No More Learning

, and with the Venetian and Florentine nobles.
After the accession of Julius II. to the Pontificate, he was
made Captain of the Church; at which time, following his accus-
tomed style, above all else he took care to fill his household
with very noble and valiant gentlemen, with whom he lived most
familiarly, delighting in their conversation; wherein the pleasure
he gave to others was not less than that he received from others,
he being well versed in both the learned languages, and uniting
affability and agreeableness to a knowledge of things without
number; and besides this, the greatness of his spirit so animated
him that although he could not practice in person the exercises
of horsemanship, as he once had done, yet he took the utmost


## p. 3345 (#319) ###########################################

BALDASSARE CASTIGLIONE
3345
pleasure in seeing them in others; and by his words, now cor-
recting, now praising each according to desert, he clearly showed
how much judgment he had in those matters; wherefore in
jousts and tournaments, in riding, in the handling of every sort
of weapon, as well as in pastimes, games, and music,-in short,
in all the exercises proper to noble gentlemen,- every one strove
so to carry himself as to merit being deemed worthy of such
noble fellowship.
All the hours of the day were assigned to honorable and
pleasant exercises, as well for the body as for the mind; but
since my lord Duke was always wont by reason of his infirmity
to retire to sleep very early after supper, every one usually
betook himself at that hour to the presence of my lady Duchess,
Elisabetta Gonzaga; where also was ever to be found my lady
Emilia Pia, who was endowed with such lively wit and sound
judgment that, as you know, she seemed the mistress of us all,
and that every one gained wisdom and worth from her. Here,
then, gentle discussions and innocent pleasantries were heard,
and on the face of every one a jocund gayety was seen depicted,
so that the house could truly be called the very abode of mirth:
nor ever elsewhere, I think, was so relished, as once was here,
how great may be the sweetness of dear and cherished compan-
ionship; for apart from the honor it was to each of us to serve
such a lord as he of whom I have just spoken, there was born
in the hearts of all a supreme contentment every time we came
into the presence of my lady Duchess; and it seemed as though
this contentment were a chain that held us all united in love, so
that never was concord of will or cordial love between brothers
greater than that which here was between us all.
The same was it among the ladies, with whom there was
intercourse most free and honorable; for every one was permitted
to talk, sit, jest, and laugh with whom he pleased; but such
was the reverence paid to the wish of my lady Duchess, that
this same liberty was a very great check; nor was there any one
who did not esteem it the utmost pleasure he could have in
the world to please her, and the utmost pain to displease her.
And thus most decorous manners were here joined with the
greatest liberty, and games and laughter in her presence were
seasoned not only with keenest wit, but with gracious and sober
dignity; for that purity and loftiness which governed all the
acts, words, and gestures of my lady Duchess, bantering and
VI-210


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3346
BALDASSARE CASTIGLIONE
laughing, were such that she would have been known for a lady
of noblest rank by any one who saw her even but once. And
impressing herself thus upon those about her, she seemed to
attune us all to her own quality and pitch: accordingly each
strove to follow this example, taking as it were a pattern of
beautiful behavior from the bearing of so great and virtuous a
lady; whose highest qualities I do not now purpose to recount,
they not being my theme and being well known to all the
world, and far more because I could not express them with
either tongue or pen; and those that perhaps might have been
somewhat hid, fortune, as though wondering at such rare virtue,
chose to reveal through many adversities and stings of calamity;
SO as to give proof that in the tender breast of a woman, in
company with singular beauty, there may abide prudence and
strength of soul and all those virtues that even among stern
men are very rare.
But continuing, I say that the custom of all the gentlemen of
the household was to betake themselves straightway after supper
to my lady Duchess; where, among the other pleasant pastimes
and music and dancing that continually were practiced, sometimes
entertaining questions were proposed, sometimes ingenious games
were devised with one or another as arbiter, in which under
various disguises the company disclosed their thoughts figuratively
to whomsoever pleased them best. Sometimes other discussions
arose about different matters, or biting retorts passed lightly back
and forth; often imprese, as we now call them, were displayed.
And in these verbal contests there was wonderful diversion, the
household being (as I have said) full of very noble talents;
among whom (as you know) the most famous were my lord
Ottaviano Fregoso, his brother Messer Federigo, the Magnifico
Giuliano de' Medici, Messer Pietro Bembo, Messer Cesare Gon-
zaga, the Count Ludovico da Canossa, my lord Gaspar Pallavicino,
my lord Ludovico Pio, my lord Morello da Ortona, Pietro da
Napoli, Messer Roberto da Bari, and countless other very noble
gentlemen. Moreover there were many who, though usually they
did not remain there constantly, yet spent most of the time there;
like Messer Bernardo Bibbiena, the Unico Aretino, Joan Cristo-
foro Romano, Pietro Monte, Terpandro, Messer Nicolo Frisio; so
that there always flocked thither poets, musicians, and all kinds
of agreeable men, and the most eminent in ability that were to
be found in Italy.


