of influence the ancient classics had on an age which, as is generally supposed, is marked by a tendency to break away from them. But I expect before long to follow Horace through other periods, and to observe his influence in other English authors. My hope is that, singly, or combined with the work of others, my studies may at some time result in a substantial volume which may fairly be called 'Horace in English Literature.' I am glad to take this opportunity of expressing my gratitude to all who have aided me in the prosecution of my study. A list of the books I have consulted will be found at the end of the work (pp. 107-109); but I should like to speak in particular of Classical Echoes in Tennyson, by W. P. Mustard, of Johns Hopkins University, and of the very helpful notes in the Shorey-Laing edition of the Odes and Epodes of Horace. I am indebted to Professor Mustard also for two Wordsworthian allusions; to Professor Lane Cooper, of Cornell University, under whose direction the work was begun, for his constant interest and his many useful suggestions; and to others who on occasion have been so good as to furnish me with valuable references. VASSAR COLLEGE, January 9, 1916 MARY REBECCA THAYER INTRODUCTION In order properly to discuss the influence of one writer upon another, it is necessary to determine as nearly as may be for what each of them stands; for the measure of real influence is, after all, the amount of sympathy which exists between the two. Therefore, prior to taking up the relation of Horace to nineteenth-century English poetry, we must endeavor to obtain a true idea of him as he shows himself to us. The attempt to discover a man in his poems is always fascinating, but also to a greater or less extent dangerous. The reason for this is twofold: first, most poets have the faculty of merging their own identity from time to time in the imaginary men and women of whom they write, so that it is indeed Oedipus, or Francesca, or Lady Macbeth, or Paracelsus, whom we hear speaking; secondly, the eager interpreter is all too apt to forget the 'infinite variety' which goes to make up every human being, and, dwelling on certain poems, while disregarding others, to construct therefrom a caricature which the poet himself would be the last to recognize as his portrait. From the first of these dangers Horace is not so likely to suffer; for it is true that some poets commit more of themselves to their verse than do others, and he belongs to the former class. So careful a student as the late Professor Sellar finds him one of the most self-revealing of poets; and Professor J. Wight Duff, the able historian of Latin literature, says of him: 'No Roman author except Cicero has left anything like so complete a self-revelation as Horace."1 It is well for us that this is true, since there is no record of him except the brief life by Suetonius, which furnishes a mere biographical outline, but not the vastly more important details of the poet's personality. Concerning Horace there has come down to us none of the contemporary appreciation which helps us to realize even so inscrutable a figure as 'gentle Shakespeare.' It is from Horace alone that we may hope to know Horace the friend of Virgil, the favorite of Maecenas, the protégé of Augustus, the poet of us all. From the second danger, however, Horace suffers much. Critic after critic has taken the lighter odes, the vers de société which the poet 1 A Literary History of Rome, p. 496. could write so charmingly, and with them for background has painted a picture of an amiable trifler, feeling deeply on no subject except perhaps when the ugly thought of inevitable death obtrudes itself; a finished workman, caring far more for the polishing and setting than for the gem itself. Thus we find Keble saying:1 'I reluctantly confess myself hitherto unable to discover any peculiar and dominating spring of Horace's poetry. In fact, I suspect his light touch of all subjects betrays to us that he dwelt with no serious regard on any one of them. He professes at times a notable enthusiasm for the country and rural life: yet one always feels that his interest was rather after the manner of those who merely seek recreation there than of the country-folk themselves; that Rome was all the time in his thoughts; that he cherished his little farm and his homely belongings, less for their own sake than for their restful repose, their elegant hospitalities, and whatsoever other like attractions they offered. In brief: he enrolled himself without misgiving in the ranks of the Epicureans; setting before him as his sole rule of life the hope of grasping the gifts of the passing hour, whatever they might chance to be. We see, then, in him a genial gentleman, one too nearly in sympathy with the crowd, who indulge their own bent, to be deeply influenced by any tender regard for things far away.' This criticism contains an element of truth. Horace was an Epicurean; he was a genial gentleman. But, for the rest, we surely will not acknowledge that carpe diem was his 'sole rule of life,' when we recall (to take a familiar instance) the golden mean upon which he time and again insists; we cannot agree that he took no active interest in country life when we read such passages as the following: Vivere naturae si convenienter oportet, Est ubi plus tepeant hiemes? Est ubi divellat somnos minus invida cura? Deterius Libycis olet aut nitet herba lapillis? 1 Lectures on Poetry, tr. E. K. Francis, 2. 467 ff. If we are to live in accordance with nature, and first of all are to hunt for a spot to build a house, do you know a place preferable to the prosperous country? Is there any place where the winters are milder? Is there any place where carking care less disturbs our sleep? Does grass smell less sweet or look |