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diff --git a/2615-h/2615-h.htm b/2615-h/2615-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7f4bec7 --- /dev/null +++ b/2615-h/2615-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6791 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Discourses on Satire and on Epic Poetry, by John Dryden</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Discourses on Satire and on Epic Poetry, by +John Dryden, Edited by Henry Morley + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: Discourses on Satire and on Epic Poetry + + +Author: John Dryden + +Editor: Henry Morley + +Release Date: September 26, 2014 [eBook #2615] +[This file was first posted on May 21, 2000] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DISCOURSES ON SATIRE AND ON EPIC +POETRY*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1888 Cassell & Company edition by +David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="GutSmall">CASSELL’S NATIONAL LIBRARY.</span></p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<h1><span class="smcap">Discourses on Satire</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">AND ON</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Epic Poetry</span>.</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br +/> +JOHN DRYDEN.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/tpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decorative graphic" +title= +"Decorative graphic" + src="images/tps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center">CASSELL & COMPANY, <span +class="smcap">Limited</span>:<br /> +<span class="GutSmall"><i>LONDON</i></span><span +class="GutSmall">, </span><span +class="GutSmall"><i>PARIS</i></span><span class="GutSmall">, +</span><span class="GutSmall"><i>NEW YORK & +MELBOURNE</i></span><span class="GutSmall">.</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">1888.</span></p> +<h2>INTRODUCTION.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Dryden’s</span> discourses upon +Satire and Epic Poetry belong to the latter years of his life, +and represent maturer thought than is to be found in his +“Essay of Dramatic Poesie.” That essay, +published in 1667, draws its chief interest from the time when it +was written. A Dutch fleet was at the mouth of the +Thames. Dryden represents himself taking a boat down the +river with three friends, one of them his brother-in-law Sir +Robert Howard, another Sir Charles Sedley, and another Charles +Sackville Lord Buckhurst to whom, as Earl of Dorset, the +“Discourse of Satire” is inscribed. They go +down the river to hear the guns at sea, and judge by the sound +whether the Dutch fleet be advancing or retreating. On the +way they talk of the plague of Odes that will follow an English +victory; their talk of verse proceeds to plays, with particular +attention to a question that had been specially argued before the +public between Dryden and his brother-in-law Sir Robert +Howard. The question touched the use of blank verse in the +drama. Dryden had decided against it as a worthless +measure, and the chief feature of the Essay, which was written in +dialogue, was its support of Dryden’s argument. But +in that year (1667) “Paradise Lost” was published, +and Milton’s blank verse was the death of Dryden’s +theories. After a few years Dryden recanted his +error. The “Essay of Dramatic Poesie” is +interesting as a setting forth in 1667 of mistaken critical +opinions which were at that time in the ascendant, but had not +very long to live. Dryden always wrote good masculine +prose, and all his critical essays are good reading as pieces of +English. His “Essay of Dramatic Poesie” is good +reading as illustrative of the weakness of our literature in the +days of the influence of France after the Restoration. The +essays on Satire and on Epic Poetry represent also the influence +of the French critical school, but represent it in a larger way, +with indications of its strength as well as of its +weakness. They represent also Dryden himself with a riper +mind covering a larger field of thought, and showing abundantly +the strength and independence of his own critical judgment, while +he cites familiarly and frequently the critics, little remembered +and less cared for now, who then passed for the arbiters of +taste.</p> +<p>If English literature were really taught in schools, and the +eldest boys had received training that brought them in their last +school-year to a knowledge of the changes of intellectual fashion +that set their outward mark upon successive periods, there is no +prose writing of Dryden that could be used by a teacher more +instructively than these Discourses on Satire and on Epic +Poetry. They illustrate abundantly both Dryden and his +time, and give continuous occasion for discussion of first +principles, whether in disagreement or agreement with the +text. Dryden was on his own ground as a critic of satire; +and the ideal of an epic that the times, and perhaps also the +different bent of his own genius, would not allow him to work +out, at least finds such expression as might be expected from a +man who had high aspirations, and whose place, in times +unfavourable to his highest aims, was still among the +master-poets of the world.</p> +<p>The Discourse on Satire was prefixed to a translation of the +satires of Juvenal and Persius, and is dated the 18th of August, +1692, when the poet’s age was sixty-one. In +translating Juvenal, Dryden was helped by his sons Charles and +John. William Congreve translated one satire; other +translations were by Nahum Tate and George Stepney. Time +modern reader of the introductory discourse has first to pass +through the unmeasured compliments to the Earl of Dorset, which +represent a real esteem and gratitude in the extravagant terms +then proper to the art of dedication. We get to the free +sea over a slimy shore. We must remember that Charles the +Second upon his death was praised by Charles Montague, who knew +his faults, as “the best good man that ever filled a +throne,” and compared to God Himself at the end of the +first paragraph of Montague’s poem. But when we are +clear of the conventional unmeasured flatteries, and Dryden +lingers among epic poets on his way to the satirists, there is +equal interest in the mistaken criticisms, in the aspirations +that are blended with them, and in the occasional touches of the +poet’s personality in quiet references to his +critics. The comparisons between Horace and Juvenal in this +discourse, and much of the criticism on Virgil in the discourse +on epic poetry, are the utterances of a poet upon poets, and full +of right suggestions from an artist’s mind. The +second discourse was prefixed in 1697—three years before +Dryden’s death—to his translation of the +Æneid.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">H. M.</p> +<h2>A DISCOURSE ON THE ORIGINAL AND PROGRESS OF SATIRE:</h2> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">ADDRESSED TO +THE RIGHT HONOURABLE</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">CHARLES, EARL OF DORSET AND +MIDDLESEX,</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">LORD +CHAMBERLAIN OF HIS MAJESTY’S HOUSEHOLD, KNIGHT OF THE MOST +NOBLE ORDER OF THE GARTER, ETC.</span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">My Lord</span>,</p> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> wishes and desires of all good +men, which have attended your lordship from your first appearance +in the world, are at length accomplished, from your obtaining +those honours and dignities which you have so long +deserved. There are no factions, though irreconcilable to +one another, that are not united in their affection to you, and +the respect they pay you. They are equally pleased in your +prosperity, and would be equally concerned in your +afflictions. Titus Vespasian was not more the delight of +human kind. The universal empire made him only more known +and more powerful, but could not make him more beloved. He +had greater ability of doing good, but your inclination to it is +not less: and though you could not extend your beneficence to so +many persons, yet you have lost as few days as that excellent +emperor; and never had his complaint to make when you went to +bed, that the sun had shone upon you in vain, when you had the +opportunity of relieving some unhappy man. This, my lord, +has justly acquired you as many friends as there are persons who +have the honour to be known to you. Mere acquaintance you +have none; you have drawn them all into a nearer line; and they +who have conversed with you are for ever after inviolably +yours. This is a truth so generally acknowledged that it +needs no proof: it is of the nature of a first principle, which +is received as soon as it is proposed; and needs not the +reformation which Descartes used to his; for we doubt not, +neither can we properly say, we think we admire and love you +above all other men: there is a certainty in the proposition, and +we know it. With the same assurance I can say, you neither +have enemies, nor can scarce have any; for they who have never +heard of you can neither love or hate you; and they who have, can +have no other notion of you than that which they receive from the +public, that you are the best of men. After this, my +testimony can be of no farther use, than to declare it to be +daylight at high noon: and all who have the benefit of sight can +look up as well and see the sun.</p> +<p>It is true, I have one privilege which is almost particular to +myself, that I saw you in the east at your first arising above +the hemisphere: I was as soon sensible as any man of that light +when it was but just shooting out and beginning to travel upwards +to the meridian. I made my early addresses to your lordship +in my “Essay of Dramatic Poetry,” and therein bespoke +you to the world; wherein I have the right of a first +discoverer. When I was myself in the rudiments of my +poetry, without name or reputation in the world, having rather +the ambition of a writer than the skill; when I was drawing the +outlines of an art, without any living master to instruct me in +it—an art which had been better praised than studied here +in England; wherein Shakespeare, who created the stage among us, +had rather written happily than knowingly and justly; and Jonson, +who, by studying Horace, had been acquainted with the rules, yet +seemed to envy to posterity that knowledge, and, like an inventor +of some useful art, to make a monopoly of his learning—when +thus, as I may say, before the use of the loadstone or knowledge +of the compass, I was sailing in a vast ocean without other help +than the pole-star of the ancients and the rules of the French +stage amongst the moderns (which are extremely different from +ours, by reason of their opposite taste), yet even then I had the +presumption to dedicate to your lordship—a very unfinished +piece, I must confess, and which only can be excused by the +little experience of the author and the modesty of the +title—“An Essay.” Yet I was stronger in +prophecy than I was in criticism: I was inspired to foretell you +to mankind as the restorer of poetry, the greatest genius, the +truest judge, and the best patron.</p> +<p>Good sense and good nature are never separated, though the +ignorant world has thought otherwise. Good nature, by which +I mean beneficence and candour, is the product of right reason; +which of necessity will give allowance to the failings of others +by considering that there is nothing perfect in mankind; and by +distinguishing that which comes nearest to excellency, though not +absolutely free from faults, will certainly produce a candour in +the judge. It is incident to an elevated understanding like +your lordship’s to find out the errors of other men; but it +is your prerogative to pardon them; to look with pleasure on +those things which are somewhat congenial and of a remote kindred +to your own conceptions; and to forgive the many failings of +those who, with their wretched art, cannot arrive to those +heights that you possess from a happy, abundant, and native +genius which are as inborn to you as they were to Shakespeare, +and, for aught I know, to Homer; in either of whom we find all +arts and sciences, all moral and natural philosophy, without +knowing that they ever studied them.</p> +<p>There is not an English writer this day living who is not +perfectly convinced that your lordship excels all others in all +the several parts of poetry which you have undertaken to +adorn. The most vain and the most ambitions of our age have +not dared to assume so much as the competitors of Themistocles: +they have yielded the first place without dispute; and have been +arrogantly content to be esteemed as second to your lordship, and +even that also with a <i>longo</i>, <i>sed proximi +intervallo</i>. If there have been, or are, any who go +farther in their self-conceit, they must be very singular in +their opinion; they must be like the officer in a play who was +called captain, lieutenant, and company. The world will +easily conclude whether such unattended generals can ever be +capable of making a revolution in Parnassus.</p> +<p>I will not attempt in this place to say anything particular of +your lyric poems, though they are the delight and wonder of the +age, and will be the envy of the next. The subject of this +book confines me to satire; and in that an author of your own +quality, whose ashes I will not disturb, has given you all the +commendation which his self-sufficiency could afford to any +man—“The best good man, with the worst-natured +muse.” In that character, methinks, I am reading +Jonson’s verses to the memory of Shakespeare; an insolent, +sparing, and invidious panegyric: where good nature—the +most godlike commendation of a man—is only attributed to +your person, and denied to your writings; for they are everywhere +so full of candour, that, like Horace, you only expose the +follies of men without arraigning their vices; and in this excel +him, that you add that pointedness of thought which is visibly +wanting in our great Roman. There is more of salt in all +your verses than I have seen in any of the moderns, or even of +the ancients: but you have been sparing of the gall; by which +means you have pleased all readers and offended none. Donne +alone, of all our countrymen, had your talent, but was not happy +enough to arrive at your versification; and were he translated +into numbers and English, he would yet be wanting in the dignity +of expression. That which is the prime virtue and chief +ornament of Virgil, which distinguishes him from the rest of +writers, is so conspicuous in your verses that it casts a shadow +on all your contemporaries; we cannot be seen, or but obscurely, +while you are present. You equal Donne in the variety, +multiplicity, and choice of thoughts; you excel him in the manner +and the words. I read you both with the same admiration, +but not with the same delight. He affects the metaphysics, +not only in his satires, but in his amorous verses, where Nature +only should reign; and perplexes the minds of the fair sex with +nice speculations of philosophy, when he should engage their +hearts and entertain them with the softnesses of love. In +this (if I may be pardoned for so bold a truth) Mr. Cowley has +copied him to a fault: so great a one, in my opinion, that it +throws his “Mistress” infinitely below his +“Pindarics” and his later compositions, which are +undoubtedly the best of his poems and the most correct. For +my own part I must avow it freely to the world that I never +attempted anything in satire wherein I have not studied your +writings as the most perfect model. I have continually laid +them before me; and the greatest commendation which my own +partiality can give to my productions is that they are copies, +and no farther to be allowed than as they have something more or +less of the original. Some few touches of your lordship, +some secret graces which I have endeavoured to express after your +manner, have made whole poems of mine to pass with approbation: +but take your verses all together, and they are inimitable. +If, therefore, I have not written better, it is because you have +not written more. You have not set me sufficient copy to +transcribe; and I cannot add one letter of my own invention of +which I have not the example there.</p> +<p>It is a general complaint against your lordship, and I must +have leave to upbraid you with it, that, because you need not +write, you will not. Mankind that wishes you so well in all +things that relate to your prosperity, have their intervals of +wishing for themselves, and are within a little of grudging you +the fulness of your fortune: they would be more malicious if you +used it not so well and with so much generosity.</p> +<p>Fame is in itself a real good, if we may believe Cicero, who +was perhaps too fond of it; but even fame, as Virgil tells us, +acquires strength by going forward. Let Epicurus give +indolency as an attribute to his gods, and place in it the +happiness of the blest: the Divinity which we worship has given +us not only a precept against it, but His own example to the +contrary. The world, my lord, would be content to allow you +a seventh day for rest; or, if you thought that hard upon you, we +would not refuse you half your time: if you came out, like some +great monarch, to take a town but once a year, as it were for +your diversion, though you had no need to extend your +territories. In short, if you were a bad, or, which is +worse, an indifferent poet, we would thank you for our own quiet, +and not expose you to the want of yours. But when you are +so great, and so successful, and when we have that necessity of +your writing that we cannot subsist entirely without it, any more +(I may almost say) than the world without the daily course of +ordinary Providence, methinks this argument might prevail with +you, my lord, to forego a little of your repose for the public +benefit. It is not that you are under any force of working +daily miracles to prove your being, but now and then somewhat of +extraordinary—that is, anything of your production—is +requisite to refresh your character.</p> +<p>This, I think, my lord, is a sufficient reproach to you, and +should I carry it as far as mankind would authorise me, would be +little less than satire. And indeed a provocation is almost +necessary, in behalf of the world, that you might be induced +sometimes to write; and in relation to a multitude of scribblers, +who daily pester the world with their insufferable stuff, that +they might be discouraged from writing any more. I complain +not of their lampoons and libels, though I have been the public +mark for many years. I am vindictive enough to have +repelled force by force if I could imagine that any of them had +ever reached me: but they either shot at rovers, and therefore +missed; or their powder was so weak that I might safely stand +them at the nearest distance. I answered not the +“Rehearsal” because I knew the author sat to himself +when he drew the picture, and was the very Bayes of his own +farce; because also I knew that my betters were more concerned +than I was in that satire; and, lastly, because Mr. Smith and Mr. +Johnson, the main pillars of it, were two such languishing +gentlemen in their conversation that I could liken them to +nothing but to their own relations, those noble characters of men +of wit and pleasure about the town. The like considerations +have hindered me from dealing with the lamentable companions of +their prose and doggerel. I am so far from defending my +poetry against them that I will not so much as expose +theirs. And for my morals, if they are not proof against +their attacks, let me be thought by posterity what those authors +would be thought if any memory of them or of their writings could +endure so long as to another age. But these dull makers of +lampoons, as harmless as they have been to me, are yet of +dangerous example to the public. Some witty men may perhaps +succeed to their designs, and, mixing sense with malice, blast +the reputation of the most innocent amongst men, and the most +virtuous amongst women.</p> +<p>Heaven be praised, our common libellers are as free from the +imputation of wit as of morality, and therefore whatever mischief +they have designed they have performed but little of it. +Yet these ill writers, in all justice, ought themselves to be +exposed, as Persius has given us a fair example in his first +Satire, which is levelled particularly at them; and none is so +fit to correct their faults as he who is not only clear from any +in his own writings, but is also so just that he will never +defame the good, and is armed with the power of verse to punish +and make examples of the bad. But of this I shall have +occasion to speak further when I come to give the definition and +character of true satires.