cares will be diminished. Our natural and real wants are confined to narrow bounds, whilst those which fancy and custom create are confined to none. Truth lies within a little and certain compass, but error is immense. If we suffer our desires therefore to wander beyond these bounds, they wander eternally. We become necessitous in the midst of plenty, and our poverty increases with our riches. Reduce our desires, be able to say with the Apostle of Greece, to whom Erasmus was ready to address his prayers, quam multis ipse non egeo! banish out of your exile all imaginary, and you will suffer no real wants. The little stream which is left will suffice to quench the thirst of nature, and that which cannot be quenched by it is not your thirst, but your distemper; a distemper formed by the vicious habits of your mind, and not the effect of exile. How great a part of mankind bear poverty with cheerfulness, because they have been bred in it, and are accustomed to it. Shall we not be able to acquire, by reason and by reflection, what the meanest artisan possesses by habit? Shall those who have so many advantages over him be slaves to wants and necessities of which he is ignorant? The rich, whose wanton appetites neither the produce of one country nor of one part of the world can satisfy, for whom the whole habitable globe is ransacked, for whom the caravans of the East are continually in march, and the remotest seas are covered with ships; these pampered creatures, sated with superfluity, are often glad to inhabit a humble cot, and to make a homely meal. They run for refuge into the arms of frugality. Madmen that they are, to live always in fear of what they sometimes wish for, and to fly from that life which they find it luxury to imitate! Let us cast our eyes backwards on those great men who lived in the ages of virtue, of simplicity, of frugality, and let us blush to think that we enjoy in banishment more than they were masters of in the midst of their glory, in the utmost affluence of their fortune. Let us imagine that we behold a great dictator giving audience to the Samnite ambassadors, and preparing on the hearth his mean repast with the same hand which had so often subdued the enemies of the Commonwealth, and borne the triumphal laurel to the capitol. Let us remember, that Plato had but three servants, and that Zeno had none. Socrates, the reformer of his country, was maintained, as Menenius Agrippa, the arbiter of his country was buried, by contribution. While Attilius Regulus beat the Carthaginians, in Afric, the flight of his ploughman reduced his family to distress at home, and the tillage of his little farm became the public care. Scipio died without leaving enough to marry his daughters, and their portions were paid out of the treasures of the state; for sure it was just that the people of Rome should once pay tribute to him who had established a perpetual tribute on Carthage. After such examples, shall we be afraid of poverty? Shall we disdain to be adopted into a family which has so many illustrious ancestors? Shall we complain of banishment for taking from us what the greatest philosophers and the greatest heroes of antiquity never enjoyed.

You will find fault, perhaps, and attribute to artifice, that I consider singly misfortunes which come altogether on the banished man, and overbear him with their united weight; you could support change of place if it was not accompanied with poverty, or poverty if it was not accompanied with the separation from your family and your friends, with the loss of your rank, consideration, and power, with contempt and ignominy. Whoever he be who reasons in this manner, let him take the following answer. The least of these circumstances is singly sufficient to render the man miserable who is not prepared for it, he who has not divested himself of that passion upon which it is directed to work. But he who has got the mastery of all his passions, who has foreseen all these accidents, and prepared his mind to endure them all, will be superior to all of them, and to all of them at once as well as singly. He will not bear the loss of his rank, because he can bear the loss of his

:

estate but he will bear both, because he is prepared for both; because he is free from pride as much as he is from avarice.

You are separated from your family and your friends. Take the list of them, and look it well over. How few of your family will you find who deserve the name of friends? And how few among these who are really such? Erase the names of such as ought not to stand on the roll, and the voluminous catalogue will soon dwindle into a narrow compass. Regret, if you please, your separation from this small remnant. Far be it from me, whilst I declaim against a shameful and vicious weakness of mind, to proscribe the sentiments of a virtuous friendship. Regret your separation from your friends, but regret it like a man who deserves to be theirs. This is strength, not weakness of mind; it is virtue, not vice.

