Juvenal, Satire 7
Translated by Lewis Evans (1889)
Formatted and with notes by C. Chinn (2007)

	ALL our hope and inducement to study rests on Caesar alone. 
	For he alone casts a favoring eye on the Muses, who in our days 
	are in a forlorn state. When poets, now become famous and men 
	of renown, would fain try and hire a little bath at Gabii,1 or a public oven 
5	at Rome. While others, again, would esteem it neither shocking 
	nor degrading to turn public criers:2 since Clio3 herself, if starving, 
	would quit the vales of Aganippe,4 and emigrate to courts.5 
	For if not a single farthing is you in the Pierian shades,6 
	be content with the name and calling of Machrera:7 
10	and sooner sell what the auction duly set sells to those 
	that stand around; wine flagons, trivets, book-cases, chests; 
	the “Alcyone” of Paccius, or the “Thebes” and “‘Tereus” of Faustus.8 
	This is preferable to asserting before the judge that you are a witness 
	of what you never did see. Even though Asiatic, 
15	and Cappadocian, and Bithynian knights stoop to this:9 
	fellows whom Gallo-Graecia transports hither with chalked feet.10 
	Hereafter, however, no one will be compelled to submit to 
	an employment derogatory to his studies, who unites loftiness 
	of expression to tuneful numbers, and has chewed the bay.11 Set vigorously 
20	to work then, young men! The kindness of the emperor is looking all around, 
	and stimulates your exertions, while he is seeking worthy objects of his patronage. 
	If you think that from any other quarter you may look for encouragement 
	in your pursuits, and with that view fill the parchment of your 
	yellow tablet; call with all speed for a fagot, and make a present 
25	of all your compositions, Telesinus,12 to Venus’ husband:13 or lock 
	them up, and let the bookworm bore them through as they lie stowed away. 
	Destroy your pens, poor wretch! Blot out your battles that have lost you 
	your nights’ rest, you that write sublime poetry in your narrow garret, 
	that you may come forth worthy of an ivy-crown and meagre image. 
30	You have nothing farther to hope for. The stingy patron 
	of our days has learned only to admire and praise the eloquent 
	as boys do Juno’s peacock. But your prime of life is ebbing away; 
	that is able to bear the fatigue of the sea, the helmet, or the spade. 
	Then weariness creeps over the spirits: and an old age that is indeed 
35	learned but in rags, curses itself and the Muses that it courted. 
	
	Now learn the devices of the great man you pay court to, to avoid laying out 
	any money upon you: quitting the temple of the Muses, and Apollo, 
	he composes verses himself and only yields the palm to Homer himself 
	on the score of his priority by a thousand years. But if inflamed by the charms 
40	of fame you recite your poetry, he kindly lends you a dirty mansion, 
	and places at your service one that has been long barred up, 
	whose front gate emulates those of a city in a state of siege. 
	He knows how to place his freedmen in seats at the farther end of the 
	audience, and how to arrange his clients who are to cheer you lustily. 
45	None of these great lords will give you as much as would pay for the benches, 
	or the seats that rise one above another on the platform you have to hire; 
	or your orchestra of chairs, which must be returned when your recitation is over. 
	Yet still we ply our tasks, and draw furrows in the profitless dust, 
	and keep turning up the sea-shore with sterile plow.14 
50	For even if you try to abandon the pursuit, the long habit of indulging in 
	this vain-glorious trifling, holds you fast in its fetters. An inveterate itch of writing, 
	now incurable, clings to many, and grows old in their distempered body. 
	But the poet that is above his fellows, whose vein is not that 
	of the common herd; that is wont to spin out no stale or vulgar subject, 
55	and stamps no hackneyed verse from a die that all may use; 
	such an one as I can not embody in words, and can only feel in my soul, 
	is the offspring of a mind free from solicitude, exempt from all that can 
	embitter life, that courts the quiet of the woods, and loves to drink 
	the fountains of the Aonides.15 Nor can it be that poverty should sing in 
60	the Pierian·cave,16 or handle the thyrsus, if forced to sobriety, 
	and lacking that vile pelf the body needs both day and night. 
	Well plied with food and wine is Horace when he shouts out his Evoe!17 
	What scope is there for fancy, save when our breasts are harassed by no thoughts 
	but verse alone; and are hurried along under the influence of 
65	the lords of Cirrha and Nysa,18 admitting of no divided solicitude. 
	It is the privilege of an exalted soul, and not of one bewildered how to 
	get enough to buy a blanket, to gaze on chariots and horses and the forms 
	of divinities, and in what dread shapes Erinys appalls the Rutu1ian.19 
	For had Virgil lacked a slave and comfortable lodging, all the serpents 
70	would have vanished from Allecto’s hair: his trumpet, starved to silence, 
	would have blazed no note of terror. Is it fair to expect that 
	Rubrenus Lappa20 should not fall short of the buskin21 of the ancients, 
	while his Atreus22 forces him to pawn his very sauceboats and his cloak! 
	
