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penalty inflicted by an ancient law“ upon any The greater number of persons or societies throughout one who should propose to throw down the old Europe, whom wealth, or chance, or inheritance has put palace, and to rebuild it more richly and with ture from a bad one, * and have no idea in what the value
in possession of valuable pictures, do not know a good picgreater expense;" and in 1422 a decree was of a picture really consists. The reputation of certain accordingly passed to rebuild it. In 1423 Mo- works is raised, partly by accident, partly by the just tescenigo died, and Francesco Foscari was chosen timony of artists
, partly by the various and generally bad in his place. On the 27th March 1424 it was, in modern times, attained popularity, in the full sense of
taste of the public (no picture, that I know of, has ever, that the first hammer was raised against the the term, without having some exceedingly bad qualities grand old palace of Ziani.
mixed up with its good ones), and when this reputation
has once been completely established, it little matters to That hammer stroke was the first act of the period what state the picture may be reduced : few minds are so properly called the “ Renaissance.”. It was the knell of completely devoid of imagination as to be unable to invest the architecture of Venice,- and of Venice herself.
it with the beauties which they have heard attributed to it. The central epoch of her life was past ; the decay had
This being so, the pictures that are most valued are already begun : 1 dated its commencement above (Ch. 1. for the most part those by masters of established renown, Vol. I.) from the death of Mocenigo. A year had not which are highly or neatly finished, and of a size small yet elapsed since that great Doge had been called to his enough to admit of their being placed in galleries or saaccount: his patriotism, always sincere, had been in this loons, so as to be made subjects of ostentation, and to be instance mistaken ; in his zeal for the honour of future easily seen by a crowd. For the support of the fame and Venice, he had forgotten what was due to the Venice of long value of such pictures, little more is necessary than that ago. A thousand palaces might be built upon her bur- they should be kept bright, partly by cleaning, which is dened islands, but none of them could take the place, or incipient destruction, and partly by what is called “* rerecall the memory, of that which was first built upon her storing," that is, painting over, which is of course total unfrequented shore. It fell; and, as if it had been the destruction. Nearly all the gallery pictures in modern talisman of her fortunes, the city never flourished again. Europe, have been more or less destroyed by one or other It was about the middle of the sixteenth cen- estimation in which they are held; and as, originally,
of these operations, generally exactly in proportion to the tury that the whole work was completed. Led the smaller and more highly finished works of any great by fire, the successive architects of the palace, master are usually his worst, the contents of many of our gradually advancing round the great square, most celebrated galleries are by this time, in reality, of finally reached the point whence they origi- very small value indeed.
On the other hand, the most precious works of any nally proceeded. Thus was the work of 1560 noble painter are usually those which have been done united to that which had been erected about quickly, and in the heat of the first thought, on a large the dawn of the fourteenth century. But ano- scale, for places where there was little likelihood of their ther conflagration in 1574 devastated the build- being well seen, or for patrons from whom there was little
prospect of rich remuneration. In general, the best ing, leaving, in many parts, a mere shell, and things are done in this way, or else in the enthusiasm that blackened or calcined by flame. After a and pride of accomplishing some great purpose, such as protracted discussion as to whether it should painting a cathedral or a campo-santo from one end to the be rebuilt or restored, the venerable Gothic other, especially when the time has been short, and cir
cumstances disadvantageous. pile was restored to its pristine glory. “It is
Works thus executed
are of course despised, on account as if the palace had been built at various epochs, of their quantity, as well as their frequent slightness, in and preserved uninjured to this day, for the the places where they exist; and they are too large to be sole purpose of teaching us the difference in portable, and too vast and comprehensive to be read ou
the spot, in the hasty temper of the present age. They the temper of the two schools.”