But the least uneasiness under the loss of the rank which we held is ignominious. There is no valuable rank among men, but that which real merit assigns. The princes of the earth may give names, and institute ceremonies, and exact the observation of them; their imbecility and their wickedness may prompt them to clothe fools and knaves with robes of honour, and emblems of wisdom and virtue; but no man will be in truth superior to another, without superior merit and that rank can no more be taken from us than the merit which establishes it. The supreme authority gives a fictitious and arbitrary value to coin, which is therefore not current alike in all times and in all places; but the real value remains invariable, and the provident man, who gets rid as soon as he can of the drossy piece, hoards up the good silver. Thus merit will not procure the same consideration universally. But what then? the title to this consideration is the same, and will be found alike in every circumstance by those who are wise and virtuous themselves. If it is not owned by such as are otherwise, nothing is however taken from us; we have no reason to complain. They considered us for a rank which we had; for our denomination, not for our intrinsic value. We have that rank, that denomination no longer; and they consider us no longer; they admire in us what we admire not in ourselves. If they learn to neglect, let us learn to pity them. Their assiduity was importunate; let us not complain of the ease which this change procures us; let us rather apprehend the return of that rank and that power, which, like a sunny day, would bring back these little insects, and make them swarm once more about us. I know how apt we are, under specious pretences, to disguise our weaknesses and our vices, and how often we succeed, not only in deceiving the world, but even in deceiving ourselves. An inclination to do good is inseparable from a virtuous mind, and, therefore, the man who cannot bear with patience the loss of that rank and power which he enjoyed, may be willing to attribute his regrets to the impossibility which he supposes himself reduced to of satisfying this inclination. But let such an one know that a wise man contents himself with doing as much good as his situation allows him to do; that there is no situation wherein we may not do a great deal; and that, when we were deprived of greater power to do more good, we escape at the same time the temptation of doing some evil.

The inconveniences which we have mentioned carry nothing along with them difficult to be borne by a wise and virtuous man; and those which remained to be mentioned, contempt and ignominy, can never fall to his lot. It is impossible that he who reverences himself should be despised by others, and how can ignominy affect the man who collects all his strength within himself, who appeals from the judgment of the multitude to another tribunal, and lives independent of mankind and the accidents of life? Cato lost the election of prætor, and that of consul; but is any one blind enough to truth to imagine that these repulses reflected any

disgrace on him? The dignity of those two magistracies would have been increased by his wearing them. They suffered, not Cato.

Ignominy can take no hold on virtue; for virtue is in every condition the same, and challenges the same respect. We applaud the world when she prospers, and when she falls into adversity we applaud her. Like the temples of the gods, she is venerable even in her ruins. After this, must it not appear a degree of madness to defer one moment acquiring the only arms capable of defending us against the attacks which at every moment we are exposed to? Our being miserable, or not miserable, when we fall into misfortunes, depends on the manner in which we have enjoyed prosperity. If we have applied ourselves betimes to the study of wisdom, and to the practice of virtue, these evils become indifferent; but if we have neglected to do so they become necessary. In one case they are evils, in the other they are remedies for greater evils than themselves. Zeno rejoiced that a shipwreck had thrown him on the Athenian coast, and he owed to the loss of his fortune the acquisition which he made of virtue, of wisdom, of immortality. There are good and bad airs for the mind, as well as for the body. Prosperity often irritates our chronical distempers, and leaves no hopes of finding any specific but in adversity. In such cases banishment is like change of air, and the evils we suffer are like rough medicines applied to inveterate diseases. What Anacharsis said of the vine may aptly enough be said of prosperity. She bears the three grapes of drunkenness, of pleasure, and of sorrow and happy it is if the last can cure the mischief which the former work. When afflictions fail to have their due effect, the case is desperate. They are the last remedy which indulgent Providence uses: and, if they fail, we must languish and die in misery and contempt. Vain men! how seldom do we know what to wish or to pray for? When we pray against misfortunes, and when we fear them most we want them most. It was for this reason that Pythagoras forbid his disciples to ask any thing in particular of God. The shortest and the best prayer which we can address to Him, who knows our wants, and our ignorance in asking, is this:-Thy will be done.

