For Archias the Poet

Chapter 1

If I have any talent, judges—and I know how slight it is—or any practice in speaking, in which I do not deny that I have gained some experience, or any understanding of this art derived from the study and discipline of the finest branches of learning, from which, I acknowledge, no period of my life has ever been estranged, then Aulus Licinius here has almost a rightful claim to be among the first to demand the fruits of all these things from me. For as far as my mind can look back across the years gone by and recover the earliest memories of childhood, I see him, from that distant beginning, as the first to inspire me to undertake these studies and set me on their path. If this voice, shaped by his encouragement and instruction, has sometimes brought deliverance to others, then surely, to the man from whom I received the means to help others and save them, I owe all the help and protection it lies within my power to give.

And let no one be surprised that I speak this way because his talent lies in a different field, rather than in this discipline and practice of speaking. I myself have never been wholly devoted to this one pursuit alone. Indeed, all the arts that cultivate our humanity have a common bond and are joined to one another by a kind of kinship.

Chapter 2

But lest any of you find it strange that, in a statutory inquiry and a public trial, before a praetor of the Roman people, a man of the highest distinction, and before judges of the strictest integrity, amid so large a gathering and such a crowded audience, I should use a manner of speaking foreign not only to courtroom practice but even to the ordinary language of the forum, I ask you to grant me a liberty suited to this defendant and, I hope, not unwelcome to yourselves. Speaking for a poet of the highest order and a man of profound learning, before this gathering of deeply cultivated people, with your own culture to encourage me, and with this particular praetor presiding, allow me to speak somewhat more freely about humane learning and literature. And in defending a man whose quiet, studious life has left him little acquainted with trials and their dangers, allow me a manner of speaking that is almost new and unfamiliar.

If I find that you grant and allow me this, I shall surely persuade you that Aulus Licinius here should not only remain among our citizens, since he is one, but that, even if he were not, he ought to have been admitted.

Chapter 3

For as soon as Archias passed beyond boyhood and the studies by which the young are ordinarily formed in humane learning, he devoted himself to writing. First at Antioch—where he was born into a distinguished family, in a city once renowned and prosperous, abounding in deeply learned men and the most liberal pursuits—he soon began to surpass everyone in the reputation of his talent. Later, throughout the rest of Asia and all of Greece, his visits were so celebrated that anticipation of the man surpassed the fame of his talent, while his arrival and the admiration he inspired surpassed that anticipation.

Italy was then full of Greek arts and learning. These studies were cultivated more eagerly in Latium then than they are now in the same towns, and here at Rome, too, the peace of the republic allowed them their due attention. Accordingly, the people of Tarentum, Locri, Rhegium, and Naples honored him with citizenship and other rewards, and everyone capable of judging talent considered him worthy of their acquaintance and hospitality. With his reputation so widely celebrated that people already knew him without having met him, he came to Rome in the consulship of Marius and Catulus. He thus first encountered consuls of whom one could supply the greatest deeds for him to write about, while the other could offer both achievements and an attentive, sympathetic ear. The Luculli immediately welcomed him into their home, although Archias still wore the bordered toga of boyhood. The brilliance not only of his talent and learning but also of his character and virtue ensured this further blessing: the household that first encouraged his youth remained his closest friend in old age.

In those days he was dear to the renowned Quintus Metellus Numidicus and to his son Pius; Marcus Aemilius listened to him; he was close to both the elder and the younger Quintus Catulus; Lucius Crassus held him in esteem. As for the Luculli, Drusus, the Octavii, Cato, and the entire household of the Hortensii, he bound them to himself through intimate friendship and received the highest honors from them. For he was courted not only by those eager to learn and listen, but even by any who merely pretended to be.

Chapter 4

Meanwhile, after a considerable interval, he traveled to Sicily with Marcus Lucullus, and on leaving that province with the same Lucullus, he came to Heraclea. Since this community enjoyed exceptionally favorable rights and treaty terms, he wished to be enrolled among its citizens. The people of Heraclea granted his request both because they thought him worthy in his own right and because of Lucullus’s influence and standing.