are, therefore, almost universally neglected, whitewashed By the aid of beautiful drawings, executed by custodes, shot at by soldiers, suffered to drop from the on the spot by himself, and most admirably en- walls piecemeal in powder and rags by society in general; graved, our author leads his readers over every all this evil, they are not often restored.” What is left portion of the lordly pile, commenting upon of them, however fragmentary, however ruinous, however this capital, drawing attention to yonder obscured and defiled, is almost always the real thing; there column of porphyry, expatiating on the exqui- are no fresh readings : and therefore the greatest treasite beauty of that fig-tree stem or its matchless sures of art which Europe at this moment possesses are foliage, chiselled in imperishable stone, with lizards burrow and bask, and which few other living
pieces of old plaster on ruinous brick walls, where the a skill and yet with a grace and delicacy that creatures ever approach ; and torn sheets of dim canvas, no modern hand has ever successfully rivalled. in waste corners of churches ; and mildewed stains, in
We cannot quite give implicit asserit to all the shape of human figures, on the walls of dark chamthat Mr. Ruskin advances in the course of his to be unlocked by their tottering custode, looks hastily remarks on collateral topics, but he displays in round, and retreats from in a weary satisfaction at his them much thought, erudition, and research, accomplished duty. combined with enthusiasm and rare eloquence. None can peruse this book without pleasure, * Many persons, capable of quickly sympathizing with few without profit; and on all that pertains to any excellence, when once pointed out to them, easily des art, his opinion is at least entitled to the great- ceive themselves into the supposition that they are judges est deference. His talents justify his criticisms. of art. There is only one real test of such power of judga
We heartily concur with him in the follow- obscured by the Álth, and confused among the rubbisb, of ing remarks upon pictures and their owners, the pawnbroker's or dealer's garret ?
Many of the pictures on the ceilings and walls of the Venetian glass is ugly and clumsy enough, when made Ducal Palace, by Paul Veronese and Tintoret, have been by clumsy and uninventive workmen, other Venetian more or less reduced, by neglect, to this condition. Un- glass is so lovely in its form that no price is too great for fortunately they are not altogether without reputation, it; and we never see the same form in it twice. Now and their state has drawn the attention of the Venetian you cannot have the finish and the varied form too. If authorities and academicians. It constantly happens, the workman is thinking about his edges, he cannot be that public bodies who will not pay five pounds to preserve thinking of his design ; if of his design, he cannot think a picture, will pay fifty to repaint it:* and when I was of his edges. Choose whether you will pay for the lovely at Venice in 1846, there were two remedial operations form or the perfect finish, and choose at the same mocarrying on, at one and the same time, in the two build ment whether you will make the worker a man or a ings which contain the pictures of greatest value in the grindstone. city (as pieces of colour, of greatest value in the world), curiously illustrative of this peculiarity in human nature.
It seems to us, however, as though there Buckets were set on the floor of the Scuola di San Rocco, were some sophistry in reasoning such as this. in every shower, to catch the rain which came through We know not why “lovely form” should not the pictures of Tintoret on the ceiling; while, in the be combined with perfect finish,” seeing that Ducal Palace, those of Paul Veronese were themselves laid on the floor to be repainted; and I was myself pre- here, at least, the two depend on different artisent at the re-illumination of the breast of a white horse,
The workman who moulds the goblet with a brush, at the end of a stick five feet long, lux or the vase is never the one who finishes it uriously dipped in a common house-painter's vessel of
on the wheel. paint.
The exercise of his mechanical skill and dexThe sum of much that Mr. Ruskin has ad
terity, however low it may be, militates in no vanced, both in this and in former works, is respect with the superior inventive powers of contained in the following canons, which him who fashions the object from the molten should be borne in mind by all who wish “metal.” His task is concluded before the thoroughly to understand his writings : succeeding operation commences.
We might 1. That the true object of all art is to testify in the same way, in many other instances, point man's delight in the beauty and perfection of out fallacies as palpable as the above, throughGod's works.
out these pages, had we time and space. Mr. 2. That no encouragement should be be- Ruskin's fault is one to which many young stowed upon the manufacture of any article authors are prone, and mainly arises from a too not absolutely necessary, in the production of great tendency to generalise, and to adopt as which invention has no share.
incontrovertible convictions, what are, after 3. That « exact finish” should never be
all, only strong opinions of his own. sought for its own sake, but only for some One more extract, and we have done: it practical or noble end.
pertains closely to the subject of Venice, and 4. That all imitation or copying should be cannot fail to interest alike, those who have discouraged, except merely for the sake of passed many bright and dreamy hours in gonpreserving the record of great works.
dolas upon her canals, or those, less fortunate, 5. That rough work is to be selected in pre- whose only acquaintance with that mode of ference to smooth, so that only its practical locomotion is from the description of others. purposes be answered.
