ART. IV. History of Roman Literature, from its earliest period to the Augustan Age. By JOHN DUNLOP, Author of the History of Fiction. 2 Vols. From the last London Edition. E. Littell. Philadelphia. 1827.

MR. DUNLOP is already known to many of our readers by his interesting and popular History of Fiction. By the accomplishment of the present undertaking he will have greatly added to the obligations which he has already imposed upon the public. He is supplying a very important desideratum in English literature. The execution of the work thus far, is, upon the whole, worthy of the design, and few books can be mentioned in which so much useful knowledge is conveyed in so agreeable a style. There is, however, very little novelty either in the views of our author, or in the learning with which he illustrates and enforces them. The numerous subjects that fall within his comprehensive plan, have been long ago 'bolted to the bran' by many erudite men, and nothing remained for the historian but to collect and arrange the abundant materials that had been prepared for him, and to embellish them with the graces of an elegant and attractive style. If we may be allowed moreover to speak our minds with perfect freedom, we will confess that there is something wanting, after all, in Mr. Dunlop's manner of treating his subject. He does not appear to us to write altogether con amore. At least, there is not that hearty zeal, that captivating and contagious enthusiasm which breathes through the pages of Schlegel and Sismondi, and imparts to them so lively an interest and such a warm, delightful colouring. In a word, the history of Roman literature, however great an acquisition to the general reader, partakes too much of the character of mere compilation, and though, as compilation, uniformly satisfactory, exact and elegant, is occasionally, withal, rather cold and spiritless.

expense of republishing. The name of Dr. Miller, formerly Professor of the prac tice of physic in New-York, has never been heard of by the majority of the profession, and seems almost forgotten by the few who have.

"The last number of the North American Medical and Surgical Journal contains a review of his works, in which it will be seen that he has anticipated the fundamental principles of Broussais, and laid them down with great clearness and precision. He wanted nothing to make his system perfect but a knowledge of the doctrine of tissues. Had Bichat's book fallen in his way, it is probable that he would have left little for Broussais to do. Broussais met with Dr Miller's paper on yellow fever some years ago, (probably at Antwerp) he was much pleased with it, and complimented him in some of his late writings. Dr. Jackson inclines to think that Miller's paper might have set Broussais' mind to work on the subject. Dr. Jackson's practical exposition of Broussais' doctrines in this city is meeting with continued and increasing success among the profession here."

Perhaps, however, we are imputing to the workman what ought to be considered as, in some degree at least, the defects of his materials. Roman literature, especially the earlier Roman literature, which occupies so large a space in the work before us, is far less calculated to inspire enthusiasm, than that of the Greeks, or even that of the South of Europe, especially about the period of the revival of letters. The reason may be given in a single word-it is altogether exotic and imitative. Greek literature, on the contrary, was perfectly original. That wonderful people was, in this respect, at least a primitive race—a nation of αυτόχθονες. There is no trace in their poetry and eloquence of any foreign influence or heterogeneous admixture. With them every thing was barbarous that was not Greek. Their genius drew its inspiration from the living fountains of nature-from the scenes in which it actually moved-from events which immediately affected its own destinies-from opinions that had laid a strong hold on the popular belief-from the exaggerated traditions of an heroic ancestry-from everything, in short, that is most fitted to excite the imagination, and to come home to the heart, and all its deep and devoted affections. The theme of their matchless Epic was the war which first united them in a great national object, and proved that they were formed to conquer and to subjugate barbarians.* The calamities of the Labdacidæ and the Pelopidæ, furnished the scenes of their "gorgeous tragedy." The animated interest of their Olympic contests inspired the muse of Pindar, and the valour of Hai modius and Aristogiton was celebrated in many a festal hymn, and by many a tuneful lyre. Their elegant and poetical mythology peopled all nature with animated and beautiful forms, and consecrated, ennobled, and adorned the most ordinary objects. A local habitation, a temple, a grove, a grotto-was assigned amidst the scenes of daily toil and the resorts of busy life, to every divinity in their endless calendar. Their Parnassus was no unmeaning common-place-no empty name as it is in our modern poetry. It was "haunted, holy ground”—breathing inspiration from its caves, and covered all over with religious awe.f Attica, says Strabo, was a creation and a monument of gods and godlike ancestors. Not a part of it but is signalized and celebrated by history or fiction. Is it any wonder that objects like these, that scenes so full of religion and poetry should have awakened all the enthusiasm of genius, which, in its turn, was to reflect back on them its own glory, and to hallow them

* Isocrates, Ελενης εγκωμιον.

† Ιεροπρεπης ἐξὶ πᾶς ὁ Παρνασὸς ἔχων αντρα και άλλα χωρια, τιμωμενά τε xaι dɣITTEDOMÉva.-Strabo, B. ix. c. 3.

+ Ibid c. 1.

with associations still more awful and affecting? The Ædipus Coloneus and the Eumenides, both of them written professedly to honor Athens and the Athenians, are memorable examples of a poetry which seems to have been inspired by the event and the place, and to have made both more interesting and impres

sive.

There is reality in all this. The literature of such a people is an essential part of their history as a nation. Its character stands in intimate relation, both of cause and effect to their character. Springing out of their most touching interests and associations-out of what would be called by German critics, their "inward life”-it deserves to be classed among their most important social institutions. Instead of being, as classical learning once was all over Europe, the business of mere pedants and book-worms, producing no effect whatever upon the mass of mankind-the mighty multitude who feel and act-it is inwoven into the very frame and constitution of society-pervades, informs, warms, quickens it throughout. Men of genius, indeed, experience its first and its strongest impulses; but the people too, and even the populace are very much under its influThey partake of the enthusiasm that is abroad-they feel, though in a less degree, the same passionate love for that ideal beauty which is the object of the arts, and with somewhat of the same aspirations after excellence, they acquire an instinctive perception, or feeling rather, which enables them to discern and to enjoy it with all the delicacy and the sensibility of refined taste. These are the causes and the characteristics of a national literature; and there is no example in this kind that will bear to be mentioned in comparison with that of Greece.

ence.