Citizenship was granted under the law of Silvanus and Carbo “to anyone who had been enrolled in an allied community, provided that he had a home in Italy when the law was proposed and registered before a praetor within sixty days.” Since he had already made his home at Rome for many years, he registered before the praetor

Quintus Metellus, his very close friend. If citizenship and the law are all we are discussing, I need say nothing more: the case is made. For which of these points, Grattius, can be disproved? Will you deny that he was enrolled at Heraclea at that time? Marcus Lucullus is here, a man of the highest standing, scrupulous integrity, and trustworthiness. He declares that he does not suppose it but knows it, did not hear of it but saw it, was not merely present but secured it himself. The delegates from Heraclea are here, men of the highest distinction, who have come for this trial with official instructions and their community’s testimony. They state that he was enrolled at Heraclea. Do you now demand the public records of Heraclea, which we all know were destroyed when the archive burned during the Italian War? It is absurd to say nothing in answer to the evidence we have and to demand what we cannot have; to pass over human memory in silence and insist upon the memory preserved in writing; and, when you have the solemn assurance of a man of the highest distinction and the sworn, trustworthy testimony of a community of impeccable integrity, to reject evidence that cannot possibly be falsified and demand records that you yourself say are regularly tampered with.

Or did he have no residence in Rome—a man who, so many years before citizenship was granted, had established here the center of all his affairs and fortunes? Did he fail to register? On the contrary, he registered in the only records from that registration and that board of praetors that retain the authority of public documents.

Chapter 5

For while Appius’s records were reportedly kept rather carelessly, and Gabinius’s irresponsibility before his conviction and disgrace afterward had destroyed all confidence in his records, Metellus, the most upright and self-controlled of men, was so scrupulous that he appeared before the praetor Lucius Lentulus and the judges to say that an erasure against a single name had disturbed him. In these records, then, you see no erasure against the name of Aulus Licinius.

Since this is so, what reason have you to doubt his citizenship, especially when he was also enrolled as a citizen in other communities? For when people throughout Greece freely granted citizenship to many ordinary men, men with no skill at all or only some humble accomplishment, I suppose the people of Rhegium or Locri or Naples or Tarentum refused this man, whose genius had won the highest renown, what they regularly bestowed on theatrical performers! And consider this: while others somehow slipped into the registers of those municipalities not only after citizenship had been granted but even after the Papian law, is this man to be rejected—he who makes no use even of the citizenships under which he is enrolled, because he has always wished to be a citizen of Heraclea?

You ask for our census records. Of course! For apparently no one knows that at the most recent census he was with the army under that distinguished commander Lucius Lucullus; at the preceding census he was in Asia with the same man, then quaestor; and at the first, under Julius and Crassus, no part of the people was registered at all. But a census does not establish the right of citizenship: it merely indicates that the person registered was already acting as a citizen at that time. And during the very period when, as you allege, he did not regard himself as enjoying the rights of a Roman citizen, he repeatedly made wills under our laws, entered into inheritances from Roman citizens, and was reported to the treasury by the proconsul Lucius Lucullus among those awarded benefits.

Chapter 6

Look for evidence, if you can find any; for neither his own judgment nor that of his friends will ever furnish proof against him.

You will ask me, Grattius, why I take such delight in this man. Because he provides a place where my mind can recover from this clamor of the courts, and my ears, exhausted by angry shouting, can find rest. Do you suppose I could find enough to say every day on so great a variety of matters unless I cultivated my mind through learning? Or that my mind could endure such strain unless I also relaxed it through that same learning? For my part, I admit my devotion to these studies. Let others feel ashamed, if they have buried themselves in literature so completely that they can bring nothing from it to the common benefit, nothing into the light of public view. But why should I feel ashamed, judges, when for so many years I have lived in such a way that my leisure has never drawn me away from anyone’s need or interests, pleasure has never called me aside, and even sleep has never held me back?

