Museum of Antiquity Part 51

PUNISHMENTS IN h.e.l.l.

(_By Virgil._)

Now to the left, aeneas darts his eyes, Where lofty walls with tripple ramparts rise.

There rolls swift Phlegethon, with thund'ring sound, His broken rocks, and whirls his surges round.

On mighty columns rais'd, sublime are hung The ma.s.sy gates, impenetrably strong.

In vain would men, in vain would G.o.ds essay, To hew the beams of adamant away.

Here rose an iron tow'r; before the gate, By night and day, a wakeful fury sate, The pale Tisiphone; a robe she wore, With all the pomp of horror, dy'd in gore.

Here the loud scourge and louder voice of pain, The cras.h.i.+ng fetter, and the ratt'ling chain.

Strike the great hero with the frightful sound, The hoa.r.s.e, rough, mingled din, that thunders round: Oh! whence that peal of groans? what pains are those?

What crimes could merit such stupendous woes?

Thus she--brave guardian of the Trojan state, None that are pure must pa.s.s that dreadful gate.

When plac'd by Hecat o'er Avernus' woods, I learnt the secrets of those dire abodes, With all the tortures of the vengeful G.o.ds.

Here Rhadamanthus holds his awful reign, Hears and condemns the trembling impious train.

Those hidden crimes the wretch till death supprest, With mingled joy and horror in his breast, The stern dread judge commands him to display, And lays the guilty secrets bare to-day; Her lash Tisiphone that moment shakes; The ghost she scourges with a thousand snakes; Then to her aid, with many a thund'ring yell, Calls her dire sisters from the gulfs of h.e.l.l.

Near by the mighty t.i.tyus I beheld, Earth's mighty giant son, stretch'd o'er the infernal field; He cover'd nine large acres as he lay, While with fierce screams a vulture tore away His liver for her food, and scoop'd the smoking prey; Plunged deep her b.l.o.o.d.y beak, nor plung'd in vain, For still the fruitful fibres spring again, Swell, and renew th' enormous monster's pain, She dwells forever in his roomy breast, Nor gives the roaring fiend a moment's rest; But still th' immortal prey supplies th' immortal feast.

Need I the Lapiths' horrid pains relate, Ixion's torments, or Perithous' fate?

On high a tottering rocky fragment spreads, Projects in air, and trembles o'er their heads.

Stretch'd on the couch, they see with longing eyes In regal pomp successive banquets rise, While lucid columns, glorious to behold, Support th' imperial canopies of gold.

The queen of furies, a tremendous guest, Sits by their side, and guards the tempting feast, Which if they touch, her dreadful torch she rears, Flames in their eyes, and thunders in their ears They that on earth had low pursuits in view, Their brethren hated, or their parents slew, And, still more numerous, those who swelled their store, But ne'er reliev'd their kindred or the poor; Or in a cause unrighteous fought and bled; Or perish'd in the foul adulterous bed; Or broke the ties of faith with base deceit; Imprison'd deep their destin'd torments wait.

But what their torments, seek not thou to know, Or the dire sentence of their endless wo.

Some roll a stone, rebounding down the hill, Some hang suspended on the whirling wheel; There Theseus groans in pain that ne'er expire, Chain'd down forever in a chair of fire.

There Phlegyas feels unutterable wo, And roars incessant thro' the shades below; Be just, ye mortals! by these torments aw'd, These dreadful torments, not to scorn a G.o.d.

This wretch his country to a tyrant sold, And barter'd glorious liberty for gold.

Laws for a bribe he past, but past in vain, For those same laws a bribe repeal'd again.

To some enormous crimes they all aspir'd; All feel the torments that those crimes requir'd!

Had I a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues, A voice of bra.s.s, and adamantine lungs, Not half the mighty scene could I disclose, Repeat their crimes, or count their dreadful woes!

_aeneid VI. Pitt._

HORACE.

Horace was born 65 B.C. and died 8 B.C. His father gave him a good education. About the age of seventeen he lost his father, and afterwards his property was confiscated. He had to write for bread--_Paupertas impulit audax ut versus facerem_--and in so doing gained much reputation, and sufficient means to purchase the place of scribe in the Quaestor's office. He now made his acquaintance with Virgil and Varius, and by them was introduced to that munificent patron of scholars, Maecenas, who gave to our poet a place next to his heart, while he, in return, is never weary of acknowledging how much he owes to his ill.u.s.trious friend.

The following happy remarks on the Roman Satirists are by Professor Sanborn, formerly Professor of Latin in Dartmouth College, and now in the University of St. Louis: "The princ.i.p.al Roman Satirists were Horace, Juvenal and Persius. Horace is merry; Persius serious; Juvenal indignant. Thus, wit, philosophy and lofty scorn mark their respective pages. The satire of Horace was playful and good natured. His arrows were always dipped in oil. He was a fine specimen of an accomplished gentleman. His sentiments were evidently modified by his a.s.sociates.