	Poor Numitor23 is so unfortunate as to have nothing he can afford to send 
75	his protégé! Yet he can find something to give Quintilla24--
	he managed to pay for a tame lion, that must have pounds of flesh 
	to feed him. No doubt the huge beast is kept at far less 
	expense; and a poet’s stomach is far more capacious! 
	Let Lucan25 recline at his ease in his gardens among his marble statues, 
80	satisfied with fame alone. But to poor Serranus, and starving Saleius,26 
	of what avail will glory be, however great, if it be glory only! 
	All flock in crowds to hear his sweet voice, and the tuneful strains 
	of the Thebais,27 when Statius has gladdened the city, and fixed the day 
	for reciting it. So great is the charm with which he captivates their souls; 
85	such the eager delight with which he is listened to by the multitude. 
	But when the very benches are broken down by the ecstasies with which his verses 
	are applauded, he may starve, unless he sells his unpublished “Agave” to Paris.28 
	It is he that bestows on many the honors due to military service, and encircles 
	the fingers of poets with the ring that marks their six months’ command.29 
90	What nobles will not give, a player will! And dost thou, then, still pay 
	court to the Camerini and Bareae,30 and the spacious halls of nobles! 
	It is “Pelopea” that makes prefects, “Philomela” tribunes.31·
	Yet envy not the bard whom the stage maintains. 
	Who is your Maecenas now, or Proculeius, or Fabius? 
95	Who will act Cotta’s part again, or be a second Lentulus?32 
	In those days talent had its meet reward: then it was profitable to many 
	to become pale,33 and abstain from wine the whole of December.34 
	Your toil, forsooth, you writers of histories! is more 
	profitable, it requires more time and more oil.35 
100	For regardless of all limit, it rises to the thousandth page; 
	and grows in bulk, expensive from the mass of paper used. 
	This the vast press of matter requires, and the laws of composition. 
	Yet what is the crop that springs from it? what the profit from the soil 
	upturned? Who will give an historian as much as he would a notary? 
105	“But they are an idle race, that delight in sofas and the cool shade.” 
	Well, tell me then, what do the services rendered their fellow-citizens and 
	their briefs they carry about with them in a big bundle, bring in to the lawyers?36 
	Even of themselves they talk grandly enough, but especially when their 
	creditor is one of their hearers; or if one still more pressing nudges their side, 
110	that comes with his great account book to sue for a doubtful debt. 
	Then the hollow bellows of their lungs breathe forth amazing lies; 
	they foam at the mouth till their breast is covered. But if you like to calculate the 
	actual harvest they reap, set in one scale the estate of a hundred lawyers, and you may 
	balance it on the other side with the single fortune of Lacerna, the charioteer of the Red.37 
	
