than the conceit by which Horace at- man race. It was therefore high time, unless he was content to lose all that he had already gained, to step forward with a new work calculated to excite sensation: and because - for the very reason that he considered his poetry as only another method of doing nothing, and that not always the most agreeable to himself if he should now once more tax his genius to please the public, he would fain satisfy them as far as possible once for all. These reasons induced him to present the Romans with a publication, the purport whereof should be, in a harmless and instructive tale, with the utmost urbanity and good-humour, to exhibit them all and severally, as so many arrant bedlamites. The subject, it is evident, was not without its difficulties; but it was exactly in this sort of ticklish enterprises that his principal strength lay, and where the versatility of his genius never left him at a loss for happy turns of invention. He who declares all others to be mad, must naturally put himself at the head of them. But even that was not enough, or rather it would have been far too little, for putting a fair face on the business since it would have still always looked as though it were only pro forma, and in order to pay a sort of compliment to the rest, that he included himself in the huge musterroll. Both propriety and the interest of the piece required, that he should give a satire of this force and universality, the air of a philosophical deduction. To this end he ingeniously avails himself of the celebrated paradox of the Stoics: 'OTI IIANTEE 'OI MOPOI MAINONTAI, that all (moral) fools are (physically) mad, or wrong-headed, which, in a manner, spontaneously occurred to his mind. The serious assertion, however, of snch a proposition, would in the poet's own person have been unbecoming, and from the mouth of some venerable master of the order of Stoics would have had too little amenity. Jest and earnest must be here so deli-siness, this contrivance procures him cately administered, and so imperceptibly blended together, that with all the conviction that his arguments produce, we could not forbear laughing, as at a good comedy, though we felt ourselves hit. Nothing could well be at once simpler and happier in all these respects, The first advantage accruing to the poet by this contrivance, was: that his stoic, while deliberately proving that all fools are out of their wits, is not composing a satire, but merely delivering, in good earnest, an abstract of the morality of his order. Secondly, a couple of chaps like Damasippus and Stertinius of whom one spared no man, seeing he had nothing more to lose, and therefore, because by his folly he had reduced himself to beggary, had an interest in augmenting the host of the crazy as much as possible; and the other was authorized by his profession to adopt the cynical audacity — a couple of such fellows could blurt out home truths, without offence. Thirdly, Horace, by assigning to a fool the part of telling him to his face, the va rious censures that were passed upon him at Rome, saves himself the disagreeable trouble of an apology, and has the satisfaction of disarming and silencing his censors, by rendering it impossible for them to say any thing worse of him than he, without disguise, in very beautiful verses and with the best grace in the world, has already said and admitted. And in short, what was the marrow of the bu a fair opportunity and ample materials for making himself merry, as it were by one expence, at Damasippus and Sterlinius, at the pretended philosophers of his time, at his adversaries and critics, at the various classes of fools and blockheads, in a word, at all mankind, which must confer addi tional honour on his genius, his taste, and his dexterity in the Socratic method of reasoning on human affairs. For this last appears almost at every turn,though with such an incorporated alloy of stoical sophistry, as was requisite to the character of Stertinius. To conclude, he prudently says not a word in vindication of himself against the charges of sloth and voluptuous indolence, that had (probably even by his friends) been objected to him, he even appears to plead guilty without reply. The only proper course he had to take in his own defence, was all at once to come out with a larger and more finished work, than any that had hitherto been seen from his hand: and that was what he did. Ipsis Saturnalibus huc fugisti.] That is, to his Sabine estate, as presently afterwards in the 10th line we are more plainly informed. The Saturnalia fell in the middle of December. Therefore not the season when people generally went into the country; and Horace, as Damasippus thinks, could have no other reason for choosing such a time of year, and that precisely in the holidays, when all Rome was for three days and more successively engaged in merriment, to run from the pleasures of the town, than for the purpose of self-recollection at his little farm, and, after a pause too long for his reputation, to compose something that night answer the expectation which he himself had raised in the