</p> +<p>In the meantime, as a counsellor bred up in the knowledge of +the municipal and statute laws may honestly inform a just prince +how far his prerogative extends, so I may be allowed to tell your +lordship, who by an undisputed title are the king of poets, what +an extent of power you have, and how lawfully you may exercise it +over the petulant scribblers of this age. As Lord +Chamberlain, I know, you are absolute by your office in all that +belongs to the decency and good manners of the stage. You +can banish from thence scurrility and profaneness, and restrain +the licentious insolence of poets and their actors in all things +that shock the public quiet, or the reputation of private +persons, under the notion of humour. But I mean not the +authority which is annexed to your office, I speak of that only +which is inborn and inherent to your person; what is produced in +you by an excellent wit, a masterly and commanding genius over +all writers: whereby you are empowered, when you please, to give +the final decision of wit, to put your stamp on all that ought to +pass for current and set a brand of reprobation on clipped poetry +and false coin. A shilling dipped in the bath may go for +gold amongst the ignorant, but the sceptres on the guineas show +the difference. That your lordship is formed by nature for +this supremacy I could easily prove (were it not already granted +by the world) from the distinguishing character of your writing, +which is so visible to me that I never could be imposed on to +receive for yours what was written by any others, or to mistake +your genuine poetry for their spurious productions. I can +farther add with truth, though not without some vanity in saying +it, that in the same paper written by divers hands, whereof your +lordship’s was only part, I could separate your gold from +their copper; and though I could not give back to every author +his own brass (for there is not the same rule for distinguishing +betwixt bad and bad as betwixt ill and excellently good), yet I +never failed of knowing what was yours and what was not, and was +absolutely certain that this or the other part was positively +yours, and could not possibly be written by any other.</p> +<p>True it is that some bad poems, though not all, carry their +owners’ marks about them. There is some peculiar +awkwardness, false grammar, imperfect sense, or, at the least, +obscurity; some brand or other on this buttock or that ear that +it is notorious who are the owners of the cattle, though they +should not sign it with their names. But your lordship, on +the contrary, is distinguished not only by the excellency of your +thoughts, but by your style and manner of expressing them. +A painter judging of some admirable piece may affirm with +certainty that it was of Holbein or Vandyck; but vulgar designs +and common draughts are easily mistaken and misapplied. +Thus, by my long study of your lordship, I am arrived at the +knowledge of your particular manner. In the good poems of +other men, like those artists, I can only say, “This is +like the draught of such a one, or like the colouring of +another;” in short, I can only be sure that it is the hand +of a good master: but in your performances it is scarcely +possible for me to be deceived. If you write in your +strength, you stand revealed at the first view, and should you +write under it, you cannot avoid some peculiar graces which only +cost me a second consideration to discover you: for I may say it +with all the severity of truth, that every line of yours is +precious. Your lordship’s only fault is that you have +not written more, unless I could add another, and that yet +greater, but I fear for the public the accusation would not be +true—that you have written, and out of a vicious modesty +will not publish.</p> +<p>Virgil has confined his works within the compass of eighteen +thousand lines, and has not treated many subjects, yet he ever +had, and ever will have, the reputation of the best poet. +Martial says of him that he could have excelled Varius in tragedy +and Horace in lyric poetry, but out of deference to his friends +he attempted neither.</p> +<p>The same prevalence of genius is in your lordship, but the +world cannot pardon your concealing it on the same consideration, +because we have neither a living Varius nor a Horace, in whose +excellences both of poems, odes, and satires, you had equalled +them, if our language had not yielded to the Roman majesty, and +length of time had not added a reverence to the works of +Horace. For good sense is the same in all or most ages, and +course of time rather improves nature than impairs her. +What has been, may be again; another Homer and another Virgil may +possible arise from those very causes which produced the first, +though it would be impudence to affirm that any such have yet +appeared.</p> +<p>It is manifest that some particular ages have been more happy +than others in the production of great men in all sorts of arts +and sciences, as that of Euripides, Sophocles, Aristophanes, and +the rest, for stage-poetry amongst the Greeks; that of Augustus +for heroic, lyric, dramatic, elegiac, and indeed all sorts of +poetry in the persons of Virgil, Horace, Varius, Ovid, and many +others, especially if we take into that century the latter end of +the commonwealth, wherein we find Varro, Lucretius, and Catullus; +and at the same time lived Cicero and Sallust and +Cæsar. A famous age in modern times for learning in +every kind was that of Lorenzo de Medici and his son Leo the +Tenth, wherein painting was revived, and poetry flourished, and +the Greek language was restored.</p> +<p>Examples in all these are obvious, but what I would infer is +this—that in such an age it is possible some great genius +may arise to equal any of the ancients, abating only for the +language; for great contemporaries whet and cultivate each other, +and mutual borrowing and commerce makes the common riches of +learning, as it does of the civil government.</p> +<p>But suppose that Homer and Virgil were the only of their +species, and that nature was so much worn out in producing them +that she is never able to hear the like again, yet the example +only holds in heroic poetry; in tragedy and satire I offer myself +to maintain, against some of our modern critics, that this age +and the last, particularly in England, have excelled the ancients +in both those kinds, and I would instance in Shakespeare of the +former, of your lordship in the latter sort.</p> +<p>Thus I might safely confine myself to my native country. +But if I would only cross the seas, I might find in France a +living Horace and a Juvenal in the person of the admirable +Boileau, whose numbers are excellent, whose expressions are +noble, whose thoughts are just, whose language is pure, whose +satire is pointed and whose sense is close. What he borrows +from the ancients, he repays with usury of his own in coin as +good and almost as universally valuable: for, setting prejudice +and partiality apart, though he is our enemy, the stamp of a +Louis, the patron of all arts, is not much inferior to the medal +of an Augustus Cæsar. Let this be said without +entering into the interests of factions and parties, and relating +only to the bounty of that king to men of learning and +merit—a praise so just that even we, who are his enemies, +cannot refuse it to him.</p> +<p>Now if it may be permitted me to go back again to the +consideration of epic poetry, I have confessed that no man +hitherto has reached or so much as approached to the excellences +of Homer or of Virgil; I must farther add that Statius, the best +versificator next to Virgil, knew not how to design after him, +though he had the model in his eye; that Lucan is wanting both in +design and subject, and is besides too full of heat and +affectation; that amongst the moderns, Ariosto neither designed +justly nor observed any unity of action, or compass of time, or +moderation in the vastness of his draught: his style is luxurious +without majesty or decency, and his adventures without the +compass of nature and possibility. Tasso, whose design was +regular, and who observed the roles of unity in time and place +more closely than Virgil, yet was not so happy in his action: he +confesses himself to have been too lyrical—that is, to have +written beneath the dignity of heroic verse—in his episodes +of Sophronia, Erminia, and Armida. His story is not so +pleasing as Ariosto’s; he is too flatulent sometimes, and +sometimes too dry; many times unequal, and almost always forced; +and, besides, is full of conceits, points of epigram, and +witticisms; all which are not only below the dignity of heroic +verse, but contrary to its nature: Virgil and Homer have not one +of them. And those who are guilty of so boyish an ambition +in so grave a subject are so far from being considered as heroic +poets that they ought to be turned down from Homer to the +“Anthologia,” from Virgil to Martial and Owen’s +Epigrams, and from Spenser to Flecknoe—that is, from the +top to the bottom of all poetry. But to return to Tasso: he +borrows from the invention of Boiardo, and in his alteration of +his poem, which is infinitely for the worse, imitates Homer so +very servilely that (for example) he gives the King of Jerusalem +fifty sons, only because Homer had bestowed the like number on +King Priam; he kills the youngest in the same manner; and has +provided his hero with a Patroclus, under another name, only to +bring him back to the wars when his friend was killed. The +French have performed nothing in this kind which is not far below +those two Italians, and subject to a thousand more reflections, +without examining their “St. Louis,” their +“Pucelle,” or their “Alaric.” The +English have only to boast of Spenser and Milton, who neither of +them wanted either genius or learning to have been perfect poets; +and yet both of them are liable to many censures. For there +is no uniformity in the design of Spenser; he aims at the +accomplishment of no one action; he raises up a hero for every +one of his adventures, and endows each of them with some +particular moral virtue, which renders them all equal, without +subordination or preference: every one is most valiant in his own +legend: only we must do him that justice to observe that +magnanimity, which is the character of Prince Arthur, shines +throughout the whole poem, and succours the rest when they are in +distress. The original of every knight was then living in +the court of Queen Elizabeth, and he attributed to each of them +that virtue which he thought was most conspicuous in +them—an ingenious piece of flattery, though it turned not +much to his account. Had he lived to finish his poem in the +six remaining legends, it had certainly been more of a piece; but +could not have been perfect, because the model was not +true. But Prince Arthur, or his chief patron Sir Philip +Sidney, whom he intended to make happy by the marriage of his +Gloriana, dying before him, deprived the poet both of means and +spirit to accomplish his design. For the rest, his obsolete +language and the ill choice of his stanza are faults but of the +second magnitude; for, notwithstanding the first, he is still +intelligible—at least, after a little practice; and for the +last, he is the more to be admired that, labouring under such a +difficulty, his verses are so numerous, so various and so +harmonious, that only Virgil, whom he professedly imitated, has +surpassed him among the Romans, and only Mr. Waller among the +English.</p> +<p>As for Mr. Milton, whom we all admire with so much justice, +his subject is not that of an heroic poem, properly so +called. His design is the losing of our happiness; his +event is not prosperous, like that of all other epic works; his +heavenly machines are many, and his human persons are but +two. But I will not take Mr. Rymer’s work out of his +hands: he has promised the world a critique on that author +wherein, though he will not allow his poem for heroic, I hope he +will grant us that his thoughts are elevated, his words sounding, +and that no man has so happily copied the manner of Homer, or so +copiously translated his Grecisms and the Latin elegances of +Virgil. It is true, he runs into a flat of thought, +sometimes for a hundred lines together, but it is when he has got +into a track of Scripture. His antiquated words were his +choice, not his necessity; for therein he imitated Spenser, as +Spencer did Chaucer. And though, perhaps, the love of their +masters may have transported both too far in the frequent use of +them, yet in my opinion obsolete words may then be laudably +revived when either they are more sounding or more significant +than those in practice, and when their obscurity is taken away by +joining other words to them which clear the sense—according +to the rule of Horace for the admission of new words. But +in both cases a moderation is to be observed in the use of them; +for unnecessary coinage, as well as unnecessary revival, runs +into affectation—a fault to be avoided on either +hand. Neither will I justify Milton for his blank verse, +though I may excuse him by the example of Hannibal Caro and other +Italians who have used it; for, whatever causes he alleges for +the abolishing of rhyme (which I have not now the leisure to +examine), his own particular reason is plainly this—that +rhyme was not his talent; he had neither the ease of doing it, +nor the graces of it: which is manifest in his +“Juvenilia” or verses written in his youth, where his +rhyme is always constrained and forced, and comes hardly from +him, at an age when the soul is most pliant, and the passion of +love makes almost every man a rhymer, though not a poet.</p> +<p>By this time, my lord, I doubt not but that you wonder why I +have run off from my bias so long together, and made so tedious a +digression from satire to heroic poetry; but if you will not +excuse it by the tattling quality of age (which, as Sir William +Davenant says, is always narrative), yet I hope the usefulness of +what I have to say on this subject will qualify the remoteness of +it; and this is the last time I will commit the crime of +prefaces, or trouble the world with my notions of anything that +relates to verse. I have then, as you see, observed the +failings of many great wits amongst the moderns who have +attempted to write an epic poem. Besides these, or the like +animadversions of them by other men, there is yet a farther +reason given why they cannot possibly succeed so well as the +ancients, even though we could allow them not to be inferior +either in genius or learning, or the tongue in which they write, +or all those other wonderful qualifications which are necessary +to the forming of a true accomplished heroic poet. The +fault is laid on our religion; they say that Christianity is not +capable of those embellishments which are afforded in the belief +of those ancient heathens.</p> +<p>And it is true that in the severe notions of our faith the +fortitude of a Christian consists in patience, and suffering for +the love of God whatever hardships can befall in the +world—not in any great attempt, or in performance of those +enterprises which the poets call heroic, and which are commonly +the effects of interest, ostentation, pride, and worldly honour; +that humility and resignation are our prime virtues; and that +these include no action but that of the soul, whereas, on the +contrary, an heroic poem requires to its necessary design, and as +its last perfection, some great action of war, the accomplishment +of some extraordinary undertaking, which requires the strength +and vigour of the body, the duty of a soldier, the capacity and +prudence of a general, and, in short, as much or more of the +active virtue than the suffering. But to this the answer is +very obvious. God has placed us in our several stations; +the virtues of a private Christian are patience, obedience, +submission, and the like; but those of a magistrate or a general +or a king are prudence, counsel, active fortitude, coercive +power, awful command, and the exercise of magnanimity as well as +justice. So that this objection hinders not but that an +epic poem, or the heroic action of some great commander, +enterprised for the common good and honour of the Christian +cause, and executed happily, may be as well written now as it was +of old by the heathens, provided the poet be endued with the same +talents; and the language, though not of equal dignity, yet as +near approaching to it as our modern barbarism will +allow—which is all that can be expected from our own or any +other now extant, though more refined; and therefore we are to +rest contented with that only inferiority, which is not possibly +to be remedied.</p> +<p>I wish I could as easily remove that other difficulty which +yet remains. It is objected by a great French critic as +well as an admirable poet, yet living, and whom I have mentioned +with that honour which his merit exacts from me (I mean, +Boileau), that the machines of our Christian religion in heroic +poetry are much more feeble to support that weight than those of +heathenism. Their doctrine, grounded as it was on +ridiculous fables, was yet the belief of the two victorious +monarchies, the Grecian and Roman. Their gods did not only +interest themselves in the event of wars (which is the effect of +a superior Providence), but also espoused the several parties in +a visible corporeal descent, managed their intrigues and fought +their battles, sometimes in opposition to each other; though +Virgil (more discreet than Homer in that last particular) has +contented himself with the partiality of his deities, their +favours, their counsels or commands, to those whose cause they +had espoused, without bringing them to the outrageousness of +blows. Now our religion, says he, is deprived of the +greatest part of those machines—at least, the most shining +in epic poetry. Though St. Michael in Ariosto seeks out +Discord to send her amongst the Pagans, and finds her in a +convent of friars, where peace should reign (which indeed is fine +satire); and Satan in Tasso excites Soliman to an attempt by +night on the Christian camp, and brings a host of devils to his +assistance; yet the Archangel in the former example, when Discord +was restive and would not be drawn from her beloved monastery +with fair words, has the whip-hand of her, drags her out with +many stripes, sets her on God’s name about her business, +and makes her know the difference of strength betwixt a nuncio of +heaven and a minister of hell. The same angel in the latter +instance from Tasso (as if God had never another messenger +belonging to the court, but was confined, like Jupiter to +Mercury, and Juno to Iris), when he sees his time—that is, +when half of the Christians are already killed, and all the rest +are in a fair way to be routed—stickles betwixt the +remainders of God’s host and the race of fiends, pulls the +devils backward by the tails, and drives them from their quarry; +or otherwise the whole business had miscarried, and Jerusalem +remained untaken. This, says Boileau, is a very unequal +match for the poor devils, who are sure to come by the worst of +it in the combat; for nothing is more easy than for an Almighty +Power to bring His old rebels to reason when He pleases. +Consequently what pleasure, what entertainment, can be raised +from so pitiful a machine, where we see the success of the battle +from the very beginning of it? unless that as we are Christians, +we are glad that we have gotten God on our side to maul our +enemies when we cannot do the work ourselves. For if the +poet had given the faithful more courage, which had cost him +nothing, or at least have made them exceed the Turks in number, +he might have gained the victory for us Christians without +interesting Heaven in the quarrel, and that with as much ease and +as little credit to the conqueror as when a party of a hundred +soldiers defeats another which consists only of fifty.</p> +<p>This, my lord, I confess is such an argument against our +modern poetry as cannot be answered by those mediums which have +been used. We cannot hitherto boast that our religion has +furnished us with any such machines as have made the strength and +beauty of the ancient buildings.</p> +<p>But what if I venture to advance an invention of my own to +supply the manifest defect of our new writers? I am +sufficiently sensible of my weakness, and it is not very probable +that I should succeed in such a project, whereof I have not had +the least hint from any of my predecessors the poets, or any of +their seconds or coadjutors the critics. Yet we see the art +of war is improved in sieges, and new instruments of death are +invented daily. Something new in philosophy and the +mechanics is discovered almost every year, and the science of +former ages is improved by the succeeding. I will not +detain you with a long preamble to that which better judges will, +perhaps, conclude to be little worth.