## p. 3347 (#321) ###########################################

3347
CATO THE CENSOR
(234-149 B. C. )
OR many reasons, Cato "the Censor" can hardly be wholly
ignored in any adequate general view of literature. If
we look to the chance of survival as a test of vitality, his
practical and juiceless book on Agriculture is the oldest volume of
Latin prose extant; though we can hardly speak of it as still existing
in the form given it by Cato. It appears to have been cruelly
"modernized" in outward form about the time of Augustus. Again,
the sturdy old supporter of Roman simplicity was the first Italian to
publish a collection of orations. A hundred and fifty speeches were
known to Cicero. Fragments of eighty still survive; though in many
cases they are represented merely by citations given incidentally by
some late grammarian, to prove the existence of some rare word or
antiquated form. Again, the 'Origines' of Cato would not only have
afforded us, if preserved, welcome light upon the beginnings of Rome
and many other Italian cities, but a political and military history,
brought down to Cato's own day, and especially valuable for its fear-
less treatment of recent events. Indeed, his own actual speeches
were taken up into the history, and one of them, as partly preserved
by Aulus Gellius, furnishes the best example we have of the straight-
forward unadorned oratory of early Rome. There is reason to believe,
even, that Cato left what we may fairly call an encyclopædia, - dedi-
cated to, and compiled for, his son. At any rate, he wrote largely
not to mention works already alluded to- on eloquence, medicine,
the military art, etc.
Yet it must be confessed that Cato illustrates, as strikingly as any
figure that could be selected, how little at home the true literary
artist would have found himself in early Latium, if a perverse fate
had made it possible for him to be born there, or to stray thither,
at all. Even his figure and face were repellent enough to stand
between Socrates and Samuel Johnson, as the most familiar ugly old
men upon the stage of the world's life.
"Porcius, fiery-haired, gray-eyed, and snarling at all men,-»
says the unforgiving satirist, is unwelcome even when dead, to Per-
sephone in Hades! No authentic portrait-statue of him exists. Indeed
these Roman busts and figures, especially in the earlier time, were
the work of Greek artists, and the likelihood of his giving a sitting
to one of that race is exceedingly small.


## p. 3348 (#322) ###########################################

3348
CATO THE CENSOR
The only work of Cato's which from its title might seem to have
had a poetic form was the 'Carmen de Moribus. ' It seems to have
been a eulogy upon old Roman simplicity. Not only are the extant
fragments in prosaic prose, but the most famous of them declares,
with evident regret over his own gentler days of degeneracy: "Their
custom was to be dressed in public respectably, at home so much as
was needful. They paid more for horses than for cooks. The poet's
art was in no honor. If a man was devoted to it, or applied himself
to conviviality, he was called a vagabond! "
Indeed, Cato's activity in literature probably had for its chief
end and aim to resist the incoming tide of Greek philosophy and of
refinement generally; he is the very type of Horace's "laudator tem-
poris acti," "the eulogist of a bygone time": that crude heroic time
when Dentatus, hero of three triumphs, ate boiled turnips in his
chimney-corner, and had no use for Macedonian gold.
Whether there was any important mass of ballads or other purely
national Roman or Latin literature in that elder day has been much
debated. The general voice of scholars is against Niebuhr and Mac-
aulay. There is every indication that the practical, unimaginative
Latin plowmen and spearsmen received the very alphabet of every
art from vanquished Hellas. Much of this same debate has turned
on a fragment from Cato. Cicero reports: -"In his 'Origines' Cato
said that it had been a custom of the forefathers, for those who
reclined at banquet to sing to the flute the praises and merits of
illustrious heroes. " The combination of conviviality and song in this
passage tempts us to connect it with the scornful words from Cato's
own 'Carmen,' already cited! Cato was half right, no doubt. The
simple charm and vigor of rustic Latium were threatened; Greek
vice and Oriental luxury were dangerous gifts: but his resistance was
as hopeless as Canute's protest to the encroaching waves. That this
resistance was offered even to the great Greek literature itself, is
unquestionable.
"I will speak of those Greeks in a suitable place, son Marcus, telling what
I learned at Athens, and what benefit it is to look into their books,—not to
master them. I shall prove them a most worthless and unteachable (! ) race.
Believe that this is uttered by a prophet: whenever that folk imparts its
literature, it will corrupt everything. "
The harsh, narrow, intolerant nature of Cato is as remote as could
well be from the scholarly or literary temper. Even his respectful
biographer Plutarch bursts out with indignant protest against the
thrifty advice to sell off slaves who had grown old in service.
deed, most of Cato's sayings remind us of some canny old Scot, or
it may be politer to say-of a hard-headed Yankee farmer, living out
the precepts of Poor Richard's philosophy.
In-


## p. 3349 (#323) ###########################################

CATO THE CENSOR
3349
"Grip the subject: words will follow," is his chief contribution to
rhetoric. Another has, it must be confessed, more of Quintilian's
flavor: "An orator, son Marcus, is a good man skilled in speaking. "
He is most at home however upon his farm, preaching such famil-
iar economies as "Buy not what you need, but what you must have:
what you do not need is dear at a penny. " The nearest approach to
wit is but a sarcastic consciousness of human weakness, like the
maxim "Praise large farms, but till a small one"; the form of
which, by the way, is strikingly like the advice given long before by
a kindred spirit, the Ascræan farmer Hesiod:-
-:
"Praise thou a little vessel, and store thy freight in a large one! "
Even the kindness of Cato has a bitter flavor peculiarly Roman.
When the great Greek historian Polybius and his fellow exiles were
finally permitted to return to their native land, Cato turned the scale
toward mercy in the Senate with the haughty words, "As though
we had nothing to do, we sit here discussing whether some old
Greeks shall be carried to their graves here or in Achaia! " There
was a touch of real humor, and perhaps of real culture too, in his
retort when Polybius asked in addition for the restoration of civic
honors held in Greece seventeen years agone. "Polybius," he said,
with a smile, "wishes to venture again into the Cyclops's cave,
because he forgot his cap and belt. " A few touches like this permit
us to like, as well as to admire, this grim and harsh pattern of old
simplicity.
Whether "Cato learned Greek at eighty" as a grudging concession
to the spirit of the age, or to obtain weapons from the foe's own
armory wherewith to combat his influence, we
need not argue.
Indeed, it is nearly certain that any special study at that time could
have been only a revival of "what he learned at Athens" many
years earlier.
It is however a supreme touch of irony in Cato's fate, that he
rendered, doubtless unconsciously, a greater service to Hellenistic
culture in Rome than did even his illustrious younger contemporary
Scipio Emilianus, the patron of Terence and the generous friend of
Polybius; for it was our Cato who brought in his train from Sardinia
the gallant young soldier afterward known as the poet Ennius, - the
creator of the Latin hexameter, of the artistic Roman epic, and in
general the man who more than any other made Greek poetry, and
even Greek philosophy, well known and respected among all educated
Romans.
Cato is chiefly known to us through Plutarch, whose sketch shows
the tolerance of that beloved writer toward the savage enemy of
Hellenism. The charming central figure of Cicero's dialogue on 'Old


