Studies in the Poetry of Italy, Part I. Roman

ous scorn of Lucilius, and had led him to those bitter attacks upon the follies of his time for which his satire was justly dreaded. But Horace is cast in a different mold from Lucilius.

of satire. It is true that Horace is sufficiently strenuous and severe in his polemics against the prevalent frailties of society as he saw them; but he has a habit of taking his hearers into his confidence at the end of his lecture, and reassuring them by some whimsical jest or the information that the sermon

ed that his son should have a better chance in life than had fallen to his own lot. The local school in the boy's native village of Venusia, where the big-boned sons of retired centurions gained their meager education, was not good enough for our young man. He must to Rome and afterward to Athens, and have all the ch

day. No fine-spun, theoretical philosophy for him; but practical illustration drove

, as a welcome member of the most exclusive social set in Rome, he affectionately recalls his father's training, and tells

lanation of the intensely practical and realistic character of his satire. See him as he comes home at night and sits alone recalling the varied happe

along that line.-So-and-so didn't do the right thing that ti

re reminded in this of the practice of the great C?sar, who is said to have recalled, as he reste

hy anecdotes, familiar proverbs, and references to current people and events which make up the popular gossip of the day. He also has an embarrassing habit of suddenly turning his "thou-art-the-man" search-light upon us just when we are mo

ct is the sin and folly of discontent and greed for gain, a sin which he frequently denounces, not alone in his satires, but in his odes

merchant, the merchant a soldier; the lawyer would be a farmer, the farmer a lawyer. But these malcontents are not in ea

retire. They say that they seek gold only as a means to an end, and cite the example of the thrifty ant. But herein they show their insincerity; for,

y drink it all, and besides, the river water is apt to be muddy. I prefer to drink from a clear litt

ar. If he did but know it, he is simply another Tantalus, surrounded by riches which he cannot, or, in his case, will not enjoy. And besides he does not really c

lienated all who would naturally love and care for you; and you must not be

eware lest your fate at last be miserably to lose your all by a violent death. No, I am not a

trying to surpass his fellows. And so the jostling struggle for existence goes on, and rare inde

upon his kind, and by way of softening down the seriousness of the lecture, and at the same time saving himself

hat I have stolen the notes of the b

egin to be indignant with this censorious preacher; when suddenly he whips around to the other side, assumes the r?le of one of his hearers, and puts the question to himself: "Have you no faults of your own?" And then we see that he h

le in the satires of Horace. Indeed, his favorite method of expression is the dialogue, carried on either between himself and some other p

ction which may be taken as stage direction. It therefore needs but slight change to give it perfect dramatic form. The problem of the episod

DRAMATIC SAT

istius Fuscus, a friend of Horace; an adversar

Rome, extending on during

To him enters Bore, who grasps his hand with great show

ne fortune-teller once warned me of when I was a boy. She said: "No poisonous drug shall carry this boy off, nor deadly sword, nor wasting consumption, nor crippling gout; in the fulness of time some chatterbox will talk him to death. So then, if he be wise, when he shall come to man's estate, let him beware of all chatterboxes." [They have now come opposite the Temple of Vesta in the south end of the Forum, near which the courts of justice were held. The hour for opening court has arrived.] Bore [suddenly remembering that he has given bond to appear in a certain suit, and that if he fails to appear this suit will go against him by default]. Won't you kindly attend me here in court a little while? Horace. I can't help you any. Hang it, I'm too tired to stand around here; and I don't know anything about law, anyhow. Besides, I'm in a hurry to get-you know where. Bore. I'm in doubt what to do, whether to leave you or my case. Horace. Leave me, by all means. Bore [after a brief meditation]. No, I don't believe I will. [He takes the lead, and Horace helplessly follows. The Bore starts in on the subject which is uppermost in his mind.] How do you and M?cenas get on? He's a very exclusive and level-headed fellow, now, isn't he? No one has made a better use of his chances. You would have an excellent assistant in that quarter, one who could ably support you, if only you would introduce yours truly. Strike me dead, if you wouldn't show your heels to all competitors in no time. Horace. Why, we don't live there on any such basis as you seem to think. There is no circle in Rome more free from self-seeking on the part of its members, or more at variance with such a feeling. It makes no difference to me if another man is richer or more learned than I. Every man has his own place there. Bore. You don't really mean that? I can scarcely believe it. Horace. And yet such is the case. Bore. You only make me more eager to be

s predecessor, Lucilius; answers to popular criticism against the spirit and form of satire; much general literary criticism

ghtliness and versatility. This is what caused the success of the old Greek comedy. "But," you say, "Lucilius was so skilled in mingling Latin and Greek." That, I reply, neither requires any great skill, no

r than I in each department-comedy, tragedy, epic, pastoral. Satire alone promised succe

criticizing him I take the same license which he himself used toward his predecessors, and which he would use now toward his ow

