No More Learning

Among
the strangers who arrive from Spain, from Asia, or from Gaul, who
enquires [b] after Saleius Bassus? Should it happen that there is one,
who thinks, of him; his curiosity is soon satisfied; he passes on,
content with a transient view, as if he had seen a picture or a
statue.

In what I have advanced, let me not be misunderstood: I do not mean to
deter such as are not blessed with the gift of oratory, from the
practice of their favourite art, if it serves to fill up their time,
and gain a degree of reputation. I am an admirer of eloquence [c]; I
hold it venerable, and even sacred, in all its shapes, and every mode
of composition. The pathetic of tragedy, of which you, Maternus, are
so great a master; the majesty of the epic, the gaiety of the lyric
muse; the wanton elegy, the keen iambic, and the pointed epigram; all
have their charms; and Eloquence, whatever may be the subject which
she chooses to adorn, is with me the sublimest faculty, the queen of
all the arts and sciences. But this, Maternus, is no apology for you,
whose conduct is so extraordinary, that, though formed by nature to
reach the summit of perfection [d], you choose to wander into devious
paths, and rest contented with an humble station in the vale beneath.

Were you a native of Greece, where to exhibit in the public games [e]
is an honourable employment; and if the gods had bestowed upon you the
force and sinew of the athletic Nicostratus [f]; do you imagine that I
could look tamely on, and see that amazing vigour waste itself away in
nothing better than the frivolous art of darting the javelin, or
throwing the coit? To drop the allusion, I summon you from the theatre
and public recitals to the business of the forum, to the tribunals of
justice, to scenes of real contention, to a conflict worthy of your
abilities. You cannot decline the challenge, for you are left without
an excuse. You cannot say, with a number of others, that the
profession of poetry is safer than that of the public orator; since
you have ventured, in a tragedy written with spirit, to display the
ardour of a bold and towering genius.

And for whom have you provoked so many enemies? Not for a friend; that
would have had alleviating circumstances. You undertook the cause of
Cato, and for him committed yourself. You cannot plead, by way of
apology, the duty of an advocate, or the sudden effusion of sentiment
in the heat and hurry of an unpremeditated speech. Your plan was
settled; a great historical personage was your hero, and you chose
him, because what falls from so distinguished a character, falls from
a height that gives it additional weight.
I am aware of your answer:
you will say, it was that very circumstance that ensured the success
of your piece; the sentiments were received with sympathetic rapture:
the room echoed with applause, and hence your fame throughout the city
of Rome. Then let us hear no more of your love of quiet and a state of
security: you have voluntarily courted danger. For myself, I am
content with controversies of a private nature, and the incidents of
the present day. If, hurried beyond the bounds of prudence, I should
happen, on any occasion, to grate the ears of men in power, the zeal
of an advocate, in the service of his client, will excuse the honest
freedom of speech, and, perhaps, be deemed a proof of integrity.


XI. Aper went through his argument, according to his custom, with
warmth and vehemence. He delivered the whole with a peremptory tone
and an eager eye. As soon as he finished, I am prepared, said Maternus
smiling, to exhibit a charge against the professors of oratory, which
may, perhaps, counterbalance the praise so lavishly bestowed upon them
by my friend. In the course of what he said, I was not surprised to
see him going out of his way, to lay poor poetry prostrate at his
feet. He has, indeed, shewn some kindness to such as are not blessed
with oratorical talents. He has passed an act of indulgence in their
favour, and they, it seems, are allowed to pursue their favourite
studies. For my part, I will not say that I think myself wholly
unqualified for the eloquence of the bar. It may be true, that I have
some kind of talent for that profession; but the tragic muse affords
superior pleasure. My first attempt was in the reign of Nero, in
opposition to the extravagant claims of the prince [a], and in
defiance of the domineering spirit of Vatinius [b], that pernicious
favourite, by whose coarse buffoonery the muses were every day
disgraced, I might say, most impiously prophaned. The portion of fame,
whatever it be, that I have acquired since that time, is to be
attributed, not to the speeches which I made in the forum, but to the
power of dramatic composition. I have, therefore, resolved to take my
leave of the bar for ever.