public mind, by so singular a flight from Rome. Moreover, it deserves often here to be remarked, that this is the first time that Horace mentions his Sabinum, and as it happens very and on every occasion in his following pieces; we have good grounds for concluding that he had only a little before, perhaps not till the present year, at least not prior to the year 720, been put in possession of it by Mæcenas. Aristophanes, whom he elsewhere names in a similar view), were therefore the writers with whose works he nourished his muse, upon which he modelled his genius, and who so richly provided him with the attic salt, and the Socratic spirit, which communicate such a pleasing poignancy, such a charming association of philosophy, wit, and pleasantry to his own writings, and by them so striking a pre-eminence to every other production of Roman literature! It is true, these Greeks could not have imparted to him all this, had not nature previously endowed him with that felicitous disposition, which constituted him her intellectual kinsman, With all this disposition, however, had it not been for his early sojourn at Athens, and the practice of the advice which he gives to young poets, vos exemplaria Græca Nocturna versate manu, versate diurna, he would never have become, what he proved afterwards, through their familiar converse. But how comes the old original iambic poet Archilochus* in company with Plato and Menander? We might at all events be satisfied with the answer, that Horace introduced him merely because he admired his iambics, and for enabling him to diversify his reading. But here appears to be a particular design at bottom. Horace began about this time to try his genius in the lyric species of versification; the epodes were the first that he ventured of the kind, and Archilochus, as we are informed by Plutarch, was the inventor of the epode. Or perhaps it was to work himself up to transport by reading the iambics of that antient bard, of whose fire and poignant salt, the Greeks related such mighty effects, for finishing the iambics which bad so long been owing by him to Mæcenas. Mecenas had (to use his own expression) dunned him to death+ for these promised iambics, and with inquiries when they would at last be ready. He had pleaded in excuse, his * See Gent. Mag. Volume LXXVIII. p. 495. + Mollis inertia cur tantam diffuderit imis Oblivionem sensibus, &c. Candide Mæcenas, occidis sæpe rogando. Deus, deus nam me vetat Inceptos, olim promissum carmen, iambos Ad umbilicum adducere. Epod. xiv. passion passion for Phryne ; but as that nymph was only a libertina, neque uno contenta, this plea could not long be of any validity, and the commenced iambics must be made fit for presentation. These perhaps were the very iambics, ad Canidiam, with which the epodes conclude, at least they are the only ones found in the works of our poet. They contain so much of the spirit of Archilochus, that we may easily suppose that Horace finished them at this opportunity, and therefore took the Greek iambic poet for his companion. A neat allusion to the comites, which the great men took with them when they went into the country. Vitanda est improba syren desidia.] Horace in more than one place accuses himself of a disposition to laziness, and marks a proneness to rest from the labour of doing nothing, as a feature of his character; as in fact it is perhaps a general lineament in that of all who are born poets. Inertes horæ and prope rivum somnus in herba, are in their estimation essential parts of a happy life, and their genius is generally never more and better occupied, than in those idle hours. They may justly adopt the old paradox quiescendo laboro. Here, however, the question turns on a different specics of indolence, on the mollis inertia, on account whereof, he, in the above cited epode, excuses himself to Mæcenas; to be short, on the sloth of an Epicuri de grege porcelius, to whom love, wine, and sleep leave neither time nor inclination to the nobler occupations of the mind. The promptitude with which he appears to acquiesce in this reproach, is not, however, the effrontery of a scurra, qui dum risum quatiat neque sibi ipsi parcit, as Baxter, who sometimes talks in his sleep, affirms in a note on the passage, me libertina, neque uno contenta Phryne macerat, (epod. xiv.) It is rather a simple observation, thrown out to mollify his censors by the frankness with which he exposes to them his weak side; or even to give them a gentle hint that he is rich enough not to care about a petty loss; that he was well aware of the true reason why they took such a lively interest in his conduct, and would not deprive them of the pleasure of speaking ill of him; since it did them so much good, but could in reality do him no harm; since it depended entirely on himself at any time to confute their malignant censures by facts. Dii te, Damusippe, deœque verum ob consilium, donent tonsore !] If the professed stoics began about this time to become ridiculous and contemptible, their own behaviour was at least as much to blame for it, as the prevailing manners, and the general