nd Salernum; two cities, one on the
Adriatic, the other on the Mediterranean seaboard of Italy--what
manner of roads they had--whether the people there drank tank-water or
spring-water--and whether hares, boars, crabs, and fish were with them
abundant. He adds, he is not apprehensive about their wines--knowing
these, as we may infer, to be good--although usually, when from home,
he is scrupulous about his liquors; whilst, when at home, he can put
up almost with anything in the way of potations. It is quite plain
Horace went down to the sea just in the spirit in which a turtle-fed
alderman would transfer himself to Cheltenham; or in which a fine
lady, whose nerves the crush, hurry, and late hours of a London season
had somewhat disturbed, would exchange the dissipations of Mayfair for
the breezy hills of Malvern, or the nauseous waters of Tunbridge
Wells.

This certainly explains, and perhaps excuses, the grossly uncivil
terms in which alone he notices the sea. One of the worst of Ulysses'
troubles was, according to him, the numerous and lengthy sea-voyages
which that Ithacan gadabout had to take. Horace wishes for Maevius, who
was his aversion, no worse luck than a rough passage and shipwreck at
the end of it. His notion of a happy man--_ille beatus_--is one who
has not to dread the sea. Augustus, whose success had blessed not only
his own country, but the whole world, had--not the least of his
blessings--given to the seamen a calmed sea--_pacatum mare_. Lamenting
at Virgil's departure for Athens, he rebukes the impiety of the first
mariner who ventured, in the audacity of his heart, to go afloat and
cross the briny barrier interposed between nations. He esteems a
merchant favoured specially by the gods, should he twice or thrice a
year return in safety from an Atlantic cruise. He tells us he himself
had known the terrors of 'the dark gulf of the Adriatic,' and had
experienced 'the treachery of the western gale;' and expresses a
charitable wish, that the enemies of the Roman state were exposed to
the delights of both. He likens human misery to a sea 'roughened by
gloomy winds;' 'to embark once more on the mighty sea,' is his
figurative expression for once more engaging in the toils and troubles
of the world; Rome, agitated by the dangers of civil conflict,
resembles an ill-formed vessel labouring tempest-tossed in the waves;
his implacable Myrtale resembles the angry Adriatic, in which also he
finds a likeness to an il