days of the Republic if we could restore the missing links of the golden chain of inspiration which an unfortunate chance has hidden for ever from our critical eyes. It may be stated, broadly, that the great outburst of literary activity which culminated in the glories of the Augustan period, was produced by the revelation of the Greek world of thought to the enthusiastic and receptive minds of Roman men of genius, a revelation akin in its effects to that which r xxviu Introduction, followed on the re-discovery of classical literature at the time of the Renaissance. No purely native literature of any value probably ever existed in Italy, and the few remains we possess of Naevius, and the few songs in the Satumian metre do not convey the idea of excellence either m form or matter, and appear fully to merit the contempt bestowed upon them by Ennius. The only really original department of Roman literature is the Satire— 'Satira,' says Quintilian, 'tota nostra est' —but it may be doubted whether this was anything more than one stage in the process of development by continuous differentiation, which from the Greek drama or the Hebrew song has jDroduced forms so widely distinct as the modem play, the novel and the newspaper. Roman satire was really embodied in the Greek comedy, and it was nothing but the dis- taste for purely dramatic representation, which distinguished the common people at Rome, that led to the abnormal de- velopment of that side of the drama, which was instinc- tively felt to be essential to a healthy national existence. Livius Andronicus, who may be regarded as the father of Roman culture, brought out his first drama, translated from the Greek, in b.c. 240, and from that time the influence of those immortal models was never seriously shaken. Ennius represented the highest embodiment of genius and culture of his day ; the divine spark was handed on to Pacuvius and Attius, but nothing intervenes to mark the gradual develop- Introduction. XXIX V^ ment of literary form between Terence and Catullus, except a fragment of Cicero's 'Aratea,' a production of absolute worthlessness. Matius, Lsvius, and Furius are unfortunately to our ears only names, but there can be no doubt that the age was distinguished by an increased study of Greek models, and an increased attention to the niceties and rhythm of language. Catullus, who may be regarded, both from the philological and literary point of view, as standing half-way between the old writers and the classical school of the Augustan period, was bom when this tendency was at its / height, and numerous traces appear in his poems of the ^ potent influence exercised over his genius by the Greek and especially the Alexandrian poets. Probably his earliest productions were translations from Greek originals. Sappho's Ode, Carmen li., and the Coma Berenices certainly were, and however highly we may rate the former, the latter is not,' as far as we can judge, a translation of a very high order or perfect accuracy. Callimachus, though perhaps not a man of great genius, appears to have been a perfect master of form, if we may estimate his general style from the fragments which exist, and there are passages in the Coma Berenices of very unequal merit. It is somewhat singular to observe the admiration bestowed on Callimachus by a writer who was really gifted with more original creative power; but modem parallels may be found in the veneration Bums expressed for Shenstone, and Byron for i II t ii XXX Introduction, Pope, and it is probable that in each case the fascination lay in the charm which the first introduction to perfect work- manship would naturally exercise over minds conscious of great thoughts, and striving to find adequate expression for them. Besides which it is difficult to escape the effect of early training, and the culture of that day was essentially Alexan- drian. *The Alexandrian poems,' says Mommsen, 'took a prominent place in Italian scholastic instruction, especially as trial themes, and certainly promoted knowledge, though at the expense of taste and discretion/ It was, therefore, difficult for Catullus to have begun otherwise than he did, and, perhaps, to a genius of such originality as his, not much harm was done by the inculcation of literary canons which in some instances had degenerated into frivohty. * Alexandrinisme/ ' to quote M. Couat again, ' signifie I'absence de sincerity dans la podsie, la preoccupation exclusive de la forme, ce qu'on pourrait appeler en un certain sens selon un mot cele'bre, * Tart pour Tart' Such a school, represented by men ungifted with real power, would naturally develop into Euphuistic pedantry, but Catullus' strong masculine sense and keen eye for natural beauty prevented him from becoming a mere manu- facturer of literary conceits. As Mommsen puts it, 'though his poems lead us alter- nately to the valley of the Nile and the Po, he is incom- parably more at home in the latter,' and his essentially Roman genius also tended to preserve him from being I A Introdtcction, XXX simply an imitator of Greek expression, though Horace's sneer— a most unworthy exhibition of jealousy — would seem to show that he, at all events, professed to regard Catullus as a pedant, deficient in what was really his strongest point, spontaneity. But it is possible that he was selected by Horace as the most conspicuous of an intolerably verse- making age, to which the 'Scribimus indocti, doctique poemata passim' could be applied with almost more truth than to the Augustan period, and that the sarcasm was levelled rather at the literary epoch than at the individual. But it is not only in the choice of subjects, in the measure, and in the forms of expression, that Catullus betrays the strong influence exercised over him by the Alexandrian school, it is also visible in the direction of sentiment. The minute analysis of the phenomena of love, and the current of paiderastic emotion which was emphatically repellent to the Romans even of that age, had been largely em- bodied in the works of Theocritus, Phanocles, ApoUonius, and other Alexandrians, and the latter form of passion had received almost an idealization from the tender vein of sentiment with which it had been associated. But after all, though we may trace Alexandrian and earlier Greek influences in Catullus' works, none the less does he remain a__^eat^^nginal_4iQet. For herein does the originality of a poet consist, that he can assimilate the materials and forms left by other ages and other races, XXXll Introduction. ilrf and fuse them into the perfect shapes which spring from his brain alone. Judged by this standard Catullus appears a genuine poet. * He is,' says Professor Sellar in his charming volume on the Roman poets of the Republic, ' perhaps the only great Roman poet who can express himselt at once with perfect grace and with the happiest simplicity ;' and it is this blending of perfect art and perfect nature, this union of glowing inspiration and divinely beautiful form, which render his poems unmatched among the flowers of antique art. The calm beauty of the Peleus and Thetis, the wild rapid rhythm of the Atys, a poem unequalled in the whole range of classical literature, the pathetic loveliness of some of the minor poems, the lively grace and fancy of others, —all these show his real originality, and could have been attained by no study, however careful, of the finest models. duroa/aaxros h' ii(ii' eshg 6b (j.o, b