</p> +<p>It is this, in short—that Christian poets have not +hitherto been acquainted with their own strength. If they +had searched the Old Testament as they ought, they might there +have found the machines which are proper for their work, and +those more certain in their effect than it may be the New +Testament is in the rules sufficient for salvation. The +perusing of one chapter in the prophecy of Daniel, and +accommodating what there they find with the principles of +Platonic philosophy as it is now Christianised, would have made +the ministry of angels as strong an engine for the working up +heroic poetry in our religion as that of the ancients has been to +raise theirs by all the fables of their gods, which were only +received for truths by the most ignorant and weakest of the +people.</p> +<p>It is a doctrine almost universally received by Christians, as +well Protestants as Catholics, that there are guardian angels +appointed by God Almighty as His vicegerents for the protection +and government of cities, provinces, kingdoms, and monarchies; +and those as well of heathens as of true believers. All +this is so plainly proved from those texts of Daniel that it +admits of no farther controversy. The prince of the +Persians, and that other of the Grecians, are granted to be the +guardians and protecting ministers of those empires. It +cannot be denied that they were opposite and resisted one +another. St. Michael is mentioned by his name as the patron +of the Jews, and is now taken by the Christians as the +protector-general of our religion. These tutelar genii, who +presided over the several people and regions committed to their +charge, were watchful over them for good, as far as their +commissions could possibly extend. The general purpose and +design of all was certainly the service of their great +Creator. But it is an undoubted truth that, for ends best +known to the Almighty Majesty of Heaven, His providential designs +for the benefit of His creatures, for the debasing and punishing +of some nations, and the exaltation and temporal reward of +others, were not wholly known to these His ministers; else why +those factious quarrels, controversies, and battles amongst +themselves, when they were all united in the same design, the +service and honour of their common master? But being +instructed only in the general, and zealous of the main design, +and as finite beings not admitted into the secrets of government, +the last resorts of Providence, or capable of discovering the +final purposes of God (who can work good out of evil as He +pleases, and irresistibly sways all manner of events on earth, +directing them finally for the best to His creation in general, +and to the ultimate end of His own glory in particular), they +must of necessity be sometimes ignorant of the means conducing to +those ends, in which alone they can jar and oppose each +other—one angel, as we may suppose (the Prince of Persia, +as he is called), judging that it would be more for God’s +honour and the benefit of His people that the Median and Persian +monarchy, which delivered them from the Babylonish captivity, +should still be uppermost; and the patron of the Grecians, to +whom the will of God might be more particularly revealed, +contending on the other side for the rise of Alexander and his +successors, who were appointed to punish the backsliding Jews, +and thereby to put them in mind of their offences, that they +might repent and become more virtuous and more observant of the +law revealed. But how far these controversies and appearing +enmities of those glorious creatures may be carried; how these +oppositions may be best managed, and by what means conducted, is +not my business to show or determine: these things must be left +to the invention and judgment of the poet, if any of so happy a +genius be now living, or any future age can produce a man who, +being conversant in the philosophy of Plato as it is now +accommodated to Christian use (for, as Virgil gives us to +understand by his example, that is the only proper, of all +others, for an epic poem), who to his natural endowments of a +large invention, a ripe judgment, and a strong memory, has joined +the knowledge of the liberal arts and sciences (and particularly +moral philosophy, the mathematics, geography, and history), and +with all these qualifications is born a poet, knows, and can +practise the variety of numbers, and is master of the language in +which he writes—if such a man, I say, be now arisen, or +shall arise, I am vain enough to think that I have proposed a +model to him by which he may build a nobler, a more beautiful, +and more perfect poem than any yet extant since the ancients.</p> +<p>There is another part of these machines yet wanting; but by +what I have said, it would have been easily supplied by a +judicious writer. He could not have failed to add the +opposition of ill spirits to the good; they have also their +design, ever opposite to that of Heaven; and this alone has +hitherto been the practice of the moderns: but this imperfect +system, if I may call it such, which I have given, will +infinitely advance and carry farther that hypothesis of the evil +spirits contending with the good. For being so much weaker +since their fall than those blessed beings, they are yet supposed +to have a permitted power from God of acting ill, as from their +own depraved nature they have always the will of designing +it—a great testimony of which we find in Holy Writ, when +God Almighty suffered Satan to appear in the holy synod of the +angels (a thing not hitherto drawn into example by any of the +poets), and also gave him power over all things belonging to his +servant Job, excepting only life.</p> +<p>Now what these wicked spirits cannot compass by the vast +disproportion of their forces to those of the superior beings, +they may by their fraud and cunning carry farther in a seeming +league, confederacy, or subserviency to the designs of some good +angel, as far as consists with his purity to suffer such an aid, +the end of which may possibly be disguised and concealed from his +finite knowledge. This is indeed to suppose a great error +in such a being; yet since a devil can appear like an angel of +light, since craft and malice may sometimes blind for a while a +more perfect understanding; and lastly, since Milton has given us +an example of the like nature, when Satan, appearing like a +cherub to Uriel, the intelligence of the sun, circumvented him +even in his own province, and passed only for a curious traveller +through those new-created regions, that he might observe therein +the workmanship of God and praise Him in His works—I know +not why, upon the same supposition, or some other, a fiend may +not deceive a creature of more excellency than himself, but yet a +creature; at least, by the connivance or tacit permission of the +Omniscient Being.</p> +<p>Thus, my lord, I have, as briefly as I could, given your +lordship, and by you the world, a rude draught of what I have +been long labouring in my imagination, and what I had intended to +have put in practice (though far unable for the attempt of such a +poem), and to have left the stage, to which my genius never much +inclined me, for a work which would have taken up my life in the +performance of it. This, too, I had intended chiefly for +the honour of my native country, to which a poet is particularly +obliged. Of two subjects, both relating to it, I was +doubtful—whether I should choose that of King Arthur +conquering the Saxons (which, being farther distant in time, +gives the greater scope to my invention), or that of Edward the +Black Prince in subduing Spain and restoring it to the lawful +prince, though a great tyrant, Don Pedro the Cruel—which +for the compass of time, including only the expedition of one +year; for the greatness of the action, and its answerable event; +for the magnanimity of the English hero, opposed to the +ingratitude of the person whom he restored; and for the many +beautiful episodes which I had interwoven with the principal +design, together with the characters of the chiefest English +persons (wherein, after Virgil and Spenser, I would have taken +occasion to represent my living friends and patrons of the +noblest families, and also shadowed the events of future ages in +the succession of our imperial line)—with these helps, and +those of the machines which I have mentioned, I might perhaps +have done as well as some of my predecessors, or at least chalked +out a way for others to amend my errors in a like design; but +being encouraged only with fair words by King Charles the Second, +my little salary ill paid, and no prospect of a future +subsistence, I was then discouraged in the beginning of my +attempt; and now age has overtaken me, and want (a more +insufferable evil) through the change of the times has wholly +disenabled me; though I must ever acknowledge, to the honour of +your lordship, and the eternal memory of your charity, that since +this Revolution, wherein I have patiently suffered the ruin of my +small fortune, and the loss of that poor subsistence which I had +from two kings, whom I had served more faithfully than profitably +to myself—then your lordship was pleased, out of no other +motive but your own nobleness, without any desert of mine, or the +least solicitation from me, to make me a most bountiful present, +which at that time, when I was most in want of it, came most +seasonably and unexpectedly to my relief. That favour, my +lord, is of itself sufficient to bind any grateful man to a +perpetual acknowledgment, and to all the future service which one +of my mean condition can be ever able to perform. May the +Almighty God return it for me, both in blessing you here and +rewarding you hereafter! I must not presume to defend the +cause for which I now suffer, because your lordship is engaged +against it; but the more you are so, the greater is my obligation +to you for your laying aside all the considerations of factions +and parties to do an action of pure disinterested charity. +This is one amongst many of your shining qualities which +distinguish you from others of your rank. But let me add a +farther truth—that without these ties of gratitude, and +abstracting from them all, I have a most particular inclination +to honour you, and, if it were not too bold an expression, to say +I love you. It is no shame to be a poet, though it is to be +a bad one. Augustus Cæsar of old, and Cardinal +Richelieu of late, would willingly have been such; and David and +Solomon were such. You who, without flattery, are the best +of the present age in England, and would have been so had you +been born in any other country, will receive more honour in +future ages by that one excellency than by all those honours to +which your birth has entitled you, or your merits have acquired +you.</p> + +<blockquote><p> “<i>Ne +fortè pudori</i><br /> +<i>Sit tibi Musa lyræ solers</i>, <i>et cantor +Apollo</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I have formerly said in this epistle that I could distinguish +your writings from those of any others; it is now time to clear +myself from any imputation of self-conceit on that subject. +I assume not to myself any particular lights in this discovery; +they are such only as are obvious to every man of sense and +judgment who loves poetry and understands it. Your thoughts +are always so remote from the common way of thinking that they +are, as I may say, of another species than the conceptions of +other poets; yet you go not out of nature for any of them. +Gold is never bred upon the surface of the ground, but lies so +hidden and so deep that the mines of it are seldom found; but the +force of waters casts it out from the bowels of mountains, and +exposes it amongst the sands of rivers, giving us of her bounty +what we could not hope for by our search. This success +attends your lordship’s thoughts, which would look like +chance if it were not perpetual and always of the same +tenor. If I grant that there is care in it, it is such a +care as would be ineffectual and fruitless in other men; it is +the <i>curiosa felicitas</i> which Petronius ascribes to Horace +in his odes. We have not wherewithal to imagine so +strongly, so justly, and so pleasantly: in short, if we have the +same knowledge, we cannot draw out of it the same quintessence; +we cannot give it such a turn, such a propriety, and such a +beauty. Something is deficient in the manner or the words, +but more in the nobleness of our conception. Yet when you +have finished all, and it appears in its full lustre; when the +diamond is not only found, but the roughness smoothed; when it is +cut into a form and set in gold, then we cannot but acknowledge +that it is the perfect work of art and nature; and every one will +be so vain to think he himself could have performed the like +until he attempts it. It is just the description that +Horace makes of such a finished piece; it appears so easy,</p> + +<blockquote><p> “<i>Ut +sibi quivis</i><br /> +<i>Speret idem</i>, <i>sudet multum</i>, <i>frustraque +laboret</i>,<br /> +<i>Ausus idem</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And besides all this, it is your lordship’s particular +talent to lay your thoughts so chose together that, were they +closer, they would be crowded, and even a due connection would be +wanting. We are not kept in expectation of two good lines +which are to come after a long parenthesis of twenty bad; which +is the April poetry of other writers, a mixture of rain and +sunshine by fits: you are always bright, even almost to a fault, +by reason of the excess. There is continual abundance, a +magazine of thought, and yet a perpetual variety of +entertainment; which creates such an appetite in your reader that +he is not cloyed with anything, but satisfied with all. It +is that which the Romans call <i>cæna dubia</i>; where +there is such plenty, yet withal so much diversity, and so good +order, that the choice is difficult betwixt one excellency and +another; and yet the conclusion, by a due climax, is evermore the +best—that is, as a conclusion ought to be, ever the most +proper for its place. See, my lord, whether I have not +studied your lordship with some application: and since you are so +modest that you will not be judge and party, I appeal to the +whole world if I have not drawn your picture to a great degree of +likeness, though it is but in miniature, and that some of the +best features are yet wanting. Yet what I have done is +enough to distinguish you from any other, which is the +proposition that I took upon me to demonstrate.</p> +<p>And now, my lord, to apply what I have said to my present +business: the satires of Juvenal and Persius, appearing in this +new English dress, cannot so properly be inscribed to any man as +to your lordship, who are the first of the age in that way of +writing. Your lordship, amongst many other favours, has +given me your permission for this address; and you have +particularly encouraged me by your perusal and approbation of the +sixth and tenth satires of Juvenal as I have translated +them. My fellow-labourers have likewise commissioned me to +perform in their behalf this office of a dedication to you, and +will acknowledge, with all possible respect and gratitude, your +acceptance of their work. Some of them have the honour to +be known to your lordship already; and they who have not yet that +happiness, desire it now. Be pleased to receive our common +endeavours with your wonted candour, without entitling you to the +protection of our common failings in so difficult an +undertaking. And allow me your patience, if it be not +already tired with this long epistle, to give you from the best +authors the origin, the antiquity, the growth, the change, and +the completement of satire among the Romans; to describe, if not +define, the nature of that poem, with its several qualifications +and virtues, together with the several sorts of it; to compare +the excellencies of Horace, Persius, and Juvenal, and show the +particular manners of their satires; and, lastly, to give an +account of this new way of version which is attempted in our +performance: all which, according to the weakness of my ability, +and the best lights which I can get from others, shall be the +subject of my following discourse.</p> +<p>The most perfect work of poetry, says our master Aristotle, is +tragedy. His reason is because it is the most united; being +more severely confined within the rules of action, time, and +place. The action is entire of a piece, and one without +episodes; the time limited to a natural day; and the place +circumscribed at least within the compass of one town or +city. Being exactly proportioned thus, and uniform in all +its parts, the mind is more capable of comprehending the whole +beauty of it without distraction.</p> +<p>But after all these advantages an heroic poem is certainly the +greatest work of human nature. The beauties and perfections +of the other are but mechanical; those of the epic are more +noble. Though Homer has limited his place to Troy and the +fields about it; his actions to forty-eight natural days, whereof +twelve are holidays, or cessation from business during the +funeral of Patroclus. To proceed: the action of the epic is +greater; the extension of time enlarges the pleasure of the +reader, and the episodes give it more ornament and more +variety. The instruction is equal; but the first is only +instructive, the latter forms a hero and a prince.</p> +<p>If it signifies anything which of them is of the more ancient +family, the best and most absolute heroic poem was written by +Homer long before tragedy was invented. But if we consider +the natural endowments and acquired parts which are necessary to +make an accomplished writer in either kind, tragedy requires a +less and more confined knowledge; moderate learning and +observation of the rules is sufficient if a genius be not +wanting. But in an epic poet, one who is worthy of that +name, besides an universal genius is required universal learning, +together with all those qualities and acquisitions which I have +named above, and as many more as I have through haste or +negligence omitted. And, after all, he must have exactly +studied Homer and Virgil as his patterns, Aristotle and Horace as +his guides, and Vida and Bossu as their commentators, with many +others (both Italian and French critics) which I want leisure +here to recommend.</p> +<p>In a word, what I have to say in relation to this subject, +which does not particularly concern satire, is that the greatness +of an heroic poem beyond that of a tragedy may easily be +discovered by observing how few have attempted that work, in +comparison to those who have written dramas; and of those few, +how small a number have succeeded. But leaving the critics +on either side to contend about the preference due to this or +that sort of poetry, I will hasten to my present business, which +is the antiquity and origin of satire, according to those +informations which I have received from the learned Casaubon, +Heinsius, Rigaltius, Dacier, and the Dauphin’s Juvenal, to +which I shall add some observations of my own.</p> +<p>There has been a long dispute among the modern critics whether +the Romans derived their satire from the Grecians or first +invented it themselves. Julius Scaliger and Heinsius are of +the first opinion; Casaubon, Rigaltius, Dacier, and the publisher +of Dauphin’s Juvenal maintain the latter. If we take +satire in the general signification of the word, as it is used in +all modern languages, for an invective, it is certain that it is +almost as old as verse; and though hymns, which are praises of +God, may be allowed to have been before it, yet the defamation of +others was not long after it. After God had cursed Adam and +Eve in Paradise, the husband and wife excused themselves by +laying the blame on one another, and gave a beginning to those +conjugal dialogues in prose which the poets have perfected in +verse. The third chapter of Job is one of the first +instances of this poem in Holy Scripture, unless we will take it +higher, from the latter end of the second, where his wife advises +him to curse his Maker.</p> +<p>This original, I confess, is not much to the honour of satire; +but here it was nature, and that depraved: when it became an art, +it bore better fruit. Only we have learnt thus much +already—that scoffs and revilings are of the growth of all +nations; and consequently that neither the Greek poets borrowed +from other people their art of railing, neither needed the Romans +to take it from them. But considering satire as a species +of poetry, here the war begins amongst the critics. +Scaliger, the father, will have it descend from Greece to Rome; +and derives the word “satire” from Satyrus, that +mixed kind of animal (or, as the ancients thought him, rural god) +made up betwixt a man and a goat, with a human head, hooked nose, +pouting lips, a bunch or struma under the chin, pricked ears, and +upright horns; the body shagged with hair, especially from the +waist, and ending in a goat, with the legs and feet of that +creature. But Casaubon and his followers, with reason, +condemn this derivation, and prove that from Satyrus the word +<i>satira</i>, as it signifies a poem, cannot possibly +descend. For <i>satira</i> is not properly a substantive, +but an adjective; to which the word <i>lanx</i> (in English a +“charger” or “large platter”) is +understood: so that the Greek poem made according to the manners +of a Satyr, and expressing his qualities, must properly be called +satirical, and not satire. And thus far it is allowed that +the Grecians had such poems, but that they were wholly different +in species from that to which the Romans gave the name of +satire.