ably admonish us how far off the formula is from being, in any case, a necessary conclusion of argument.

Farewell to Pliny.

Pliny persecuted Christians. But so did Saul of Tarsus. And Saul of Tarsus sought out Christians that he might persecute them—as did not either Pliny or Trajan. Saul of Tarsus was "exceedingly mad" against Christians. Pliny was considerate and moderate. he acted ignorantly in unbelief.

Saul found mercy because

Pliny too acted in unbelief,

and in unbelief more deeply ignorant than Saul's.

Farewell to Pliny. Let him rest. The question for me is, Am I as much wiser, as much better, than Pliny as my light is greater than his?

IX.
QUINTILIAN.

WE reach now the last chief topic in this our undertaking with the ancient classics. Happily, in treating here of Quintilian, we can make the present chapter serve as a kind of epilogue, a retrospect of all the preceding part of our work.

Easily prince among Roman producers of what may be called 'literature about literature' is Quintilian. Quintilian falls-as, somewhat farther, does Pliny-on the hither side of the line that bounds the strictly classic period in Latin literature. He was late enough to be in position for passing under review and this, in his rhetorical and critical treatise, The Education of the Orator, he actually does every Roman author considered in our two volumes devoted to the literature of Rome. His work of critical estimation was even more comprehensive than this. For Quintilian extended the scope of his observations to include also the principal Greek writers as well as the Roman. It thus happens that,

in displaying Quintilian's own individual quality as author, we shall be able, very naturally, to produce out of his book highly interesting and valuable critical appreciations of nearly all the literary names, both Greek and Roman, that from first to last have been represented in our entire exhibition of ancient classic literature.

Marcus Fabius Quin-til-i-a'nus was a Spaniard, as also was his senior contemporary and rival, Annæus Seneca. Rival to Quintilian, we call Seneca. But these two writers were more than mutual rivals. They were antagonists. They represented severally two opposite tastes and tendencies in literary style. Seneca was the beginner in Rome of the style that seeks epigram, point, brilliancy, at sacrifice of simplicity, naturalness, truth. It belonged to the character of Seneca as man, that he should have this character as writer. For it is only just to say, that the view of Seneca obtainable from Tacitus is, on the whole, though shaded with suggestion of sinister doubt, yet too favorable to the philosopher's fame. There was a good deal of alloy in Seneca's gold. He was partly an actor in setting up for philosopher. At all events, he preached a virtue that he failed, and signally failed, to practice. It was, we repeat, entirely proper of such a man to be such a writer as was Seneca. But Seneca, though not sound to the core, was yet a strong nature. He exerted while living great influence on current literary form; and that influence was far from being wholly for evil. He is, perhaps, in large part responsible for both the good and the bad in the style of Lucan the poet, his nephew. Nay, even Tacitus-who, gratefully perhaps, treated his master but too well in his history—was probably not a little indebted to Seneca for that noble, though manneristic, mold of expression in which the historian came so naturally to cast his thought.

To this elaborate, this artificial, tendency in literary style, Quintilian opposed himself, with all the authority that be

longed to his great reputation as advocate, rhetorician, and teacher. He became, not only for his own age, but for all ages to follow, a great bulwark of defense for genuine and wholesome taste and aspiration in literature.

Quintilian had already, in his twofold capacity of advocate and rhetorician, run a brilliant career before writing the book by which he is known. That book in fact is the fruit of the observation, the experience, the study, the reflection, of a lifetime devoted by the author to the theme with which he deals. His theme is the training of the orator. This theme is by him conceived very freely and largely. According to Quintilian, the orator begins to be trained as soon as he is born. Quintilian thus treats of the whole making, and not, like Aristotle, like Cicero, like Tacitus, in their works on the same subject, simply of the finishing, of the orator. He is very suggestive and wise as to methods in early education. He makes our modern authorities on this topic seem trite. In truth, you often, in reading Quintilian, have the sensation of finding fresh illustration of Solomon's saying, that there is nothing new under the sun.