## p. 3350 (#324) ###########################################

3350
CATO THE CENSOR
I
Age' takes little save his name from the bitter, crabbed octogena-
rian, who was still adding to his vote on any and all subjects,
"Moreover, Senators, Carthage must be wiped out. " All the world
admires stubborn courage, especially in a hopeless cause. We, the
most radical and democratic of peoples, especially admire the despair-
ing stand of a belated conservative. The peculiar virtues of the
stock were repeated no less strikingly in the great-grandson, Cato of
Utica, and make their name a synonym forevermore of unbending
stoicism. The phrase applied by a later Roman poet to Cato of
Utica may perhaps be quoted no less fittingly as the epitaph of his
ancestor :
-
"The gods preferred the victor's cause, but Cato the vanquished;"
for in spite of him, the Latin literature which has come down to us
may be most truly characterized as "the bridge over which Hellenism
reaches the modern world. "
ON AGRICULTURE
From De Agricultura ›
[The following extract gives a vivid glimpse of the life on a Latian farm.
The Roman gentleman may be regarded as an "absentee landlord," giving
this advice to his agent. The "family" is, of course, made up of slaves. ]
HESE shall be the bailiff's duties. He shall keep up good
discipline. The holiday's must be observed. He shall keep
his hands from other people's property, and take good care
of his own. He shall act as umpire for disputes in the family.
If any one is guilty of mischief, he shall exact return in good
measure for the harm done. The family is not to suffer, to be
cold, to be hungry. He is to keep it busy, as thus he will more
easily restrain it from mischief and thieving. If the bailiff does
not consent to evil-doing there will be none. If he does allow
it, the master must not let it go unpunished. For kindness he
is to show gratitude, so that the same one may be glad to do
right in other matters. The bailiff must not be a saunterer; he
must always be sober; he mustn't go out to dinner. He must
keep the family busy; must see to it that the master's commands
are carried out. He mustn't think he knows more than the
master. The master's friends he must count as his own. He is
to pay no attention to any one, unless so bidden. He is not to
act as priest except at the Compitalia or at the hearthside.
He


## p. 3351 (#325) ###########################################

CATO THE CENSOR
3351
is to give no one credit save at the master's orders. When the
master gives credit he must exact payment. Seed-corn, kitchen
utensils, barley, wine, oil, he must lend to no one.
He may
have two or three families from whom he borrows, and to whom
he lends, but no more. He must square
accounts with his
master often. The mechanic, the hireling, the sharpener of
tools, he must never keep more than a day. He mustn't buy
anything without the master's knowledge, nor hide anything
from the master, nor have any hanger-on. He should never
consult a soothsayer, prophet, priest, or Chaldean.
He
should know how to do every farm task and should do it often,
without exhausting himself. If he does this, he will know what
is in the minds of the family and they will work more con-
tentedly. Besides, if he works he will have less desire to stroll
about, and be healthier, and sleep better. He should be the
first to get up and the last to go to bed; should see that the
country house is locked up, that each one is sleeping where he
belongs, and that the cattle are fed.
FROM THE ATTIC NIGHTS' OF AULUS GELLIUS
[The extract given below, as will be seen, is quoted for the most part not
from Cato but from Aulus Gellius. However, the practice of Gellius on other
occasions where we are able to compare his text with the original, indicates
that he merely modernized Cato's phraseology. In many cases such changes
probably make no difference at all in the modern rendering. ]
M
ARCUS CATO, in his book of Origins,' has recorded an act
of Quintus Cædicius, a military tribune, really illustrious,
and worthy of being celebrated with the solemnity of
Grecian eloquence. It is nearly to this effect:- The Carthagin-
ian general in Sicily, in the first Punic war, advancing to meet
the Roman army, first occupied some hills and convenient situ-
ations. The Romans, as it happened, got into a spot open to
surprise, and very dangerous. The tribune came to the consul,
pointing out the danger from the inconvenience of the spot, and
the surrounding enemy. "I think," says he, "if you would save
us, you must immediately order certain four hundred to advance
to yonder wart" (for thus Cato indicated a rugged and elevated
place) "and command them to take possession of it; when the
enemy shall see this, every one among them that is brave and