Most persons are now well acquainted with the general In explanation of this last dictum, he gives aspect of the Venetian gondola, but few have taken the the following example :
pains to understand the cries of warning uttered by its Our modern glass is exquisitely clear in its substance, boatmen, although those cries are peculiarly characteristic, true in its form, accurate in its cutting. We are proud and very impressive to a stranger, and have been even of this. We ought to be ashamed of it. The old Venice very sweetly introduced in poetry by Mr. Monekton Milnes. glass was muddy, inaccurate in all its forms, and clumsily
It may perhaps be interesting to the traveller in Venice cut, if at all. it. For there is this difference between the English and And the old Venetian was justly proud of to know the general method of management of the boat
to which he owes so many happy hours. Venetian workman, that the former thinks only of accu
A gondola is in general rowed only by one man, rately matching his patterns, and getting his curves per- standing at the stern; those of the upper classes having fectly true and his edges perfectly sharp, and becomes a
two or more boatmen, for greater speed and magnifimere machine for rounding curves and sharpening edges, not on the side of the boat, but on a piece of crooked
In order to raise the oar sufficiently, it rests, while the old Venetian cared not a whit whether his edges timber like the branch of a tree, rising about a foot from were sharp or not, but he invented a new design for every glass that he made, and never moulded a handle or a lip of different forms, according to the size and uses of
the boat's stern, and called a "forcola." The forcola is without a new fancy in it. And therefore, though some
the boat, and it is always somewhat complicated in its
parts and curvature, allowing the oar various kinds of * This is easily explained. There are of course, in rests and catches on both its sides, but perfectly free every place and at all periods, bad painters, who conscien- play in all cases, as the management of the boat depends tiously believe that they can improve every picture they on the gondolier's being able in an instant to place his touch; and these men are generally, in their presump oar in any position. The forcola is set on the righttion, the most influential over the innocence, whether of hand side of the boat, some six feet from the stern : the monarchs or municipalities. The carpenter and slater gondolier stands on a little flat platform or deck behind have little influence in recommending the repairs of the it, and throws nearly the entire weight of his body upon roof; but the bad painter has great influence, as well as the forward stroke. The effect of this stroke would be interest, in recommending those of the picture.
naturally to turn the boat's head round to the left, as
well as to send it forward; but this tendency is cor- coming from opposite sides, and warning is always rected by keeping the blade of the oar under the water clearly and loudly given on approaching an angle of on the return stroke, and raising it gradually, as a full the canals. It is of course presumed that the boat spoon is raised out of any liquid, so that the blade which gives the warning will be nearer the turn than emerges from the water only an instant before it again the one which receives and answers it; and therefore plunges. A downward and lateral pressure upon the will not have so much time to check itself or alter its forcola is thus obtained, wbich entirely counteracts the course. Hence the advantage of the turn, that is, the tendency given by the forward stroke; and the effort, outside, which allows the fullest swing, and greatest after a little practice, becomes hardly conscious, though, room for lee-way, is always yielded to the boat which as it adds some labour to the back stroke, rowing a gon- gives warning. Therefore, if the warning boat is going dola at speed is hard and breathless work, though it to turn to the right, as it is to have the outside position, appears easy and graceful to the looker-on.
it will keep its own right-hand side to the boat which if then the gondola is to be turned to the left, the for- it meets; and the cry of warning is therefore “Premi," ward impulse is given without the return stroke; if it twice given ; first as soon as it can be heard round the is to be turned to the right, the plunged oar is brought angle, prolonged and loud, with the accent on the e, forcibly up to the surface; in either case a single strong and another strongly accented e added, a kind of ques. stroke being enough to turn the light and flat-bot- tion, “ Prémi-é," followed, at the instant of turning, tomed boat. But as it has po keel, when the turn is with "Ah Premi,” with the accent sharp on the final i. made sharply, as out of one canal into another very nar- If, on the other hand, the warning boat is going to turu row one, the impetus of the boat in its former direction to the left, it will pass with its left-hand side to the one gives it an enormous lee-way, and it drifts laterally up it meets! and the warning cry is, “Stali-é, Ab Stali." against the wall of the canal, and that so forcibly, that Hence the confused idea in the mind of the traveller if it has turned at speed, no gondolier can arrest the that “Stali” means “to the left," and " Premi" to the motion merely by strength, or rapidity of stroke of oar, right; while they mean, in reality, the direct reverse; but it is checked by a strong thrust of the foot against the Stali, for instance, being the order to the unseen the wall itself, the head of the boat being of course gondolier who may be behind the corner, coming from turned for the moment almost completely round to the the left-hand side, that he should hold as much as posopposite wall, and greater exertion made to give it, as sible to his own right, this being the only safe order for quickly as possible, impulse in the new direction. him, whether he is going to turn the corner bimself,
The boat being thus guided, the cry" Premi” is the or to go straight on; for as the warning gondola will order from one gondolier to another that he should always swing right across the canal in turning, a col. “press" or thrust forward his oar, without the back lision with it is only to be avoided by keeping well stroke, so as to send his boat's head round to the left; within it, and close up to the corner which it turns. and the cry “Stali" is the order that he should give the There are several other cries necessary in the mareturn or upward stoke which sends the boat's head nagement of the gondola, but less frequently, so that round to the right. Hence, if two gondoliers meet the reader will hardly care for their interpretation; under any circumstances which render it a matter of except only the "sciar," which is the order to the oppoquestion on which side they should pass each other, the site gondolier to stop the boat as suddenly as possible gondolier who has at the moment the least power over by slipping his oar in front of the forcola. his boat cries to the other “Premi," if he wishes the The “Stones of Venice” are, we find, to be boats to pass with their right-hand sides to each other, and “Stali,” if with their left. Now, in turning a cor: completed in the third volume, which is already ner, there is of course risk of collision between boats in the press.