</p> +<p>Aristotle divides all poetry, in relation to the progress of +it, into nature without art, art begun, and art completed. +Mankind, even the most barbarous, have the seeds of poetry +implanted in them. The first specimen of it was certainly +shown in the praises of the Deity and prayers to Him; and as they +are of natural obligation, so they are likewise of divine +institution: which Milton observing, introduces Adam and Eve +every morning adoring God in hymns and prayers. The first +poetry was thus begun in the wild notes of natural poetry before +the invention of feet and measures. The Grecians and Romans +had no other original of their poetry. Festivals and +holidays soon succeeded to private worship, and we need not doubt +but they were enjoined by the true God to His own people, as they +were afterwards imitated by the heathens; who by the light of +reason knew they were to invoke some superior being in their +necessities, and to thank him for his benefits. Thus the +Grecian holidays were celebrated with offerings to Bacchus and +Ceres and other deities, to whose bounty they supposed they were +owing for their corn and wine and other helps of life. And +the ancient Romans, as Horace tells us, paid their thanks to +Mother Earth or Vesta, to Silvanus, and their Genius in the same +manner. But as all festivals have a double reason of their +institution—the first of religion, the other of recreation +for the unbending of our minds—so both the Grecians and +Romans agreed (after their sacrifices were performed) to spend +the remainder of the day in sports and merriments; amongst which +songs and dances, and that which they called wit (for want of +knowing better), were the chiefest entertainments. The +Grecians had a notion of Satyrs, whom I have already described; +and taking them and the Sileni—that is, the young Satyrs +and the old—for the tutors, attendants, and humble +companions of their Bacchus, habited themselves like those rural +deities, and imitated them in their rustic dances, to which they +joined songs with some sort of rude harmony, but without certain +numbers; and to these they added a kind of chorus.</p> +<p>The Romans also, as nature is the same in all places, though +they knew nothing of those Grecian demi-gods, nor had any +communication with Greece, yet had certain young men who at their +festivals danced and sang after their uncouth manner to a certain +kind of verse which they called Saturnian. What it was we +have no certain light from antiquity to discover; but we may +conclude that, like the Grecian, it was void of art, or, at +least, with very feeble beginnings of it. Those ancient +Romans at these holy days, which were a mixture of devotion and +debauchery, had a custom of reproaching each other with their +faults in a sort of <i>extempore</i> poetry, or rather of tunable +hobbling verse, and they answered in the same kind of gross +raillery—their wit and their music being of a piece. +The Grecians, says Casaubon, had formerly done the same in the +persons of their petulant Satyrs; but I am afraid he mistakes the +matter, and confounds the singing and dancing of the Satyrs with +the rustical entertainments of the first Romans. The reason +of my opinion is this: that Casaubon finding little light from +antiquity of these beginnings of poetry amongst the Grecians, but +only these representations of Satyrs who carried canisters and +cornucopias full of several fruits in their hands, and danced +with them at their public feasts, and afterwards reading Horace, +who makes mention of his homely Romans jesting at one another in +the same kind of solemnities, might suppose those wanton Satyrs +did the same; and especially because Horace possibly might seem +to him to have shown the original of all poetry in general +(including the Grecians as well as Romans), though it is plainly +otherwise that he only described the beginning and first +rudiments of poetry in his own country. The verses are +these, which he cites from the First Epistle of the Second Book, +which was written to Augustus:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Agricolæ prisci</i>, +<i>fortes</i>, <i>parvoque beati</i>,<br /> +<i>Condita post frumenta</i>, <i>levantes tempore festo</i><br /> +<i>Corpus</i>, <i>et ipsum animum spe finis dura ferentem</i>,<br +/> +<i>Cum sociis operum</i>, <i>et pueris</i>, <i>et conjuge +fidâ</i>,<br /> +<i>Tellurem porco</i>, <i>Silvanum lacte piabant</i>;<br /> +<i>Floribus et vino Genium memorem brevis ævi</i>.<br /> +<i>Fescennina per hunc inventa licentia morem</i><br /> +<i>Versibus alternis opprobria rustica fudit</i>.”</p> +<p>“Our brawny clowns of old, who turned the soil,<br /> +Content with little, and inured to toil,<br /> +At harvest-home, with mirth and country cheer,<br /> +Restored their bodies for another year,<br /> +Refreshed their spirits, and renewed their hope<br /> +Of such a future feast and future crop.<br /> +Then with their fellow-joggers of the ploughs,<br /> +Their little children, and their faithful spouse,<br /> +A sow they slew to Vesta’s deity,<br /> +And kindly milk, Silvanus, poured to thee.<br /> +With flowers and wine their Genius they adored;<br /> +A short life and a merry was the word.<br /> +From flowing cups defaming rhymes ensue,<br /> +And at each other homely taunts they threw.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Yet since it is a hard conjecture that so great a man as +Casaubon should misapply what Horace writ concerning ancient Rome +to the ceremonies and manners of ancient Greece, I will not +insist on this opinion, but rather judge in general that since +all poetry had its original from religion, that of the Grecians +and Rome had the same beginning. Both were invented at +festivals of thanksgiving, and both were prosecuted with mirth +and raillery and rudiments of verses; amongst the Greeks by those +who represented Satyrs, and amongst the Romans by real +clowns.</p> +<p>For, indeed, when I am reading Casaubon on these two subjects +methinks I hear the same story told twice over with very little +alteration. Of which Dacier, taking notice in his +interpretation of the Latin verses which I have translated, says +plainly that the beginning of poetry was the same, with a small +variety, in both countries, and that the mother of it in all +nations was devotion. But what is yet more wonderful, that +most learned critic takes notice also, in his illustrations on +the First Epistle of the Second Book, that as the poetry of the +Romans and that of the Grecians had the same beginning at feasts +and thanksgiving (as it has been observed), and the old comedy of +the Greeks (which was invective) and the satire of the Romans +(which was of the same nature) were begun on the very same +occasion, so the fortune of both in process of time was just the +same—the old comedy of the Grecians was forbidden for its +too much licence in exposing of particular persons, and the rude +satire of the Romans was also punished by a law of the Decemviri, +as Horace tells us in these words:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Libertasque recurrentes accepta per +annos</i><br /> +<i>Lusit amabiliter</i>; <i>donec jam sævus apertam</i><br +/> +<i>In rabiem verti cæpit jocus</i>, <i>et per +honestas</i><br /> +<i>Ire domos impune minax</i>: <i>doluere cruento</i><br /> +<i>Dente lacessiti</i>; <i>fuit intactis quoque cura</i><br /> +<i>Conditione super communi</i>: <i>quinetiam lex</i>,<br /> +<i>Pænaque lata</i>, <i>malo quæ nollet carmine +quenquam</i><br /> +<i>Describi</i>: <i>vertere modum</i>, <i>formidine fustis</i><br +/> +<i>Ad benedicendum delectandumque redacti</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The law of the Decemviri was this: <i>Siquis occentassit malum +carmen</i>, <i>sive condidissit</i>, <i>quod infamiam faxit</i>, +<i>flagitiumve alteri</i>, <i>capital esto</i>. A strange +likeness, and barely possible; but the critics being all of the +same opinion, it becomes me to be silent and to submit to better +judgments than my own.</p> +<p>But to return to the Grecians, from whose satiric dramas the +elder Scaliger and Heinsius will have the Roman satire to +proceed; I am to take a view of them first, and see if there be +any such descent from them as those authors have pretended.</p> +<p>Thespis, or whoever he were that invented tragedy (for authors +differ), mingled with them a chorus and dances of Satyrs which +had before been used in the celebration of their festivals, and +there they were ever afterwards retained. The character of +them was also kept, which was mirth and wantonness; and this was +given, I suppose, to the folly of the common audience, who soon +grow weary of good sense, and, as we daily see in our own age and +country, are apt to forsake poetry, and still ready to return to +buffoonery and farce. From hence it came that in the +Olympic Games, where the poets contended for four prizes, the +satiric tragedy was the last of them, for in the rest the Satyrs +were excluded from the chorus. Amongst the plays of +Euripides which are yet remaining, there is one of these +satirics, which is called <i>The Cyclops</i>, in which we may see +the nature of those poems, and from thence conclude what likeness +they have to the Roman satire.</p> +<p>The story of this Cyclops, whose name was Polyphemus (so +famous in the Grecian fables), was that Ulysses, who with his +company was driven on the coast of Sicily, where those Cyclops +inhabited, coming to ask relief from Silenus and the Satyrs, who +were herdsmen to that one-eyed giant, was kindly received by +them, and entertained till, being perceived by Polyphemus, they +were made prisoners against the rites of hospitality (for which +Ulysses eloquently pleaded), were afterwards put down into the +den, and some of them devoured; after which Ulysses (having made +him drunk when he was asleep) thrust a great fire-brand into his +eye, and so revenging his dead followers escaped with the +remaining party of the living, and Silenus and the Satyrs were +freed from their servitude under Polyphemus and remitted to their +first liberty of attending and accompanying their patron +Bacchus.</p> +<p>This was the subject of the tragedy, which, being one of those +that end with a happy event, is therefore by Aristotle judged +below the other sort, whose success is unfortunate; +notwithstanding which, the Satyrs (who were part of the +<i>dramatis personæ</i>, as well as the whole chorus) were +properly introduced into the nature of the poem, which is mixed +of farce and tragedy. The adventure of Ulysses was to +entertain the judging part of the audience, and the uncouth +persons of Silenus and the Satyrs to divert the common people +with their gross railleries.</p> +<p>Your lordship has perceived by this time that this satiric +tragedy and the Roman satire have little resemblance in any of +their features. The very kinds are different; for what has +a pastoral tragedy to do with a paper of verses satirically +written? The character and raillery of the Satyrs is the +only thing that could pretend to a likeness, were Scaliger and +Heinsius alive to maintain their opinion. And the first +farces of the Romans, which were the rudiments of their poetry, +were written before they had any communication with the Greeks, +or indeed any knowledge of that people.</p> +<p>And here it will be proper to give the definition of the Greek +satiric poem from Casaubon before I leave this subject. +“The ‘satiric,’” says he, “is a +dramatic poem annexed to a tragedy having a chorus which consists +of Satyrs. The persons represented in it are illustrious +men, the action of it is great, the style is partly serious and +partly jocular, and the event of the action most commonly is +happy.”</p> +<p>The Grecians, besides these satiric tragedies, had another +kind of poem, which they called “silli,” which were +more of kin to the Roman satire. Those “silli” +were indeed invective poems, but of a different species from the +Roman poems of Ennius, Pacuvius, Lucilius, Horace, and the rest +of their successors. “They were so called,” +says Casaubon in one place, “from Silenus, the +foster-father of Bacchus;” but in another place, bethinking +himself better, he derives their name ὰπὸ +τοῦ +σιλλαίνειν, +from their scoffing and petulancy. From some fragments of +the “silli” written by Timon we may find that they +were satiric poems, full of parodies; that is, of verses patched +up from great poets, and turned into another sense than their +author intended them. Such amongst the Romans is the famous +Cento of Ausonius, where the words are Virgil’s, but by +applying them to another sense they are made a relation of a +wedding-night, and the act of consummation fulsomely described in +the very words of the most modest amongst all poets. Of the +same manner are our songs which are turned into burlesque, and +the serious words of the author perverted into a ridiculous +meaning. Thus in Timon’s “silli” the +words are generally those of Homer and the tragic poets, but he +applies them satirically to some customs and kinds of philosophy +which he arraigns. But the Romans not using any of these +parodies in their satires—sometimes indeed repeating verses +of other men, as Persius cites some of Nero’s, but not +turning them into another meaning—the “silli” +cannot be supposed to be the original of Roman satire. To +these “silli,” consisting of parodies, we may +properly add the satires which were written against particular +persons, such as were the iambics of Archilochus against +Lycambes, which Horace undoubtedly imitated in some of his odes +and epodes, whose titles bear sufficient witness of it: I might +also name the invective of Ovid against Ibis, and many +others. But these are the underwood of satire rather than +the timber-trees; they are not of general extension, as reaching +only to some individual person. And Horace seems to have +purged himself from those splenetic reflections in those odes and +epodes before he undertook the noble work of satires, which were +properly so called.</p> +<p>Thus, my lord, I have at length disengaged myself from those +antiquities of Greece, and have proved, I hope, from the best +critics, that the Roman satire was not borrowed from thence, but +of their own manufacture. I am now almost gotten into my +depth; at least, by the help of Dacier, I am swimming towards +it. Not that I will promise always to follow him, any more +than he follows Casaubon; but to keep him in my eye as my best +and truest guide; and where I think he may possibly mislead me, +there to have recourse to my own lights, as I expect that others +should do by me.</p> +<p>Quintilian says in plain words, <i>Satira quidem tota nostra +est</i>; and Horace had said the same thing before him, speaking +of his predecessor in that sort of poetry, <i>et Græcis +intacti carminis auctor</i>. Nothing can be clearer than +the opinion of the poet and the orator (both the best critics of +the two best ages of the Roman empire), that satire was wholly of +Latin growth, and not transplanted to Rome from Athens. +Yet, as I have said, Scaliger the father, according to his custom +(that is, insolently enough), contradicts them both, and gives no +better reason than the derivation of <i>satyrus</i> from +σάθυ, <i>salacitas</i>; and so, from +the lechery of those fauns, thinks he has sufficiently proved +that satire is derived from them: as if wantonness and lubricity +were essential to that sort of poem, which ought to be avoided in +it. His other allegation, which I have already mentioned, +is as pitiful—that the Satyrs carried platters and +canisters full of fruit in their hands. If they had entered +empty-handed, had they been ever the less Satyrs? Or were +the fruits and flowers which they offered anything of kin to +satire? or any argument that this poem was originally +Grecian? Casaubon judged better, and his opinion is +grounded on sure authority: that satire was derived from +<i>satura</i>, a Roman word which signifies full and abundant, +and full also of variety, in which nothing is wanting to its due +perfection. It is thus, says Denier, that we say a full +colour, when the wool has taken the whole tincture and drunk in +as much of the dye as it can receive. According to this +derivation, from <i>setur</i> comes <i>satura</i> or +<i>satira</i>, according to the new spelling, as <i>optumus</i> +and <i>maxumus</i> are now spelled <i>optimus</i> and +<i>maximus</i>. <i>Satura</i>, as I have formerly noted, is +an adjective, and relates to the word <i>lanx</i>, which is +understood; and this <i>lanx</i> (in English a +“charger” or “large platter”) was yearly +filled with all sorts of fruits, which were offered to the gods +at their festivals as the <i>premices</i> or first +gatherings. These offerings of several sorts thus mingled, +it is true, were not unknown to the Grecians, who called them +πανκαρπιὸν +θυσίαν, a sacrifice of all +sorts of fruits; and +πανπερμίαν, when +they offered all kinds of grain. Virgil has mentioned these +sacrifices in his “Georgics”:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Lancibus et pandis fumantia reddimus +exta</i>;”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>and in another place, <i>lancesque et liba +feremus</i>—that is, “We offer the smoking entrails +in great platters; and we will offer the chargers and the +cakes.”</p> +<p>This word <i>satura</i> has been afterward applied to many +other sorts of mixtures; as Festus calls it, a kind of +<i>olla</i> or hotch-potch made of several sorts of meats. +Laws were also called <i>leges saturæ</i> when they were of +several heads and titles, like our tacked Bills of Parliament; +and <i>per saturam legem ferre</i> in the Roman senate was to +carry a law without telling the senators, or counting voices, +when they were in haste. Sallust uses the word, <i>per +saturam sententias exquirere</i>, when the majority was visibly +on one side. From hence it might probably be conjectured +that the Discourses or Satires of Ennius, Lucilius, and Horace, +as we now call them, took their name, because they are full of +various matters, and are also written on various +subjects—as Porphyrius says. But Dacier affirms that +it is not immediately from thence that these satires are so +called, for that name had been used formerly for other things +which bore a nearer resemblance to those discourses of Horace; in +explaining of which, continues Dacier, a method is to be pursued +of which Casaubon himself has never thought, and which will put +all things into so clear a light that no further room will be +left for the least dispute.</p> +<p>During the space of almost four hundred years since the +building of their city the Romans had never known any +entertainments of the stage. Chance and jollity first found +out those verses which they called Saturnian and Fescennine; or +rather human nature, which is inclined to poetry, first produced +them rude and barbarous and unpolished, as all other operations +of the soul are in their beginnings before they are cultivated +with art and study. However, in occasions of merriment, +they were first practised; and this rough-cast, unhewn poetry was +instead of stage-plays for the space of a hundred and twenty +years together. They were made <i>extempore</i>, and were, +as the French call them, <i>impromptus</i>; for which the +Tarsians of old were much renowned, and we see the daily examples +of them in the Italian farces of Harlequin and Scaramucha. +Such was the poetry of that savage people before it was tuned +into numbers and the harmony of verse. Little of the +Saturnian verses is now remaining; we only know from authors that +they were nearer prose than poetry, without feet or +measure. They were +ἔυρυθμοι, but not +ἔμμετροι. Perhaps +they might be used in the solemn part of their ceremonies; and +the Fescennine, which were invented after them, in their +afternoons’ debauchery, because they were scoffing and +obscene.