notions, which had imperceptibly changed with the political constitution. They had heretofore stood in about the same relative position to the cynics, as the minorites did to the capuchins: the difference, however, was progressively diminishing from day to day, and the stoics affected, like their canine brethren, to go ill-combed, to let their beards grow long, and to distinguish themselves from well-bred men, by dirt, slovenliness, and impudence. With many of them, penury might perhaps be the real reason of their adopting filth and rags as the garb of wisdom; and this circumstance Horace appears to have had in view, when, with such a comically pious mien, he wishes that all the gods and goddesses would reward Damasippus for his good advice, with a barber! Frequentia compita.] Where the auctions were held, as the Cruquian scholiast informs us. Mercuriale nomen, for the name Mercurius. This Damasippus, who here pourtrays himself as well as ever any painter drew his own likeness, had for his family name Junius (as the scholiasts relate), and is doubtless the identical Damasippus, who offered himself as the purchaser of certain statues, which Cicero would fain have got rid of. This latter had commissioned a friend to purchase for him some fine statues, with which he intended to adorn his Arpinatian villa. The friend, who probably was a connoisseur, and in the purchase had looked solely to the exquisite beauty of the workmanship, had bought for him three bacchantes, a Mars, and another anonymous figure; but the price he paid was far too much for the purse of the great consul, and for his moderate admiration of the art. “Thou hast paid more for them," writes Cicero to his commissioner, "than I would give for all the statues in the world.". Accordingly he had it very much at heart that Damasippus should take them at the same price; if not (says he), we must look out for a pseudo-Damasip pus pus (i. e. for some pretender to that taste and discernment which Damasippus actually possesses) even though I must be a loser by the bargain*. In another lettert he speaks of a garden which he was desirous to buy of Damasippus. Both these letters of Cicero serve to confirm all that this unfortunate virtuoso says of his judgment in matters of art, and of the traffic he carried on in houses and gardens. As between the time when these letters were wrote, and this dialogue of Damasippus with our poet, above twenty years had elapsed; it is easy to conceive, how the former, who, from a lover of the arts, was gradually become a dealer in pictures and statues, by the passionate ardour with which he carried on this profession, in so long a time, could at last have brought matters to such a pass, that no choice was left him, after making a composition with his creditors, but either to drown himself, or to affect the stoic. The quærere amabam, quo vafer ille pedes lavusset Sysiphus ære, relates, in my opinion, not to the well-known fondness of the Romans for works of art that had no other value except that of their high antiquity; but to a question at that time much debated among the elegantiores; namely, whether the so highly prized Corinthian brass was a composition with which the antients were already well acquainted; or, whether, as was generally believed, it originated entirely by chance on the destruction of the city of Corinth by the Consul Mummius? By the epithet vafer ille the poet alludes to the stories related by the Greeks concerning this Sisyphus, who, in the heroic ages, was said to have reigned at Ephyra and Corinth, and whence the proverb, love unxava, Sisyphus's tricks, derived its origin. Si quid Stertinius veri crepat.] This Stertinius, who so opportunely comes to the relief of the desperate Dainasippus, by pointing out to him a sovereign remedy for his misfortune, was, according to all appearance, a person who might be laughed at, without trespassing on philosophy. On the credit of a scholiast he is affirmed to have wrote 220 volumes upon the stoic philosophy; in the loss of which, posterity has certainly suffered somewhat, if they were composed in the same taste with the discourse which Horace imputes to him in this satire. The word crepat has, perhaps, no reference to this multigraphy of Stertinius, but to the bold positive tone in which he delivered his dogmas. Nearly in the same sense, Horace in the seventh epistle says of Vulteius Mena: ex nitido fit rusticus, atque Sulcos et vineta crepat mors. Caudam trakat.] The blackguard boys that infested the streets of Rome (whom we shall not wrong by representing as the most profligate young rascals upon earth) delighted in fixing a tail, as opportunity served, to the back of people passing along, in order afterwards to run in their way again, and burst out a laughing at their appendix. To this practice the jocular expression here, which occurs again in the 299th line, seems to allude. Baxter, who in the foregoing palantes sees oxen, now sneers at those critics who are so purblind as not to perceive, that likewise this caudam trahat relates to his aforesaid oxen! Mater te appello clamantibus.] The Iliona was at that