A History of Roman Classical Literature. By R. W. BROWNE, M.A. Ph. D., Prebendary
of St. Paul's, and Professor of Classical Literature in King's College, London. The history of Roman Literature is the history work of Professor Browne as the natural supof an exotic. The root was Greek, and the plement of the History of Greek literature culture was Greek also. This is one of the which he published about a year ago. They numerous truisms which we promptly acknow- should have formed one book; but the sepaledge when stated, and which we systematically ration may have financial advantages. forget to bear in mind. If we learned the clas- In a single volume of moderate bulk the sical languages in the order in which they ex- Professor now gives us a clear and comprehenisted—if we learned Greek first, and did not sive, account of the lives and works of the take up the Latin authors until we had ac- principal Latin writers, from Livius Adroniens quired some familiarity with their Hellenic to Frontinus, from B.c. 240 to A.D. 98. originals s—we should feel this truth more forci- deserves great credit for this succinctness, espebly than can be the case under our present cially as his brevity is not purchased by measystem of education. As it is, Virgil and Cicero greness or tameness. He evidently loves his have already usurped the fresh loyalty of our subject; and he writes with a degree of animayoung tastes, and appropriated the keenest ex- tion, and a general elegance of thought and exercise of our young memories, before we are pression, which will render his chapters agree allowed to enter the shrines of the true Olym- able, even to ripe scholars, and which will pians- of Homer, Plato, and Demosthenes. A make the book an useful favourite with the history of classical literature, by preserving more advanced pupils of schools, and the junior the natural order, may, to some extent, redress students of Universities-the classes for which the influence of this. 'We regard the present it is best adapted. We do not concur with all
the opinions expressed in it, nor can we say There are some excellent observations on the that it often shews critical powers of the highest wide and long-continued dominion of the Latin order. It is, moreover, blemished by inaccu- language in the introductory chapter to Sir racies, some of which are quite startling, and Francis Palgrave's History of Normandy and are such as a man of strong mind and memory, England, which would be perhaps more approthoroughly conversant with the Latin classics, priately placed in a history of Latin literature should not have permitted to escape from his pen. than in the work which at present contains
Professor Browne begins his work by a short them. As Palgrave there reminds us, a Latin examination of the Latin language, which he dialect is at this moment subsisting in the parts rightly considers a fit introduction to his main of Dacia which constitute the modern Wallachia. topic, but which has been executed by him but It certainly is not the Latin of literature; but indifferently. In discussing the elements of the vernacular, the vulgar Latin, was not the the primitive Latin he principally relies on Latin of literature, or of educated society, even Donaldson, who, in our judgment, is about the in Cicero's time. The masses understood the most dogmatic, and the most unsound philolo- correct Latin when spoken to them, though ger, that has made a noise in the learned world they were unable to speak it themselves. for a long time. Strangely enough, Professor This was the case, not only in Rome and Browne makes no mention of Francis Newman, Italy, but throughout the provinces of the emand seems to be entirely unacquainted with the pire, cxcepting those where the Hellenic or “Regal Rome” of that writer. Newman's ihe Semitic tongue prevailed. The conquering discovery of the large amount to which the power of the Latin was eminently exemplified Celtic element entered into the early Latin lan- by the extent to which the Teutonic races, guage, and of the peculiar class of Latin words who overthrew the material empire of Rome, which are of Celtic origin, is one of the most abandoned their own languages for the Roremarkable additions to our stock of ethnologi- mana Rustica of the Provincials. Classical cal knowledge that has been made for many Latin ceased to be intelligible to the masses, years. Professor Browne takes no notice of not in the sixth century, but about the beginthis, and gives a list of elements of Latin, from ning of the ninth. The date is tolerably well which the Celtic is wholly excluded (p. 12). fixed by the Canon of the Council of Tours, Differing from him as to the Præ-Roman Ori- 813*, by which the bishops throughout gines of Latin, we also differ from his remarks Charlemagne’s Transalpine empire were enjoinon the fate of the Latin language after the falled to translate their sermons out of the learnof Rome. He says (p.5)