</p> +<p>The Fescennine and Saturnian were the same; for as they were +called Saturnian from their ancientness, when Saturn reigned in +Italy, they were also called Fescennine, from Fescennia, a town +in the same country where they were first practised. The +actors, with a gross and rustic kind of raillery, reproached each +other with their failings, and at the same time were nothing +sparing of it to their audience. Somewhat of this custom +was afterwards retained in their Saturnalia, or Feasts of Saturn, +celebrated in December; at least, all kind of freedom in speech +was then allowed to slaves, even against their masters; and we +are not without some imitation of it in our Christmas +gambols. Soldiers also used those Fescennine verses, after +measure and numbers had been added to them, at the triumph of +their generals; of which we have an example in the triumph of +Julius Cæsar over Gaul in these expressions: <i>Cæsar +Gallias subegit</i>, <i>Nicomedes Cæsarem</i>. +<i>Ecce Cæsar nunc triumphat</i>, <i>qui subegit +Gallias</i>; <i>Nicomedes non triumphat</i>, <i>qui subegit +Cæsarem</i>. The vapours of wine made those first +satirical poets amongst the Romans, which, says Dacier, we cannot +better represent than by imagining a company of clowns on a +holiday dancing lubberly and upbraiding one another in +<i>extempore</i> doggerel with their defects and vices, and the +stories that were told of them in bake-houses and barbers’ +shops.</p> +<p>When they began to be somewhat better bred, and were entering, +as I may say, into the first rudiments of civil conversation, +they left these hedge-notes for another sort of poem, somewhat +polished, which was also full of pleasant raillery, but without +any mixture of obscenity. This sort of poetry appeared +under the name of “satire” because of its variety; +and this satire was adorned with compositions of music, and with +dances; but lascivious postures were banished from it. In +the Tuscan language, says Livy, the word <i>hister</i> signifies +a player; and therefore those actors which were first brought +from Etruria to Rome on occasion of a pestilence, when the Romans +were admonished to avert the anger of the gods by plays (in the +year <i>ab urbe conditâ</i> CCCXC.)—those actors, I +say, were therefore called <i>histriones</i>: and that name has +since remained, not only to actors Roman born, but to all others +of every nation. They played, not the former +<i>extempore</i> stuff of Fescennine verses or clownish jests, +but what they acted was a kind of civil cleanly farce, with music +and dances, and motions that were proper to the subject.</p> +<p>In this condition Livius Andronicus found the stage when he +attempted first, instead of farces, to supply it with a nobler +entertainment of tragedies and comedies. This man was a +Grecian born, and being made a slave by Livius Salinator, and +brought to Rome, had the education of his patron’s children +committed to him, which trust he discharged so much to the +satisfaction of his master that he gave him his liberty.</p> +<p>Andronicus, thus become a freeman of Rome, added to his own +name that of Livius, his master; and, as I observed, was the +first author of a regular play in that commonwealth. Being +already instructed in his native country in the manners and +decencies of the Athenian theatre, and conversant in the +<i>archæa comædia</i> or old comedy of Aristophanes +and the rest of the Grecian poets, he took from that model his +own designing of plays for the Roman stage, the first of which +was represented in the year CCCCCXIV. since the building of Rome, +as Tully, from the Commentaries of Atticus, has assured us; it +was after the end of the first Punic War, the year before Atticus +was born. Dacier has not carried the matter altogether thus +far; he only says that one Livius Andronicus was the first +stage-poet at Rome. But I will adventure on this hint to +advance another proposition, which I hope the learned will +approve; and though we have not anything of Andronicus remaining +to justify my conjecture, yet it is exceeding probable that, +having read the works of those Grecian wits, his countrymen, he +imitated not only the groundwork, but also the manner of their +writing; and how grave soever his tragedies might be, yet in his +comedies he expressed the way of Aristophanes, Eupolis, and the +rest, which was to call some persons by their own names, and to +expose their defects to the laughter of the people (the examples +of which we have in the fore-mentioned Aristophanes, who turned +the wise Socrates into ridicule, and is also very free with the +management of Cleon, Alcibiades, and other ministers of the +Athenian government). Now if this be granted, we may easily +suppose that the first hint of satirical plays on the Roman stage +was given by the Greeks—not from the <i>satirica</i>, for +that has been reasonably exploded in the former part of this +discourse—but from their old comedy, which was imitated +first by Livius Andronicus. And then Quintilian and Horace +must be cautiously interpreted, where they affirm that satire is +wholly Roman, and a sort of verse which was not touched on by the +Grecians. The reconcilement of my opinion to the standard +of their judgment is not, however, very difficult, since they +spoke of satire, not as in its first elements, but as it was +formed into a separate work—begun by Ennius, pursued by +Lucilius, and completed afterwards by Horace. The proof +depends only on this <i>postalatum</i>—that the comedies of +Andronicus, which were imitations of the Greek, were also +imitations of their railleries and reflections on particular +persons. For if this be granted me, which is a most +probable supposition, it is easy to infer that the first light +which was given to the Roman theatrical satire was from the plays +of Livius Andronicus, which will be more manifestly discovered +when I come to speak of Ennius. In the meantime I will +return to Dacier.</p> +<p>The people, says he, ran in crowds to these new entertainments +of Andronicus, as to pieces which were more noble in their kind, +and more perfect than their former satires, which for some time +they neglected and abandoned; but not long after they took them +up again, and then they joined them to their comedies, playing +them at the end of every drama, as the French continue at this +day to act their farces, in the nature of a separate +entertainment from their tragedies. But more particularly +they were joined to the “Atellane” fables, says +Casaubon; which were plays invented by the Osci. Those +fables, says Valerius Maximus, out of Livy, were tempered with +the Italian severity, and free from any note of infamy or +obsceneness; and, as an old commentator on Juvenal affirms, the +<i>Exodiarii</i>, which were singers and dancers, entered to +entertain the people with light songs and mimical gestures, that +they might not go away oppressed with melancholy from those +serious pieces of the theatre. So that the ancient satire +of the Romans was in <i>extempore</i> reproaches; the next was +farce, which was brought from Tuscany; to that succeeded the +plays of Andronicus, from the old comedy of the Grecians; and out +of all these sprang two several branches of new Roman satire, +like different scions from the same root, which I shall prove +with as much brevity as the subject will allow.</p> +<p>A year after Andronicus had opened the Roman stage with his +new dramas, Ennius was born; who, when he was grown to +man’s estate, having seriously considered the genius of the +people, and how eagerly they followed the first satires, thought +it would be worth his pains to refine upon the project, and to +write satires, not to be acted on the theatre, but read. He +preserved the groundwork of their pleasantry, their venom, and +their raillery on particular persons and general vices; and by +this means, avoiding the danger of any ill success in a public +representation, he hoped to be as well received in the cabinet as +Andronicus had been upon the stage. The event was +answerable to his expectation. He made discourses in +several sorts of verse, varied often in the same paper, retaining +still in the title their original name of satire. Both in +relation to the subjects, and the variety of matters contained in +them, the satires of Horace are entirely like them; only Ennius, +as I said, confines not himself to one sort of verse, as Horace +does, but taking example from the Greeks, and even from Homer +himself in his “Margites” (which is a kind of satire, +as Scaliger observes), gives himself the licence, when one sort +of numbers comes not easily, to run into another, as his fancy +dictates; for he makes no difficulty to mingle hexameters with +iambic trimeters or with trochaic tetrameters, as appears by +those fragments which are yet remaining of him. Horace has +thought him worthy to be copied, inserting many things of his +into his own satires, as Virgil has done into his +“Æneids.”</p> +<p>Here we have Dacier making out that Ennius was the first +satirist in that way of writing, which was of his +invention—that is, satire abstracted from the stage and new +modelled into papers of verses on several subjects. But he +will have Ennius take the groundwork of satire from the first +farces of the Romans rather than from the formed plays of Livius +Andronicus, which were copied from the Grecian comedies. It +may possibly be so; but Dacier knows no more of it than I +do. And it seems to me the more probable opinion that he +rather imitated the fine railleries of the Greeks, which he saw +in the pieces of Andronicus, than the coarseness of his own +countrymen in their clownish extemporary way of jeering.</p> +<p>But besides this, it is universally granted that Ennius, +though an Italian, was excellently learned in the Greek +language. His verses were stuffed with fragments of it, +even to a fault; and he himself believed, according to the +Pythagorean opinion, that the soul of Homer was transfused into +him, which Persius observes in his sixth satire—<i>postquam +destertuit esse Mæonides</i>. But this being only the +private opinion of so inconsiderable a man as I am, I leave it to +the further disquisition of the critics, if they think it worth +their notice. Most evident it is that, whether he imitated +the Roman farce or the Greek comedies, he is to be acknowledged +for the first author of Roman satire, as it is properly so +called, and distinguished from any sort of stage-play.</p> +<p>Of Pacuvius, who succeeded him, there is little to be said, +because there is so little remaining of him; only that he is +taken to be the nephew of Ennius, his sister’s son; that in +probability he was instructed by his uncle in his way of satire, +which we are told he has copied; but what advances he made, we +know not.</p> +<p>Lucilius came into the world when Pacuvius flourished +most. He also made satires after the manner of Ennius; but +he gave them a more graceful turn, and endeavoured to imitate +more closely the <i>vetus comædia</i> of the Greeks, of the +which the old original Roman satire had no idea till the time of +Livius Andronicus. And though Horace seems to have made +Lucilius the first author of satire in verse amongst the Romans +in these words—</p> + +<blockquote><p> “<i>Quid</i>? +<i>cum est Lucilius auses</i><br /> +<i>Primus in hunc operis componere carmina +morem</i>”—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>he is only thus to be understood—that Lucilius had given +a more graceful turn to the satire of Ennius and Pacuvius, not +that he invented a new satire of his own; and Quintilian seems to +explain this passage of Horace in these words: <i>Satira quidem +tota nostra est</i>; <i>in quâ primus insignem laudem +adeptus est Luciluis</i>.</p> +<p>Thus both Horace and Quintilian give a kind of primacy of +honour to Lucilius amongst the Latin satirists; for as the Roman +language grew more refined, so much more capable it was of +receiving the Grecian beauties, in his time. Horace and +Quintilian could mean no more than that Lucilius writ better than +Ennius and Pacuvius, and on the same account we prefer Horace to +Lucilius. Both of them imitated the old Greek comedy; and +so did Ennius and Pacuvius before them. The polishing of +the Latin tongue, in the succession of times, made the only +difference; and Horace himself in two of his satires, written +purposely on this subject, thinks the Romans of his age were too +partial in their commendations of Lucilius, who writ not only +loosely and muddily, with little art and much less care, but also +in a time when the Latin tongue was not yet sufficiently purged +from the dregs of barbarism; and many significant and sounding +words which the Romans wanted were not admitted even in the times +of Lucretius and Cicero, of which both complain.</p> +<p>But to proceed: Dacier justly taxes Casaubon for saying that +the satires of Lucilius were wholly different in species from +those of Ennius and Pacuvius, Casaubon was led into that mistake +by Diomedes the grammarian, who in effect says +this:—“Satire amongst the Romans but not amongst the +Greeks, was a biting invective poem, made after the model of the +ancient comedy, for the reprehension of vices; such as were the +poems of Lucilius, of Horace, and of Persius. But in former +times the name of satire was given to poems which were composed +of several sorts of verses, such as were made by Ennius and +Pacuvius”—more fully expressing the etymology of the +word satire from <i>satura</i>, which we have observed. +Here it is manifest that Diomedes makes a specifical distinction +betwixt the satires of Ennius and those of Lucilius. But +this, as we say in English, is only a distinction without a +difference; for the reason of it is ridiculous and absolutely +false. This was that which cozened honest Casaubon, who, +relying on Diomedes, had not sufficiently examined the origin and +nature of those two satires, which were entirely the same both in +the matter and the form; for all that Lucilius performed beyond +his predecessors, Ennius and Pacuvius, was only the adding of +more politeness and more salt, without any change in the +substance of the poem. And though Lucilius put not together +in the same satire several sorts of verses, as Ennius did, yet he +composed several satires of several sorts of verses, and mingled +them with Greek verses: one poem consisted only of hexameters, +and another was entirely of iambics; a third of trochaics; as is +visible by the fragments yet remaining of his works. In +short, if the satires of Lucilius are therefore said to be wholly +different from those of Ennius because he added much more of +beauty and polishing to his own poems than are to be found in +those before him, it will follow from hence that the satires of +Horace are wholly different from those of Lucilius, because +Horace has not less surpassed Lucilius in the elegancy of his +writing than Lucilius surpassed Ennius in the turn and ornament +of his. This passage of Diomedes has also drawn Dousa the +son into the same error of Casaubon, which I say, not to expose +the little failings of those judicious men, but only to make it +appear with how much diffidence and caution we are to read their +works when they treat a subject of so much obscurity and so very +ancient as is this of satire.</p> +<p>Having thus brought down the history of satire from its +original to the times of Horace, and shown the several changes of +it, I should here discover some of those graces which Horace +added to it, but that I think it will be more proper to defer +that undertaking till I make the comparison betwixt him and +Juvenal. In the meanwhile, following the order of time, it +will be necessary to say somewhat of another kind of satire which +also was descended from the ancient; it is that which we call the +Varronian satire (but which Varro himself calls the Menippean) +because Varro, the most learned of the Romans, was the first +author of it, who imitated in his works the manners of Menippus +the Gadarenian, who professed the philosophy of the Cynics.</p> +<p>This sort of satire was not only composed of several sorts of +verse, like those of Ennius, but was also mixed with prose, and +Greek was sprinkled amongst the Latin. Quintilian, after he +had spoken of the satire of Lucilius, adds what +follows:—“There is another and former kind of satire, +composed by Terentius Varro, the most learned of the Romans, in +which he was not satisfied alone with mingling in it several +sorts of verse.” The only difficulty of this passage +is that Quintilian tells us that this satire of Varro was of a +former kind; for how can we possibly imagine this to be, since +Varro, who was contemporary to Cicero, must consequently be after +Lucilius? But Quintilian meant not that the satire of Varro +was in order of time before Lucilius; he would only give us to +understand that the Varronian satire, with mixture of several +sorts of verses, was more after the manner of Ennius and Pacuvius +than that of Lucilius, who was more severe and more correct, and +gave himself less liberty in the mixture of his verses in the +same poem.</p> +<p>We have nothing remaining of those Varronian satires excepting +some inconsiderable fragments, and those for the most part much +corrupted. The tithes of many of them are indeed preserved, +and they are generally double; from whence, at least, we may +understand how many various subjects were treated by that +author. Tully in his “Academics” introduces +Varro himself giving us some light concerning the scope and +design of those works; wherein, after he had shown his reasons +why he did not <i>ex professo</i> write of philosophy, he adds +what follows:—“Notwithstanding,” says he, +“that those pieces of mine wherein I have imitated +Menippus, though I have not translated him, are sprinkled with a +kind of mirth and gaiety, yet many things are there inserted +which are drawn from the very entrails of philosophy, and many +things severely argued which I have mingled with pleasantries on +purpose that they may more easily go down with the common sort of +unlearned readers.” The rest of the sentence is so +lame that we can only make thus much out of it—that in the +composition of his satires he so tempered philology with +philosophy that his work was a mixture of them both. And +Tully himself confirms us in this opinion when a little after he +addresses himself to Varro in these words:—“And you +yourself have composed a most elegant and complete poem; you have +begun philosophy in many places; sufficient to incite us, though +too little to instruct us.” Thus it appears that +Varro was one of those writers whom they called +σπουδογελοῖοι +(studious of laughter); and that, as learned as he was, his +business was more to divert his reader than to teach him. +And he entitled his own satires Menippean; not that Menippus had +written any satires (for his were either dialogues or epistles), +but that Varro imitated his style, his manner, and his +facetiousness. All that we know further of Menippus and his +writings, which are wholly lost, is that by some he is esteemed, +as, amongst the rest, by Varro; by others he is noted of cynical +impudence and obscenity; that he was much given to those parodies +which I have already mentioned (that is, he often quoted the +verses of Homer and the tragic poets, and turned their serious +meaning into something that was ridiculous); whereas +Varro’s satires are by Tully called absolute, and most +elegant and various poems. Lucian, who was emulous of this +Menippus, seems to have imitated both his manners and his style +in many of his dialogues, where Menippus himself is often +introduced as a speaker in them and as a perpetual buffoon; +particularly his character is expressed in the beginning of that +dialogue which is called +Νεκυομαντία. +But Varro in imitating him avoids his impudence and filthiness, +and only expresses his witty pleasantry.</p> +<p>This we may believe for certain—that as his subjects +were various, so most of them were tales or stories of his own +invention; which is also manifest from antiquity by those authors +who are acknowledged to have written Varronian satires in +imitation of his—of whom the chief is Petronius Arbiter, +whose satire, they say, is now printing in Holland, wholly +recovered, and made complete; when it is made public, it will +easily be seen by any one sentence whether it be supposititious +or genuine. Many of Lucian’s dialogues may also +properly be called Varronian satires, particularly his true +history; and consequently the “Golden Ass” of +Apuleius, which is taken from him. Of the same stamp is the +mock deification of Claudius by Seneca, and the Symposium or +“Cæsars” of Julian the Emperor. Amongst +the moderns we may reckon the “Encomium Moriæ” +of Erasmus, Barclay’s “Euphormio,” and a volume +of German authors which my ingenious friend Mr. Charles Killigrew +once lent me. In the English I remember none which are +mixed with prose as Varro’s were; but of the same kind is +“Mother Hubbard’s Tale” in Spenser, and (if it +be not too vain to mention anything of my own) the poems of +“Absalom” and “MacFlecnoe.”