SATIRE V. by Horace: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
Horace shares a humorous and relatable story about a road trip he took from Rome to Brundusium (now Brindisi) in southern Italy, likely around 37 BCE.
The poem
_He describes a certain journey of his from Rome to Brundusium with great pleasantry_. Having left mighty Rome, Aricia received me in but a middling inn: Heliodorus the rhetorician, most learned in the Greek language, was my fellow-traveller: thence we proceeded to Forum-Appi, stuffed with sailors and surly landlords. This stage, but one for better travellers than we, being laggard we divided into two; the Appian way is less tiresome to bad travelers. Here I, on account of the water, which was most vile, proclaim war against my belly, waiting not without impatience for my companions while at supper. Now the night was preparing to spread her shadows upon the earth, and to display the constellations in the heavens. Then our slaves began to be liberal of their abuse to the watermen, and the watermen to our slaves. "Here bring to." "You are stowing in hundreds; hold, now sure there is enough." Thus while the fare is paid, and the mule fastened a whole hour is passed away. The cursed gnats, and frogs of the fens, drive off repose. While the waterman and a passenger, well-soaked with plenty of thick wine, vie with one another in singing the praises of their absent mistresses: at length the passenger being fatigued, begins to sleep; and the lazy waterman ties the halter of the mule, turned out a-grazing, to a stone, and snores, lying flat on his back. And now the day approached, when we saw the boat made no way; until a choleric fellow, one of the passengers, leaps out of the boat, and drubs the head and sides of both mule and waterman with a willow cudgel. At last we were scarcely set ashore at the fourth hour. We wash our faces and hands in thy water, O Feronia. Then, having dined we crawled on three miles; and arrive under Anxur, which is built up on rocks that look white to a great distance. Maecenas was to come here, as was the excellent Cocceius. Both sent ambassadors on matters of great importance, having been accustomed to reconcile friends at variance. Here, having got sore eyes, I was obliged to use the black ointment. In the meantime came Maecenas, and Cocceius, and Fonteius Capito along with them, a man of perfect polish, and intimate with Mark Antony, no man more so. Without regret we passed Fundi, where Aufidius Luscus was praetor, laughing at the honors of that crazy scribe, his praetexta, laticlave, and pan of incense. At our next stage, being weary, we tarry in the city of the Mamurrae, Murena complimenting us with his house, and Capito with his kitchen. The next day arises, by much the most agreeable to all: for Plotius, and Varius, and Virgil met us at Sinuessa; souls more candid ones than which the world never produced, nor is there a person in the world more bound to them than myself. Oh what embraces, and what transports were there! While I am in my senses, nothing can I prefer to a pleasant friend. The village, which is next adjoining to the bridge of Campania, accommodated us with lodging [at night]; and the public officers with such a quantity of fuel and salt as they are obliged to [by law]. From this place the mules deposited their pack-saddles at Capua betimes [in the morning]. Maecenas goes to play [at tennis]; but I and Virgil to our repose: for to play at tennis is hurtful to weak eyes and feeble constitutions. From this place the villa of Cocceius, situated above the Caudian inns, which abounds with plenty, receives us. Now, my muse, I beg of you briefly to relate the engagement between the buffoon Sarmentus and Messius Cicirrus; and from what ancestry descended each began the contest. The illustrious race of Messius-Oscan: Sarmentus's mistress is still alive. Sprung from such families as these, they came to the combat. First, Sarmentus: "I pronounce thee to have the look of a mad horse." We laugh; and Messius himself [says], "I accept your challenge:" and wags his head. "O!" cries he, "if the horn were not cut off your forehead, what would you not do; since, maimed as you are, you bully at such a rate?" For a foul scar has disgraced the left part of Messius's bristly forehead. Cutting many jokes upon his Campanian disease, and upon his face, he desired him to exhibit Polyphemus's dance: that he had no occasion for a mask, or the tragic buskins. Cicirrus [retorted] largely to these: he asked, whether he had consecrated his chain to the household gods according to his vow; though he was a scribe, [he told him] his mistress's property in him was not the less. Lastly, he asked, how he ever came to run away; such a lank meager fellow, for whom a pound of corn [a-day] would be ample. We were so diverted, that we continued that supper to an unusual length. Hence we proceed straight on for Beneventum; where the bustling landlord almost burned himself, in roasting some lean thrushes: for, the fire falling through the old kitchen [floor], the spreading flame made a great progress toward the highest part of the roof. Then you might have seen the hungry guests and