## p. 3352 (#326) ###########################################

3352
CATO THE CENSOR
ardent will be intent on attacking and frightening them, and
will be occupied by this business alone, and these four hundred
men will doubtless all be slain;-you, whilst the enemy shall
be engaged in slaughter, will have an opportunity of withdraw-
ing the army from this place: there is no other possible method
of escape. "
The consul replied that the advice appeared wise and good.
"But whom," says he, "shall I find, that will lead these four
hundred men to that spot against the battalions of the enemy? »
"If," answered the tribune, "you find no one else, employ
me in this dangerous enterprise; I offer my life to you and
my country. "
The consul thanked and praised him. The tribune, with his
four hundred men, advanced to death. The enemy, astonished
at their boldness, waited to see where they were going; but
when it appeared that they were marching to take possession of
the hill, the Carthaginian general sent against them the ablest
men of his army, both horse and foot. The Roman soldiers
were surrounded, and being surrounded, fought; the contest was
long doubtful, but numbers at length prevailed; the four hun-
dred, to a man, were either slain with the sword or buried
under missile weapons. The consul, in the interval of the en-
gagement, withdrew his troops to a spot high and secure, but
the event which happened to this tribune who commanded the
four hundred, I shall subjoin, not in my own but Cato's words:
"The immortal gods gave the military tribune a fortune suit-
able to his valor: for thus it happened, when he was wounded
in every other part, his head alone was unhurt, and when they
distinguished him amongst the dead, exhausted with wounds, and
breathing with difficulty from loss of blood, they bore him off.
He recovered, and often afterwards performed bold and eminent
services to his country; and this exploit of his detaching these
troops preserved the remainder of the army. But the place
where the same deed is done, is of great importance. Leonidas
of Lacedæmon, whose conduct was the same at Thermopyla,
is extolled; on account of his virtues all Greece celebrated his
glory, and raised his name to the highest degree of eminence,
testifying their gratitude for his exploit by monuments, trophies,
statues, panegyrics, histories, and other similar means. But to
this tribune of the people, who did the same thing, and saved
his country, small praise has been assigned. "


## p. 3353 (#327) ###########################################

3353
JACOB CATS
(1577-1660)
HE life of Jacob Cats falls within the golden age of Dutch
literature, represented in the north by Hooft, Roemer Vis-
scher, and Joost van den Vondel, and in the south by the
Zeeland circle of poets, among whom Cats was undoubtedly the
greatest. There have been times when Cats's was the one name
among Dutch poets; in homes where no other books were found, one
might at least be sure of finding the Bible and "Father Cats. "
But
it is doubtful whether he would be con-
sidered great outside of Holland. He is
the most prosaic of poets, has limited power
of language and a still more limited choice
of versification; with these drawbacks he
is, however, most characteristically Dutch,
partly on account of his practical moral
teachings and partly on account of the
monotonous tic-tac of his verse. The erec-
tion of a monument in his honor in his
native city, and the painting of his portrait
by Rembrandt in 1635, were therefore well-
deserved tributes to a man strangely rep-
resentative of his nation. Yet, even in
Holland, voices have been raised against
his popularity. Busken Huet has called him "a miserable character,
a personified mediocrity, a vulgar and vulgarizing spirit. "
JACOB CATS
Jacob Cats, the youngest of four children, was born in Brouwers-
haven on the 10th of November, 1577. His mother died when he
was only a few years old, and his father, member of the council in
Brouwershaven, soon gave his children a stepmother. Cats praises
her "good deeds and good management" in his verses; but it would
seem as if her management were not in accordance with what
the family considered beneficial to the children. One of the uncles
adopted little Jacob, and sent him to the school of Master Dirk Kemp
in Zierikzee. Here he met a young boy from Brabant who was cul-
tivating poetry, and their daily comradeship awakened the same
tastes in Cats. Master Kemp was a man who, although of good
intentions, had not the power to carry them out; Jacob's uncle



## p. 3354 (#328) ###########################################

3354
JACOB CATS
accordingly took him out of school and sent him to the University
of Leyden to study law.
From Leyden he went to Orleans, where he took his degree, and
then to Paris. When he had been here for some time, his uncle
thought it wisest to call him back; and Cats's career dates from his
return to The Hague, where he settled as a lawyer. Very soon after
he had taken up his practice he succeeded in saving a woman
accused of witchcraft, and won the case of a young man who, in
defending his father from a murderous attack, had killed the assail-
ant. These cases called attention to Cats; he soon made a name for
himself. His activity was then suddenly interrupted by a severe
illness. He was forced to leave the damp climate of Holland, and
went to England to seek the counsel of Queen Elizabeth's famous
physician Butler. The treatment gave him no relief, however; and
he did not improve until after his return to Holland, where he met a
learned alchemist, to whose skill he ascribed his cure. In 1603 he
moved to Middelburg, and began life with new strength. He tells in
one of his poems of his meeting in the French church with a young
girl, with whom he fell in love at first sight; of his growing affection
for her and his intention to marry her; of the report that her father
had just lost all his money in a speculation; and he confesses with a
most naïve and rather cynic frankness:
"For her in very truth, with but the least of cause
And with a joyful heart, I'd given up the ghost. -
Look ye, this evil lot that to the father fell
Has in an instant's time my heart of love bereft! »
Immediately after this incident, Cats married Elizabeth van Val-
kenburg, a rich girl from Antwerpen. Her good sense, faithfulness,
and housewifely virtues found a warm expression in the following.
words: -
"She was a worthy woman,
A foundation for a home, a model of truth. "
This period of Cats's life, almost coincident with the twelve-years'
armistice ending in 1621, when the war with Spain was resumed, was
one of varied activity. Aside from the duties of his practice, he
gave much time to the diking of grounds neglected during the war,
now in great danger from the sea; and while at his country-place
Grijpskerke near Middelburg, where his "flock of children played
under the trees," he wrote the poems Emblemata of Sinnebeelden'
(Emblemata or Emblems); 'Maeghdeplicht' (Maiden Duty), in 1618;
'Selfstryt' (Inward Strife), 1620; Toonel der Mannelycke Achtbaer-
heyd' (Scene of Manly Respectability), and 'Houwelyck' (Marriage).


