absolutely debasing the minds of individuals; nor did manners exhibit that depravity, which they acquired afterwards in the reigns of Tiberius, Caligula, and Nero. The cruel, but politic, Augustus strewed with flowers the path he was silently opening to despotism; and the fine aris of Greece, transplanted round his capital, flourished under his auspices. The recollection of civil discords had rendered the restorer of peace an object of aloration; the citizens of Rome were happy, that they could awake each day, without the apprehension of seeing their names included in a proscription: and the Romans, in a state of pupilage, and, shadowed by the laurels of their ancestors, forgot, in the amphitheatre and circus, those civil rights for which their fathers had shown such jealousy during almost eight centuries. Tyranny had never so seducing a commencement. The illu sion was general: or if any one questioned the great nephew of Cæsar, concerning the tenure of his power, a single glance of the emperor reduced him to silence.

Horace, who excelled as much as a courtier, as he was deficient as a soldier, and who was guided perhaps by a sense of interest, and a consciousness of incapacity to fulfil the duties of a genuine republican, in any way that could have distinguished him; was soon sensible, how far a refinement of intellect, a grace ful style, and a cultivated understanding, till then unknown among an ignorant and turbulent people, were capable, with very little effort, of advancing him. Politeness of mauners, the splendour of an imperial court, and above all, the security enjoyed during a long and peaceful reign, could not fail to please one, whose sole morality consisted in a calculation of his pleasures; and whose writings may be considered as one continued treatise on the art of enjoying the present, without regard to the evils which threaten posteiny. Indifferent to the future, and casily forgetting the past, his only object was to remove every thing which could create melancholy, and disturb the charms of a life, which he had ingeniously reduced to a system. What indeed could be his motives for a dillerent con Auct? Esteemed by the emperor, the friend of Virgil, caressed by the great, and a partaker in all their pleasures, he could not affect the austerity, or regret the rigid customs, of former times. Such sentiments would have ill corresponded

with the views of Augustus and Mecenas, who had declared themselves his protectors. It is said, indeed, that Augustus had intimated a wish to abdicate, from which the other had prudently dissuaded him; for what success could the artificial character of the one, deprived of millions to execute his orders, or the useless urbanity of the other, have obtained among a people restored to their freedom? Such a design, perhaps never seriously entertained, was soon abandoned; and henceforth it was no longer permitted to speak, but in the language and posture of

a slave.

Horace, convinced that future ages, enchanted with his poetry, would give a passport to his name, saw that he could, with impunity, flatter, and become the accomplice of one, whose power no other could resist. Hence, the encomiums he so freely distributed, had a reference only to the circumstances of the moment, which he could turn to his advantage, and to persons whose patronage he was anxious to obtain. The names of many great characters who were his contemporaries, are not to be found in his writings. That of Ovid, who was in disgrace; that of Cicero," whom Rome, during her freedom, had dignified with the first of all titles-the father of his country," are alike omitted. But he never forgets to celebrate the favourites of fortune.. These had nothing to fear from his muse; gay, rather than severe, it indulged itself only at the expense of the lower classes, on whom neither his reputation nor his pleasures depended. No one understood better than himself the force of panegyric, how to apply it with address, or what were the arts most necessary to gain the favour of the great. With a character thus apparently so little entitled to our esteem, and a species of writing at first sight adapted only to please the bland and pliant courtier, how comes it that the works of Horace are perused with delight, by men even of the soundest understanding? Because, as we advanced in a former paper, to these agreeable talents the client of Mecanas united many solid and eminent qualities. Not less a philosopher than a poet, it was with equal ease that he dictated principles of conduct, and laid down the rules of taste. Disposed rather to give way than to contend; attaching little importance to his own hypotheses, and adhering to his principles, so far only as they favoured his Epicurean inclinations; this

وقد

lax, but amiable poet, could reckon among his friends and admirers, even those whose opinions or conduct he had not scrupled to criticise.

Let us now consider the rival satirist, who commenced his career where the other had finished; performing for morals and for freedom, what Horace had effected for decency and good taste. Horace had learnt to bear the yoke of a master, and had not blushed to deify tyranny and usurpation: while Juvenal never ceased to exclaim against both, and to recal to the Romaus the glorious ages of their independance.

The poet of Aquinum had force and passion in his character. His object was more praise-worthy than that of Horace. He wished to spread consternation among the vicious, and exterminate corruption, which had become almost natural to the Romans. Bold, but useless enterprize! He wrote at a detestable period, when the laws of nature were violated with impunity; when all patriotism was extinct in the hearts of his countrymen. Such an age, brutified by servitude, by luxury, and all its accompanying crimes, required an executioner, rather than a censor. This was a time, when the common ties of all being broken, all was crumbling to ruin." The Roman character had become so degraded, that no one dared to speak of Liberty. Individuals were sensible only of their own misfortunes; and these they endeavoured to avoid by accusing others. Parents, friends, "even what was inanimate," became the objects of suspicion. The most endearing ties were disregarded, if the most distant idea of personal danger required they should be broken. It was impossible to lament those who were proscribed, for even tears were punished. In a word, excepting some few moments of respite, the history of that execrable period is marked by the blackest catalogue of human crimes, written in cha racters of blood; and presenting only a disgusting series of murders effected by the bow-string, poison, or assassination.

