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To understand how Horace came to be a great poet as well as an engaging person, it is necessary to look beneath this somewhat commonplace exterior, and to discern the spiritual man.
The foundations of literature are laid in life. For the production of great poetry two conditions are necessary. There must be, first, an 010 age pregnant with the celestial fires of deep emotion. Second, there must be in its midst one of the rare men whom we call inspired. He must be of such sensitive spiritual fiber as to vibrate to every breeze of the national passion, of such spiritual capacity as to assimilate the common thoughts and moods of the time, of such fine perception and of such sureness of command over word, phrase, and rhythm, as to give crowning expression to what his soul has made its own.
For abundance of stirring and fertilizing experience, history presents few equals of the times when Horace lived. His lifetime fell in an age which was in continual travail with great and uncertain movement. Never has Fortune taken greater delight in her bitter and insolent game, never displayed a greater pertinacity in the derision of men. In the period from Horace's birth at Venusia in southeastern Italy, on December 8, b.c. 65, to November 27, b.c. 8, when
"Mourned of men and Muses nine,
They laid him on the Esquiline,"
there occurred the series of great events, to men in their midst incomprehensible, bewildering, 011 and disheartening, which after times could readily interpret as the inevitable change from the ancient and decaying Republic to the better knit if less free life of the Empire.
We are at an immense distance, and the differences have long since been composed. The menacing murmur of trumpets is no longer audible, and the seas are no longer red with blood. The picture is old, and faded, and darkened, and leaves us cold, until we illuminate it with the light of imagination. Then first we see, or rather feel, the magnitude of the time: its hatreds and its selfishness; its differences of opinion, sometimes honest and sometimes disingenuous, but always maintained with the heat of passion; its divisions of friends and families; its lawlessness and violence; its terrifying uncertainties and adventurous plunges; its tragedies of confiscation, murder, fire, proscription, feud, insurrection, riot, war; the dramatic exits of the leading actors in the great play,-of Catiline at Pistoria, of Crassus in the eastern deserts, of Clodius at Bovillae within sight of the gates of Rome, of Pompey in Egypt, of Cato in Africa, of Caesar, Servius Sulpicius, Marcellus, Trebonius and Dolabella, Hirtius and Pansa, Decimus Brutus, the Ciceros, 012 Marcus Brutus and Cassius, Sextus the son of Pompey, Antony and Cleopatra,-as one after another
"Strutted and fretted his hour upon the stage,
And then was heard no more."
It is in relief against a background such as this that Horace's works should be read,-the Satires, published in 35 and 30, which the poet himself calls Sermones, "Conversations," "Talks," or Causeries; the collection of lyrics called Epodes, in 29; three books of Odes in 23; a book of Epistles, or further Causeries, in 20; the Secular Hymn in 17; a second book of Epistles in 14; a fourth book of Odes in 13; and a final Epistle, On the Art of Poetry, at a later and uncertain date.
It is above all against such a background that Horace's invocation to Fortune should be read:
Goddess, at lovely Antium is thy shrine:
Ready art thou to raise with grace divine
Our mortal frame from lowliest dust of earth,
Or turn triumph to funeral for thy mirth;
or that other expression of the inscrutable uncertainty of the human lot: 013
Fortune, whose joy is e'er our woe and shame,
With hard persistence plays her mocking game;
Bestowing favors all inconstantly,
Kindly to others now, and now to me.
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