investigation into the nature and origin of vice, but a denunciation of it as inimical to the interests of society.  It was practical not theoretical—­and sought to bring vice into contempt, by making it both odious and ridiculous.  In the latter attempt, the satirists may have had more success than we credit them with, for in our day such virulent attacks would be distasteful, immorality being regarded as essentially a matter for grave and serious condemnation.  Satire differs from abuse, not only in being declamatory, but in being deserved.  The amusement in it mostly depends upon the deformity of the sensual, the failures of the wicked, and the exposure of guilt in a kind of moral pillory.  It did not aim at mere accidental losses or imperfections, and made no fanciful accusations merely to amuse, but it was often lightened by metaphor, by coined words, and especially by exaggeration.

The satire of Rome, though in a certain sense new, seems to have been somewhat derived from Greece.  Ennius, who commenced it, a man younger than Plautus and older than Terence, was himself half a Greek.  He wrote epic poems and comedies, and also introduced this comic literature for private reading.  Lucilius, who was the first eminent Roman satirist, is said to have imitated the old Greek comedies.  His attacks are very severe and personal, reminding us a little of Archilochus, though apparently not written to gratify any private spleen.  The tendency to personalities marked a time when the range of society and the tone of thought were equally narrow.  Moral depravity was considered to be centred in a few individuals, and in the broken fragments of Lucilius’ rage, which have descended to us, we find a man stigmatised as an “ulcer,” “gangrene,” a “poison,” “jibber,” “shuffler,” “a hard-mouthed obstinate brute.”  Sometimes he ridicules the bodily infirmities of the depraved; but Lucilius’ attacks seem less ill-natured and more justly humorous from being always directed against the vicious and demoralised.  Occasionally he indulges in such uncomplimentary expressions as “There is no flummery-maker equal to you,” while some are hailed with “Long life to you, glutton, gormandizer, and belly-god.”  He might truly say in his metaphorical language, “I seize his beak and smash his lips, Zopyrus’ fashion, and knock out all his front teeth.”

The satire of Horace was exceptionally mild; with him its social character was much more marked than its acerbity.  In many places he shows Greek reflections, for he had received a liberal education, duly completed at Athens.  But his philosophy did not consist of dreamy theories and arbitrary rules—­it was directed to practical ends, to the harmonizing of the feelings, and the elevation of society.  As a man of the world, he was not carried away by fancies, nor given to exaggerated views; and as a companion of the great, he was not inclined to inveigh bitterly against the degeneracy of the times.  On the contrary, so kindly were his feelings, that