No More Learning

VII. As to myself, if I may allude to my own feelings, the day on
which I put on the manly gown [a], and even the days that followed,
when, as a new man at Rome, born in a city that did not favour my
pretensions [b], I rose in succession to the offices of quæstor,
tribune, and prætor; those days, I say, did not awaken in my breast
such exalted rapture, as when, in the course of my profession, I was
called forth, with such talents as have fallen to my share, to defend
the accused; to argue a question of law before the centumviri [c], or,
in the presence of the prince, to plead for his freedmen, and the
procurators appointed by himself. Upon those occasions I towered above
all places of profit, and all preferment; I looked down on the
dignities of tribune, prætor, and consul; I felt within myself, what
neither the favour of the great, nor the wills and codicils [d] of the
rich, can give, a vigour of mind, an inward energy, that springs from
no external cause, but is altogether your own.

Look through the circle of the fine arts, survey the whole compass of
the sciences, and tell me in what branch can the professors acquire a
name to vie with the celebrity of a great and powerful orator. His
fame does not depend on the opinion of thinking men, who attend to
business and watch the administration of affairs; he is applauded by
the youth of Rome, at least by such of them as are of a well-turned
disposition, and hope to rise by honourable means. The eminent orator
is the model which every parent recommends to his children. Even the
common people [e] stand at gaze, as he passes by; they pronounce his
name with pleasure, and point at him as the object of their
admiration. The provinces resound with his praise. The strangers, who
arrive from all parts, have heard of his genius; they wish to behold
the man, and their curiosity is never at rest, till they have seen his
person, and perused his countenance.


VIII. I have already mentioned Eprius Marcellus and Crispus Vibius
[a]. I cite living examples, in preference to the names of a former
day. Those two illustrious persons, I will be bold to say, are not
less known in the remotest parts of the empire, than they are at
Capua, or Vercellæ [b], where, we are told, they both were born. And
to what is their extensive fame to be attributed? Not surely to their
immoderate riches.
Three hundred thousand sesterces cannot give the
fame of genius. Their eloquence may be said to have built up their
fortunes; and, indeed, such is the power, I might say the inspiration,
of eloquence, that in every age we have examples of men, who by their
talents raised themselves to the summit of their ambition.

But I waive all former instances. The two, whom I have mentioned, are
not recorded in history, nor are we to glean an imperfect knowledge of
them from tradition; they are every day before our eyes. They have
risen from low beginnings; but the more abject their origin, and the
more sordid the poverty, in which they set out, their success rises in
proportion, and affords a striking proof of what I have advanced;
since it is apparent, that, without birth or fortune, neither of them
recommended by his moral character, and one of them deformed in his
person, they have, notwithstanding all disadvantages, made themselves,
for a series of years, the first men in the state. They began their
career in the forum, and, as long as they chose to pursue that road of
ambition, they flourished in the highest reputation; they are now at
the head of the commonwealth, the ministers who direct and govern, and
so high in favour with the prince, that the respect, with which he
receives them, is little short of veneration.

The truth is, Vespasian [c], now in the vale of years, but always open
to the voice of truth, clearly sees that the rest of his favourites
derive all their lustre from the favours, which his munificence has
bestowed; but with Marcellus and Crispus the case is different: they
carry into the cabinet, what no prince can give, and no subject can
receive. Compared with the advantages which those men possess, what
are family-pictures, statues, busts, and titles of honour? They are
things of a perishable nature, yet not without their value. Marcellus
and Vibius know how to estimate them, as they do wealth and honours;
and wealth and honours are advantages against which you will easily
find men that declaim, but none that in their hearts despise them.
Hence it is, that in the houses of all who have distinguished
themselves in the career of eloquence, we see titles, statues, and
splendid ornaments, the reward of talents, and, at all times, the
decorations of the great and powerful orator.


IX. But to come to the point, from which we started: poetry, to which
my friend Maternus wishes to dedicate all his time, has none of these
advantages. It confers no dignity, nor does it serve any useful
purpose. It is attended with some pleasure, but it is the pleasure of
a moment, springing from vain applause, and bringing with it no solid
advantage. What I have said, and am going to add, may probably, my
good friend Maternus, be unwelcome to your ear; and yet I must take
the liberty to ask you, if Agamemnon [a] or Jason speaks in your piece
with dignity of language, what useful consequence follows from it?