epigram, originally an inscription suitable for carving on a monument, but since the time of the Greek Anthology (q.v.) applied to any brief and pithy verse, particularly if astringent and purporting to point a moral. By extension the term is also applied to any striking sentence in a novel, play, poem, or conversation that appears to express a succinct truth, usually in the form of a generalization. Catullus (c. 84–c. 54 bc) originated the Latin epigram, and it was given final form by Martial (ad 40–103) in some 1,500 pungent and often indecent verses that served as models for French and English epigrammatists of the 17th and 18th centuries.
The epigram was revived by Renaissance scholars and poets, such as the French poet Clément Marot, who wrote epigrams in both Latin and the vernacular. In England the form took shape somewhat later, notably in the hands of Ben Jonson and his followers, among whom was Robert Herrick, writer of such graceful examples as the following:
I saw a Flie within a Beade
Of Amber cleanly buried:
The Urne was little, but the room
More rich than Cleopatra’s Tombe.
As the century progressed, the epigram became more astringent and closer to Martial in both England and France. The Maximes (1665) of François VI, Duke de La Rochefoucauld marked one of the high points of the epigram in French, influencing such later practitioners as Voltaire. In England, John Dryden, Alexander Pope, and Jonathan Swift produced some of the most memorable epigrams of their time.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772–1834), writing at the beginning of the 19th century, produced an epigram that neatly sums up the form:
What is an Epigram? A dwarfish whole,
Its body brevity, and wit its soul.
The Sinngedicht, or sententious epigram, engaged German taste in the 18th and early 19th centuries, culminating in J.W. von Goethe’s Zahme Xenien (1820; “Gentle Epigrams”). Among the more recent masters of the English epigram were Oscar Wilde and George Bernard Shaw. Wilde became famous for such remarks as “A cynic is a man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.” Shaw, in his Annajanska (1919), commented that “All great truths begin as blasphemies.”