## p. 3355 (#329) ###########################################

JACOB CATS
3355
With the beginning of the war his own peace was at an end.
Several of the grounds reclaimed from the sea were once more
flooded to prevent the advance of the enemy. In 1621 he accepted
the office of pensionary of Middelburg, his first step toward official
statesmanship. In 1623 he was elected pensionary of Dordrecht, and
although he hesitated in leaving Zeeland, he finally decided to accept
the office. In 1625 he added to his duties those of Curator of Ley-
den University. His literary work was consequently laid aside.
In 1627 Cats accompanied Albert Joachimi as ambassador to Lon-
don to open negotiations for a navigation treaty. He was only partly
successful in his mission, but was met with much consideration by
Charles I. , who decorated him with the order of St. Jovis.
after his return he lost his wife after a brief illness.
Shortly
<
While he was writing Trouwring' (Wedding Ring), a collection.
of epic and lyric poems, he was elected Secretary of State in 1636,
and in 1645 Keeper of the Great Seal and Governor. But he had
the experience in his public life that a crown may often be a crown
of thorns; and in 1651 he begged to be released from his burden-
some office. His demand was granted, and on this occasion Cats fell
on his knees in the presence of the States-General and thanked God
for taking away his heavy burden He was once more persuaded to
join an embassy to England. Cromwell had meanwhile come to
power; Cats and his fellow-travelers returned with but little accom-
plished, and the old statesman and poet saw himself free to spend
the last years of his life on his place Zorgvliet, which he had built
outside of The Hague on the way to Scheveningen, in the midst of
the Dunes. Although he may not have been a great statesman, he
had felt the responsibility of his calling. He was never quite equal
to it, and often felt himself helpless and small against the encroach-
ment of the Powers. But honesty and patriotism were his to the
fullest extent.
The last eight years of his life he spent in Zorgvliet in undis-
turbed peace. He returned to his literary labors and wrote 'Onder-
dom en Buitenleven' (Age and Country Life), Hofgedachtess'
(Court Thoughts), and his rhymed autobiography Twee-entaghtig-
jarig Leven' (A Life of Eighty-two Years). He seems to have kept
his warm interest and joy in life to the very last.


## p. 3356 (#330) ###########################################

3356
JACOB CATS
FEAR AFTER THE TROUBLE
WHILE ago I read a tale methinks is curious.
A Perhaps to every one the story may be useful:
Therefore in timeliness unto the light I drag it,
In hope that all who read, in it will find a pleasure.
A lord once lived of old, whose joy it was to wander
In field and flowery mead, quite to his heart's contentment.
A horse he had withal, so sage that, slept the rider,
It home would wisely go, without the knight to waken.
And so it came to pass that one day forthward faring,
To dine, the cavalier by a good friend was bidden.
He met with welcome glad; good wine went freely flowing.
At last, for all such cheer, the guest must take his leave.
Himself then he prepared to climb into his saddle,
And turned his beast about, that home were soon attained.
The day was bleak and raw; the sun of light was chary;
Through clouds before its face, a pallid light descended.
The wise steed careful stepped onward along the highway,
Its sober rider borne, as custom was, unwearied.
Anon the usual drowse closed up the rider's eyelids:
His beast walked calmly on, in faithfulness of service;
The man, profoundly sleeping, traveled as he was wonted;
The time at last brought near when he should reach his dwell-
ing.
But lo! a friend is met, who questions him in wonder:-
:-
"How possible it was his steed had brought him thither ? »
The knight responded straight -"Why, I the way have ridden
That, during seven years, I constantly have come;
My beast on which I sit hath borne me duly houseward-
The midnight's dark itself makes not his foot unsteady. "
"How, friend? " his questioner cried, "even when the bridge is
broken?
The stream to cross at all, no other means I know:
This wondrous horse of thine old Perseus must have owned,
Who fought the dragon once, and cut its head to pieces.
Things sure are as they were! You came not flying hither!
It seems to me, belike, a ghost has been your cheater.
To take it otherwise, the joke to me seems pointless.
Not possible it is, this story that you tell me.
But that o'er such a thing no wrangling be between us,
Come to the bridge with me; I gladly will be escort.


## p. 3357 (#331) ###########################################

JACOB CATS
3357
The spot and fact themselves, in proof I straight will disclose,
That you may note how ill goes with your word the matter. "
Whereto so long a speech? The Knight was well persuaded;
The flood is reached again, the truth of things lies open!
Bridge is there none indeed-rests but a strip of planking,
Crossing the rushing wave, narrow and all unsteady.
The foot of man must needs with prudence o'er it tiptoe,
The nerve and will be firm to reach that further goal.
The foot that is not true, that left or right shall waver,
Drowns in the flood below the passenger unlucky.
When now the man of naps marks all at once the bridge,
Notes well the narrow path, marks the too slender footway,
His shock in truth is great; loud his poor heart goes beating.
In fear and shudders cold, the scene he stands and pictures;
Sees with a frightened eye just how his path has served him.
And more and more his soul sickens with tardy terror,
More to his heart the blood, driven away, goes rushing;-
That hour of fear to him brought him an endless illness.
Look now, how odd it seems! He well in peace had ridden,
Suffering no mishap, spared from the thing all mischief-
Utterly downcast is, whereas his danger's over!
Fear makes him sick at heart, deep in his being centred.
Questions now any one what be this tale's life-lesson?
Him shall I gladly give what in it lies, methinks;
Speak out as best I can what as a maxim's plainest:-
Friendly is never he sparing of bread and counsel.
The man who rode his way safely and lost in slumber,
He unto whom occurred just this strange bit of fortune,
Like is he (it meseems) unto the lustful mortal,
Evil in earthly course, given to sottish living,
Wandering on, shut-eyed, lost in the way of pleasure,
Taking no slightest notice of the abyss so open:
Never with heed made blessed, not with his conscience warned:
How at his side is Death, prompt to cut off the living!
But with our Lord God's grace, suddenly on him bestowed,
Opening wide his eye-then, not till then, he's awakened.
Terror absorbs his soul, holy the fear that takes it;
Now is the sinner roused, sees for the first his doings.
Wondering see him stand, uttering loud his outery:
"Awful has been my blindness, dreadful my soul's delusion.
How could I be so tricked? how could my sleep so grip me?
I who, in touch with death, careless my ease was taking! "
Happy in truth the man fallen in no such peril,