</p> +<p>This is what I have to say in general of satire: only, as +Dacier has observed before me, we may take notice that the word +satire is of a more general signification in Latin than in French +or English; for amongst the Romans it was not only used for those +discourses which decried vice or exposed folly, but for others +also, where virtue was recommended. But in our modern +languages we apply it only to invective poems, where the very +name of satire is formidable to those persons who would appear to +the world what they are not in themselves; for in English, to say +satire is to mean reflection, as we use that word in the worst +sense; or as the French call it, more properly, +<i>médisance</i>. In the criticism of spelling, it +ought to be with <i>i</i>, and not with <i>y</i>, to distinguish +its true derivation from <i>satura</i>, not from <i>Satyrus</i>; +and if this be so, then it is false spelled throughout this book, +for here it is written “satyr,” which having not +considered at the first, I thought it not worth correcting +afterwards. But the French are more nice, and never spell +it any otherwise than “satire.”</p> +<p>I am now arrived at the most difficult part of my undertaking, +which is to compare Horace with Juvenal and Persius. It is +observed by Rigaltius in his preface before Juvenal, written to +Thuanus, that these three poets have all their particular +partisans and favourers. Every commentator, as he has taken +pains with any of them, thinks himself obliged to prefer his +author to the other two; to find out their failings, and decry +them, that he may make room for his own darling. Such is +the partiality of mankind, to set up that interest which they +have once espoused, though it be to the prejudice of truth, +morality, and common justice, and especially in the productions +of the brain. As authors generally think themselves the +best poets, because they cannot go out of themselves to judge +sincerely of their betters, so it is with critics, who, having +first taken a liking to one of these poets, proceed to comment on +him and to illustrate him; after which they fall in love with +their own labours to that degree of blind fondness that at length +they defend and exalt their author, not so much for his sake as +for their own. It is a folly of the same nature with that +of the Romans themselves in their games of the circus. The +spectators were divided in their factions betwixt the Veneti and +the Prasini; some were for the charioteer in blue, and some for +him in green. The colours themselves were but a fancy; but +when once a man had taken pains to set out those of his party, +and had been at the trouble of procuring voices for them, the +case was altered: he was concerned for his own labour, and that +so earnestly that disputes and quarrels, animosities, commotions, +and bloodshed often happened; and in the declension of the +Grecian empire, the very sovereigns themselves engaged in it, +even when the barbarians were at their doors, and stickled for +the preference of colours when the safety of their people was in +question. I am now myself on the brink of the same +precipice; I have spent some time on the translation of Juvenal +and Persius, and it behoves me to be wary, lest for that reason I +should be partial to them, or take a prejudice against +Horace. Yet on the other side I would not be like some of +our judges, who would give the cause for a poor man right or +wrong; for though that be an error on the better hand, yet it is +still a partiality, and a rich man unheard cannot be concluded an +oppressor. I remember a saying of King Charles II. on Sir +Matthew Hale (who was doubtless an uncorrupt and upright man), +that his servants were sure to be cast on any trial which was +heard before him; not that he thought the judge was possibly to +be bribed, but that his integrity might be too scrupulous, and +that the causes of the Crown were always suspicious when the +privileges of subjects were concerned.</p> +<p>It had been much fairer if the modern critics who have +embarked in the quarrels of their favourite authors had rather +given to each his proper due without taking from another’s +heap to raise their own. There is praise enough for each of +them in particular, without encroaching on his fellows, and +detracting from them or enriching themselves with the spoils of +others. But to come to particulars: Heinsius and Dacier are +the most principal of those who raise Horace above Juvenal and +Persius. Scaliger the father, Rigaltius, and many others +debase Horace that they may set up Juvenal; and Casaubon, who is +almost single, throws dirt on Juvenal and Horace that he may +exalt Persius, whom he understood particularly well, and better +than any of his former commentators, even Stelluti, who succeeded +him. I will begin with him who, in my opinion, defends the +weakest cause, which is that of Persius; and labouring, as +Tacitus professes of his own writing, to divest myself of +partiality or prejudice, consider Persius, not as a poet whom I +have wholly translated, and who has cost me more labour and time +than Juvenal, but according to what I judge to be his own merit, +which I think not equal in the main to that of Juvenal or Horace, +and yet in some things to be preferred to both of them.</p> +<p>First, then, for the verse; neither Casaubon himself, nor any +for him, can defend either his numbers or the purity of his +Latin. Casaubon gives this point for lost, and pretends not +to justify either the measures or the words of Persius; he is +evidently beneath Horace and Juvenal in both.</p> +<p>Then, as his verse is scabrous and hobbling, and his words not +everywhere well chosen (the purity of Latin being more corrupted +than in the time of Juvenal, and consequently of Horace, who +wrote when the language was in the height of its perfection), so +his diction is hard, his figures are generally too bold and +daring, and his tropes, particularly his metaphors, insufferably +strained.</p> +<p>In the third place, notwithstanding all the diligence of +Casaubon, Stelluti, and a Scotch gentleman whom I have heard +extremely commended for his illustrations of him, yet he is still +obscure; whether he affected not to be understood but with +difficulty; or whether the fear of his safety under Nero +compelled him to this darkness in some places, or that it was +occasioned by his close way of thinking, and the brevity of his +style and crowding of his figures; or lastly, whether after so +long a time many of his words have been corrupted, and many +customs and stories relating to them lost to us; whether some of +these reasons, or all, concurred to render him so cloudy, we may +be bold to affirm that the best of commentators can but guess at +his meaning in many passages, and none can be certain that he has +divined rightly.</p> +<p>After all he was a young man, like his friend and contemporary +Lucan—both of them men of extraordinary parts and great +acquired knowledge, considering their youth; but neither of them +had arrived to that maturity of judgment which is necessary to +the accomplishing of a formed poet. And this consideration, +as on the one hand it lays some imperfections to their charge, so +on the other side it is a candid excuse for those failings which +are incident to youth and inexperience; and we have more reason +to wonder how they, who died before the thirtieth year of their +age, could write so well and think so strongly, than to accuse +them of those faults from which human nature (and more especially +in youth) can never possibly be exempted.</p> +<p>To consider Persius yet more closely: he rather insulted over +vice and folly than exposed them like Juvenal and Horace; and as +chaste and modest as he is esteemed, it cannot be denied but that +in some places he is broad and fulsome, as the latter verses of +the fourth satire and of the sixth sufficiently witness. +And it is to be believed that he who commits the same crime often +and without necessity cannot but do it with some kind of +pleasure.</p> +<p>To come to a conclusion: he is manifestly below Horace because +he borrows most of his greatest beauties from him; and Casaubon +is so far from denying this that he has written a treatise +purposely concerning it, wherein he shows a multitude of his +translations from Horace, and his imitations of him, for the +credit of his author, which he calls “Imitatio +Horatiana.”</p> +<p>To these defects (which I casually observed while I was +translating this author) Scaliger has added others; he calls him +in plain terms a silly writer and a trifler, full of ostentation +of his learning, and, after all, unworthy to come into +competition with Juvenal and Horace.</p> +<p>After such terrible accusations, it is time to hear what his +patron Casaubon can allege in his defence. Instead of +answering, he excuses for the most part; and when he cannot, +accuses others of the same crimes. He deals with Scaliger +as a modest scholar with a master. He compliments him with +so much reverence that one would swear he feared him as much at +least as he respected him. Scaliger will not allow Persius +to have any wit; Casaubon interprets this in the mildest sense, +and confesses his author was not good at turning things into a +pleasant ridicule, or, in other words, that he was not a +laughable writer. That he was <i>ineptus</i>, indeed, but +that was <i>non aptissimus ad jocandum</i>; but that he was +ostentatious of his learning, that by Scaliger’s good +favour he denies. Persius showed his learning, but was no +boaster of it; he did <i>ostendere</i>, but not <i>ostentare</i>; +and so, he says, did Scaliger (where, methinks, Casaubon turns it +handsomely upon that supercilious critic, and silently insinuates +that he himself was sufficiently vain-glorious and a boaster of +his own knowledge). All the writings of this venerable +censor, continues Casaubon, which are +χρυσοῦ +χρυσότερα (more +golden than gold itself), are everywhere smelling of that thyme +which, like a bee, he has gathered from ancient authors; but far +be ostentation and vain-glory from a gentleman so well born and +so nobly educated as Scaliger. But, says Scaliger, he is so +obscure that he has got himself the name of Scotinus—a dark +writer. “Now,” says Casaubon, “it is a +wonder to me that anything could be obscure to the divine wit of +Scaliger, from which nothing could be hidden.” This +is, indeed, a strong compliment, but no defence; and Casaubon, +who could not but be sensible of his author’s blind side, +thinks it time to abandon a post that was untenable. He +acknowledges that Persius is obscure in some places; but so is +Plato, so is Thucydides; so are Pindar, Theocritus, and +Aristophanes amongst the Greek poets; and even Horace and +Juvenal, he might have added, amongst the Romans. The truth +is, Persius is not sometimes, but generally obscure; and +therefore Casaubon at last is forced to excuse him by alleging +that it was <i>se defendendo</i>, for fear of Nero, and that he +was commanded to write so cloudily by Cornutus, in virtue of holy +obedience to his master. I cannot help my own opinion; I +think Cornutus needed not to have read many lectures to him on +that subject. Persius was an apt scholar, and when he was +bidden to be obscure in some places where his life and safety +were in question, took the same counsel for all his book, and +never afterwards wrote ten lines together clearly. +Casaubon, being upon this chapter, has not failed, we may be +sure, of making a compliment to his own dear comment. +“If Persius,” says he, “be in himself obscure, +yet my interpretation has made him intelligible.” +There is no question but he deserves that praise which he has +given to himself; but the nature of the thing, as Lucretius says, +will not admit of a perfect explanation. Besides many +examples which I could urge, the very last verse of his last +satire (upon which he particularly values himself in his preface) +is not yet sufficiently explicated. It is true, Holyday has +endeavoured to justify his construction; but Stelluti is against +it: and, for my part, I can have but a very dark notion of +it. As for the chastity of his thoughts, Casaubon denies +not but that one particular passage in the fourth satire +(<i>At</i>, <i>si unctus cesses</i>, &c.) is not only the +most obscure, but the most obscene, of all his works. I +understood it, but for that reason turned it over. In +defence of his boisterous metaphors he quotes Longinus, who +accounts them as instruments of the sublime, fit to move and stir +up the affections, particularly in narration; to which it may be +replied that where the trope is far-fetched and hard, it is fit +for nothing but to puzzle the understanding, and may be reckoned +amongst those things of Demosthenes which Æschines called +θαύματα, not +ῥήματα—that is, prodigies, +not words. It must be granted to Casaubon that the +knowledge of many things is lost in our modern ages which were of +familiar notice to the ancients, and that satire is a poem of a +difficult nature in itself, and is not written to vulgar readers; +and (through the relation which it has to comedy) the frequent +change of persons makes the sense perplexed, when we can but +divine who it is that speaks—whether Persius himself, or +his friend and monitor, or, in some places, a third person. +But Casaubon comes back always to himself, and concludes that if +Persius had not been obscure, there had been no need of him for +an interpreter. Yet when he had once enjoined himself so +hard a task, he then considered the Greek proverb, that he must +χελώνης +φαγεῖν, ἢ μὴ +φαγεῖν (either eat the whole +snail or let it quite alone); and so he went through with his +laborious task, as I have done with my difficult translation.</p> +<p>Thus far, my lord, you see it has gone very hard with +Persius. I think he cannot be allowed to stand in +competition either with Juvenal or Horace. Yet, for once, I +will venture to be so vain as to affirm that none of his hard +metaphors or forced expressions are in my translation. But +more of this in its proper place, where I shall say somewhat in +particular of our general performance in making these two authors +English. In the meantime I think myself obliged to give +Persius his undoubted due, and to acquaint the world, with +Casaubon, in what he has equalled and in what excelled his two +competitors.</p> +<p>A man who is resolved to praise an author with any appearance +of justice must be sure to take him on the strongest side, and +where he is least liable to exceptions; he is therefore obliged +to choose his mediums accordingly. Casaubon (who saw that +Persius could not laugh with a becoming grace, that he was not +made for jesting, and that a merry conceit was not his talent) +turned his feather, like an Indian, to another light, that he +might give it the better gloss. “Moral +doctrine,” says he, “and urbanity or well-mannered +wit are the two things which constitute the Roman satire; but of +the two, that which is most essential to this poem, and is, as it +were, the very soul which animates it, is the scourging of vice +and exhortation to virtue.” Thus wit, for a good +reason, is already almost out of doors, and allowed only for an +instrument—a kind of tool or a weapon, as he calls +it—of which the satirist makes use in the compassing of his +design. The end and aim of our three rivals is consequently +the same; but by what methods they have prosecuted their +intention is further to be considered. Satire is of the +nature of moral philosophy, as being instructive; he therefore +who instructs most usefully will carry the palm from his two +antagonists. The philosophy in which Persius was educated, +and which he professes through his whole book, is the +Stoic—the most noble, most generous, most beneficial to +humankind amongst all the sects who have given us the rules of +ethics, thereby to form a severe virtue in the soul, to raise in +us an undaunted courage against the assaults of fortune, to +esteem as nothing the things that are without us, because they +are not in our power; not to value riches, beauty, honours, fame, +or health any farther than as conveniences and so many helps to +living as we ought, and doing good in our generation. In +short, to be always happy while we possess our minds with a good +conscience, are free from the slavery of vices, and conform our +actions and conversation to the rules of right reason. See +here, my lord, an epitome of Epictetus, the doctrine of Zeno, and +the education of our Persius; and this he expressed, not only in +all his satires, but in the manner of his life. I will not +lessen this commendation of the Stoic philosophy by giving you an +account of some absurdities in their doctrine, and some perhaps +impieties (if we consider them by the standard of Christian +faith). Persius has fallen into none of them, and therefore +is free from those imputations. What he teaches might be +taught from pulpits with more profit to the audience than all the +nice speculations of divinity and controversies concerning faith, +which are more for the profit of the shepherd than for the +edification of the flock. Passion, interest, ambition, and +all their bloody consequences of discord and of war are banished +from this doctrine. Here is nothing proposed but the quiet +and tranquillity of the mind; virtue lodged at home, and +afterwards diffused in her general effects to the improvement and +good of humankind. And therefore I wonder not that the +present Bishop of Salisbury has recommended this our author and +the tenth satire of Juvenal (in his pastoral letter) to the +serious perusal and practice of the divines in his diocese as the +best commonplaces for their sermons, as the storehouses and +magazines of moral virtues, from whence they may draw out, as +they have occasion, all manner of assistance for the +accomplishment of a virtuous life, which the Stoics have assigned +for the great end and perfection of mankind. Herein, then, +it is that Persius has excelled both Juvenal and Horace. He +sticks to his own philosophy; he shifts not sides, like Horace +(who is sometimes an Epicurean, sometimes a Stoic, sometimes an +Eclectic, as his present humour leads him), nor declaims, like +Juvenal, against vices more like an orator than a +philosopher. Persius is everywhere the same—true to +the dogmas of his master. What he has learnt, he teaches +vehemently; and what he teaches, that he practises himself. +There is a spirit of sincerity in all he says; you may easily +discern that he is in earnest, and is persuaded of that truth +which he inculcates. In this I am of opinion that he excels +Horace, who is commonly in jest, and laughs while he instructs; +and is equal to Juvenal, who was as honest and serious as +Persius, and more he could not be.</p> +<p>Hitherto I have followed Casaubon, and enlarged upon him, +because I am satisfied that he says no more than truth; the rest +is almost all frivolous. For he says that Horace, being the +son of a tax-gatherer (or a collector, as we call it) smells +everywhere of the meanness of his birth and education; his +conceits are vulgar, like the subjects of his satires; that he +does <i>plebeium sepere</i>, and writes not with that elevation +which becomes a satirist; that Persius, being nobly born and of +an opulent family, had likewise the advantage of a better master +(Cornutus being the most learned of his time, a man of a most +holy life, the chief of the Stoic sect at Rome, and not only a +great philosopher, but a poet himself, and in probability a +coadjutor of Persius): that as for Juvenal, he was long a +declaimer, came late to poetry, and had not been much conversant +in philosophy.</p> +<p>It is granted that the father of Horace was +<i>libertinus</i>—that is, one degree removed from his +grandfather, who had been once a slave. But Horace, +speaking of him, gives him the best character of a father which I +ever read in history; and I wish a witty friend of mine, now +living, had such another. He bred him in the best school, +and with the best company of young noblemen; and Horace, by his +gratitude to his memory, gives a certain testimony that his +education was ingenuous. After this he formed himself +abroad by the conversation of great men. Brutus found him +at Athens, and was so pleased with him that he took him thence +into the army, and made him <i>Tribunus Militum</i> (a colonel in +a legion), which was the preferment of an old soldier. All +this was before his acquaintance with Mæcenas, and his +introduction into the court of Augustus, and the familiarity of +that great emperor; which, had he not been well bred before, had +been enough to civilise his conversation, and render him +accomplished and knowing in all the arts of complacency and good +behaviour; and, in short, an agreeable companion for the retired +hours and privacies of a favourite who was first minister. +So that upon the whole matter Persius may be acknowledged to be +equal with him in those respects, though better born, and Juvenal +inferior to both. If the advantage be anywhere, it is on +the side of Horace, as much as the court of Augustus Cæsar +was superior to that of Nero. As for the subjects which +they treated, it will appear hereafter that Horace wrote not +vulgarly on vulgar subjects, nor always chose them. His +style is constantly accommodated to his subject, either high or +low. If his fault be too much lowness, that of Persius is +the fault of the hardness of his metaphors and obscurity; and so +they are equal in the failings of their style, where Juvenal +manifestly triumphs over both of them.