by Horace
when though a Praetor you have only five servants behind you
carrying a commode and a wine-cask along the road to Tivoli.
110 In this and a thousand other ways I’ve an easier life
than you, my eminent senator.
I wander wherever I please
on my own; I ask what price they’re charging for greens and flour;
often in the evenings I stroll around the Circus and Forum,
those haunts of trickery; I loiter by the fortune-tellers; and then
I make my way home to a plate of minestrone with leeks and peas.
My supper is served by three boys; on a white slab
stand two cups and a ladle, beside them a common cruet,
a flask of oil, and a saucer – all of Campanian ware.
Then I go off to bed with no worries about having
120 to be up early in the morning and appear in front of Mársyas
who shows that he can’t abide the face of Newman junior.
I stay in bed till ten, then walk; or else after reading
or writing something for my private pleasure I have a massage,
but not, like that filthy Natta, with oil pinched from the lamps.
When I’m feeling tired and the sun grows fiercer, showing it’s time
for the baths, I finish my game of triangle and leave the Park.
A light lunch – enough to save me from having to go
through the day on an empty stomach; then I laze about at home.
That’s what life is like when you’re free from the cruel compulsion
130 to get to the top. So I comfort myself that I’ll live more happily
than if my grandfather, father, and uncle had all been Quaestors.
SATIRE 7
The setting for this piece of repartee is Clazomenae, a town on the coast of Asia Minor. The dramatic date is 43 BC when Brutus was in charge of the province. Brutus’ distant ancestor had driven King Tarquin out of Rome, and in 44 BC he himself had got rid of Julius Caesar whose regal pretensions had alienated the republican nobility. The satire is justified by its mock-heroic presentation rather than by the concluding pun.
The story of how the half-breed Persius repaid the foul
and venomous outlaw Rupilius King is known, I imagine,
to every barber in town and everyone with sore eyes.
Now Persius was a wealthy man engaged in very big business–
concerns at Clazómenae and in a troublesome lawsuit with King.
He was a tough customer, who had the beating of King in rudeness.
Arrogant, loud, and blustering, when it came to scathing abuse
he could leave men like Sisenna and Barrus standing at the post.
Reverting to King: when the two had failed to reach agreement –
10 (for those who meet in warfare face to face are ever
found to be no less stubborn than valiant; the wrath between Hector
son of Priam and the fierce Achilles was murderous, so that
only death in the end could part them, for this very reason
that both possessed the utmost courage, but if two cowards
became embroiled in a quarrel, or if strife arose between men
of unequal might – Diomedes, say, and the Lycian Glaucus –
the more faint-hearted would withdraw from battle and even proffer
gifts of appeasement) – when Brutus was Praetor in charge of Asia
and all its wealth, a clash took place between Persius and King,
20 a pair just as evenly matched as Bacchius and Bithus.
They rush fiercely into court, each a memorable sight.
Persius states his case amid general laughter; he praises
Brutus, calling him ‘the sun of Asia’, and he praises his staff,
calling them all ‘stars of health’, except for King,
who, he says, has come like the infamous Dog – that star
which is so detested by farmers. He rushes on like a wintry
torrent in a wild ravine where an axe but seldom reaches.
Faced with that mighty flood of wit the man from Praeneste
at once proceeds to hurl back the sort of abuse
30 that is squeezed from the vineyard, like a tough vine-dresser used to victory
who routs any passer-by that shouts a loud ‘Cuckoo!’
Thereupon Persius the Greek, drenched as he is in Italian
vinegar, roars ‘For god’s sake Brutus! You are used to
disposing of kings. Why don’t you cut this King’s throat?
Believe me, we badly need your special skill!’
SATIRE 8
An old burial-ground on the Esquiline Hill is being converted by Maecenas into pleasant gardens. Watching over the gardens is a wooden statue of the vegetation god Priapus which has a large crack in its posterior. The reason for this becomes clear at the end of Priapus’ story of triumphant if involuntary revenge.
Once I was the trunk of a fig-tree, a useless lump of wood.
Then the carpenter, wondering whether to make a bench or a Priapus,
preferred me to be a god. So a god I am, the terror
of thieves and birds. Thieves are deterred by the weapon in my hand
and also by the red stake projecting obscenely from my crotch.
The birds are an absolute pest, but the reed stuck in my head
frightens them off and stops them settling on the renovated gardens.
Before, the corpses of slaves, pitched from their narrow cells,
would be carried here in a cheap box at a friend’s expense.
10 This too was the common graveyard of destitute citizens –
men like Grab-all the sponger and the waster Nomentanus.
Here a pillar assigned a frontage of a thousand feet
and a depth of three hundred: THIS MONUMENT NOT TO DESCEND
to heirs. But now the Esquiline Hill is a healthy place
to live in; you can stroll along the wall in the sunshine where lately
you had a grim view of white bones strewn on the ground.