## p. 3358 (#332) ###########################################

3358
JACOB CATS
Since with a careful eye watches he every footstep,
Blessed in that God himself insight to him has granted
What was his danger to feel; how he has made escapement.
Translation through the German by E. Irenæus Stevenson.
"A RICH MAN LOSES HIS CHILD, A POOR MAN LOSES
HIS COW »
Co
OME hither, pray, O friends! Let me my sorrow tell you.
Wordless such loss to bear, my heart indeed endures not:
All that the soul downweighs seems to a man less bitter,
If to the friendly ear sorrow can be but uttered.
Dead is my neighbor's child: dead is my only cow.
Comfort has fled from him; fled from me every joying.
So do we sorrow, both, reft of our peace each bosom :
He that his child is dead-I that my cow is taken.
Look you now, friends! how strange ay, and how sad Fate's
dealings!
I well had spared a child - one cow he well had wanted.
Turn things about, thou Death! Less evil seem thy doings.
Full is my house too full surely is full his cow-house!
Death, take his stalls for prey, or choose from out my seven!
There have you, Death, full room; less to us too the trouble.
Certain the pain's forgot -ay, and forgotten quickly,
When, in the greater herd, one little wolf's a robber!
What do I murmur thus? Ever is Death one earless.
Lost on him good advice, argument on him wasted.
Onward he moves, this Death, pallid and wholly blindly.
Oftenest he a guest just where his call's least needed.
Ah, who can calm my grief; who, pray, shall still my neighbor's?
Just as we would not choose, so unto each it happens! —
He who is rich must lose all that means nearest heirship,
I, the poor man, O God! stripped of my one possession!
Translation through the German by E. Irenæus Stevenson.


## p. 3359 (#333) ###########################################

3359
CATULLUS
(84-54 B. C. ? )
BY J. W. MACKAIL
HE last thirty years of the Roman Republic are, alike in
thought and action, one of the high-water marks of the
world's history. This is the age of Cicero and of Julius
Cæsar. This brief period includes the conquest of Gaul, the invasion
of Britain, the annexation of the Asiatic monarchies founded by
Alexander's marshals; the final collapse of the Roman oligarchy
which had subdued the whole known world; the development of the
stateliest and most splendid prose that the world has ever seen or is
ever likely to see; and lastly, a social life
among the Roman upper classes so brill-
iant, so humane, so intimately known to us
from contemporary historians, poets, ora-
tors, letter-writers, that we can live in it
with as little stretch of imagination as we
can live in the England of Queen Anne.
Among the foremost figures of this won-
derful period is Valerius Catullus, the first
of Latin lyric poets, and perhaps the third,
alongside of Sappho and Shelley, in the
supreme rank of the lyric poets of the
world.

He represents in his life and his genius
the fine flower of his age and country. He
was born at Verona of a wealthy and distinguished family, while
Italy was convulsed by the civil wars of Marius and Sulla; he died
at the age of thirty, while Cæsar was completing the conquest of
Gaul, and the Republic, though within a few days of its extinction,
still seemed full of the pride of life. The rush and excitement of those
thrilling years is mirrored fully in the life and poetry of Catullus.
Fashion, travel, politics, criticism, all the thousandfold and ever-
changing events and interests of the age, come before us in their
most vivid form and at their highest pressure, in this brief volume
of lyrics. But all come involved with and overshadowed by a story
wholly personal to himself and immortal in its fascination: the story
of an immense and ill-fated love that "fed its life's flame with self-
substantial fuel," and mounted in the morning glories of sunrise only
to go down in thunder and tempest before noon.
VALERIUS CATULLUS


## p. 3360 (#334) ###########################################

3360
CATULLUS
There are perhaps no love poems in the world like these. Of
Sappho, seemingly the greatest poet of her sex, we can only dally
with surmise from mutilated fragments. No one else in the ancient
world comes into the account. The Middle Ages involved love inex-
tricably with mysticism. When Europe shook the Middle Ages off,
it had begun to think. Exquisite reflections on love, innocent pas-
torals, adorable imagery,- these it could produce; in the France of
the Pleiade for instance, or in the England of Greene and Campion:
but thought and passion keep ill company. Once only, a century
ago, a genius as fierce and flame-like as that of Catullus rose to the
height of this argument. An intractable language, sterilizing sur-
roundings, bad models, imperfect education, left Burns hopelessly
distanced; yet the quintessential flame that he shares with Catullus
has served to make him the idol of a nation, and a household word
among many millions of his race.
Clodia, the "Lady of the Sonnets» in Catullus, whom he calls
Lesbia by a transparent fiction, has no ambiguous or veiled person-
ality. She was one of the most famous and most scandalous women
of her time. By birth and marriage she belonged to the innermost
circle of that more than royal Roman aristocracy which had accu-
mulated the wealth of the world into its hands, and sent out its
younger sons carelessly to misgovern and pillage empires.
Catullus made her acquaintance, she was a married woman some six
or seven years older than himself. "Through a little arc of heaven"
the poems show his love running its sorrowful and splendid course.
Rapture of tenderness, infatuation, revolt, relapse, re-entanglement,
agonized stupor, the stinging pain of reviving life, fierce love pass-
ing into as fierce a hatred, all sweep before us in dazzling language
molded out of pure air and fire.
So far, Burns alone, and Burns only at his rarer heights, can give
a modern reader some idea of Catullus. But Burns had little educa-
tion and less taste; and so when he leaves the ground of direct per-
sonal emotion,- that is to say, in nineteen-twentieths of his poetry,—
he is constantly on the edge, and often over it, of tawdriness,
vulgarity, commonplace. Catullus was master of all the technical
skill then known to poetry. Without anything approaching the
immense learning of Virgil or Milton, he had, like Shelley among
English poets, the instincts and training of a scholar. It is this fine
scholarship- the eye and hand of the trained artist in language —
combined with his lucid and imperious simplicity, like that of some
gifted and terrible child, that makes him unique among poets.
When he leaves the golden fields of poetry and dashes into political
lampoons, or insolent and unquotable attacks on people (men or
women) who had the misfortune to displease him, he becomes like


