For I apprehend that passage is generally misunderstood.”
“I really do not remember,” answered the author. “Pray, sir, what do you take to be the meaning?”
“I apprehend, sir,” replied Booth, “that by these words, Urbi Pater est, urbique Maritus, Cato is represented as the father and husband to the city of Rome.”
“Very true, sir,” cries the author; “very fine, indeed.—Not only the father of his country, but the husband too; very noble, truly!”
“Pardon me, sir,” cries Booth; “I do not conceive that to have been Lucan’s meaning. If you please to observe the context; Lucan, having commended the temperance of Cato in the instances of diet and cloaths, proceeds to venereal pleasures; of which, says the poet, his principal use was procreation: then he adds, Urbi Pater est, urbique Maritus; that he became a father and a husband for the sake only of the city.”
“Upon my word that’s true,” cries the author; “I did not think of it. It is much finer than the other.—Urbis Pater est—what is the other?—ay—Urbis Maritus.—It is certainly as you say, sir.”
Booth was by this pretty well satisfied of the author’s profound learning; however, he was willing to try him a little farther. He asked him, therefore, what was his opinion of Lucan in general, and in what class of writers he ranked him?
The author stared a little at this question; and, after some hesitation, answered, “Certainly, sir, I think he is a fine writer and a very great poet.”
“I am very much of the same opinion,” cries Booth; “but where do you class him—next to what poet do you place him?”
“Let me see,” cries the author; “where do I class him? next to whom do I place him?—Ay!—why—why, pray, where do you yourself place him?”