ed Latin, in which they were composed, into Greek has evinced not only vitality, but individuality Romana Rustica, or into Thestisca, or Deutsch, likewise. Compared with other languages, its stream for the benefit of the common people. But flowed pure through barbarous lands, and was but little long after that time Latin was a living lantinged or polluted by the soil through which it passed: guage: it was the sole common language of There is nothing of this in Latin, neither the vitality nor the power of resistance to change. Strange to say,
educated Europe. Palgrave truly says, “The although partially derived from the same source, its pro- Church never employed any other. Whenperties appear to be totally different. Latin seems to
western Christendom came together have a strong disposition to change: it readily became in her representative form, no language but polished, and as readily barbarized: it had no difficulty in enriching itself with new expressions borrowed from the
that of Rome was heard ; no Council was ever Greek, and conforming itself to Greek rules of taste and debated, no Canon was promulgated, in any grammar. When it came in contact with the languages peculiar or vulgar tongue. In the State, the of other nations the affinity which it had for them was so
Latin retained the same pre-eminence: Latin strong that it speedily amalgamated with them, but it did not so much influence them, as itself receive an im
still continued to be the language of all official press from them. It did not supersede, but it became communications, the language of respect, the absorbed in, and was corrupted by, other tongues. Pro- language of courtesy; and till the conclusion bably, as it was originally made up of many European of the Hildebrandine era, or longer, the educaelements
, it recognised a relationship with all other laner tional language of knight and baron, count guages, and therefore readily admitted of fusion together with them into a composite form. Its existence is con
and marquis, duke and prince, and queen fined within the limits of less than eight centuries. It and king.”+ assumed a form adapted for literary composition less than The truth is, that a complete history of Latin two centuries and a half before the Christian era, and it
literature would embrace ceased to be a spoken language in the sixth century.
the extinction of the Roman western empire. On the contrary, we believe the vitality of The Latin fathers, the Jurists, the Schoolmen, the Latin language to have been remarkable: the Mediæval chroniclers, the writers of the and its plastic power of adopting and assimi- Mediæval rhymed political songs and satires, lating new words from other tongues, as ex. and the authors of the marvellous rhymed pressions for new ideas were required, was at once a proof and a cause of that vitality.
• See Palgrave, 64. † P. 75.
hymns of the Roman church, would all be em- principles of good taste brought forward on the stage to braced in it. It is a chapter of the history of influence public morals. Even the code of Christian literature which has been undeservedly neglect- as interferes with its own comfort or safety, and stigmaed, and which, if treated by a discriminating, tises conduct, not for its immorality, but for its being as well as a learned and powerful mind, would unbecoming a gentleman. It is a standard which has give to Europe a new standard work. We do its use, but it is not higher than the Terentian. not blame Professor Browne for not having at- of authors professing to be Christians, which form part
And if the plays of Terence are compared with those tempted it: he has judiciously limited his of the classical literature of the English nation, and efforts to Roman classical literature. But he were unblushingly witnessed on their representation by seems to be hardly aware of how much remains gard for character, how immeasurably superior are the
some of both sexes, who, nevertheless, professed a rebehind.