## p. 3361 (#335) ###########################################

CATULLUS
3361
Burns again, Burns the satirist; yet even here nimbler witted, lighter
of touch, with the keenness of the rapier rather than of the Northern
axe-edge.
-
His scholarliness-like that of most scholars - Iwas not without
its drawbacks. His immediate literary masters, the Greeks of the
Alexandrian school, were a coterie of pedants; it would be idle to
claim that he remained unaffected by their pedantry. In the last
years of his life he seems to have lost himself somewhat in technical
intricacies and elaborate metrical experiments; in translations from
that prince in preciosity, the Alexandrian Callimachus; and idyllic
pieces of overloaded ornament studied from the school of Theocritus.
The longest and most ambitious poem of these years, the epic idyl
on 'The Marriage of Peleus and Thetis,' is full of exquisite beauties
of detail, but taken in its whole effect is languid, cloying, and
monotonous. He makes a more brilliant success in his other long
poem, the famous 'Atys,' the single example in Latin of the large-
scale lyric so familiar to Greece and England.
But indeed in every form of lyric poetry attempted by him, his
touch is infallible. The lovely poems of travel which he wrote
during and after a voyage to Asia are as unequaled in their sunny
beauty as the love-lyrics are in fire and passion. Alongside of these
there are little funny verses to his friends, and other verses to his
enemies which they probably did not think funny in the least;
verses of occasion and verses of compliment; and verses of sym-
pathy, with a deep human throb in them that shows how little his
own unhappy love had embittered him or shut him up in selfish
broodings. Two of these pieces are pre-eminent beyond all the rest.
The one is a marriage song written by him for the wedding of two
of his friends, Mallius Torquatus and Vinia Aurunculeia. In its
straightforward unassuming grace, in its musical clearness, in the
picture it draws, with so gentle and yet so refined and distinguished
a touch, of common household happiness, it is worthy of its closing
place in the golden volume of his lyrics.
The other is a brief poem, only ten lines long, written at his
brother's grave near Troy. It is one of the best known of Latin
poems; and before its sorrow, its simplicity, its piteous tenderness,
the astonishing cadence of its rhythms, praise itself seems almost
profanation.
"Tenderest of Roman poets nineteen hundred years ago—" so
Tennyson in one of his own beautiful lyrics addresses Catullus; and
it is this unsurpassed tenderness that more than all his other admi-
rable qualities, than his consummate technical skill, than his white
heat of passion, than his "clearness as of the terrible crystal," brings
him and keeps him near our hearts.
VI-211


## p. 3362 (#336) ###########################################

3362
CATULLUS
That wonderful Ciceronian age has left its mark as few ages
have, deep upon human history. The conquests and legislation of
Julius Cæsar determined the future of Europe and laid the founda-
tion of the modern world. The prose invented by Cicero became
and still remains the common language of civilized mankind. Among
the poems of Catullus are verses addressed to both of these men; but
his own young ivy-crowned brows shine out of the darkness and the
distance, with no less pure a radiance and no less imperishable a
fame.
--
I. W.
W. Markail
NOTE. In Mr. Mackail's closing phrase the lover of Ovid will note an
echo from that poet's famous elegy suggested by the premature death of still
another Roman singer, Tibullus. Among the kindred spirits — says Ovid —
who will welcome the new-comer to the Elysian fields, -
"Thou, O learnèd Catullus, thy young brows ivy-encircled,
Bringing thy Calvus with thee, wilt to receive him appear. »
DEDICATION FOR A VOLUME OF LYRICS
THS
HIS dainty little book and new,
Just polished with the pumice, who
Shall now receive ? — Cornelius, you!
For these my trifles even then
You counted of some value, when
You only of Italian men
Into three tomes had dared to cast
The story of all ages past,
Learned, O Jupiter, and vast!
―
So take it, prize it as you may.
-And, gracious Virgin, this I pray:
That it shall live beyond our day!
ED.
Translation of William C. Lawton.


## p. 3363 (#337) ###########################################

CATULLUS
3363
A MORNING CALL
ARUS would take me t'other day
To see a little girl he knew,-
Pretty and witty in her way,
VAR
With impudence enough for two.
Scarce are we seated, ere she chatters
(As pretty girls are wont to do)
About all persons, places, matters:
"And pray, what has been done for you? »
--
"Bithynia, lady! " I replied,
"Is a fine province for a prætor;
For none (I promise you) beside,
And least of all am I her debtor. "
"Sorry for that! " said she. "However,
You have brought with you, I dare say,
Some litter-bearers; none so clever
In any other part as they.
"Bithynia is the very place
For all that's steady, tall, and straight;
It is the nature of the race.
Could you not lend me six or eight? "
"Why, six or eight of them or so,"
Said I, determined to be grand;
"My fortune is not quite so low
But these are still at my command. "
"You'll send them ? »
"Willingly! " I told her,
Although I had not here or there
One who could carry on his shoulder
The leg of an old broken chair.
-
"Catullus! what a charming hap is
Our meeting in this sort of way!
I would be carried to Serapis
To-morrow! "-"Stay, fair lady, stay!
"You overvalue my intention.
Yes, there are eight. .
I merely had forgot to mention
That they are Cinna's, and not mine. "
there may be nine:
Paraphrase of W. S. Landor.