This, then, was the time when Juvenal, despising the feeble weapon of ridicule, so familiar to his predecessor, himself seized the dagger of satire, and run ning from the palace to the tavern, struck, without distinction, all who deviated from the paths of virtue. It was no longer, as with Horace, a supple poet, armed with philosophical indifference, who amused himself with the follies of the day, and whose style, easy and fami

liar, flowed at the will of a voluptuous instinct. It was an incorruptible Censor, a Roman with the tone of the ancient Fabii, Manlii, and Reguli; it was an inflamed poet, who sometimes rose, with his subject, to the sublime pitch of tragedy. Austere and uniform in his principles, every thing he uttered had a character of gravity and importance. His ridicule was more severe than his censure; his laugh still more terrible than his anger. It was the laugh of Cassius, as described by our immortal Bard. He could speak of nothing but vice and virtue, slavery and liberty, folly and wisdom. On these subjects, he declaimed with animation, severity, and dignity. It may be said of him in his own words, "that he staked his life on what was true"-vitam impendere vero-having the courage to sacritice all equivocal deco rums to it, and all those political considerations, which are of so much moment with those, whose morality consists in exteriors.

Upon this point, however, let it not be considered, that we are even attempting to defend him; on the contrary, we think he deserves the reproaches which every age has cast upon him, not only for proclaiming the dishonour of so many great names, but for giving an alarm to modesty which cannot be justified. It is true, that Horace, whose retinement has been perhaps too much extolled, was still more licentious, and has found unhappily the means of making vice amiable; and by revealing horrors, at which reason shudders, and which nature abhors, has shown, that he designed, like Juvenal, to mark the degree to which man might debase himself, when left to the guidance of appetite and effeminacy.

With the exception of this defect, which belonged to the age, rather than to the author, there is little to censure in Juvenal. The spirit that dictated his writings, breathes only the public good. If he reproves what is ridiculous, it is only because it is connected with, or leads on to, vice. When he drags to the altar of unfamy those whom he wishes to expose, his victims are so truly odious and deformed, that we can neither pity them, nor blame him. He is accused of being too sparing in his praises: but who that knows the human heart, and wishes neither to deceive others nor himself, can possibly be lavish of these? He has praised but little; the misery of the times dispensed him from it. All that he could do, was to compassionate a few

that

that were secretly virtuous, but who were borne away by the torrent. He was too generous to flatter tyrants, too high-spirited to solicit the suffrages of their ministers or slaves. Panegyrics are generally given in the expectation of some return; and this was a traffic he despised. His love for mankind was too sincere to permit him to flatter them; he was indignant at every attempt to injure their faine or their virtue; and to this noble principle we owe the finest and most considerable part of his work; I mean, that which is the most sententious, and the most generally useful in every age and in every country. After combating what was acknowledged to be vice, he saw that he must ascend higher to reach the source of evil, and dissipate the illusion of false virtues; for as it is observed by an old French writer, “it is as necessary to strip the mask from things, as from persons." Hence proceeded his satires, or rather those fine declamations against the prejudices of mankind, which, unfortunately, are always more powerful than reason itself.

It is easy however to perceive the cause that has produced more partizans to Horace, than to Juvenal. It is a well-known truth that virtue without alloy has no currency; and that those who profess it in all its purity, have always had more adversaries than disciples. If the rich, who are almost always insatiable, were to attempt to increase their wealth without regard to character or humanity; if money, instead of circulating through all the members of the state, and carrying life along with it, only served to foment the insolent luxury of those who possessed it; the orator, who should plead the cause of superfluity, would soon triumph with these imitators of Croesus, over the orator, who should plead the cause of the mere necessary; and the latter find none to listen to him but the unfortunate. The great talent of a writer, among nations which begin to decline in manners and public virtue, is not so much to speak the truth, as what shall be grateful to those in power. Ambitious and sensual men, and those who fluctuate in principle according to the prevailing fashions, are but too much interested to prefer to the cutting censures of Juvenal, the softness and urbanity of a more indulgent poet; who, not content with embellishing the object of their taste, and with palliating their caprice, proceeds to the length of authorising their foibles by his own example. "I pursue," says Horace, "what

1

"

injures me, and I fly from what I'know' would benefit me.' He also confesses that he had not power to resist the temptations of the moment, and that he suited his principles to the different circumstances in which he was engaged. We may hear him, by turns, exalting bis moderation of mind, and his active pursuit of honours; sometimes expatiating on the pliancy of Aristippus, and sometimes on the inflexibility of Cato; and, as if the heart could at once suffer the most contrary affections, approving in the same work, the modesty that courts retreat, and the vanity that pants to display. itself in public. If it be true that the human race declines and grows depraved in proportion as it becomes polished, the majority, at the present day, will prefer the writer who amuses the mind and flatters indolence of disposition, without appearing to derogate from the essential qualities which constitute the man of worth.