276.-THE DEATH OF AGRIPPINA, THE MOTHER OF NERO.

TACITUS, ANNALS, XIV. 3-9.

[4 specimen of a translation of Tacitus.]

GEORGE LONG.

[CAIUS CORNELIUS TACITUS, a great Roman historian, and one of the most remarkable writers of antiquity, is supposed to have been born in the reign of Nero. The following specimen of a translation of his 'Annals' will give some notion of his unequalled condensation of thought, and his power of vigorous narration in the fewest words.]

Nero now began to shun all private interviews with his mother; when ever she withdrew to her gardens, or her villa at Tusculum, or to the neighbourhood of Antium, he would commend her for seeking retirement. At last, feeling her existence a heavy burden to him wherever she might be, he resolved to put her to death, the only matter of deliberation with him being whether he should get rid of her by poison, by the dagger, or by some other violent means. His first resolve was to take her off by poison. But, if poison should be given to her at the emperor's table, it could not be imputed to accident, for Britannicus had already perished by the same means; to tamper with the attendants of Agrippina appeared hazardous, for her experience in crime had made her vigilant against treachery, and she had fortified herself against poisons by the habit of taking antidotes. If the dagger was

employed, nobody could suggest how the murder should be concealed; and Nero feared that, whoever was selected to commit so great a crime, he might refuse to obey the emperor's commands.

Anicetus, a freedman, offered the resources of his invention. He was the commander of the fleet at Misenum, had been engaged in the education of Nero, and he and Agrippina hated one another. He told Nero that a vessel might be sɔ constructed, that part of it could be detached when the vessel was afloat, and Agrippina thrown into the water before she was aware of it; that nothing gave so many chances of accident as the sea; and if Agrippina should perish in the wreck, who could be so unreasonable as to impute to crime what was the fault of the winds and the waves? that, when Agrippina was dead, the emperor could build a temple and erect altars to her memory, and make other demonstrations of filial affection. The device was approved, and it was favoured by the time, for Agrippina was in the habit of attending the festival of the Quinquatrus at Baiæ. To that place Nero lured his mother, often declaring "that sons ought to bear with the angry passions of their parents and try to pacify them,” in order that he might give rise to reports of a reconciliation, and that Agrippina might believe it, for women are easily disposed to credit any thing that pleases them. On her arrival, he went to meet her on the shore, for she came from Antium; he took her by the hand, embraced her, and conducted her to Bauli. That was the name of a villa, which was situated between the promontory Misenum and the lake of Baiæ, and washed by the waves of the sea, which there forms a kind of bay.

Among the rest of the vessels one more highly ornamented than the others was lying there, as if this also were designed to do honour to his mother, for she had been accustomed to sail in a trireme and have a body of rowers belonging to the fleet. She was also invited to a banquet, that advantage might be taken of the night to conceal the crime. It is well ascertained that some one betrayed the treacherous design of Nero; and Agrippina being informed of it, and doubtful whether to give credit to it or not, was carried to Baiæ in a litter. The blandishments of her son removed her fears. She was kindly received, and had a place at table assigned to her above Nero. Sometimes adopting the ordinary familiarity of youth, and then assuming a more serious air, as if his purpose was to mingle business and pleasure, Nero prolonged the entertainment by varied conversation; and, when Agrippina rose to go away, he accompanied her to the sea-shore, keeping his eyes steadily fixed upon her, and pressing to her bosom, either to fill up the measure of his simulation, or it may be that the last sight of a mother who was going to her death absorbed all the thoughts of his mind, brutal though he was.

