The Satires of Horace and Persius

by Horace

  EPISTLE 7

  A crucial point in the relationship of poet to patron.

  A week – that is how long I promised to stay in the country.

  And I’m gone the whole of August. Most reprehensible. Yet

  I know you want me to remain healthy and fit, Maecenas.

  You show patience when I’m ill; so please do the same when I’m trying

  to avoid being ill, when the heat that ripens the early figs

  brings the undertaker out, complete with his black attendants,

  when fathers and doting mothers are pale with fear for their children,

  when conscientious deference and the footling concerns of the Forum

  bring on bouts of malaria and break the seals of wills.

  10 But as soon as the winter covers the Alban fields with snow,

  your lyric poet will go down to the seaside and take it easy,

  curled up with a book. If you, my friend, will let him,

  he will come and see you along with the zephyr and the first swallow.

  You’ve made me a precious gift – not like the man from Calabria

  who offered pears to his guest: ‘Go on, help yourself.’

  ‘I’ve had plenty.’

  ‘Well take away as many as you like.’

  ‘Thanks all the same.’

  ‘They’ll make lovely gifts for the children.’

  ‘Really, I’m as grateful as if I’d taken all I could carry.’

  ‘Suit yourself. If you leave them, the pigs will have them for dinner!’

  It’s silly to fling around what you don’t like or value.

  20 Such sowing has never produced any thanks, and never will.

  The good, sensible man is always ready to help

  deserving cases, but he still can tell a coin from a counter.

  I for my part will show I deserve such a splendid patron.

  But if you want me never to leave, you’ll have to restore

  the strong lungs and the black hair thick on my forehead,

  the charm of words, the well-mannered laughter, and the sad laments

  uttered, with glass in hand, when naughty Cinara left me.

  Once a slim little fox crept through a narrow opening

  30 into a bin of corn; after filling its belly

  with food, it tried again and again to escape, but couldn’t.

  A weasel close at hand remarked: ‘If you want to get out of there,

  try that chink again when you’re thin; you were thin when you entered.’

  If the fable is levelled at me, I hand everything back.

  I don’t sigh for ‘penniless slumbers’ when full of chicken,

  nor would I change my leisure and freedom for the wealth of Arabia.

  You have often praised my modesty; I’ve called you ‘Father’ and ‘Sir’

  in your hearing; nor do I use less generous terms in your absence.

  If you try me, you’ll find I can cheerfully hand your presents back.

  40 Remember the words of Telemachus, child of enduring Ulysses:

  ‘Ithaca’s not very good for horses; it doesn’t possess

  broad, level tracks, or pastures of lush grass.

  So I’ll leave your gifts, son of Atreus; they’re better suited to you.’

  Small things for the small. It isn’t royal Rome

  that attracts me now, but quiet Tibur or peaceful Tarentum.

  The distinguished lawyer Philippus, a dynamic, hard-working man,

  was returning home from his business at two in the afternoon.

  Being no longer young, he was grumbling that the Carínae

  were now too far from the Forum, when they say he noticed a man,

  50 freshly shaven, sitting in a barber’s empty booth,

  penknife in hand, quietly cleaning his own nails.

  ‘Demetrius,’ (this was Philippus’ lively messenger boy)

  ‘go and find out who that man is, where he lives,

  how well off he is, and who’s his father or patron.’

  He goes, and returns with the answer: ‘His name’s Volteius Mena;

  he’s an auctioneer in a small way – quite respectable;

  they say he knows when to work and rest, make and spend;

  his home is his own; none of his friends are big people;

  he enjoys the games, and he goes to the Park when work is finished.’

  60 ‘I’d like to hear all this from his own lips. So tell him

  to come to dinner.’ Mena really couldn’t believe it,

  and scratched his head in silence. In the end he answered ‘No thanks.’

  ‘Refuse me, will he?’

  ‘Yes. The cheeky devil! He’s either

  insulting you or has something to hide.’ Next morning Philippus

  went up to Volteius who was selling some cheap bits and pieces

  to folk in their working clothes. ‘Good morning,’ he opened. At once

  Volteius began to apologize for not having called sooner;

  he had been tied up by his work and business; he was also sorry

  for not seeing Philippus first. ‘Let’s say I’ll forget it,

  70 Provided you join me for dinner today.’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘Very well then,

  come about four. In the meantime, carry on coining money!’

  At dinner he spoke about all and sundry, regardless of tact,

  till at last he was allowed to go home to bed. Thereafter he often

  hurried like a fish to the hidden hook. When he’d become

  a morning client and a regular guest, Philippus asked him,

  when the Latin holidays came, to go out to his place in the country.

  As he rode in the carriage, Volteius praised the Sabine soil

  and air again and again; Philippus watched and smiled.

  Looking for light relief and amusement from any quarter,

  80 he offered him seven thousand and guaranteed a loan

  of as much again, urging him to buy a small farm.

  He bought it. (I mustn’t keep you too long with a rambling story.)