Highly interesting, and highly instructive as well, it would be, to fill page after page of this volume from that store of sage observation on his general theme which makes Quintilian's treatise so rich a possession in literature. But, as already hinted, our true course will be to let Quintilian appear before our readers, principally, as a teacher teaching literary art through criticism of those by whom the literary art has been practiced.

We may appropriately begin with something that Quintilian has to say of Seneca, his rhetorical rival and antagonist. This, as well perhaps as any thing that could be exhibited, will serve to show at the same time the essential spirit of Quintilian, and the relation in which Quintilian felt himself to stand toward a contemporary author enjoying at the moment an overwhelming popularity, especially with the

young. The moderation, the firmness, the good sense, characteristic of Quintilian, appear in every line. He has reached, and half finished, the tenth of his twelve books, before arriving at the name of Seneca (the translation we use is that of Mr. J. S. Watson, found in Bohn's Classical Library):

Of Seneca I have purposely delayed to speak, in reference to any department of eloquence, on account of a false report that has been circulated respecting me, from which I was supposed to condemn and even to hate him. This happened to me while I was striving to bring back our style of speaking, which was spoiled and enervated by every kind of fault, to a more severe standard of taste. At that time Seneca was almost the only writer in the hands of the young. I was not desirous, for my own part, to set him aside altogether, but I could not allow him to be preferred to those better authors whom he never ceased to attack, since, being conscious that he had adopted a different style from theirs, he distrusted his power of pleasing those by whom they were admired. . . . Still he had many and great merits. . . . There are many bright thoughts in him, and much that may be read for moral improvement, but most of his phraseology is in a vitiated taste, and most hurtful to students for the very reason that it abounds in pleasing faults. We could wish that he had written from his own mind, and under the control of another person's judgment. . . . He would have been honored with the unanimous consent of the learned rather than the admiration of boys. Yet, such as he is, he ought to be read by those whose judgment is matured, and whose minds have been strengthened by a severer manner of writing, if with no other object than that the reader may exercise his judgment for and against him.

Another brief extract recommending simplicity and nature, as against elaborateness and artifice, will, with what has preceded, suffice to indicate the wholesomeness of this great teacher's inculcations on the subject of literary style:

The best words generally attach themselves to our subject, and show themselves by their own light; but we set ourselves to seek for words, as if they were always hidden, and trying to keep themselves from being discovered. We never consider that they are to be found close to the subject on which we have to speak, but look for them, in strange places, and do violence to them when we have found them. It is with a more

manly spirit that Eloquence is to be pursued, who, if she is in vigor throughout her frame, will think it no part of her study to polish her nails and smooth her hair. . . . The best expressions are such as are least farfetched, and have an air of simplicity, appearing to spring from truth itself.

Quintilian, as readers may perhaps already have felt reason to suspect, is not what one would call a sprightly writer. He makes no ambitious efforts after fine effects. He simply says what he means. In other words, he practices, himself, the sobriety, and the truth to fact and to nature, that he preaches to others. There are not wanting in his work touches of warmth and color-he is enthusiastic, almost passionate, sometimes; but Quintilian's prevailing character is-sure good sense, imperturbable balance, vision to see, deeply indeed not seldom, but clearly and truly almost always. We describe, not a brilliant writer, but a writer safe and wise. Quintilian will instruct more than he will entertain; but those earnestly open to be instructed will find also in Quintilian a various and opulent feast of entertainment.

It is cheering, when, having found a man's æsthetic instincts good, you find his moral instincts also good correspondingly. Such is one's experience in studying the literary work of Quintilian. Quintilian stood for virtue in conduct, as well as for pure taste in literature. He says, and he insists, that only a good man can be a good orator. This seems noble; it is noble, and it is morally inspiring. Quintilian communicates to his readers a generous heat of approval and sympathy, as he goes on contagiously maintaining this lofty thesis of his. But it is easy to understand Quintilian in a sense more favorable to his own moral attainment than the whole truth of his case will warrant. This rhetorician's idea of human goodness was a sadly bounded idea. It by no means escaped the (seemingly unescapable) limitations of the pagan. Judged by the rule of Quintilian, a man might be a man good enough to be eloquent, and be but a very indifferently good man according to the ethics of Christianity.