sentiment is not pitched in too high a key for the unimaginative, but
it is always so genuine that the most imaginative feel its charm. His
wisdom is deeper than it seems, so simple, practical, and direct as it
is in its application; and his moral teaching more spiritual and
penetrating than is apparent on a superficial study. He does not fall
into the common error of didactic writers, of laying upon life more
than it will bear; but he insists that it shall at least bear the
fruits of integrity, truth, honour, justice, self-denial, and
brotherly charity. Over and above the mere literary charm of his
works, too--and herein, perhaps, lies no small part of the secret of
his popularity--the warm heart and thoroughly urbane nature of the man
are felt instinctively by his readers, and draw them to him as to a
friend.

Hence it is that we find he has been a manual with men the most
diverse in their natures, culture, and pursuits. Dante ranks him next
after Homer. Montaigne, as might be expected, knows him by heart.
Fenelon and Bossuet never weary of quoting him. La Fontaine polishes
his own exquisite style upon his model; and Voltaire calls him "the
best of preachers." Hooker escapes with him to the fields to seek
oblivion of a hard life, made harder by a shrewish spouse. Lord
Chesterfield tells us, "When I talked my best I quoted Horace." To
Boileau and to Wordsworth he is equally dear. Condorcet dies in his
dungeon with Horace open by his side; and in Gibbon's militia days,
"on every march," he says, "in every journey, Horace was always in my
pocket, and often in my hand." And as it has been, so it is. In many a
pocket, where this might be least expected, lies a well-thumbed
Horace; and in many a devout Christian heart the maxims of the gentle,
genial pagan find a place near the higher teachings of a greater
master.