Who, then, could reproach me, or who could justly resent it, if I reserve for renewing these studies as much time as others are allowed for attending to their own affairs, for celebrating festival days with public games, for other pleasures and for the very rest of mind and body—as much as others devote to banquets that begin early, to the gaming board, or to ball games? And I have all the greater claim to this allowance because these studies also nourish my eloquence and my power of speech, which, whatever their measure, have never failed my friends in their hour of danger. If anyone considers that a lesser matter, I certainly know the spring from which I draw those things that matter most.

For unless, through the teachings of many people and through wide reading, I had convinced myself from my youth that nothing in life deserves to be earnestly sought except glory and moral honor, and that in pursuing them every bodily torment, every danger of death and exile, must count for little, I would never have thrown myself into so many great struggles for your safety, or exposed myself to these daily attacks by corrupt men. But books are full of these lessons, the words of the wise are full of them, and the past is full of examples; all would lie in darkness without the light of literature. How many portraits of the bravest men Greek and Latin writers have left us, vividly drawn not only for us to contemplate but also to imitate! By keeping these always before me as I conducted public affairs, I shaped my heart and mind through the very contemplation of outstanding men.

Chapter 7

Someone will ask: “What, then? Were those very great men whose virtues literature has preserved educated in the learning you praise so highly?” It is difficult to assert this of them all; but I nevertheless have a definite answer. I admit that many men have possessed exceptional spirit and virtue without learning, and that through an almost divine natural disposition they have become self-controlled and serious-minded by their own efforts. I would even add that nature without learning has more often led to glory and virtue than learning without nature. Yet I also maintain this: when an exceptional and distinguished nature is joined by the discipline and cultivation of learning, something splendid and unique is generally the result.

To this company belonged that godlike man whom our fathers saw, Africanus; to it belonged Gaius Laelius and Lucius Furius, men of the greatest moderation and self-restraint; to it belonged that elder Marcus Cato, a man of extraordinary courage and, for his time, extraordinary learning. Surely, if literature had done nothing to help them understand and cultivate virtue, they would never have devoted themselves to its study. But even if no such great benefit could be shown, even if pleasure alone were sought from these studies, you would still, I think, judge this recreation of the mind the most humane and the most worthy of a free person. For other recreations do not suit every time, every age, or every place; but these studies sharpen youth, delight old age, adorn prosperity, and offer refuge and consolation in adversity. They bring pleasure at home without hindering us abroad; they keep watch through the night with us, travel with us, and accompany us into the country.

But even if we ourselves could neither pursue these studies nor taste their pleasures, we should still admire them when we saw them in others.

Chapter 8

Which of us was ever so coarse and hard of heart that he was not moved by Roscius’s recent death? Though he died an old man, such were his consummate art and grace that it seemed he should never have died at all. Did he, then, win such love from all of us through the movements of his body, while we are to disregard the astonishing movements of the mind and the swiftness of the intellect?

How often, gentlemen of the jury, have I seen Archias here—I will take advantage of your kindness, since you are listening so attentively to this unfamiliar kind of pleading—how often have I seen him, without having written a single letter, improvise a great number of excellent verses on the very matters being discussed at the time! How often, when called upon to repeat himself, have I heard him treat the same subject with different words and thoughts! And the works he had written with care and reflection I have seen acclaimed so highly that he rivaled the renown of the ancient writers. Should I not love this man, not admire him, not consider him worthy of defense by every means?

Moreover, we have learned from men of the greatest distinction and learning that other pursuits depend on teaching, rules, and practiced skill, but that the poet draws his power from nature itself, is stirred by the strength of his own mind, and is filled with something like a divine breath. Rightly, then, does our own Ennius call poets “sacred,” since they seem entrusted to us by a special gift and bounty of the gods.

