therefore more agreeable to the dilapidated constitution of a
sensitive valetudinarian. His commentators suppose he produced nothing
during his marine hybernations: if the inclement season froze 'the
genial current of his soul,' the aspect of the sea did not thaw it.

His motive for his sea-side trips is amusingly set forth in one of the
most lively and characteristic of his Epistles--the fifteenth of the
first book. In this he inquires of a friend what sort of winter
weather is to be found at Velia and 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 Mævius, 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