  He changed from a dapper type to a peasant; talked about nothing

  but furrows and vineyards; prepared his elms; nearly collapsed

  from his strenuous efforts; and wore himself out in his passion for gain.

  But after his sheep were stolen, and his goats died of disease,

  and his crops let him down, and his ox was worked to death at the plough,

  he was driven to despair by his losses. And so, in the middle of the night,

  he grabbed a horse and rode to Philippus’ house in a rage.

  90 As soon as Philippus saw his rough and shaggy appearance,

  ‘Volteius!’ he cried, ‘you look like a man that’s overworked

  and over-anxious!’

  ‘God help me, sir,’ Volteius answered,

  ‘you’d call me a wretch if you wanted to use the proper word.

  I beg and implore you by your guardian spirit and your own right hand

  and the gods of your hearth, let me return to my old life!’

  When a person sees how his former condition surpasses the one

  he is in, he should hurry back, and resume the things he abandoned.

  Every man should measure himself by his own foot-rule.

  EPISTLE 8

  Horace’s self-criticisms prepare the way for a gentle warning.

  Please convey, O Muse, to Celsus Albinovánus,

  member of Nero’s court and staff, my warmest greetings.

  If he asks how I am, tell him that in spite of good resolutions

  my life is neither right nor pleasant; not because hail

  has beaten down my vines, or heat has blighted my olives,

  nor because herds of mine are sick on a distant pasture,

  but because, although I’m physically fit, I’m spiritually ill.

  And yet I don’t want to hear or know abou
t possible treatment.

  I’m rude to the doctors who wish me well, and can’t think why

  10 my friends are fussing to rid me of this accursed depression.

  I go for things that are bad for me, and avoid what I think would help.

  In Rome, I long for Tibur; at Tibur I veer to Rome.

  Then ask how he is, how he’s handling his job and himself,

  how he’s getting along with the young prince and his staff.

  If he answers ‘Well’, say ‘Congratulations!’ and then by and by

  be sure to drop this advice in his ear: ‘Your response

  to success, dear Celsus, will govern our response to you.’

  EPISTLE 9

  The poet of modest origins is diffident about recommending a young man to Augustus’ step-son.

  It seems, dear Claudius, that only Septimius knows how much

  you think of me. For, when he asks and insists, if you please,

  that I should try to commend and present him to you as one

  who deserves the approval and society of a prince known for discernment

  (believing that I’m on closer terms than I really am),

  he sees and knows my own capabilities better than I do!

  I gave him many reasons why I should be excused;

  but I feared I might be thought to have understated my credit,

  concealing my influence, keeping favours just for myself.

  And so, to avoid being found guilty of a worse offence,

  I decided to see what might be obtained by suave effrontery.

  10 So if you’ll forgive the liberty I’ve taken at a friend’s request,

  do admit him to your group – you’ll find him staunch and good.

  EPISTLE 10

  A simple country life is closer to nature than urban sophistication.

  All good wishes to Fuscus, a man fond of the city,

  from one who is fond of the country. In this respect, to be sure,

  we are very different, but in all else we are almost twins

  with hearts like brothers’. When one says ‘no’, so does the other;

  we nod together in agreement like old familiar doves.

  You stay in the nest; I prefer the streams

  and mossy rocks and the woods of the lovely country around us.

  In fact I begin to live and enter my kingdom on leaving

  the scene which you folk praise to the skies in glowing terms.

  10 I’m like the priest’s runaway slave: I abominate cakes.

  Bread’s what I need now rather than muffins and honey.

  If we are all supposed to live in accordance with nature,

  and we have to start by choosing a site to build a house on,

  can you think of any place to beat the glorious country?

  Where are the winters milder? Where will you find a more welcome

  breeze to soothe the Dog-star’s frenzy and the leaps of the Lion,

  when the sharp rays of the sun have struck him and driven him mad?

  Where is one’s sleep less apt to be broken by nagging worries?

  Is grass duller in scent or sheen than Libyan chippings?

  20 Is the water which strains to burst the pipes in city streets

  purer than that which babbles down its hurrying course?

  Why trees are coaxed to grow between your coloured pillars,

  and a house with a view of distant fields is always envied!

  Expel nature with a fork; she’ll keep on trotting back.

  Relax – and she’ll break triumphantly through your silly refinements.

  The man who lacks the skill to distinguish Sidonian purple

  from wool steeped in the dye of Aquinum will not incur

  a surer loss or one that slices nearer the bone

  than the fellow who proves unable to tell false from true.

  30 Those who are overjoyed when the breeze of luck is behind them

  are wrecked when it changes. If you once become attached to a thing,

  you’ll hate to part with it. Avoid what’s big. In a humble house

  you can beat kings and the friends of kings in the race of life.

  The stag, being stronger than the horse, drove him away from the pasture

  they shared, until, having had the worse of the age-old struggle,

  the horse turned for help to man, and accepted the bit.