frightened slaves snatching their supper out [of the flames], and everybody endeavoring to extinguish the fire. After this Apulia began to discover to me her well-known mountains, which the Atabulus scorches [with his blasts]: and through which we should never have crept, unless the neighboring village of Trivicus had received us, not without a smoke that brought tears into our eyes; occasioned by a hearth's burning some green boughs with the leaves upon them. Here, like a great fool as I was, I wait till midnight for a deceitful mistress; sleep, however, overcomes me while meditating love; and disagreeable dreams make me ashamed of myself and every thing about me. Hence we were bowled away in chaises twenty-four miles, intending to stop at a little town, which one cannot name in a verse, but it is easily enough known by description. For water is sold here, though the worst in the world; but their bread is exceeding fine, inasmuch that the weary traveler is used to carry it willingly on his shoulders; for [the bread] at Canusium is gritty; a pitcher of water is worth no more [than it is here]: which place was formerly built by the valiant Diomedes. Here Varius departs dejected from his weeping friends. Hence we came to Rubi, fatigued: because we made a long journey, and it was rendered still more troublesome by the rains. Next day the weather was better, the road worse, even to the very walls of Barium that abounds in fish. In the next place Egnatia, which [seems to have] been built on troubled waters, gave us occasion for jests and laughter; for they wanted to persuade us, that at this sacred portal the incense melted without fire. The Jew Apella may believe this, not I. For I have learned [from Epicurus], that the gods dwell in a state of tranquillity; nor, if nature effect any wonder, that the anxious gods send it from the high canopy of the heavens. Brundusium ends both my long journey, and my paper. * * * * *
Horace shares a humorous and relatable story about a road trip he took from Rome to Brundusium (now Brindisi) in southern Italy, likely around 37 BCE. He complains about bad water, mosquitoes, a sluggish boatman, sore eyes, and a near-fire at an inn, but he perks up whenever he runs into good friends like Virgil and Varius. The narrative feels like a travel diary from someone who finds just as much humor in serious political missions as in a lively insult contest between two jokers at dinner.
Line-by-line
Having left mighty Rome, Aricia received me in but a middling inn: Heliodorus the rhetorician, most learned in the Greek language, was my fellow-traveller...
This stage, but one for better travellers than we, being laggard we divided into two...
Now the night was preparing to spread her shadows upon the earth, and to display the constellations in the heavens. Then our slaves began to be liberal of their abuse to the watermen...
We wash our faces and hands in thy water, O Feronia. Then, having dined we crawled on three miles...
Without regret we passed Fundi, where Aufidius Luscus was praetor, laughing at the honors of that crazy scribe...
The next day arises, by much the most agreeable to all: for Plotius, and Varius, and Virgil met us at Sinuessa...
Now, my muse, I beg of you briefly to relate the engagement between the buffoon Sarmentus and Messius Cicirrus...
Hence we proceed straight on for Beneventum; where the bustling landlord almost burned himself, in roasting some lean thrushes...
After this Apulia began to discover to me her well-known mountains, which the Atabulus scorches...
Hence we were bowled away in chaises twenty-four miles, intending to stop at a little town, which one cannot name in a verse...
In the next place Egnatia, which [seems to have] been built on troubled waters, gave us occasion for jests and laughter; for they wanted to persuade us, that at this sacred portal the incense melted without fire.
Brundusium ends both my long journey, and my paper.
Tone & mood
Warm, witty, and self-mocking, Horace frequently laments his stomach issues, sore eyes, and the foolishness of waiting for a woman who never showed. His humor leans more towards gentle teasing than harsh criticism — he pokes fun at pretentious officials and superstitious locals, but his best jokes often come at his own expense. Beneath the comedy lies a true fondness: for his friends, for the journey, and for the little absurdities that make travel unforgettable.
Symbols & metaphors
- The road (Via Appia) — The Appian Way is the backbone of the poem, representing Roman civilization — ambitious yet plagued by delays, poor inns, and human conflict. Journeying along it is both a privilege and a challenge.
- Bad water / vile water — Horace's ongoing complaint about undrinkable water symbolizes the disconnect between ideals and reality. Rome may be the center of the world, yet its roads are filled with water that can make you ill.
- The sleeping boatman and grazing mule — The boatman ties his mule to a stone and dozes off, leaving his boat adrift—this paints a humorous picture of inertia and how travel often thwarts the traveler’s plans. Progress relies on the will of others, and sometimes, that means dealing with their laziness.