Let this name of poet, then, which no barbarous people has ever profaned, be sacred in your eyes, gentlemen, with all your refinement. Rocks and solitary places answer the voice; savage beasts are often swayed by song and stop to listen. Are we, nurtured on the finest learning, to remain unmoved by the voice of poets? The people of Colophon say that Homer is their citizen; the Chians claim him as their own; the people of Salamis demand him back; the Smyrnaeans insist that he belongs to them and have even dedicated a shrine to him in their city. Many others besides dispute and contend with one another over him.

Chapter 9

Do they, then, seek a stranger even after his death because he was a poet, while we reject this living man, who is ours both by choice and by law—especially when Archias long ago devoted all his energies and all his talent to celebrating the glory and renown of the Roman people? As a young man he treated the war against the Cimbri, and he won the affection even of Gaius Marius himself, who seemed rather unresponsive to such pursuits.

For no one is so estranged from the Muses that he would not readily welcome an everlasting tribute to his labors enshrined in verse. Themistocles, that foremost man of Athens, is said to have been asked what performer, or whose voice, he most enjoyed hearing. He answered, “The man who best proclaims my valor.” So Marius, too, was exceptionally fond of Lucius Plotius, whose talent, he thought, could celebrate his achievements.

The Mithridatic War, great and difficult, fought with many turns of fortune on land and sea, has been portrayed in its entirety by Archias. Those books shed luster not only on Lucius Lucullus, a man of outstanding courage and distinction, but also on the name of the Roman people. For it was the Roman people, under Lucullus’s command, who opened Pontus, fortified both by the former wealth of its kings and by the very nature and position of the country. It was the army of the Roman people that, under the same commander, with no very large force routed the countless hosts of the Armenians. It is to the glory of the Roman people that the city of Cyzicus, our devoted friend, was rescued and preserved by his strategy from every assault of the king and from the very jaws and throat of the whole war.

Ours will always be the glory, ours the acclaim, of that incredible naval battle off Tenedos, where Lucius Lucullus fought and the enemy fleet was sunk, its commanders killed. Ours are the trophies, ours the memorials, ours the triumphs. Those whose talents exalt these deeds celebrate the fame of the Roman people.

Our Ennius was dear to the elder Africanus, and a marble statue of him is even believed to stand in the tomb of the Scipios. Yet such praises certainly honor not only the man praised but also the name of the Roman people. Cato, the great-grandfather of the man here before us, is raised to the skies: great honor is added to the achievements of the Roman people. In short, all those great men—the Marcelli, the Fulvii—are adorned with praise that all of us share.

Chapter 10

Our ancestors, then, admitted to citizenship the man who had done these things, a man from Rudiae. Are we to expel from our citizenship this man from Heraclea, whom many cities have sought as their own, but whose place in this one is established by law?

For anyone who thinks that Greek verse yields a smaller harvest of glory than Latin is profoundly mistaken. Greek is read among almost every people, while Latin is confined within its own admittedly narrow borders. Therefore, if the boundaries of our achievements are the ends of the earth, we should wish our glory and fame to penetrate wherever our countrymen’s weapons have reached. For this brings distinction to the very peoples whose deeds are recorded; and for those who risk their lives for glory, it is surely the greatest incentive to face both danger and toil.

How many chroniclers of his deeds Alexander the Great is said to have kept with him! And yet, when he stood beside Achilles’ tomb at Sigeum, he said, “Fortunate young man, to have found Homer as the herald of your valor!” And rightly so. For had that Iliad never existed, the same mound that covered his body would also have buried his name.

And what of our own Pompey the Great, who has matched his fortune with his valor? Did he not grant citizenship to Theophanes of Mytilene, the historian of his deeds, before an assembly of his soldiers? And did not those brave men of ours, rustic soldiers though they were, stirred by the sweetness of glory, approve the act with a mighty shout, as though they shared in that same praise?

