This introductory chapter treats the early history of Rome’s literature, who was interested in the topic and when, and also how they approached the subject. It notes that from the start Roman literature was deeply imitative of Greek, and that the other peoples of the Italian peninsula also played important roles in the creation of a native literature. Indeed, many of the original writers of Rome were non-Romans. Covers the epics of Livius Andronicus, Naevius, and Ennius.

The fifth chapter covers the broad span of prose and poetic Latin literature that intends to instruct. But didactic works are never simply technical: even those that seem clunky to us were written with an eye to style, at least in parts. On the other hand, some of those that seem purely ornamental have in fact been found genuinely useful by some readers. We discuss the genre’s origins in Greek literature, and explore primary prose and poetic exemplars: Cato, Varro, Cicero, Lucretius, Vergil and Ovid.

The second chapter turns to the roots of Roman drama, a popular art form throughout our period. It locates Rome’s particular kind of theatre in the larger Italic context, outlines the major playwrights, who exist mostly in fragments, and devotes most of its energy to discussion of Plautus and Terence, the two comedic dramatists whose work survives in sufficient quantity. Themes include the importance of Greek models, the experience of attending a show, the style and tone of comedies, major plot structures, and important characters.

The sixth chapter covers the origins of Roman historiography. As usual, they are in Greece, and as usual the Romans do something rather different with their model. From its origins in Cato down to what many considered its perfect form in Livy, the Romans were deeply interested in their own pasts. But history-writing was not as it is in the modern world: the ancient historian did little of what we would consider research. Here again, therefore, literary elements were to the fore: choosing the right kind of story to tell and telling it in the right way were the important things. Discussions of Ennius, Cato, Caesar, Sallust, Asinius Pollio, and Livy.

The third chapter covers the span of Roman oratory, from its first (lost) beginnings to the importance of Greek models, to its full flourishing in the work of Cicero. It emphasises throughout how central to Roman aristocratic life the art of good speaking was, how competitive an art form it was, and that the people were sophisticated auditors. Cicero necessarily dominates the discussion, but we try to capture the style of a few others, including Cato the Elder.

The fourth chapter introduces several ‘personal voices’, immediately complicating our understanding of how personally to take them: the authors discussed here seem to offer us an unmitigated look at their inner lives, but Latin literature does not, for the most part, work like that. Through discussions of Lucilius, in-depth treatment of Catullus, and exploration of the letters of Cicero, we show the public nature even of what seems most personal.

In this Introduction the point is underlined that no prior familiarity with Greek or Latin literature is taken for granted, nor are readers expected to know these languages: everything is translated. In this volume, literary interpretations are suggestive, not prescriptive. There is a brief discussion of the hazards of periodisation in any history of literature and a warning against accepting too readily the teleological view of Latin literature which one finds in ancient sources and, sometimes, in modern accounts. The difficulties inherent in dealing with texts that survive only as fragments – an unavoidable necessity when discussing republican literature – are discussed; fragments are preserved for a range of reasons: sometimes owing to a linguistic oddity, sometimes to a later writer’s literary or political agenda. Consequently, conclusions about fragmentary texts can only be provisional. This Introduction also furnishes guidance on various features of this volume.

It is all too easy to view the achievements of the late republic and Augustan Age as pinnacles of Latin literature, and indeed many critics have done so. We are all entitled to our own tastes, but it is reductive if not actually misleading to think of Latin literature as something which evolves in ever more elevated stages from Livius Andronicus, Naevius, and Ennius to Vergil, Horace, and Ovid – or from the elder Cato to Cicero, Sallust, and Livy. Indeed, this was by no means the opinion of every Augustan reader, as we can see in Epistle 2.1, a poetic letter from Horace to Augustus. There the poet complains that the public prefers the classics of the second century to contemporary writing and urges Augustus to do something about this resistance to modern literature.

The eighth chapter begins with the question of why monumental epic came to be written again after a period of neglect; it suggests that the epyllion provided a way forward. After a history of republican epics after Ennius, Vergil’s Aeneid and Ovid’s Metamorphoses form the primary subjects of this chapter. Coverage focuses on what was innovative about them, language, plot, historical contexts, and style, and compares them to one another.

The ninth chapter finishes what was started in the fourth, covering personal poetry of the Augustan period. It begins with Vergil’s Eclogues, first explaining why.The majority of the chapter focuses on the varied works of Horace, his long career, and his relationship with power. It ends with Ovid’s exile poetry, which is the last literature of the republic.