</p> +<p>The comparison betwixt Horace and Juvenal is more difficult, +because their forces were more equal. A dispute has always +been, and ever will continue, betwixt the favourers of the two +poets. <i>Non nostrum est tantas componere lites</i>. +I shall only venture to give my own opinion, and leave it for +better judges to determine. If it be only argued in general +which of them was the better poet, the victory is already gained +on the side of Horace. Virgil himself must yield to him in +the delicacy of his turns, his choice of words, and perhaps the +purity of his Latin. He who says that Pindar is inimitable, +is himself inimitable in his odes; but the contention betwixt +these two great masters is for the prize of satire, in which +controversy all the odes and epodes of Horace are to stand +excluded. I say this because Horace has written many of +them satirically against his private enemies; yet these, if +justly considered, are somewhat of the nature of the Greek +<i>silli</i>, which were invectives against particular sects and +persons. But Horace had purged himself of this choler +before he entered on those discourses which are more properly +called the Roman satire. He has not now to do with a Lyce, +a Canidia, a Cassius Severus, or a Menas; but is to correct the +vices and the follies of his time, and to give the rules of a +happy and virtuous life. In a word, that former sort of +satire which is known in England by the name of lampoon is a +dangerous sort of weapon, and for the most part unlawful. +We have no moral right on the reputation of other men; it is +taking from them what we cannot restore to them. There are +only two reasons for which we may be permitted to write lampoons, +and I will not promise that they can always justify us. The +first is revenge, when we have been affronted in the same nature, +or have been anywise notoriously abused, and can make ourselves +no other reparation. And yet we know that in Christian +charity all offences are to be forgiven, as we expect the like +pardon for those which we daily commit against Almighty +God. And this consideration has often made me tremble when +I was saying our Saviour’s prayer, for the plain condition +of the forgiveness which we beg is the pardoning of others the +offences which they have done to us; for which reason I have many +times avoided the commission of that fault, even when I have been +notoriously provoked. Let not this, my lord, pass for +vanity in me; for it is truth. More libels have been +written against me than almost any man now living; and I had +reason on my side to have defended my own innocence. I +speak not of my poetry, which I have wholly given up to the +critics—let them use it as they please—posterity, +perhaps, may be more favourable to me; for interest and passion +will lie buried in another age, and partiality and prejudice be +forgotten. I speak of my morals, which have been +sufficiently aspersed—that only sort of reputation ought to +be dear to every honest man, and is to me. But let the +world witness for me that I have been often wanting to myself in +that particular; I have seldom answered any scurrilous lampoon +when it was in my power to have exposed my enemies; and, being +naturally vindicative, have suffered in silence, and possessed my +soul in quiet.</p> +<p>Anything, though never so little, which a man speaks of +himself, in my opinion, is still too much; and therefore I will +waive this subject, and proceed to give the second reason which +may justify a poet when he writes against a particular person, +and that is when he is become a public nuisance. All those +whom Horace in his satires, and Persius and Juvenal have +mentioned in theirs with a brand of infamy, are wholly +such. It is an action of virtue to make examples of vicious +men. They may and ought to be upbraided with their crimes +and follies, both for their own amendment (if they are not yet +incorrigible), and for the terror of others, to hinder them from +falling into those enormities, which they see are so severely +punished in the persons of others. The first reason was +only an excuse for revenge; but this second is absolutely of a +poet’s office to perform. But how few lampooners are +there now living who are capable of this duty! When they +come in my way, it is impossible sometimes to avoid reading +them. But, good God! how remote they are in common justice +from the choice of such persons as are the proper subject of +satire, and how little wit they bring for the support of their +injustice! The weaker sex is their most ordinary theme; and +the best and fairest are sure to be the most severely +handled. Amongst men, those who are prosperously unjust are +entitled to a panegyric, but afflicted virtue is insolently +stabbed with all manner of reproaches; no decency is considered, +no fulsomeness omitted; no venom is wanting, as far as dulness +can supply it, for there is a perpetual dearth of wit, a +barrenness of good sense and entertainment. The neglect of +the readers will soon put an end to this sort of +scribbling. There can be no pleasantry where there is no +wit, no impression can be made where there is no truth for the +foundation. To conclude: they are like the fruits of the +earth in this unnatural season; the corn which held up its head +is spoiled with rankness, but the greater part of the harvest is +laid along, and little of good income and wholesome nourishment +is received into the barns. This is almost a digression, I +confess to your lordship; but a just indignation forced it from +me. Now I have removed this rubbish I will return to the +comparison of Juvenal and Horace.</p> +<p>I would willingly divide the palm betwixt them upon the two +heads of profit and delight, which are the two ends of poetry in +general. It must be granted by the favourers of Juvenal +that Horace is the more copious and more profitable in his +instructions of human life; but in my particular opinion, which I +set not up for a standard to better judgments, Juvenal is the +more delightful author. I am profited by both, I am pleased +with both; but I owe more to Horace for my instruction, and more +to Juvenal for my pleasure. This, as I said, is my +particular taste of these two authors. They who will have +either of them to excel the other in both qualities, can scarce +give better reasons for their opinion than I for mine. But +all unbiassed readers will conclude that my moderation is not to +be condemned; to such impartial men I must appeal, for they who +have already formed their judgment may justly stand suspected of +prejudice; and though all who are my readers will set up to be my +judges, I enter my caveat against them, that they ought not so +much as to be of my jury; or; if they be admitted, it is but +reason that they should first hear what I have to urge in the +defence of my opinion.</p> +<p>That Horace is somewhat the better instructor of the two is +proved from hence—that his instructions are more general, +Juvenal’s more limited. So that, granting that the +counsels which they give are equally good for moral use, Horace, +who gives the most various advice, and most applicable to all +occasions which can occur to us in the course of our +lives—as including in his discourses not only all the rules +of morality, but also of civil conversation—is undoubtedly +to be preferred to him, who is more circumscribed in his +instructions, makes them to fewer people, and on fewer occasions, +than the other. I may be pardoned for using an old saying, +since it is true and to the purpose: <i>Bonum quò +communius</i>, <i>eò melius</i>. Juvenal, excepting +only his first satire, is in all the rest confined to the +exposing of some particular vice; that he lashes, and there he +sticks. His sentences are truly shining and instructive; +but they are sprinkled here and there. Horace is teaching +us in every line, and is perpetually moral; he had found out the +skill of Virgil to hide his sentences, to give you the virtue of +them without showing them in their full extent, which is the +ostentation of a poet, and not his art. And this Petronius +charges on the authors of his time as a vice of writing, which +was then growing on the age: <i>ne sententiæ extra corpus +orationis emineant</i>; he would have them weaved into the body +of the work, and not appear embossed upon it, and striking +directly on the reader’s view. Folly was the proper +quarry of Horace, and not vice; and as there are but few +notoriously wicked men in comparison with a shoal of fools and +fops, so it is a harder thing to make a man wise than to make him +honest; for the will is only to be reclaimed in the one, but the +understanding is to be informed in the other. There are +blind sides and follies even in the professors of moral +philosophy, and there is not any one sect of them that Horace has +not exposed; which, as it was not the design of Juvenal, who was +wholly employed in lashing vices (some of them the most enormous +that can be imagined), so perhaps it was not so much his +talent.</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Omne vafer vitium ridenti Flaccus +amico</i><br /> +<i>Tangit</i>, <i>et admissus circum præcordia +ludit</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This was the commendation which Persius gave him; where by +<i>vitium</i> he means those little vices which we call follies, +the defects of human understanding, or at most the peccadilloes +of life, rather than the tragical vices to which men are hurried +by their unruly passions and exorbitant desires. But in the +word <i>omne</i>, which is universal, he concludes with me that +the divine wit of Horace left nothing untouched; that he entered +into the inmost recesses of nature; found out the imperfections +even of the most wise and grave, as well as of the common people; +discovering even in the great Trebatius (to whom he addresses the +first satire) his hunting after business and following the court, +as well as in the prosecutor Crispinus, his impertinence and +importunity. It is true, he exposes Crispinus openly as a +common nuisance; but he rallies the other, as a friend, more +finely. The exhortations of Persius are confined to +noblemen, and the Stoic philosophy is that alone which he +recommends to them; Juvenal exhorts to particular virtues, as +they are opposed to those vices against which he declaims; but +Horace laughs to shame all follies, and insinuates virtue rather +by familiar examples than by the severity of precepts.</p> +<p>This last consideration seems to incline the balance on the +side of Horace, and to give him the preference to Juvenal, not +only in profit, but in pleasure. But, after all, I must +confess that the delight which Horace gives me is but languishing +(be pleased still to understand that I speak of my own taste +only); he may ravish other men, but I am too stupid and +insensible to be tickled. Where he barely grins himself, +and, as Scaliger says, only shows his white teeth, he cannot +provoke me to any laughter. His urbanity—that is, his +good manners—are to be commended; but his wit is faint, and +his salt (if I may dare to say so) almost insipid. Juvenal +is of a more vigorous and masculine wit; he gives me as much +pleasure as I can bear; he fully satisfies my expectation; he +treats his subject home; his spleen is raised, and he raises +mine. I have the pleasure of concernment in all he says; he +drives his reader along with him, and when he is at the end of +his way, I willingly stop with him. If he went another +stage, it would be too far; it would make a journey of a +progress, and turn delight into fatigue. When he gives +over, it is a sign the subject is exhausted, and the wit of man +can carry it no farther. If a fault can be justly found in +him, it is that he is sometimes too luxuriant, too redundant; +says more than he needs, like my friend “the Plain +Dealer,” but never more than pleases. Add to this +that his thoughts are as just as those of Horace, and much more +elevated; his expressions are sonorous and more noble; his verse +more numerous; and his words are suitable to his thoughts, +sublime and lofty. All these contribute to the pleasure of +the reader; and the greater the soul of him who reads, his +transports are the greater. Horace is always on the amble, +Juvenal on the gallop, but his way is perpetually on +carpet-ground. He goes with more impetuosity than Horace, +but as securely; and the swiftness adds a more lively agitation +to the spirits. The low style of Horace is according to his +subject—that is, generally grovelling. I question not +but he could have raised it, for the first epistle of the second +book, which he writes to Augustus (a most instructive satire +concerning poetry), is of so much dignity in the words, and of so +much elegancy in the numbers, that the author plainly shows the +<i>sermo pedestris</i> in his other satires was rather his choice +than his necessity. He was a rival to Lucilius, his +predecessor, and was resolved to surpass him in his own +manner. Lucilius, as we see by his remaining fragments, +minded neither his style, nor his numbers, nor his purity of +words, nor his run of verse. Horace therefore copes with +him in that humble way of satire, writes under his own force, and +carries a dead weight, that he may match his competitor in the +race. This, I imagine, was the chief reason why he minded +only the clearness of his satire, and the cleanness of +expression, without ascending to those heights to which his own +vigour might have carried him. But limiting his desires +only to the conquest of Lucilius, he had his ends of his rival, +who lived before him, but made way for a new conquest over +himself by Juvenal his successor. He could not give an +equal pleasure to his reader, because he used not equal +instruments. The fault was in the tools, and not in the +workman. But versification and numbers are the greatest +pleasures of poetry. Virgil knew it, and practised both so +happily that, for aught I know, his greatest excellency is in his +diction. In all other parts of poetry he is faultless, but +in this he placed his chief perfection. And give me leave, +my lord, since I have here an apt occasion, to say that Virgil +could have written sharper satires than either Horace or Juvenal +if he would have employed his talent that way. I will +produce a verse and half of his, in one of his Eclogues, to +justify my opinion, and with commas after every word, to show +that he has given almost as many lashes as he has written +syllables. It is against a bad poet, whose ill verses he +describes:—</p> +<blockquote><p> “<i>Non +tu</i>, <i>in triviis indocte</i>, <i>solebas</i><br /> +<i>Stridenti</i>, <i>miserum</i>, <i>stipulâ</i>, +<i>disperdere carmen</i>?”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But to return to my purpose. When there is anything +deficient in numbers and sound, the reader is uneasy and +unsatisfied; he wants something of his complement, desires +somewhat which he finds not: and this being the manifest defect +of Horace, it is no wonder that, finding it supplied in Juvenal, +we are more delighted with him. And besides this, the sauce +of Juvenal is more poignant, to create in us an appetite of +reading him. The meat of Horace is more nourishing, but the +cookery of Juvenal more exquisite; so that, granting Horace to be +the more general philosopher, we cannot deny that Juvenal was the +greater poet—I mean, in satire. His thoughts are +sharper, his indignation against vice is more vehement, his +spirit has more of the commonwealth genius; he treats tyranny, +and all the vices attending it, as they deserve, with the utmost +rigour; and consequently a noble soul is better pleased with a +zealous vindicator of Roman liberty than with a temporising poet, +a well-mannered court slave, and a man who is often afraid of +laughing in the right place—who is ever decent, because he +is naturally servile.</p> +<p>After all, Horace had the disadvantage of the times in which +he lived; they were better for the man, but worse for the +satirist. It is generally said that those enormous vices +which were practised under the reign of Domitian were unknown in +the time of Augustus Cæsar; that therefore Juvenal had a +larger field than Horace. Little follies were out of doors +when oppression was to be scourged instead of avarice; it was no +longer time to turn into ridicule the false opinions of +philosophers when the Roman liberty was to be asserted. +There was more need of a Brutus in Domitian’s days to +redeem or mend, than of a Horace, if he had then been living, to +laugh at a fly-catcher. This reflection at the same time +excuses Horace, but exalts Juvenal. I have ended, before I +was aware, the comparison of Horace and Juvenal upon the topics +of instruction and delight; and indeed I may safely here conclude +that commonplace: for if we make Horace our minister of state in +satire, and Juvenal of our private pleasures, I think the latter +has no ill bargain of it. Let profit have the pre-eminence +of honour in the end of poetry; pleasure, though but the second +in degree, is the first in favour. And who would not choose +to be loved better rather than to be more esteemed! But I +am entered already upon another topic, which concerns the +particular merits of these two satirists. However, I will +pursue my business where I left it, and carry it farther than +that common observation of the several ages in which these +authors flourished.</p> +<p>When Horace writ his satires, the monarchy of his Cæsar +was in its newness, and the government but just made easy to the +conquered people. They could not possibly have forgotten +the usurpation of that prince upon their freedom, nor the violent +methods which he had used in the compassing of that vast design; +they yet remembered his proscriptions, and the slaughter of so +many noble Romans their defenders—amongst the rest, that +horrible action of his when he forced Livia from the arms of her +husband (who was constrained to see her married, as Dion relates +the story), and, big with child as she was, conveyed to the bed +of his insulting rival. The same Dion Cassius gives us +another instance of the crime before mentioned—that +Cornelius Sisenna, being reproached in full senate with the +licentious conduct of his wife, returned this answer: that he had +married her by the counsel of Augustus (intimating, says my +author, that Augustus had obliged him to that marriage, that he +might under that covert have the more free access to her). +His adulteries were still before their eyes, but they must be +patient where they had not power. In other things that +emperor was moderate enough; propriety was generally secured, and +the people entertained with public shows and donatives, to make +them more easily digest their lost liberty. But Augustus, +who was conscious to himself of so many crimes which he had +committed, thought in the first place to provide for his own +reputation by making an edict against lampoons and satires, and +the authors of those defamatory writings, which my author +Tacitus, from the law-term, calls <i>famosos libellos</i>.</p> +<p>In the first book of his Annals he gives the following account +of it in these words:—<i>Primus Augustus cognitionem de +famosis libellis</i>, <i>specie legis ejus</i>, <i>tractavit</i>; +<i>commotus Cassii Severi libidine</i>, <i>quâ viros +fæminasque illustres procacibus scriptis +diffamaverat</i>. Thus in English:—“Augustus +was the first who, under the colour of that law, took cognisance +of lampoons, being provoked to it by the petulancy of Cassius +Severus, who had defamed many illustrious persons of both sexes +in his writings.” The law to which Tacitus refers was +<i>Lex læsæ majestatis</i>; commonly called, for the +sake of brevity, <i>majestas</i>; or, as we say, +high-treason. He means not that this law had not been +enacted formerly (for it had been made by the Decemviri, and was +inscribed amongst the rest in the Twelve Tables, to prevent the +aspersion of the Roman majesty, either of the people themselves, +or their religion, or their magistrates; and the infringement of +it was capital—that is, the offender was whipped to death +with the fasces which were borne before their chief officers of +Rome), but Augustus was the first who restored that intermitted +law. By the words “under colour of that law” he +insinuates that Augustus caused it to be executed on pretence of +those libels which were written by Cassius Severus against the +nobility, but in truth to save himself from such defamatory +verses. Suetonius likewise makes mention of it +thus:—<i>Sparsos de se in curiâ famosos libellos</i>, +<i>nec exparit</i>, <i>et magnâ curâ +redarguit</i>. <i>Ac ne requisitis quidem auctoribus</i>, +<i>id modo censuit</i>, <i>cognoscendum posthac de iis qui +libellos aut carmina ad infamiam cujuspiam sub alieno nomine +edant</i>. “Augustus was not afraid of libels,” +says that author, “yet he took all care imaginable to have +them answered, and then decreed that for the time to come the +authors of them should be punished.” But Aurelius +makes it yet more clear, according to my sense, that this emperor +for his own sake durst not permit them:—<i>Fecit id +Augustus in speciem</i>, <i>et quasi gratificaretur populo +Romano</i>, <i>et primoribus urbis</i>; <i>sed revera ut sibi +consuleret</i>: <i>nam habuit in animo comprimere nimiam +quorundam procacitatem in loquendo</i>, <i>à quâ nec +ipse exemptus fuit</i>. <i>Nam suo nomine compescere erat +invidiosum</i>, <i>sub alieno facile et utile</i>. <i>Ergo +specie legis tractavit</i>, <i>quasi populi Romani majestas +infamaretur</i>. This, I think, is a sufficient comment on +that passage of Tacitus. I will add only by the way that +the whole family of the Cæsars and all their relations were +included in the law, because the majesty of the Romans in the +time of the Empire was wholly in that house: <i>Omnia Cæsar +erat</i>; they were all accounted sacred who belonged to +him. As for Cassius Severus, he was contemporary with +Horace, and was the same poet against whom he writes in his +epodes under this title, <i>In Cassium Severum</i>, <i>maledicum +poctam</i>—perhaps intending to kill two crows, according +to our proverb, with one stone, and revenge both himself and his +emperor together.