- The meeting with Virgil and Varius — The reunion at Sinuessa serves as the emotional heart of the poem, representing how friendship is what truly makes any journey — or life itself — meaningful.
- The incense that melts without fire — The alleged miracle at Egnatia reflects a mix of superstition and gullibility. Horace's outright disbelief stands as a testament to Epicurean rationalism, emphasizing that natural causes, rather than divine intervention, govern the world.
- "Brundusium ends both my long journey, and my paper" — The final line equates the physical journey with the act of writing — both have a destination and both come to a halt upon arrival. This reflects the poem's self-awareness as a crafted piece with its own limitations.
Historical context
Horace wrote this poem around 37 BCE, likely as part of his first book of *Satires* (*Sermones*). The journey he describes was real; Horace traveled with his influential patron Maecenas and a diplomatic group to Brundusium (modern Brindisi) for negotiations between Octavian (who would later become Augustus) and Mark Antony. The political stakes were high — this meeting played a role in producing the Treaty of Tarentum — but Horace barely touches on that, instead choosing to humorously focus on mosquitoes and bad bread. This poem is part of the *hodoeporicon* tradition, or travel poetry, and it deliberately echoes Lucilius, who is considered the founder of Roman satire and wrote his own journey poem. However, Horace's version feels warmer and more personal than Lucilius's. The chance encounter with Virgil and Varius on the road was significant; they were among Horace's closest friends in the literary world, and the poem partly celebrates the circle of poets that Maecenas had brought together.
FAQ
Roman *satura* differed significantly from what we think of as modern satire. The Latin term described a mixed, eclectic form — akin to a literary hodgepodge — rather than focusing solely on sharp criticism. Horace's *Sermones* ("Conversations") can be seen as satirical since they examine human folly with skepticism, yet they seldom express rage. This poem reads more like a humorous travelogue than a piece meant to launch an attack, which aligns perfectly with the genre as Horace approached it.
That silence is the key. Maecenas and Cocceius were on their way to negotiate a deal between two of the most influential figures in the Roman world, yet Horace condenses this to a single line about "reconciling friends at variance." By pushing high politics to the background and highlighting mosquitoes and insults exchanged at the dinner table, Horace subtly suggests that the nuances of everyday life are far more engaging and authentic than the grand workings of power.
Virgil was already known as a significant poet—the *Eclogues* had been released—and Varius Rufus was a well-regarded epic and tragic poet, though his works are now largely forgotten. Both were close friends of Horace and part of Maecenas's literary circle. The warmth of their reunion feels authentic: these were the people Horace felt most at ease with, and the poem openly reflects that.
Horace writes in dactylic hexameter, the meter used in epic poetry that follows strict syllable rules. The name of the town (likely Ausculum or something similar) doesn't fit the metrical pattern. Instead of trying to force it or alter the meter, Horace openly recognizes this limitation and opts to describe the place instead. This creates a humorous moment that highlights the disconnect between reality and the poem, showcasing Horace's ease with breaking the fourth wall.
Horace is rejecting the idea that incense can melt without fire at a local temple. He refers to "Apella" — a typical Jewish name in Rome — as a way to mock those who are gullible enough to believe in miracles, highlighting a stereotype from Roman times that portrayed Jews as superstitious. This phrase comes off as a casual ethnic slur by today's standards, creating an awkward contrast within an otherwise friendly poem. The underlying philosophical message is Epicurean: the gods don’t interfere in the natural world, so miracles are impossible.
The Atabulus was the local term for a hot, dry wind that swept across the Apulian plain in southern Italy, much like a sirocco. Horace refers to it to illustrate the harshness and fatigue of that part of the journey. This is one of several instances where the landscape itself poses a challenge.
The ending — "Brundusium ends both my long journey, and my paper" — serves as a purposeful anti-climax and is often regarded as one of the poem's most celebrated lines. Horace decides not to conclude with a moral lesson or profound insight. The journey concludes because he has reached his destination; the poem finishes simply because he has exhausted his thoughts (or the space to express them). It’s amusing, genuine, and structurally flawless: the poem knows when to stop.
Most scholars think the journey actually happened. The individuals mentioned — Maecenas, Virgil, Varius, Cocceius, Fonteius Capito — were real people in Horace's social circle, and other ancient sources confirm the diplomatic mission to Brundusium. The specific details (sore eyes, the canal crossing, the burning kitchen) feel more like real experiences than fabrications. However, Horace does shape and select the material for comedic effect, making it an autobiography that’s been refined through art.