## p. 3364 (#338) ###########################################

3364
CATULLUS
HOME TO SIRMIO
D
EAR Sirmio, that art the very eye
Of islands and peninsulas, that lie
Deeply embosomed in calm inland lake,
Or where the waves of the vast ocean break;
Joy of all joys, to gaze on thee once more!
I scarce believe that I have left the shore
Of Thynia, and Bithynia's parching plain,
And gaze on thee in safety once again!
Oh, what more sweet than when, from care set free,
The spirit lays its burden down, and we,
With distant travel spent, come home and spread
Our limbs to rest along the wished-for bed!
This, this alone, repays such toils as these!
Smile, then, fair Sirmio, and thy master please,-
And you, ye dancing waters of the lake,
Rejoice; and every smile of home awake!
WITH
Translation of Sir Theodore Martin.
HEART-BREAK
your Catullus ill it fares, alas!
O Cornificius, and most wearily;
Still worse with all the days and hours that pass.
And with what greeting do you comfort me?
The least of boons, and easiest to bestow;
Wroth am I, that my love is answered so.
A word of greeting, pray you; what you please;
More sad than tear-drops of Simonides!
Translation of W. C. Lawton.
TO CALVUS IN BEREAVEMENT
I'
F THERE be aught, my Calvus, that out of our sorrowing proffered
Unto the voiceless dead grateful or welcome may be,
When we revive with insatiate longing our ancient affection,
When for the ties we lament, broken, that once have been ours,
Though Quintilia grieve for her own untimely departure,
Yet in thy faithful love greater, be sure, is her joy.
Translation of W. C. Lawton.


## p. 3365 (#339) ###########################################

CATULLUS
3365
THE PINNACE
TH
HIS pinnace, friends, which here you see,
Avers erewhile she used to be
Unmatched for speed, and could outstrip
Triumphantly the fastest ship
That ever swam, or breasted gale,
Alike with either oar or sail.
And this, she says, her haughty boast,
The stormy Adriatic coast,
The Cyclad islands, Rhodes the grand,
Rude Thrace, the wild Propontic strand,
Will never venture to gainsay;
Nor yet the Euxine's cruel bay,
Where in her early days she stood,
This bark to be, a shaggy wood;
For from her vocal locks full oft,
Where o'er Cytorus far aloft
The fitful mountain-breezes blow,
She piped and whistled loud or low.
To thee, Amastris, on thy rocks,
To thee, Cytorus, clad with box,
Has long been known, my bark avers,
This little history of hers.
In her first youth, she doth protest,
She stood upon your topmost crest,
First in your waters dipped her oars,
First bore her master from your shores
Anon unscathed o'er many a deep,
In sunshine and in storm to sweep;
Whether the breezes, as she flew,
From larboard or from starboard blew,
Or with a wake of foam behind,
She scudded full before the wind.
Nor to the gods of ocean e'er
For her was offered vow or prayer,
Though from yon farthest ocean drear
She came to this calm crystal mere.
But these are things of days gone past.
Now, anchored here in peace at last,


## p. 3366 (#340) ###########################################

3366
CATULLUS
To grow to hoary age, lies she,
And dedicates herself to thee,
Who hast alway her guardian been,
Twin Castor, and thy brother twin!
Translation of Sir Theodore Martin.
AN INVITATION TO DINNER
I'
F THE gods will, Fabullus mine,
With me right heartily you'll dine.
Bring but good cheer-that chance is thine
Some days hereafter;
Mind, a fair girl too, wit, and wine,
And merry laughter.
Bring these - you'll feast on kingly fare;
But bring them-for my purse-I swear
The spiders have been weaving there;
But thee I'll favor
With a pure love, or what's more rare,
More sweet of savor,
An unguent I'll before you lay
The Loves and Graces t'other day
Gave to my girl-smell it - you'll pray
The gods, Fabullus,
To make you turn all nose straightway.
Yours aye, CATULLUS.
Translation of James Cranstoun.
A BROTHER'S GRAVE
ROTHER! o'er many lands and oceans borne,
B I reach thy grave, death's last sad rite to pay;
To call thy silent dust in vain, and mourn,
Since ruthless fate has hurried thee away:
Woe's me! yet now upon thy tomb I lay -
All soaked with tears for thee, thee loved so well-
What gifts our fathers gave the honored clay
Of valued friends; take them, my grief they tell:
And now, forever hail! forever fare thee well!
Translation of James Cranstoun.


## p. 3367 (#341) ###########################################

CATULLUS
3367
FAREWELL TO HIS FELLOW-OFFICERS
HE milder breath of Spring is nigh;
The stormy equinoctial sky
THE
To Zephyr's gentle breezes yields.
Behind me soon the Phrygian fields,
Nicæa's sun-beat realm, shall lie.
To Asia's famous towns we'll hie.
My heart, that craves to wander free,
Throbs even now expectantly.
With zeal my joyous feet are strong;
Farewell, dear comrades, loved so long!
Afar together did we roam;
Now ways diverse shall lead us home.