comedies of the heathen poet! Point out to the young By far the best part of Professor Browne's the greater light and knowledge which the Christian present volume is that in which he deals with enjoys, and the plays of Terence may be read without Roman literature anterior to the Ciceronian moral danger. No amount of colouring and caution
would be sufficient to shield the mind of an ingenuous and Augustan times. There was room for ex- youth from the imminent peril of being corrupted by ertion here, and the Professor has done his those of Wycherly and Congreve. Pictures of Roman work well. His accounts of Nævius and En- manners must represent them as corrupt, or they would nius, and of the other morning-stars of Roman
not be truthful; but often a good lesson is elicited from
them. When the deceived wife reproachfully asks her poetry, are admirably written. We possessed offending husband with what face he can rebuke bis nothing of the kind before, and we heartily re- son because he has a mistress, when he himself has two commend this part of the book to all who wish wives, one is far more struck with the strictness of Roto know what were the intellectual achievements man virtue paid to the nuptial tie, than offended at the of the men of the young vigorous Roman Re- The knaveries and tricks of Davus meet with
lenient view which is taken of the young man's fault public, and what the Camænæ were before they poetical justice in his fright and his flogging. The were quite denationalised into Musæ Pierides. very dress in wbich the Meretrix,or woman of abandoned Professor Browne also sketches with great morals, was costumed, kept constantly before the eses ability the characteristics of the early Roman fore warned them of the ruin which awaited their viccomic dramatists, Plautus and Terence. We tims; and the well-known passage, in which the loathquote with much pleasure some of his observa- some babits of this class are described, must have been, tions on the dramas of the latter author, viewed
as Terence himself says, a preservative of youthful viras moral lessons. The allusion to the comic dramatists of Charles the Second's time is ex- The Pandar, who basely, for the sake of filthy lucre,
"Nosse omnia hæc saluti est adolescentulis." cellent.
ministers to the passions of the young, is represented as
the most degraded and contemptible of mortals. The Talents of so popular a kind as those of Terence, and Parasite, who earns his meal by flattering and fawning a genius presenting the rare combination of all the fine and delicate touches which characterize true Attic cule. And the timid, simple maiden, confiding too im
on his rich patron, is made the butt of upsparing ridisentiment, without corrupting the native ingenuous plicitly in the affections of her lover, and sacrificing purity of the Latin language, could not long remain in her interests to that love, and not to lust or love of gain, obscurity. He was soon eagerly sought for as a guest is painted in such colours as to command the spectator's and a companion by those who could appreciate his pity and sympathy, and to call forth his approbation powers. The great Roman nobility, such as the Sci.
when she is deservedly reinstated in her position as an piones, the Lælii, the Scævolæ, and the Metelli, had a
honourable matron. Lastly, her lover is not represented taste for literature. Like the Tyranni in Sicily and
as a profligate, revelling in the indiscriminate indul. Greece, and like some of the Italian princes in the middle ages, they assembled around them circles of engaging manners and fascinating qualities; but we
gence of his passions, and rendering vice seductive by literary men, of whom the polite and hospitable host feel that his sin necessarily results from the absence of himself formed the nucleus and centre. The purity and gracefulness of the style of Terence, against temptation; and in all cases the reality and
a high tone of public morality to protect the young per quam dulces Latini leporis facetiæ nituerunt, shew that permanency of his affection for the victim of his wrongthe conversation of his accomplished friends was not doing is proved by his readiness and anxiety to become lost upon his correct ear and quick intuition. To these
her husband. habits of good society may also be attributed the lead
So far as it can be so, comedy was in the hands of ing moral characteristics of his comedies. He invari- Terence an instrument of moral teaching, for it can ably exhibits the humanity and benevolence of a culti- only be so indirectly by painting men and manners as vated mind. He cannot bear loathsome and disgusting they are, and not as they ought to be. vice: he deters the young from the unlawful indulgence of their passions by painting such indulgence as inconsistent with the refined habits and tastes of a gentleman tragedy never fourished in Rome are well
The following remarks on the causes why practices which were recognised and allowed, as well penned — by, the manners of the Athenians, from whom his Nor was the genius of the Roman people such as to comedies were taken, as by the lax morality of Roman sympathise with the legends of the past. The Romans fashionable society. Nor can we expect from a heathen lived in the present and the future, rather than in the writer of comedy' so high a tone of morality as to lash past. The poet might call the age in which he lived vice with the severe censure which the Christian feels degenerate, and look forward with mournful anticipait deserves, however venial society may pronounce it tions to a still lower degradation, whilst he looked back to be. It is as much as can be hoped for, if we find the admiringly to bygone times. Through the vista of past