He must not be eager to rush into print and cater to the public taste. Let him be content with the applause of men of cultur

t collector by trade; that he was educated in Rome under his father's personal care; that he finished his education in Athens, where he eagerly imbibed Greek philosophy and literature. But now the long storm of civil war, which had attended the rise of Julius C?sar and the struggle between that leader and Pompey for suprem

rs, was made a military tribune, and served as such until the disastrous day of Philippi, when Horace's military and political ambition left him forever, together with all hope which he may have cherished of the lost cause. He made his way back to Rome under shelter of the amnesty which the merciful conqueror had granted, and there fou

pretentious personality, a rich store of education, experience, and genius, which was to prove the open sesame for him to the world's best gifts. To the exercise of this genius he now turned; and the appearance of the earliest of hi

spirit of genius in the youthful Horace, straightway admitted him to his own friendship, a friendship which is one of the most charming pictures of that brilliant age, and which was destined to endure unbroken until parted by the death of Vergil himself. It was Vergil who in due time introduced Horace to

ion to answer the envious criticisms which were aimed against him, that he, a mere freedman's son, should be elevated above his betters to this high social position. The theme of this sat

but the gu

the gowd f

m this satire in the t

political advancement on the score of low birth; but when it comes to denying social advancement upon this score to a man of worth, that is quite unbearable. Horace cannot rightly be envied or criticized for his fri

a freedman's

on, the public

you I joy th

oman legion o

ey envied my

s, yet sure 't

iendship, where

en of merit

ance this hap

e yours it had

Vergil, then m

nds what char

d, in few and

infant modes

l you my desc

dered round m

eed in richer

eally was I

answer, in yo

ve, nor wait

hs past, engage

your nearer fr

, methinks, o

t of heart an

titled birth, I

an discern, whos

ather, to whose faithful care and instruction he owes it that he

enial faults

ace when spott

varice justly

s, or deeds to

innocent, if

raises) to my

he cause, who,

m but poorly,

hoolmaster, to

tain sent his

copy-book, a

eacher on th'

s bold father

ts which well-bor

so attended,

enator's exp

rdian, of unbl

ors would at

served my ch

virtue in its

from guilt, bu

h vile suspici

e reproached, a

fortune in som

e trivial perq

e himself, coll

rt, far from co

t of gratitu

senses hold,

her, nor with

th' involunt

rn of an ill

theirs my sen

for if Nature

any stated po

s, and to our c

whom we wishe

oose to grati

tented with

onors of an

nerous duties and social obligations which fall to the lot o

Horace was twenty-seven years of age. From this time on the poet received many substantial proofs of his patron's r

of his literary powers, a proper setting and atmosphere for the rustic moods of his muse; while his intimacy in the

d work, he nowhere manifests the slightest spirit of sycophancy toward his patron. While always grateful, he makes it very clear that the favors of

ts which he enjoys there, and, by contrast, some of the amusing as well as annoying incidents of his life in

th this I use

land not

re should a

ing flowing

crown the whol

found of gr

more the go

heartil

Maia,[B]

ies keep is

y craft or

what little s

ever shall

igacy or

from my l

of wishes

but that

nd, that spoi

some lucky

o me of h

man whom

d settled a

e treasure h

himself the

ore for hire

gratitud

have-by t

to fulfil

ith fatnes

herd of

gs else thei

t wits he

heretofor

guardian,

om town and

erch amon

t better the

e for my h

ition waste

south wind's

s pestilent

s feeding h

od of gain, and p

xatious bustle of the city, and the officious attentions which peo

news through l

m the Forum

us-"Dear fri

gods, that

Dacians ha

idings?" "N

ys jesting!"

found me, gr

ard one word

t any rat

ans the lan

d to his tr

from Ital

inacria

swear, as

w nothing,

rare and mo

up to all

wasted da

many a wis

all I the c

s green? Oh,

great old me

f dreamy ea

vion swee

ions and i

table sha

as' kins

not too fat

reens, and g

ghts, oh fe

he friends I

hearth-fire,

es my bluff

aws our fea

t drains or l

as he feel

trong, and

good! If no

s liquor

talk our ba

out our neigh

oncerns us

l not to

ealth or wor

to happin

led to choos

them, or ou

s good cons

remest for

untry mouse would be told. The poet's own moral of this homely tale is gathered from the fa

he country mo

not for m

woods and c

safe! And tho

y food may

ll; so, fa