The early literature of the South of Europe, to which we alluded above, though not so perfectly spontaneous and unmixed is still distinguished by a striking air of originality. It bears the stamp of the times and the manners. The lay of the Troubadour, full of gallantry and sentimental love, was indebted for none of its charms to the lyrical poetry of antiquity. These simple effusions, the first language, perhaps the first lessons of chivalry, breathed a spirit which had never animated the numbers of Anacreon and Tibullus. It was evident, even from them, that a new order of ages was beginning from a new era. The Divina Commedia, the Decamerone, and the Canzoni of Petrarch, although the productions of men who had read more, and who rank among the most renowned votaries and restorers of classical learning, are certainly not formed upon the ancient models. They exhibit all the freedom, the freshness and originality of a primitive literature. Dante, indeed, avows himself

a follower, an humble follower of Virgil, but no two things can be more unlike than the original and the supposed copy. The antique grandeur and simplicity of the Æneid, and the perfect regularity of its proportions are not more strikingly contrasted with the wildness and eccentricities of his fable, than its whole spirit and character with the dark, dismal, and dreadful imaginings of the Inferno, or those dazzling visions of glory and beatitude, which are revealed by Beatrice in the Paradiso. The same thing may be said of Ariosto, and, with all his classic elegance and accuracy, of Tasso too. Their subjects alone are full of poetry. They are such as address themselves most powerfully to the feelings of a modern reader. They are connected with all that we have been taught to consider as most venerable and captivating and imposing in the history of modern society: with the Holy Land and the Holy Cross, with the knight and the priest, with palmers and pilgrims, and paladins and peers, with "the fierce wars and the faithful loves," and the thousand other incidents, consequences and associations, direct or remote, of chivalry and the crusades. There is something like enchantment in the very names of those who are supposed to have figured in this heroic age of the modern world-the heroes and heroines of Turpin's Chronicle. Nor is this altogether due, as some may think, to the elegant fictions into which these rude materials have been wrought up in later times. The simplest old romaunt or fabliau, has, we confess a secret charm for us as an image, however imperfect, of that interesting state of society, the gentis cunabula nostræ. Imagine Dante and Ariosto to have confined themselves to a bare translation of the celebrated poems of antiquity, or to have attempted the same subjects in a close and studied imitation. With what different feelings would they have been regarded by us! and how much less interest would have been excited by the literary history of that period!

Roman literature, especially in its earliest stages, had, of all others, the least originality. It was five whole centuries after the building of the city, before that nation of sages and warriors could boast of a single author. During this long period, there is no vestige of any thing that can be supposed to have been a regular composition in verse, except a sort of Pythagorean poem of Appius Claudius Cæcus, mentioned by Cicero. The only history which can be given of their literature during all that interval, as Mr. Dunlop forcibly remarks, consists in the progress and improvement of the Latin language. When, at length, it * Tuscul. Quæst.-lib. iv. c. 2.

arose, it was not only not indigenous like that of the Greeks, but it bore the stamp of inferiority, and even of servility upon its brow. Livius Andronicus, who first attempted a regular dramatic fable, was a native of Magna Græcia, where he was taken prisoner, according to Tiraboschi, and became the slave and afterwards the freedman of Livius Salinator. Terence was a slave, and what is still more extraordinary, a Carthaginian. Cæcilius also was a slave, and Plautus, if not in the same degraded condition, was yet in such humble circumstances as to be compelled to labour at a mill for his daily bread. These were among the fathers, (if we do not abuse the word) of Roman literature. Their works were servile copies. It is curious to collate the lists which Mr. Dunlop furnishes of the lost tragedies of Ennius, Attius, Pacuvius, &c. They are all-to judge from their names and the fragments-upon subjects that had been treated by the Greek tragedians, and were no doubt very coarse and imperfect imitations of those beautiful works. The Paulus of Pacuvius is the first, and one of exceedingly few instances of the Tragedia Prætextata, or tragedy turning upon a domestic story. All the comedies of Plautus and Terence, are professed translations of Menander, Philemon, and other Greek writers— how free or literal, need not be mentioned here. In a word, if those heroic ballads or metrical chronicles, in which Niebuhr supposes the principal events of Roman story for the first four centuries to have been versified, ever existed at all, they had not the effect of giving rise to any thing like a national poetry at a more advanced period of letters.

The phenomenon which the early Literary History of Rome thus presents, is easily explained. The nation was essentially practical. Sallust, speaking of the Athenian wits who had extolled the glory of their country to the skies in their writings, expresses himself as follows:-"The Roman people never possessed the same advantage, because, with us, the ambition of men of talents was to excel in the conduct of affairs. No one addicted himself to speculative pursuits. The best men chose rather to act than to speak well-to have their own deeds recorded by others, than to relate what others had done. So that both at home and abroad, in peace and in war, good morals were the great object of their attention and discipline." These good morals could not exist according to the true Roman standard, without mortifying and subduing those feelings which are the very soul of poetry and eloquence. Their language, as might have been expected, bore the impress of their opinions upon these subjects. The highest and favourite epithets of praise are vir fortis―vir gravis: courage and constancy, with a sort of Stoical