115	The chiefs have taken their seats! You, like Ajax,38 rise with pallid cheek, 
	and plead in behalf of liberty that has been called in question, before 
	a neat-herd for a juryman! Burst your strained lungs, poor wretch! that, when exhausted, 
	the green palm-branches39 may be affixed to crown your staircase with honor! 
	Yet what is the reward of your eloquence! A rusty ham, or a dish of sprats; 
120	or some shriveled onions, the monthly provender of the Africans; 
	or wine brought down the Tiber. Five bottles for pleading four times! 
	If you have been lucky enough to get a single gold piece, 
	even from that you must deduct the stipulated shares of the attorneys.40 
	Aemilius41 will get as much as the law allows; although we pleaded better 
125	than he. For he has in his court-yard a chariot of bronze with 
	four tall horses yoked to it; and he himself seated on his fierce 
	charger, brandishes aloft his bending spear, 
	and meditates battles with his one eye closed.42 
	So it is that Pedo gets involved, Matho fails. 
130	This is the end of Tongillus,43 who usually bathes with a huge rhinoceros’ 
	horn of oil, and annoys the baths with his draggled train; and weighs heavily 
	in his ponderous sedan on his sturdy Median44 slaves, as he presses through 
	the forum to bid for slaves, and plate, and myrrhine vases, and villas. 
	For it is his foreign purple with its Tyrian45 tissue that gets him credit. 
135	And yet this answers their purpose. It is the purple robe that gets 
	the lawyer custom--his violet cloaks that attract clients. It suits their interest 
	to live with all the bustle and outward show of an income greater then they 
	really have. But prodigal Rome observes no bounds to her extravagance. 
	If the old orators were to come to life again, no one now would give even Cicero46 
140	himself two hundred sesterces, unless a huge ring sparkled on his finger. 
	This is the first point he that goes to law looks to--whether you have 
	eight slaves, ten attendants, a sedan to follow you, and friends in toga 
	to go before. Paulus,47 consequently, used to plead in a sardonyx, 
	hired for the occasion: and hence it was that Cossus’48 fees were higher 
145	than those of Basilus.49 Eloquence is a rare quality in a threadbare coat! 
	When is Basilus allowed to produce in court a weeping mother?50 
	Who could endure Basilus, however well he were to plead? Let Gaul 
	become your home, or better still that foster-nurse of pleaders, 
	Africa, if you are determined to let your tongue for hire.51 
	
150	Do you teach declamation! Oh what a heart of steel must 
	Vettius52 have, when his numerous class kills cruel tyrants!53 
	For all that the boy has just conned over at his seat, he will then 
	stand up and spout--the same stale theme in the same sing-song. 
	It is the reproduction of the cabbage54 that wears out the master’s life. 
155	What is the plea to be urged: what the character of the cause; where the 
	main point of the case hinges; what shafts may issue from the opposing 
	party;--this all are anxious to know; but not one is anxious to pay! 
	“Pay do you ask for? why, what do I know!” The blame, forsooth, 
	is laid at the teacher’s door, because there is not a spark of energy 
160	in the breast of this scion of Arcadia,55 who dins his awful 
	Hannibal56 into my ears regularly every sixth day. Whatever the theme be 
	that is to be the subject of his deliberation; whether he shall march at once 
	from Cannae on Rome; or whether, rendered circumspect after the storms and 
	thunderbolts, he shall lead his cohorts, drenched with the tempest, by a circuitous route.57 
165	Bargain for any sum you please, and I will at once place it in your hands, 
	on condition that his father should hear him his lesson as often as I have to do it! 
	But six or more sophists58 are all giving tongue at once; and, debating in good 
	earnest, have abandoned all fictitious declamations about the ravisher.59 
	No more is heard of the poison infused, or the vile ungrateful husband, 
170	or the drugs that can restore the aged blind to youth.60 
	He therefore that quits the shadowy conflicts of rhetoric for the arena 
	of real debate, will superannuate himself if my advice has any weight 
	with him, and enter on a different path of life; that he may not lose 
	even the paltry sum that will purchase the miserable ticket 
175	for corn.61 Since this is the most splendid reward you can expect. 
	Just inquire what Chrysogonus62 receives, or Pollio,63 for teaching the sons 
	of these fine gentlemen, and going into all the details of Theodorus’ treatise.64 
	