For myself, however, I’m not so worried and annoyed by the thieves
and wild animals that still come and infest the place
as by those hags, who are for ever plaguing the souls of men
20 with their spells and potions. I can’t get rid of them, whatever I do,
or manage to stop them gathering bones and deadly plants
when once the wandering moon has shown her lovely face.
With my own eyes I saw Canidia walking barefoot,
her black robe tucked up and her hair streaming free,
shrieking with the elder Ságana; their faces were both made hideous
by a deathly pallor. They scraped away the earth with their nails.
Then taking a black lamb they set about tearing it to pieces
with their teeth, letting the blood trickle into the trench, from where
they meant to summon the spirits of the dead to answer their questions.
30 There was also a woollen doll, and another of wax – the woollen
was larger so as to dominate and punish the smaller. The latter
stood in an attitude of supplication as if expecting
a slave’s death. One of the women called on Hécate,
the other on cruel Tisíphone. You could see snakes and hell-hounds
roaming at large, and the moon blushing with shame as she hid
behind the high tombs to avoid seeing such horrors.
If any of this is untrue may I have my head fouled white
by the droppings of crows, and may Julius and the mincing Miss Pediatius
and Voranus the thief all come and piss and shit against me.
40 But why repeat each detail – how the spirits sounded mournful
and shrill as they answered Ságana’s questions, how the two witches
stealthily buried a wolf’s beard along with the fan
g
of a spotted snake, how the flame flared up as the wax image
melted, and how I wreaked vengeance for having to witness
in terror all that was said and done by the two Furies?
With a sudden report like a burst balloon I let a fart
which split my fig-wood buttocks; the hags scurried off down town;
Canidia dropped her false teeth, the high wig
tumbled from Ságana’s head, and herbs and enchanted love-knots
50 fell off their arms. If only you’d seen it! You’d have laughed and cheered.
SATIRE 9
A description of how Horace on his morning walk encountered a pest who claimed to know him and tried to engineer an introduction to Maecenas. The account may be based on an incident in the poet’s experience, but the pest has no individual features and attempts to identify him are futile.
I happened to be strolling on Sacred Way, going over in my mind
some piece of nonsense, as I often do, and completely absorbed,
when suddenly a fellow whom I knew only by name dashed up
and seized me by the hand.
‘My dear chap,’ he said, ‘how are things?’
‘Fine at the moment, thank you,’ I said. ‘Well, all the best!’
He remained in pursuit, so I nipped in quickly: ‘Was there something else?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You should get to know me. I’m a man of letters.’
‘Good for you!’ I said.
Desperately trying to escape,
I now quickened my pace, now halted abruptly,
10 then whispered something in my servant’s ear, sweating from head
to foot. As he rattled on, praising street after street
and finally the entire city, I kept breathing to myself
‘Ah Bolanus, how I envy that fiery temper!’
As I still ignored him he said ‘You’re desperately keen to be off;
I’ve noticed that. But it’s no use; I’ll stick with you.
Wherever you’re going I’ll dog your steps!’
‘No need to take you
out of your way. I’m visiting someone you don’t know.
He’s ill in bed, away across the Tiber, near Caesar’s Gardens.’
‘I’ve nothing to do and I’m pretty fit – I’ll go all the way.’
20 I dropped my ears like a sullen donkey when he feels too heavy
a load on his back. Our friend began: ‘If I’m any judge
you’ll value my friendship just as highly as that of Viscus
and Varius. No one can write as many verses as I can –
and in so short a time. I’m the smoothest dancer in town,
and even Hermogenes might well envy my singing voice.’
Here was my chance: ‘Have you a mother or next of kin
expecting you home?’
‘No, not one. I’ve buried them all.’
Lucky for them! That leaves me. So finish me off!
A sinister doom is approaching which a Sabine crone predicted
30 when I was a boy. Shaking her urn the soothsayer chanted:
‘No deadly poison or foeman’s blade shall work his fate;
no ailing lungs or hacking cough or slow-foot gout;
whene’er it be, a chatterbox shall wear him out;
let him avoid all gasbags on reaching man’s estate.’
When we got to Vesta’s temple it was after nine – the time
at which, as it happened, he was due to appear in court; if he didn’t,
he would lose his case. ‘Be a decent chap,’ he said, ‘and give me
a hand in here for a while.’
‘My god, I could never manage
to stand in the box, and I haven’t a clue about the law! Besides,
40 I’m in a hurry – you know where.’
Do I abandon you or my case?’
‘Oh me, please!’
‘No I shan’t!’
he said, and strode out in front. It’s hard to fight when you’re beaten,
so I duly followed.
‘How do you get on with Maecenas?’ he resumed,
‘He’s a man of sound judgement and he chooses his friends with care.