It is principally from these causes that Horace never can cease, from age to age, to be the friend and confident of a pos terity, which by new arts, and consequently by new wants, will be led farther and farther from the simplicity of nature. But the freeman, if the character still exist, he who is thoroughly convinced that true happiness resides only in our selves; and that, except the relations of duty, benevolence, humanity, and religion, all others are either chimerical or pernicious; he, who has fixed his principles, and knows only of one thing, which is good, and one thing to be avoided, which is evil; and who is ready to meet death and reproach, rather than betray his conscience, the testimony of which alone is sufficient to content him; such a man will certainly, without hesitation, prefer the rigour of an invariable morality, to all the palliatives of a complaisant author. Juvenal then would be the first of satirists, if liberty were the first object of man; but, as he himself has told us: virtus laudatur et alget.

To conclude: Horace wrote like an adroit courtier; and Juvenal like a zealous citizen: and while the one leaves nothing to be wished for by a refined and voluptuous character, the other gives the fullest satisfaction to a strict and manly mind.

which, as times are, and are likely to be, it is impossible for their industry to supply:-the want of education, the want of habitations, and the want of firing.

Food and clothing, while an industrious labourer in husbandry or manufactures is in health, he can generally supply for himself and his family.

The Bill of Mr. Whitbread, though it seemed to me to want many improvements and corrections, in order to make it practicable throughout England, under the present state of the public burthens, had an excellent object: that of providing the means of education, so as to place its first necessary clements within the reach of all. The successful progress of the plan of Mr. Lancaster has most wonderfully reduced the expense and time requisite for this purpose; and has made the education of all its inhabitants, in reading, writing, and common arithmetic, practicable in every city and even middle-sized town.

The' want of habitations is in many places a very great evil to the health, comforts, industry, and morals of the poor. The present laws are ineffectual to the relief of this evil. When the Bill of Mr. Whitbread was depending, I wrote to him, and proposed a plan for enabling the parish-officers to hire, or build, or purchase, houses solely for the occupation of the poor inhabitants, (not work-houses, or poor-houses,) and to make a special rate, on a principle distinct from the common rate, for that purpose; with power to justices to enforce the building of such houses where ne cessary: with power also of letting, where cottagers should be able and willing to pay. At present, a justice cannot order habitations to be found, nor the overseers make a rate for that purpose. With regard to fuel, an act has been passed during this reign, to encourage the raising of it, by enabling the inhabitants to consent to enclose a certain portion of waste land, and to vest it in the lord of the manor and the parish. officers, for the purpose of raising underwood for fuel, to be distributed among the poor. I endeavoured to carry that act into effect soon after it passed, both at Stanton and Troston; but the other owners were discouraged by the length of time, before much could be raised by it, (sixteen or twenty years,) the expense and difficulty of protecting it while young, and even afterward. I know not whether that act has any where been adopted in practice; I was obliged thereMONTHLY MAG. No. 196,

fore to adopt the example of Mr. Parry, and to obtain a clause, both in the Stanton and Troston Bills of Enclosure. And now, in both parishes, and in Warrington, and in some others, the poor have been, and will continue to be, supplied with coals out of the rent of lands, which, previously to the enclosure, were hardly of any value.

This benefit has been diminished, by what is considered as an exceeding misconstruction of the Property Act, by taxing the trus tees of such lands, wholly applied to the use of the poor, with the ten per cent. besides what is of course paid by the tenants, who have a considerable beneficial interest, for which they are indisputably taxable. And although the reason of the thing, the express terms of the Act, and a highly respectable legal authority, are all against the tax, such is the constitution of the Board of Appeal, in London, that hitherto no redress has been ob tained. Your's, &c. CAPEL LOFFT,

Troston-hall, Dec. 31, 1809.

For the Monthly Magazine. OBSERVATIONS on certain MUSICAL TERMS, used by the ANCIENT GREEKS; in a

I

LETTER to a FRIEND.

recollect

your mentioning, some years ago, the impropriety of the term interval, as it is used in music. I perfectly agree with you in opinion. I told you at the time you raised the objection, I supposed the ancients took their idea from the distance between the strings on the lyre, and the holes on the flute. You well know, that the word interval is used to denote the difference of pitch between two sounds. And that this difference of pitch is occasioned by the difference of the vibrations of the two sounds. I will now refer to some passages of Greek writers, to be found in Dr. Smith's Harmonics.

Ptolemy says, Αρμενική μέν ἐπὶ δύναμις καταληπτικὴ τῶν ἐντοις ψόφοις, περὶ τὸ ὀξὺ και Ban, diapepāv. "Harmonics is a power of apprehending the differences of sounds, with respect to gravity and acuteness." Would it not be more philosophical to say, with respect to the pitch of each sound?

"As the ideas of acute and high, grave and low, have in nature no necessary connection, it has happened accordingly," as Dr. Gregory has observed in the preface to his edition of Euclid's Works, "that the more ancient of the Greek writers looked upon grave sounds as high, and

acute