	The baths will cost six hundred sestertia, and the colonnade still more, 
	in which the great man rides whenever it rains. Is he to wait, forsooth, 
180	for fair weather? or bespatter his horses with fresh mud? 
	Nay, far better here! for here the mule’s hoof shines unsullied. 
	On the other side must rise a spacious dining-room, supported on 
	stately columns of Numidian marble, and catch the cool sun. 
	However much the house may have cost, he will have besides an artiste 
185	who can arrange his table scientifically; another, who can season made-dishes. 
	Yet amid all this lavish expenditure, two poor sestertia will be deemed 
	an ample remuneration for Quintilian.65 Nothing will cost a father less 
	than his son’s education. “Then where did Quintilian get the money 
	to pay for so many estates?” Pass by the instances of good fortune 
190	that are but rare indeed.66 It is good luck that makes a man 
	handsome and active; good luck that makes him wise, and noble, 
	and well-bred, and attaches the crescent of the senator to his black shoe.67 
	Good luck too that makes him the best of orators and debaters, and, 
	though he has a vile cold, sing well! For it makes all the difference 
195	what planets welcome you when you first begin to utter 
	your infant cry, and are still red from your mother.68 
	If fortune so wills it, you will become consul instead of rhetorician; 
	or, if she will, instead of rhetorician, consul! 
	What was Ventidius69 or Tullius70 aught else than a 
200	lucky planet, and the strange potency of hidden fate! 
	Fate, that gives kingdoms to slaves, and triumphs to captives. 
	Yes! Quintilian was indeed lucky, but he is a greater rarity even than a white crow. 
	But many a man has repented of this fruitless and barren employment, 
	as the sad end of Thrasymachus71 proves, and that of Secundus Carrinas.72 
205	And you, too, Athens, were witness to the poverty of him73 on whom 
	you had the heart to bestow nothing save the hemlock that chilled his life-blood! 
	
	Light be the earth, ye gods! and void of weight, that presses on our grandsires’ 
	shades, and round their urn bloom fragrant crocus and eternal spring, 
	who maintained that a tutor should hold the place and honor of a 
210	revered parent. Achilles sang on his paternal hill, in terror 
	of the lash, though now grown up;74 and yet in whom even then 
	would not the tail of his master, the harper, provoke a smile?75 
	But now Rufus76 and others are beaten each by their own pupils; 
	Rufus! who so often called Cicero “the Allobrogian”!77 
215	Who casts into Enceladus’78 lap, or that of the learned Palaemon,79 
	as much as their grammarian labors have merited! And yet even from 
	the wretched sum, however small (and it is smaller than the rhetorician’s 
	pay), Acaenonoetus,80 his pupil’s pedagogue, first takes his slice; and then 
	the steward who pays you deducts his fragment. Dispute it not, Palaemon! 
220	and suffer some abatement to be made, just as the peddler does 
	that deals in winter rugs and snow-white sheetings.81 
	Only let not all be lost, for which you have sat from the midnight 
	hour, when no smith would sit, nor even he that teaches 
	how to draw out wool with the oblique iron.82 
225	Lose not your whole reward for having smelled as many lamps 
	as there were boys standing round you; while Horace was altogether 
	discolored, and the foul smut clave to the well-thumbed Maro.83 
	Yet rare too is the pay that does not require enforcing by the 
	Tribune’s court. But do you, parents, impose severe exactions on him 
230	that is to teach your boys;84 that he be perfect in the rules of grammar 
	for each word--read all histories--know all authors as well 
	as his own finger-ends; that if questioned at hazard, 
	while on his way to the Thermae or the baths of Phoebus, he should 
	be able to tell the name of Anchises’ nurse, and the name and native land 
235	of the step-mother of Anchemolus--tell off-hand how many years Acestes lived—
	how many flagons of wine the Sicilian king gave to the Phrygians.85 
	Require of him that he mould their youthful morals 
	as one models a face in wax. Require of him that he be 
	the reverend father of the company, and check every approach 
240	to immorality. It is no light task to keep watch over so many 
	boyish hands, so many little twinkling eyes. “This,” says the father, 
	“be the object of your care!”--and when the year comes round again, Receive 
	for your pay as much gold as the people demand for the victorious Charioteer!86