as
on a drive, their talk of matters trivial--the time of day, the early
frosts, the merits of popular gladiators. We remember how delightfully
Pope has adapted the passage to his own relation with Harley. (Imitation
of Sat. II, vi.) Often he dined with Maecenas or his friends, and one
such dinner he has described, at the house of a rich, vulgar epicure
(Sat. II, viii). The guests were nine in number, including Maecenas,
Varius, and Viscus: they lay on couches at maplewood tables arranged
in three sides of a square. The first course was a Lucanian wild boar
garnished with salads; when that was removed, servants wiped the board
with purple napkins. Then a procession of slaves brought in Caecuban and
Chian wines, accompanied with cheesecakes, fish, and apples. The second
course was a vast lamprey, prawns swimming in its sauce; the third an
olio of crane, hare, goose's liver, blackbirds, and wood-pigeons.
A sumptuous meal, but spoiled by the host's tedious disquisitions on
each dish as it appeared. Of social gatherings in their higher aspect,
of the feasts of reason which he must have often shared at his patron's
board, we long to know, but Horace is discreet; for him the rose of
Harpocrates was suspended over every caenobium, and he would not profane
its sacrament. He sat there as an equal, we know; his attitude towards
those above him had in it no tinge of servility. That he was, and meant
to be, independent they were fairly warned; when Maecenas wished to heap
on him further benefits, he refused: "What I have is enough and more
than enough," he said, "nay, should fortune shake her wings and leave
me, I know how to resign her gifts" (Od. III, xxix, 53). And if not
to Maecenas, so neither to Maecenas' master, would he sacrifice his
freedom. The emperor sought his friendship, writes caressingly to
Maecenas of "this most lovable little bit of a man," wished to make him
his secretary, showed no offence at his refusal. His letters use the
freedom of an intimate. "Septimius will tell you how highly I regard
you. I happened to speak of you in his presence; if you disdain my
friendship, I shall not disdain in return."--"I wish your little book
were bigger; you seem to fear lest your books should be bigger than
yourself."--"I am vexed with you, that you have never addressed one of
your Epistles to myself; are you afraid that to have appeared as my
friend will hurt you with posterity?" Such royal solicitations are a
command, and Ho