time a celebrated tragedy of Pacuvius; and his mater te appello is often quoted by Cicero as a scene which produced a scusation altogether extraordinary. The ghost of the murdered, and as yet unburied Polydorus, appears to his sleeping mother, and addresses her in these words: Mater, te appello, tu quæ curam somno suspenso levas, Neque te mei miseret: surge & sepeli na tum, &c. In the representation of this tragedy, at which the ridiculous event here related fell out, a certain Fufius played the Iliona, and one named Tatienus the ghost of Polydorus. The rest is bably, this disaster had recently happerspicuous enough in the text. Profore still fresh in every one's memory. pened to poor Fufius, and was there Scribe decem à Nerio: non est satis; adde Cicutæ, &c.] Nerius and Perillius Cicuta, were, as we may guess without the aid of an interpreter, two well-known renowned bankConfer Plin. hist. nat, lib. xxxiv. cap, 2, ers, of whom, at the rate of a com *Cicero epist. ad Familiar. vii. 23. Ad Attic. xii. 29. petent petent per-centage, money was always to be had. Cicuta appears once more farther on, better, as the caput repræsentativum of all usurers and harpagons. Scribe decem à Nerio, here, from the construction, is as much as to say: Let him give ten bonds or obligations to Nerius (for the money lent him)*. Of the fancied obscurity of this passage, which occasioned Gronovius and other learned critics, to mistake these two bankers for lawyers, Horace seems to be perfectly innocent. The nodum in scirpo quærere is by far too frequently applicable to grammarians when they interpret poets. Arbitrio Arri.] Probably one of the two brothers who are afterwards more distinctly described as prodigious spendthrifts. Staberius could adopt no better means of binding his heirs to the performance of that clause in his last will, which he had so much at heart, than by ordaining, that in case of non-compliance, they should incur the penalty of giving an entertainment to the whole Senate, of which a prodigal like Arrius should have the management. W. T. LETTER LXX. ON PRISONS. King of PRUSSIA'S Letters. Sambrook-Couri, April 14. S Mr. Neild observes in the folAlowing Letter, that I accompa nied him in his visit to the prison described, I can cordially unite in his narrative, of its excellent state and management. Every person has probably experienced events in life, so impressive, as to afford certain fixed data in their en joyments, which no vicissitudes obliterate, no subsequent events extinguish. Of gratifications commenced at a certain period, never to be forgotten, is that which fixed my friendship with that distinguished visitor of prisons and friend of the prisoner; *Scribere (as the scholiast here rightly observes) is in the law-language the same as to borrow; rescribere signifies to repay the borrowed sum. Oh divine Friendship, perfection of felicity! Thine are the only emotions of the soul in which excess is good! and his kind acceptance of my company in the present instance, I remember with pleasure, and recall with gratitude. If I have occasionally introduced his name with encomium, it has not been with his knowledge, for he has uniformly repressed every expression of this kind whenever he has seen my letters prior to their having been committed to the press, but if ardour of feeling, or excess of expression, are admissible, it is under the influence of disinterested and sincere friendship, agreeably to the motto adopted by J. C. LETTSOM. SURREY. THE COUNTY GAOL, and BRIDEWELL. Gaoler, James Ives, Salary, £300, and if the Debtor's fees should not amount to an additional £100 per annum, the County to make up to him the deficiency. Also, for the Bridewell, £50. For the conveyance of Transports he makes a bill, and is allowed the expence. Fees, as per Table. Garnish, abolished. Chaplain, Rev. William Mann. Duty, prayers and sermon on Sunday; and prayers on Tuesday and Thursday. Salary, £50. and £30, as secretary to the visiting committee. Surgeons, Messrs. Saumarez and Dixon. Salary, £75. for prisoners of every description, in the Gaol and Bridewell C and £5. fortravelling charges, to report, at the Quarter Sessions, the state of the prisoners, : Number of Prisoners, 1809, April 18th debtors, 61, felons, &c. 71, Bridewell, 37. Allowance, One pound and a half of bread per day, to prisoners of debtors who receive sixpence a day every description, except those from their plaintiffs. REMARKS. This noble building does honour to the County. It is situ ated in an open and airy part of Horsemonger-lane, in the parish of St. Mary Newington, in the county of about three acres and half of ground. Surrey. The boundary wall encloses The Sessions house adjoins it, to which there is a communication from the prison; and a housekeeper is appointed to keep it clean, with a suitable salary, and apartments for her use. The Gaol, which is likewise the County Bridewell, was first inhabited on the 3d of August, 1798, and has in front, the Turnkey's lodge, on the ground floor of which is a day room, another room with a cold bath; and a third is the wash-house, with an oven, & fe |