And so, I suppose, if Archias had not been a Roman citizen by law, he could not have arranged for some commander to grant him citizenship! Sulla, while granting it to Spaniards and Gauls, would surely have rejected his request! Yet we ourselves saw Sulla, when a bad poet from the crowd handed him a little book containing an epigram in his honor, written merely in alternating lines of rather excessive length, immediately order that the man receive a reward from the property he was then selling—but on condition that he never write again. Would a man who thought even a bad poet’s diligence worthy of some reward not have sought this man’s genius, excellence in writing, and abundance of expression?

And what of Quintus Metellus Pius, his close friend, who granted citizenship to so many? Could Archias not have obtained it from him, either on his own or through the Luculli? Especially when Metellus was so eager to have his deeds recorded that he even lent his ears to poets born in Corduba, whose verse had a somewhat heavy and foreign sound?

Chapter 11

We should not conceal what cannot be hidden, but acknowledge it openly: we are all drawn by the desire for praise, and the best men are most strongly led by glory. Even those philosophers who write little books about despising glory put their own names on them. In the very work in which they scorn publicity and renown, they wish to be praised and named.

Decimus Brutus, a distinguished man and commander, adorned the entrances of his temples and monuments with the verses of Accius, his closest friend. And Fulvius, who fought against the Aetolians with Ennius at his side, did not hesitate to dedicate the spoils of Mars to the Muses. In a city where commanders, almost still under arms, have honored the name of poets and the shrines of the Muses, judges in the toga of peace should not turn away from honoring the Muses and protecting poets.

And to make you do so more willingly, judges, I shall now reveal myself to you and confess a certain love of glory of my own—perhaps too ardent, but honorable nonetheless. The deeds that we accomplished together during my consulship, for the safety of this city and its empire, for the lives of its citizens and for the whole republic, Archias has touched upon in verse and begun to celebrate. When I heard those verses, because the undertaking seemed to me both great and welcome, I encouraged him to complete it. For virtue desires no other reward for its labors and dangers than this reward of praise and glory. Take that away, judges, and what reason have we, in this narrow and brief course of life, to wear ourselves out with such great labors?

Certainly, if the mind had no anticipation of the future, and confined all its thoughts within the same bounds that limit the span of life, it would not break itself with such great labors, torment itself with so many cares and sleepless nights, or so often risk life itself. But a certain virtue dwells in every excellent man, goading his mind night and day with the spur of glory and reminding him that the remembrance of our name must not end with our lifetime, but must endure as long as all posterity.

Chapter 12

Are all of us who work in public affairs, amid these dangers and labors of life, really to seem so small-minded that, although we have never drawn a peaceful, idle breath to the very end, we believe everything will die with us? Many great men have eagerly left behind statues and portraits, likenesses not of their minds but of their bodies. Should we not much prefer to leave an image of our purposes and virtues, shaped and polished by the finest talents? For my part, even as I acted, I believed that everything I did was being scattered like seed into the everlasting memory of the world. Whether after death I shall have no awareness of that memory, or whether, as the wisest men have thought, it will touch some part of my spirit, at least for now I find delight in the thought and hope of it.

Therefore, judges, preserve this man. You see his modest character confirmed by the distinction of his friends and the long duration of their friendship; you should esteem his talent as highly as a gift deserves that you see sought out by the judgment of the greatest men. His case is established by the provisions of the law, the authority of his town, the testimony of Lucullus, and the records of Metellus. Since this is so, judges, if such great gifts of genius have any claim on our regard, not merely human but divine, we ask you to take him under your care: the man who has always honored you, your commanders, and the achievements of the Roman people; who promises an everlasting record of our glory amid those recent dangers at home that we shared with you; and who belongs to that company who have always, among all peoples, been held and called sacred. Let him appear to have been relieved by your humanity rather than wounded by your severity.

What I have said about the case, judges, briefly and simply in my customary manner, I trust has won everyone’s approval. What I have said outside the usual practice of the courts and the forum, about this man’s genius and more generally about learning itself, I hope you have received kindly; that the man presiding over this trial has done so, I know for certain.