his elusive humor,
which never bursts into laughter and yet is never far away from it. We
are taken into his confidence, like old friends. He describes himself
and his ways; he lets us share in his own vision of himself and in his
amusement at the bustling and self-deluded world, and subtly conciliates
us by making us feel ourselves partakers with him in the criticism of
life. There is no better example in literature of personal magnetism.

And he is more than merely personal. He is sincere and unreserved. Were
he otherwise, the delight of intimate acquaintance with him would be
impossible. It is the real Horace whom we meet,--not a person on the
literary stage, with buskins, pallium, and mask. Horace holds the mirror
up to himself; rather, not to himself, but to nature in himself. Every
side of his personality appears: the artist, and the man; the formalist,
and the skeptic; the spectator, and the critic; the gentleman in
society, and the son of the collector; the landlord of five hearths, and
the poet at court; the stern moralist, and the occasional voluptuary;
the vagabond, and the conventionalist. He is independent and unhampered
in his expression. He has no exalted social position to maintain, and
blushes neither for parentage nor companions. His philosophy is not
School-made, and the fear of inconsistency never haunts him. His
religion requires no subscription to dogma; he does not even take the
trouble to define it. Politically, his duties have come to be also his
desires. He will accept the favors of the Emperor and his ministers if
they do not compromise his liberty or happiness. If they withdraw their
gifts, he knows how to do without them, because he has already done
without them. He conceals nothing, pretends to nothing, makes no
excuses, suffers from no self-consciousness, exercises no reserve. There
are few expressions of self in all literature so spontaneous and so
complete. Horace has left us a portrait of his soul much more perfect
than that of his person. It is a truthful portrait, with both shadow and
light.

And there is a corollary to Horace's frankness that constitutes another
element in the charm of his personality. His very unreserve is the proof
of an open and kindly heart. To call him a satirist at all is to
necessitate his own definition of satire, "smilingly to tell the truth."
At least in his riper work, there is no trace of bitterness. He laughs
with some purpose and to some purpose, but