No one has turned his luck to better account. Now if
you would introduce yours truly you’d have a powerful helper
to back you up. Why dammit you’d have beaten the lot by now!’
‘We don’t behave up there in the way you imagine. Why nowhere
is cleaner and more remote from that kind of corruption.
50 I’m not worried, I assure you, that so and so is better read
and better off than I am. We each have our own position.’
‘That’s fantastic! I can hardly believe it!’
‘It’s true all the same.’
‘That fires my resolve to be on close terms with him.’ ‘Well then,
you’ve only to make the wish. With your sterling qualities
you’ll take him by storm. He’s the sort that is open to conquest – and that’s why
he makes the outer approaches difficult.’
‘I shan’t be found wanting.
I’ll bribe his servants; and if today they shut me out,
I’ll persevere, bide my time, meet him in the street,
escort him home. “Not without unremitting toil
60 are mortal prizes won.”’
In the middle of this performance
who should appear but my friend Aristius Fuscus, who knew him
all too well. We stopped. ‘Hello,’ he said, ‘where are you off to?’
I told him and he did the same. I began tugging at his sleeve,
squeezing his arm (which was quite nerveless), nodding my head,
and glancing sideways ‘Get me out of here!’ But he chose this moment to be funny,
and smilingly turned a blind eye. My temper flared:
‘I’m sure you said there was something private you wanted to discuss.’
‘Ah yes, I remember. But I’ll tell you another time –
when it’s more convenient. Today is the thirtieth – the Sabbath, you know.
70 Do you want to affront the circumcised Jews?’
‘I have no religious
objections.’
‘But I have. I’m a somewhat weaker brother –
one of the multitude. Sorry. I’ll tell you again.’
To think
I should ever have seen so black a day! The wretch ran off
and left me with the knife at my throat. Suddenly the fellow’s opponent
ran into him. ‘Where are you off to, you crook?’ he roared. And to me:
‘Will you act as a witness?’ I allowed him to touch my ear.
He hustled him off to court. There were shouts all round, and people
came running from every side. Thus did Apollo save me.
SATIRE 10
The admirers of Lucilius must have shown their annoyance at what Horace had said in I. 4 about the older poet’s stylistic shortcomings. As a result Horace now amplifies and, where necessary, modifies his earlier statement. In doing so he provides the fullest account of his own, classical, theory of satire.
True, I did say that Lucilius’ verses lurched
awkwardly along. Which of his admirers is so perverse
as not to admit it? But he is also praised on the same page
for scouring the city with caustic wit. While granting him this,
however, I cannot allow the rest as well, for then
I should have to admire Laberius’ mimes for their poetic beauty.
So it’s not enough to make your listener bare his teeth
in a grin – though I grant there’s some virtue even in that.
You need terseness, to let the thought run freely on
10 without becoming entangled in a mass of words that will hang
heavy on the ear. You need a style which is sometimes severe,
sometimes gay, now suiting the role of an orator or poet
now that of a clever talker who keeps his strength in reserve
and carefully rations it out. Humour is often stronger
and more effective than sharpness in cutting knotty issues.
Humour was the mainstay of those who wrote the Old Comedy;
that’s the respect in which they ought to be followed – men
who have never been read by the pretty Hermogenes or by that ape
whose only artistic achievement is to croon Calvus and Catullus.
20 ‘It was a great feat, however, to blend Latin with Greek!’
You’ve just caught up with yesterday’s fashion! Do you really think
there is something marvellous and difficult in what Pitholeon of Rhodes
achieved?
‘But we get a more pleasant style when one of the tongues
is mixed with the other, as when we blend Falernian with Chian.’
Is it just when you are writing verses (I’m asking you yourself)
or does the same apply when you have to plead an awkward
case in defence of Petillius? No doubt while Pedius Publicola
and Corvinus sweat out their cases, you would rather forget
your fatherland and father Latinus and interlard
30 your fathers’ speech with foreign importations, like a hybrid Canusian.
I myself once tried to compose a piece in Greek,
in spite of being born this side of the water; but after midnight,
when dreams are true, Quirinus appeared and stopped me. He said:
‘For you to aspire to swell the mighty ranks of the Greeks
is just as silly as carrying a load of wood to the forest.’
So while the turgid Alpman murders Memnon and plasters
the head of the Rhine with mud, I write these entertainments
which will never ring out in the hall where Tarpa judges contestants
nor be revived again and again for a theatre audience.
40 In constructing chatty comedies where Davus and a crafty mistress
outwit old Chremes, you, Fundanius, delight us more
than anyone living. Pollio praises the deeds of kings
with triple beat. Varius marshals heroic epic
with a fiery spirit no one can match. To Virgil the Muses
who love the country have given a light and charming touch.
This form had been tried by Varro of Atax and others