He was an Epicurean and a stoic by turns. He commended and ridiculed both sects. He practiced economy and praised liberality. He lived temperate, and sang the praises of festivity. He was the favorite of the court and paid for its patronage in compliments and panegyrics, unsurpa.s.sed in delicacy of sentiment and beauty of expression. Horace is every man's companion. He has a word of advice and admonition for all. His criticisms const.i.tute most approved canons of the rhetorician; his sage reflections adorn the page of the moralist; his humor and wit give point and force to the satirist, and his graver maxims are not despised by the Christian philosopher. Juvenal is fierce and denunciatory. His characteristics are energy, force, and indignation; his weapons are irony, wit and sarcasm; he is a decided character, and you must yield and submit, or resist. His denunciations of vice are startling. He hated the Greeks, the aristocracy and woman with intense hatred. No author has written with such terrible bitterness of the s.e.x. Unlike other satirists, he never relents. His arrow is ever on the string, and whatever wears the guise of woman is his game. The most celebrated of the modern imitators of Horace and Juvenal are Swift and Pope."

The Odes, Satires and Epistles are his chief productions.

TO LICINIUS.

(_By Horace._)

Receive, dear friend, the truths I teach So shalt thou live beyond the reach Of adverse Fortune's power; Not always tempt the distant deep, Nor always timorously creep Along the treacherous sh.o.r.e.

He that holds fast the golden mean, And lives contentedly between The little and the great, Feels not the wants that pinch the poor, Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door, Embittering all his state.

The tallest pines feel most the power Of wintry blasts; the loftiest tower Comes heaviest to the ground; The bolts that spare the mountain's side, His cloud-capt eminence divide, And spread the ruin round.

The well-inform'd philosopher Rejoices with an wholesome fear, And hopes, in spite of pain; If Winter bellow from the north, Soon the sweet Spring comes dancing forth, And Nature laughs again.

What if thine heaven be overcast?

The dark appearance will not last; Expect a brighter sky; The G.o.d that strings the silver bow, Awakes sometimes the Muses, too, And lays his arrows by.

If hindrances obstruct thy way, Thy magnanimity display, And let thy strength be seen; But oh! if Fortune fill thy sail With more than a propitious gale, Take half thy canvas in.

_Cowper._

TO PYRRHA.

(_By Horace._)

What youth, O Pyrrha! blooming fair, With rose-twined wreath and perfumed hair, Woos thee beneath yon grotto's shade, Urgent in prayer and amorous glance?

For whom dost thou thy tresses braid, Simple in thine elegance?

Alas! full soon shall he deplore Thy broken faith, thy altered mien: Like one astonished at the roar Of breakers on a leeward sh.o.r.e, Whom gentle airs and skies serene Had tempted on the treacherous deep, So he thy perfidy shall weep Who now enjoys thee fair and kind, But dreams not of the s.h.i.+fting wind.

Thrice wretched they, deluded and betrayed, Who trust thy glittering smile and Siren tongue!

I have escaped the s.h.i.+pwreck, and have hung In Neptune's fane my dripping vest displayed With votive tablet on his altar laid, Thanking the sea-G.o.d for his timely aid.

_Lord Ravensworth._

SENECA.

Seneca was born 7 B.C. and died 65 A.D. His writings were of a philosophical nature. His character was much doubted. His great misfortune was to have known Nero, who ordered him to be put to death, to which he merely replied that he who had murdered his brother and his mother could not be expected to spare his teacher. He had been absent from Rome some time, and when he returned to visit his mother in the country, he was spied, and Nero sent a squad of armed men to the house to ask him to choose the manner of his death. His fame rests on his numerous writings, which, with all their faults, have great merits. His princ.i.p.al works, which are of a philosophical character, are essays "On Anger," "On Consolation," "On Providence," "On Tranquillity of Mind," "On the Firmness of the Wise Man," "On Clemency," "On the Brevity of Human Life," "On a Happy Life," etc., together with "Epistles of Lucilius," one hundred and twenty-four in number. Besides these, there are extant ten tragedies attributed to him, ent.i.tled, _Hercules Furens_, _Thyestes_, _Thebais_ or _Phnissae_, _Hippolytus_ or _Phaedra_, _dipus_, _Troades_ or _Hecuba_, _Medea_, _Agamemnon_, _Hercules taeus_ and _Octavia_. These were never intended for the stage, but were designed for reading or recitation, after the Roman fas.h.i.+on. They contain many striking pa.s.sages, and have some merits as poems.

HAPPINESS FOUNDED ON WISDOM.

(_By Seneca._)

Taking it for granted that _human happiness_ is founded upon _wisdom_ and _virtue_, we shall treat of these two points in order as they lie, and _first_ of _wisdom_; not in the lat.i.tude of its various operations, but only as it has a regard to good life and the happiness of mankind.