The gods had given a starlight night and a tranquil sea, as if to furnish evidence of the crime. The ship had not advanced far, with two of the intimate friends of Agrippina who accompanied her, Crepereius Gallus, who was standing not far from the helm, and Acerronia, who was lying at the feet of her mistress, and joyfully speaking of the change in Nero's temper and his reconciliation with his mother, when, on a signal being given, the roof of the place, which was loaded with lead, tumbled down, and Crepereius was immediately crushed to death. Agrippina and Acerronia were protected by the sides of the chamber, which happened to be strong enough to resist the weight: nor did the vessel fall in pieces, for most of the men on board were in a state of alarm; and those who were unacquainted with the design (and they were the greater part) impeded the movements of those who were privy to it. The rowers advised that the vessel should be thrown on one side and thus sunk. But neither could the rowers promptly come to an agreement about such a measure at the moment, and the rest by resisting it allowed Agrippina and her attendant to fall more gently into the sea. While

was

Acerronia, who lost her presence of mind, was calling out that she Agrippina, and imploring help for the emperor's mother, she was despatched with boat-poles and oars and other naval implements which chanced to be in the way. Agrippina kept silent, and was consequently not so well recognised, but yet she received one wound on her shoulder. She swam till she fell in with some boats, by which she was conveyed into the Lucrine Lake, and thence to her own villa. There turning over in her mind the various circumstances,-that it was expressly for this purpose that she had been invited by treacherous letters and treated with particular distinction; that it was near the shore, without being driven by the winds or dashed against rocks, that the upper part of the vessel had fallen in, just as any construction on land might have done; considering too the death of Acerronia, and casting her eyes on her own wound; reflecting that the only protection against treachery was to affect not to see it, she sent her freedman, Agerinus, to tell her son that, by the blessing of the gods and her own good fortune, she had escaped a grievous accident; she entreated him, however alarmed he might be at his mother's danger, to defer the trouble of paying her a visit. In the meantime, assuming an appearance of being perfectly at ease, she dressed her wound, and used warm applications to her body. She ordered the testament of Acerronia to be sought for, and her goods to be sealed; in this alone there was no simulation.

Nero who was waiting for the news of the completion of his crime, received intelligence that Agrippina had escaped with no farther injury than a slight blow: she had just been in danger enough to leave no doubt in her mind who had planned it. Half-dead with terror, and crying out that his mother might be expected every moment, eager for revenge; that she would either arm the slaves or inflame the soldiers, or make her way to the senate and people, and urge against him the wreck of the vessel, her wound, and the death of her friends; what protection had he against her, if Seneca and Burrus could not devise something? and he immediately sent for them. It is doubtful whether they were already acquainted with his designs. Both were silent for some time, either because they thought it useless to attempt to dissuade Nero, or they believed that things had come to that pass, that Nero must perish if Agrippina was not removed out of the way. Seneca at last so far took the lead as to look to Burrus, and ask whether the soldiers should receive orders to kill Agrippina. Burrus replied that the Prætorians were devoted to all the family of the Cæsars; that they cherished the memory of Germanicus, and they would not venture on any extreme measures against his children; Anicetus, he said, should perform his promise. Without any hesitation Anicetus asked to be allowed to complete his crime. Upon hearing these words, Nero declared that on that day the empire was really conferred on him, and to a freedman he owed the gift: he bade him go quick, and take with him the readiest men to execute his commands. Nero himself, hearing that Agerinus had come to him with a message from Agrippina, adopted a theatrical contrivance to make him look like a criminal: while Agerinus was delivering his message, he threw down a dagger at his feet. He then commanded him to be put in chains, as if he had been detected in an assassination, in order that he might invent a false story of his mother having plotted the destruction of the emperor, and then, through shame at her crime being detected, having committed suicide.

In the meantime, the danger of Agrippina was noised abroad, but only as an accident; and the people, as they heard of it, hurried to the shore. Some got upon the mole, others into the nearest boats; some waded into the sea as far as they could; and some stretched out their hands; the whole coast was filled with the cries, the prayers, the shouts of people asking various questions or giving uncertain A great multitude crowded thither with lights; and, when it was gene

answers.