him that it, of all the virtues, lies next to happy living.


_v_. THE SOURCES OF HAPPINESS

Here we have arrived at the kernel of Horace's philosophy, the key which
unlocks the casket containing his message to all men of every
generation. In actual life, at least, mankind storms the citadel of
happiness, as if it were something material and external, to be taken by
violent hands. Horace locates the citadels of happiness in his own
breast. It is the heart which is the source of all joy and all sorrow,
of all wealth and all poverty. Happiness is to be sought, not outside,
but within. Man does not create his world; he _is_ his world.

Men are madly chasing after peace of heart in a thousand wrong ways, all
the while over-looking the right way, which is nearest at hand. To
observe their feverish eagerness, the spectator might be led to think
happiness identical with possession. And yet wealth and happiness are
neither the same nor equivalent. They may have nothing to do one with
the other. Money, indeed, is not an evil in itself, but it is not
essential except so far as it is a mere means of life. Poor men may be
happy, and the wealthy may be poor in the midst of their riches. A man's
wealth consisteth not in the abundance of the things he possesseth. More
justly does he lay claim to the name of rich man who knows how to use
the blessings of the gods wisely, who is bred to endurance of hard want,
and who fears the disgraceful action worse than he fears death.

Real happiness consists in peace of mind and heart. Everyone desires it,
and everyone prays for it,--the sailor caught in the storms of the
Aegean, the mad Thracian, the Mede with quiver at his back. But peace is