Wisdom is a right understanding; a faculty of discerning good from evil; what is to be chosen, and what rejected; a judgment grounded upon the value of things, and not the common opinion of them; an equality of force and strength of resolution. It sets a watch over our words and deeds, it takes us up with the contemplation of the works of nature, and makes us invincible by either good or evil fortune. It is large and s.p.a.cious, and requires a great deal of room to work in; it ransacks heaven and earth; it has for its object things past and to come, transitory and eternal. It examines all the circ.u.mstances of time; "what it is, when it began, and how long it will continue;" and so for the mind; "whence it came; what it is; when it begins; how long it lasts; whether or no it pa.s.ses from one form to another, or serves only one, and wanders when it leaves us; where it abides in the state of separation, and what the action of it; what use it makes of its liberty; whether or no it retains the memory of things past, and comes to the knowledge of itself." It is the habit of a perfect mind and the perfection of humanity, raised as high as nature can carry it. It differs from _philosophy_, as avarice and money; the one desires, and the other is desired; the one is the effect and the reward of the other. To be wise is the use of wisdom, as seeing is the use of eyes and well-speaking the use of eloquence. He that is perfectly wise is perfectly happy; nay, the very beginning of wisdom makes life easy to us. Neither is it enough to know this, unless we print it in our minds by daily meditation, and so bring a _good will_ to a good habit.

And we must practice what we preach, for _philosophy_ is not a subject for popular ostentation, nor does it rest in words, but in things. It is not an entertainment taken up for delight, or to give a taste to leisure, but it fas.h.i.+ons the mind, governs our actions, tells us what we are to do, and what not. It sits at the helm, and guides us through all hazards; nay, we can not be safe without it, for every hour gives us occasion to make use of it. It informs us in all the duties of life, piety to our parents, faith to our friends, charity to the miserable, judgment in counsel; it gives us _peace_, by _fearing_ nothing, and _riches_, by _coveting nothing_.

There is no condition of life that excludes a wise man from discharging his duty. If his fortune be good, he _tempers_ it; if bad, he _masters_ it; if he has an estate, he will exercise his virtue in plenty, if none, in poverty; if he can not do it in his country, he will do it in banishment; if he has no command, he will do the office of a common soldier. Some people have the skill of reclaiming the fiercest of beasts: they will make a lion embrace his keeper, a tiger kiss him, and an elephant kneel to him. This is the case of a wise man in the extremest difficulties; let them be never so terrible in themselves, when they come to him once, they are perfectly tame. They that ascribe the invention of tillage, architecture, navigation, etc., to wise men, may perchance be in the right, that they were invented by wise men; but they were not invented by wise men, as _wise men_; for wisdom does not teach our fingers, but our minds: fiddling and dancing, arms and fortifications, were the works of luxury and discord; but wisdom instructs us in the way of nature, and in the arts of unity and concord; not in the instruments, but in the government of life; nor to make us live only, but to live happily. She teaches us what things are good, what evil, and what only appear so; and to distinguish betwixt true greatness and tumor. She clears our minds of dross and vanity; she raises up our thoughts to heaven, and carries them down to h.e.l.l; she discourses on the nature of the soul, the powers and faculties of it; the first principles of things; the order of providence: she exalts us from things corporeal to things incorporeal; and retrieves the truth of all: she searches nature, gives laws to life; and tells us, "that it is not enough to know G.o.d unless we obey Him." She looks upon all accidents as acts of providence; sets a true value upon things; delivers us from false opinions, and condemns all pleasures that are attended with repentance. She allows nothing to be good that will not be so forever; no man to be happy but he that needs no other happiness than what he has within himself; no man to be great or powerful, that is not master of himself;--and this is the felicity of human life; a felicity that can neither be corrupted nor extinguished.

AGAINST RASH JUDGMENT.

(_By Seneca._)

It is good for every man to fortify himself on his weak side; and if he loves his peace, he must not be inquisitive and harken to tale-bearers; for the man that is over-curious to hear and see everything, multiplies troubles to himself; for a man does not feel what he does not know. He that is listening after private discourse, and what people say of him, shall never be at peace. How many things that are innocent in themselves, are made injurious yet by misconstruction? Wherefore some things we are to pause upon, others to laugh at, and others again to pardon. Or if we can not avoid the sense of indignities, let us, however, shun the open profession of it; which may be easily done, as appears by many examples of those who have suppressed their anger, under the awe of a greater fear. It is a good caution not to believe anything until you are very certain of it; for many probable things prove false, and a short time will make evidence of the undoubted truth. We are p.r.o.ne to believe many things which we are unwilling to hear, and so we conclude, and take up a prejudice before we can judge. Never condemn a friend unheard; or without letting him know his accuser, or his crime. It is a common thing to say, "Do not tell that you had it from me; for if you do, I will deny it; and never tell you anything again." By which means friends are set together by the ears, and the informer slips his neck out of the collar. Admit no stories, upon these terms; for it is an unjust thing to believe in private, and be angry openly. He that delivers himself up to guess and conjecture, runs a great hazard; for there can be no suspicion without some probable grounds; so that without much candor and simplicity, and making the best of everything, there is no living in society with mankind. Some things that offend us we have by report; others we see or hear. In the first case, let us not be too credulous; some people frame stories that may deceive us; others only tell us what they hear, and are deceived themselves; some make it their sport to do ill offices; others do them only to receive thanks; there are some that would part the dearest friends in the world; others love to do mischief, and stand off aloof to see what comes of it. If it be a small matter, I would have witnesses; but if it be a greater, I would have it upon oath, and allow time to the accused, and counsel, too, and hear it over and over again.