all, and big with death." Luxury and a long train of vices which followed the immense wealth incessantly poured in from the conquered provinces, sapped the foundations of the republick, which were finally shaken to pieces by the civil wars, the perpetual dictatorship of Cæsar, and the second triumvirate, which threw the Roman world, without a hope of escape, into the power of an individual. Augustus, whose sword was yet reeking with the best blood of the state, now that submission left him no pretence for further cruelty, was desirous of enjoying in tranquillity the fruits of his guilt. He displayed, therefore, a magnificence hitherto unknown; and his example, which was followed by his ministers, quickly spread among the people, who were not very unwilling to exchange the agitation and terrour of successive proscriptions, for the security and quiet of undisputed despotism. Tiberius had other views, and other methods of accomplishing them. He did not indeed put an actual stop to the elegant institutions of his predecessor, but he surveyed them with silent contempt, and they rapidly degenerated. The race of informers multiplied with dreadful celerity; and danger, which could only be averted by complying with a caprice not always easy to discover, created an abject disposition, fitted for the reception of the grossest vices, and eminently favourable to the designs of the Emperour; which were to procure, by universal depravation, that submission which Augustus sought to obtain by the blandishments of luxury, and the arts. From this gloomy and suspicious tyrant, the empire was transferred to a profligate madman. It can scarcely be told without indignation, that when the sword of Chærea had freed the earth from his disgraceful sway, the senate had not sufficient virtue to resume the rights of which they had been deprived; but, after a timid debate, delivered up the state to a pedantick dotard, incapable of governing himself. To the vices of his predecessors, Nero added a frivolity which rendered his reign at once odious and contemptible. Depravity could reach no further, but misery might yet be extended. This was fully experienced through the turbulent and murderous usurpations of Galba, Otho, and Vitellius; when the accession of Vespasian and Titus gave the groaning world a temporary respite. To these succeeded Domitian, whose crimes form the subject of many a melancholy page in the ensuing work, and need not therefore be dwelt on here. Under him, every trace of ancient manners was obliterated; liberty was unknown, law openly trampled upon, and, while the national rites were either neglected or contemned, a base and blind superstition took possession of the enfeebled and distempered mind. Better times followed. Nerva, and Trajan, and Hadrian, and the Antonines, restored the Romans to safety and tranquillity; but they could do no more: liberty and virtue were gone for ever: and after a short period of comparative happiness, which they scarcely appear to have deserved, and which brought with it no amelioration of mind, no return of the ancient modesty and frugality, they were finally resigned to destruction. I now proceed to the "comparative view" of which I have already spoken; as the subject has been so often treated, little of novelty can be expected from it: to read, compare, and judge, is almost all that remains. HORACE, who was gay, and lively, and gentle, and affectionate, seems fitted for the period in which he wrote. He had seen the worst times of the republick, and might therefore, with no great suspicion of his integrity, be allowed to acquiesce in the infant monarchy, which brought with it stability, peace, and pleasure. How he reconciled himself to his political tergiversation it is useless to inquire.* What was so general, we may suppose, brought with it but little obloquy; and it should be remembered, to his praise, that he took no active part in the government he had once opposed: If he celebrates the master of the world, it is not until he is asked by him whether he is ashamed that posterity should know them to be friends; and he declines a post, which few of his detractors have merit to deserve, or virtue to refuse. His choice of privacy, however, was in some measure constitutional; for he had an easiness of temper which bordered on indolence; hence he * I doubt whether he was ever a good royalist at heart; he frequently, perhaps unconsciously, betrays a lurking dissatisfaction; but having, as Johnson says of a much greater man, tasted the honey of favour, he did not choose to return to hunger and philosophy. Indeed, he was not happy; in the country he sighs for the town, in town for the country; and he is always restless, and straining after something which he never obtains. To float, like Aristippus, with the stream, is a bad recipe for felicity; there should be some fixed principle, by which the passions and desires may be regulated. He is careful to disclaim all participation in publick affairs. He accompanies Mæcenas in his carriage, but their chat, he wishes it to be believed, is on the common topicks of the day, the weather, amusements, &c. Though this may not be strictly true, it is yet probable that politicks furnished but a small part of their conversation. That both Augustus and his minister were warmly attached to him, cannot be denied, but then it was as to a plaything. In a word, Horace seems to have been the enfant gaté of the palace, and was viewed, I believe, with more tenderness than respect. never rises to the dignity of a decided character. Zeno and Epicurus share his homage, and undergo his ridicule by turns: he passes without difficulty from one school to another, and he thinks it a sufficient excuse for his versatility, that he continues, amidst every change, the zealous defender of virtue. Virtue, however, abstractedly considered, has few obligations to his zeal. But though, as an ethical writer, Horace has not many claims to the esteem of posterity; as a critick, he is entitled to all our veneration. Such is the soundness of his judgment, the correctness of his taste, and the extent and variety of his knowledge, that a body of criticism might be selected from his works, more perfect in its kind than any thing which antiquity has bequeathed us. As he had little warmth of temper, he reproves his contemporaries without harshness. He is content to "dwell in decencies," and, like Pope's courtly dean, never mentions hell to ears polite. Persius, who was infinitely better acquainted with him than we can pretend to be, describes him, I think, with great happiness: "Omne vafer vitium ridenti Flaccus amico "He, with a sly insinuating grace, These beautiful lines have a defect under which Dryden's translations frequently labour; they do not give the true sense of the original. Horace "raised no blush," (at least Persius does not insinuate any such thing,) and certainly made no : desperate passes. "His aim rather seems to be, to keep the objects of his satire in good humour with himself, and with one another. To raise a laugh at vice, however, (supposing it feasible,) is not the legitimate office of Satire, which is to hold up the vicious, as objects of reprobation and scorn, for the example of others, who may be deterred by their sufferings. But it is time to be explicit. To laugh even at fools is superfluous; -if they understand you, they will join in the merriment; but more commonly, they will sit with vacant unconcern, and gaze at their own pictures: to laugh at the vicious, is to encourage them; for there is in such men a wilfulness of disposition, which prompts them to bear up against shame, and to show how little they regard slight reproof, by becoming more audacious in guilt. Goodness, of which the characteristick is modesty, may, I fear, be shamed; but vice, like folly, to be restrained, must be overawed. Labeo, says Hall, with great energy: "Labeo is whipt, and laughs me in the face; PERSIUS, who borrowed so much of Horace's language, has little of his manner. The immediate object of his imitation seems to be Lucilius; and if he lashes vice with less severity than his great • Mr. Drummond has given this passage with equal elegance, and truth: "With greater art sly Horace gain'd his end, |