  But after routing his enemy and leaving the field in triumph

  he never dislodged the rider from his back or the bit from his mouth.

  So the man who, in fear of poverty, forgoes his independence

  40 (a thing more precious than metals) has the shame of carrying a master;

  he’s a slave for life, as he will not make the best of a little.

  A man’s means, when they don’t fit him, are rather like shoes –

  he’s tripped by a size too large, pinched by a size too small.

  If you are happy with the deal you’ve received, you’ll live wisely,

  Aristius; and I trust you won’t let me off unpunished

  when I seem to be making more than I need and never relaxing.

  The money a person amasses can give, or take, orders.

  Its proper place is the end of the tow-rope, not the front.

  I’m writing this letter behind Vacuna’s crumbling temple,

  50 perfectly happy – except for the fact that you aren’t with me.

  EPISTLE 11

  A balanced mind has no need of foreign travel.

  Bullatius, what did you think of the famous Chios and Lesbos,

  elegant Samos, and Sardis, Croesus’ royal seat?

  What of Smyrna and Cólophon? Are they greater or less than reported?

  Did they all seem dull beside the Park and Tiber’s stream?

  Perhaps you have set your heart on one of Attalus’ cities?

  Or is it Lébedus you fancy, sick of the sea and roadways?

  (You know what Lébedus is – even more of a ghost-town

  than Gabii or Fidénae! I’d still be happy to live there –

  to forget about all my friends, and be forgotten by them,

  10 sitting on the shore and looking out at the fury of Neptune.)

  But a traveller from Capua to Rome, who’s been soaked with rain and mud,

  wouldn’t be keen to live the rest of his days at an inn;

  the man who is frozen stiff doesn’t pretend that a furnace

  and bath supply in full the needs of a happy life.

  Neither would you, having weathered a gale on the high seas,

  promptly sell your ship on the far side of the Aegean.

  To a healthy man Mytiléne and Rhodes, for all their charm,

  are as welcome as a heavy coat in summer, shorts in a blizzard,

  a winter plunge in the Tiber, or a stove in the middle of August.

  20 At Rome, while you have the chance, and Lady Luck is smiling

  benignly, admire Samos, Chios, and Rhodes – from a distance.

  Whatever lucky hour heaven has offered you, take it

  gratefully; don’t postpone your blessings to another year.

  Then, wherever you’ve been, you can claim to have lived a happy

  life. If it’s true that worry is banished by reason and wisdom,

  not by a place which commands a wide expanse of sea,

  emigrants only change their scenery, not their outlook.

  We are worn out by the strain of doing nothing; we search for

  the good life with yachts and cars. The thing you’re searching for

  30 is here – or at Úlubrae, if you preserve a balanced mind.

  EPISTLE 12

  More reflections on money.

  The produce you are collecting from Agrippa’s Sicilian estates

  constitutes, dear Iccius, provided you use it properly,

  the greatest wealth that heaven can give you. No more complaining!

  The man who enjoys the use of comm
odities isn’t poor.

  If stomach, chest and feet are in good condition, then kings

  with all their wealth can add nothing of greater value.

  Suppose you’re the sort that rejects things that are easy to get,

  living on greens and nettles, you’d continue to live like that

  even if Fortune’s stream suddenly drenched you with gold,

  10 either because one’s character cannot be changed by money,

  or because you hold that goodness is all that matters.

  We recall with surprise how Democritus’ herds were allowed to eat

  his fields and crops while his mind sped abroad, released from his body.

  But you, while the furious itch for profit spreads around you,

  have no mean thoughts, but keep your mind on higher things:

  why does the sea not rise? What controls the year?

  Do the stars wander and roam at will or according to law?

  What obscures the circle of the moon, and what reveals it?

  What is the meaning and effect of nature’s jarring concord?

  20 Is it Empedocles or shrewd Stertinius that’s talking nonsense?

  But whether you’re murdering fish, or only leeks and onions,

  welcome Pompeius Grosphus, and be sure to give him whatever

  he wants; he’ll ask for nothing unless it’s right and fair.

  When decent men need help, their friendship costs very little.

  In case you’re wondering about the state of Rome’s affairs,

  Cantabria has fallen to the gallant spirit of Agrippa; Armenia

  to that of Claudius Nero; Phraates on bended knee

  has accepted Caesar’s imperial rule; golden Plenty

  has poured on Italy the fruits of the earth from her brimming horn.

  EPISTLE 13

  Horace uses the ‘asinine’ Vinnius to convey his Odes to Augustus.

  As I told you, Vinnius, at length and often, when you were leaving,

  be sure to deliver the rolls to Augustus with seal intact,

  if he’s well and in good form, and if he requests them.

  Don’t blunder out of zeal for me, and by doing your duty

  with excessive ardour make my little volumes unwelcome.

  If you find the pages heavy and abrasive, throw them away;

  but don’t, on reaching the right address, go crashing in

  with your load like a wild thing, turning the fine old family name

  of Ass into a joke, and becoming a subject of gossip.