</p> +<p>From hence I may reasonably conclude that Augustus, who was +not altogether so good as he was wise, had some by-respect in the +enacting of this law; for to do anything for nothing was not his +maxim. Horace, as he was a courtier, complied with the +interest of his master; and, avoiding the lashing of greater +crimes, confined himself to the ridiculing of petty vices and +common follies, excepting only some reserved cases in his odes +and epodes of his own particular quarrels (which either with +permission of the magistrate or without it, every man will +revenge, though I say not that he should; for <i>prior +læsit</i> is a good excuse in the civil law if Christianity +had not taught us to forgive). However, he was not the +proper man to arraign great vices; at least, if the stories which +we hear of him are true—that he practised some which I will +not here mention, out of honour to him. It was not for a +Clodius to accuse adulterers, especially when Augustus was of +that number. So that, though his age was not exempted from +the worst of villainies, there was no freedom left to reprehend +them by reason of the edict; and our poet was not fit to +represent them in an odious character, because himself was dipped +in the same actions. Upon this account, without further +insisting on the different tempers of Juvenal and Horace, I +conclude that the subjects which Horace chose for satire are of a +lower nature than those of which Juvenal has written.</p> +<p>Thus I have treated, in a new method, the comparison betwixt +Horace, Juvenal, and Persius. Somewhat of their particular +manner, belonging to all of them, is yet remaining to be +considered. Persius was grave, and particularly opposed his +gravity to lewdness, which was the predominant vice in +Nero’s court at the time when he published his satires, +which was before that emperor fell into the excess of +cruelty. Horace was a mild admonisher, a court satirist, +fit for the gentle times of Augustus, and more fit for the +reasons which I have already given. Juvenal was as proper +for his times as they for theirs; his was an age that deserved a +more severe chastisement; vices were more gross and open, more +flagitious, more encouraged by the example of a tyrant, and more +protected by his authority. Therefore, wheresoever Juvenal +mentions Nero, he means Domitian, whom he dares not attack in his +own person, but scourges him by proxy. Heinsius urges in +praise of Horace that, according to the ancient art and law of +satire, it should be nearer to comedy than to tragedy; not +declaiming against vice, but only laughing at it. Neither +Persius nor Juvenal was ignorant of this, for they had both +studied Horace. And the thing itself is plainly true. +But as they had read Horace, they had likewise read Lucilius, of +whom Persius says, <i>Secuit urbem</i>; . . . <i>et genuinum +fregit in illis</i>; meaning Mutius and Lupus; and Juvenal also +mentions him in these words:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Ense velut stricto</i>, <i>quoties +Lucilius ardens</i><br /> +<i>Infremuit</i>, <i>rubet auditor</i>, <i>cui frigida mens +est</i><br /> +<i>Criminibus</i>, <i>tacitá sulant præcordia +culpâ</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>So that they thought the imitation of Lucilius was more proper +to their purpose than that of Horace. “They changed +satire,” says Holyday, “but they changed it for the +better; for the business being to reform great vices, +chastisement goes farther than admonition; whereas a perpetual +grin, like that of Horace, does rather anger than amend a +man.”</p> +<p>Thus far that learned critic Barten Holyday, whose +interpretation and illustrations of Juvenal are as excellent as +the verse of his translation and his English are lame and +pitiful; for it is not enough to give us the meaning of a poet +(which I acknowledge him to have performed most faithfully) but +he must also imitate his genius and his numbers as far as the +English will come up to the elegance of the original. In +few words, it is only for a poet to translate a poet. +Holyday and Stapleton had not enough considered this when they +attempted Juvenal; but I forbear reflections: only I beg leave to +take notice of this sentence, where Holyday says, “a +perpetual grin, like that of Horace, rather angers than amends a +man.” I cannot give him up the manner of Horace in +low satire so easily. Let the chastisements of Juvenal be +never so necessary for his new kind of satire, let him declaim as +wittily and sharply as he pleases, yet still the nicest and most +delicate touches of satire consist in fine raillery. This, +my lord, is your particular talent, to which even Juvenal could +not arrive. It is not reading, it is not imitation of, an +author which can produce this fineness; it must be inborn; it +must proceed from a genius, and particular way of thinking, which +is not to be taught, and therefore not to be imitated by him who +has it not from nature. How easy it is to call rogue and +villain, and that wittily! but how hard to make a man appear a +fool, a blockhead, or a knave, without using any of those +opprobrious terms! To spare the grossness of the names, and +to do the thing yet more severely, is to draw a full face and to +make the nose and cheeks stand out, and yet not to employ any +depth of shadowing. This is the mystery of that noble +trade, which yet no master can teach to his apprentice; he may +give the rules, but the scholar is never the nearer in his +practice. Neither is it true that this fineness of raillery +is offensive; a witty man is tickled, while he is hurt in this +manner; and a fool feels it not. The occasion of an offence +may possibly be given, but he cannot take it. If it be +granted that in effect this way does more mischief; that a man is +secretly wounded, and though he be not sensible himself, yet the +malicious world will find it for him; yet there is still a vast +difference betwixt the slovenly butchering of a man, and the +fineness of a stroke that separates the head from the body and +leaves it standing in its place. A man may be capable, as +Jack Ketch’s wife said of his servant, of a plain piece of +work, a bare hanging; but to make a malefactor die sweetly was +only belonging to her husband. I wish I could apply it to +myself, if the reader would be kind enough to think it belongs to +me. The character of Zimri, in my “Absalom” is, +in my opinion, worth the whole poem; it is not bloody, but it is +ridiculous enough; and he for whom it was intended was too witty +to resent it as an injury. If I had railed, I might have +suffered for it justly; but I managed my own work more happily, +perhaps more dexterously. I avoided the mention of great +crimes, and applied myself to the representing of blind-sides and +little extravagances; to which the wittier a man is, he is +generally the more obnoxious. It succeeded as I wished; the +jest went round, and he was laughed at in his turn who began the +frolic.</p> +<p>And thus, my lord, you see I have preferred the manner of +Horace and of your lordship in this kind of satire to that of +Juvenal, and, I think, reasonably. Holyday ought not to +have arraigned so great an author for that which was his +excellency and his merit; or, if he did, on such a palpable +mistake he might expect that some one might possibly arise +(either in his own time, or after him) to rectify his error, and +restore to Horace that commendation of which he has so unjustly +robbed him. And let the manes of Juvenal forgive me if I +say that this way of Horace was the best for amending manners, as +it is the most difficult. His was an <i>ense +rescindendum</i>; but that of Horace was a pleasant cure, with +all the limbs preserved entire, and, as our mountebanks tell us +in their bills, without keeping the patient within doors for a +day. What they promise only, Horace has effectually +performed. Yet I contradict not the proposition which I +formerly advanced. Juvenal’s times required a more +painful kind of operation; but if he had lived in the age of +Horace, I must needs affirm that he had it not about him. +He took the method which was prescribed him by his own genius, +which was sharp and eager; he could not railly, but he could +declaim: and as his provocations were great, he has revenged them +tragically. This, notwithstanding I am to say another word +which, as true as it is, will yet displease the partial admirers +of our Horace; I have hinted it before, but it is time for me now +to speak more plainly.</p> +<p>This manner of Horace is indeed the best; but Horace has not +executed it altogether so happily—at least, not +often. The manner of Juvenal is confessed to be inferior to +the former; but Juvenal has excelled him in his +performance. Juvenal has railed more wittily than Horace +has rallied. Horace means to make his reader laugh, but he +is not sure of his experiment. Juvenal always intends to +move your indignation, and he always brings about his +purpose. Horace, for aught I know, might have tickled the +people of his age, but amongst the moderns he is not so +successful. They who say he entertains so pleasantly, may +perhaps value themselves on the quickness of their own +understandings, that they can see a jest farther off than other +men; they may find occasion of laughter in the wit-battle of the +two buffoons Sarmentus and Cicerrus, and hold their sides for +fear of bursting when Rupilius and Persius are scolding. +For my own part, I can only like the characters of all four, +which are judiciously given; but for my heart I cannot so much as +smile at their insipid raillery. I see not why Persius +should call upon Brutus to revenge him on his adversary; and that +because he had killed Julius Cæsar for endeavouring to be a +king, therefore he should be desired to murder Rupilius, only +because his name was Mr. King. A miserable clench, in my +opinion, for Horace to record; I have heard honest Mr. Swan make +many a better, and yet have had the grace to hold my +countenance. But it may be puns were then in fashion, as +they were wit in the sermons of the last age, and in the court of +King Charles the Second. I am sorry to say it, for the sake +of Horace; but certain it is, he has no fine palate who can feed +so heartily on garbage.</p> +<p>But I have already wearied myself, and doubt not but I have +tired your lordship’s patience, with this long, rambling, +and, I fear, trivial discourse. Upon the one-half of the +merits, that is, pleasure, I cannot but conclude that Juvenal was +the better satirist. They who will descend into his +particular praises may find them at large in the dissertation of +the learned Rigaltius to Thuanus. As for Persius, I have +given the reasons why I think him inferior to both of them; yet I +have one thing to add on that subject.</p> +<p>Barten Holyday, who translated both Juvenal and Persius, has +made this distinction betwixt them, which is no less true than +witty—that in Persius, the difficulty is to find a meaning; +in Juvenal, to choose a meaning; so crabbed is Persius, and so +copious is Juvenal; so much the understanding is employed in one, +and so much the judgment in the other; so difficult is it to find +any sense in the former, and the best sense of the latter.</p> +<p>If, on the other side, any one suppose I have commended Horace +below his merit, when I have allowed him but the second place, I +desire him to consider if Juvenal (a man of excellent natural +endowments, besides the advantages of diligence and study, and +coming after him and building upon his foundations) might not +probably, with all these helps, surpass him; and whether it be +any dishonour to Horace to be thus surpassed, since no art or +science is at once begun and perfected but that it must pass +first through many hands and even through several ages. If +Lucilius could add to Ennius and Horace to Lucilius, why, without +any diminution to the fame of Horace, might not Juvenal give the +last perfection to that work? Or rather, what disreputation +is it to Horace that Juvenal excels in the tragical satire, as +Horace does in the comical? I have read over attentively +both Heinsius and Dacier in their commendations of Horace, but I +can find no more in either of them for the preference of him to +Juvenal than the instructive part (the part of wisdom, and not +that of pleasure), which therefore is here allowed him, +notwithstanding what Scaliger and Rigaltius have pleaded to the +contrary for Juvenal. And to show I am impartial I will +here translate what Dacier has said on that subject:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“I cannot give a more just idea of the two +books of satires made by Horace than by comparing them to the +statues of the Sileni, to which Alcibiades compares Socrates in +the Symposium. They were figures which had nothing of +agreeable, nothing of beauty on their outside; but when any one +took the pains to open them and search into them, he there found +the figures of all the deities. So in the shape that Horace +presents himself to us in his satires we see nothing at the first +view which deserves our attention; it seems that he is rather an +amusement for children than for the serious consideration of +men. But when we take away his crust, and that which hides +him from our sight, when we discover him to the bottom, then we +find all the divinities in a full assembly—that is to say, +all the virtues which ought to be the continual exercise of those +who seriously endeavour to correct their vices.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It is easy to observe that Dacier, in this noble similitude, +has confined the praise of his author wholly to the instructive +part the commendation turns on this, and so does that which +follows:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“In these two books of satire it is the +business of Horace to instruct us how to combat our vices, to +regulate our passions, to follow nature, to give bounds to our +desires, to distinguish betwixt truth and falsehood, and betwixt +our conceptions of things and things themselves; to come back +from our prejudicate opinions, to understand exactly the +principles and motives of all our actions; and to avoid the +ridicule into which all men necessarily fall who are intoxicated +with those notions which they have received from their masters, +and which they obstinately retain without examining whether or no +they be founded on right reason.</p> +<p>“In a word, he labours to render us happy in relation to +ourselves; agreeable and faithful to our friends; and discreet, +serviceable, and well-bred in relation to those with whom we are +obliged to live and to converse. To make his figures +intelligible, to conduct his readers through the labyrinth of +some perplexed sentence or obscure parenthesis, is no great +matter; and, as Epictetus says, there is nothing of beauty in all +this, or what is worthy of a prudent man. The principal +business, and which is of most importance to us, is to show the +use, the reason, and the proof of his precepts.</p> +<p>“They who endeavour not to correct themselves according +to so exact a model are just like the patients who have open +before them a book of admirable receipts for their diseases, and +please themselves with reading it without comprehending the +nature of the remedies or how to apply them to their +cure.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Let Horace go off with these encomiums, which he has so well +deserved.</p> +<p>To conclude the contention betwixt our three poets I will use +the words of Virgil in his fifth Æneid, where Æneas +proposes the rewards of the foot-race to the three first who +should reach the goal:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> “<i>Tres +præmia primi</i> . . .<br /> +<i>Accipient</i>, <i>flauâque caput nectentur +olivâ</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Let these three ancients be preferred to all the moderns as +first arriving at the goal; let them all be crowned as victors +with the wreath that properly belongs to satire. But after +that, with this distinction amongst themselves:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Primus equum phaleris insignem victor +habeto</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Let Juvenal ride first in triumph.</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Alter Amazoniam pharetram</i>, +<i>plenamque sagittis</i><br /> +<i>Threiciis</i>, <i>lato quam circumplectitur auro</i><br /> +<i>Balteus</i>, <i>et tereti subnectit fibula +gemmâ</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Let Horace, who is the second (and but just the second), carry +off the quiver and the arrows as the badges of his satire, and +the golden belt and the diamond button.</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Tertius Argolico hoc clypeo contentus +abito</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And let Persius, the last of the first three worthies, be +contented with this Grecian shield, and with victory—not +only over all the Grecians, who were ignorant of the Roman +satire—but over all the moderns in succeeding ages, +excepting Boileau and your lordship.</p> +<p>And thus I have given the history of satire, and derived it as +far as from Ennius to your lordship—that is, from its first +rudiments of barbarity to its last polishing and perfection; +which is, with Virgil, in his address to Augustus—</p> + +<blockquote><p> “<i>Nomen +famâ tot ferre per annos</i>, . . .<br /> +<i>Tithoni primâ quot abest ab origine +Cæsar</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I said only from Ennius, but I may safely carry it higher, as +far as Livius Andronicus, who, as I have said formerly, taught +the first play at Rome in the year <i>ab urbe conditâ</i> +CCCCCXIV. I have since desired my learned friend Mr. +Maidwell to compute the difference of times betwixt Aristophanes +and Livius Andronicus; and he assures me from the best +chronologers that <i>Plutus</i>, the last of Aristophanes’ +plays, was represented at Athens in the year of the 97th +Olympiad, which agrees with the year <i>urbis conditæ</i> +CCCLXIV. So that the difference of years betwixt +Aristophanes and Andronicus is 150; from whence I have probably +deduced that Livius Andronicus, who was a Grecian, had read the +plays of the old comedy, which were satirical, and also of the +new; for Menander was fifty years before him, which must needs be +a great light to him in his own plays that were of the satirical +nature. That the Romans had farces before this, it is true; +but then they had no communication with Greece; so that +Andronicus was the first who wrote after the manner of the old +comedy, in his plays: he was imitated by Ennius about thirty +years afterwards. Though the former writ fables, the +latter, speaking properly, began the Roman satire, according to +that description which Juvenal gives of it in his +first:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Quicquid agunt homines</i>, +<i>votum</i>, <i>timor</i>, <i>ira voluptas</i>,<br /> +<i>Gaudia</i>, <i>discurses</i>, <i>nostri est farrago +libelli</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This is that in which I have made hold to differ from +Casaubon, Rigaltius, Dacier, and indeed from all the modern +critics—that not Ennius, but Andronicus, was the first who, +by the <i>archæa comedia</i> of the Greeks, added many +beauties to the first rude and barbarous Roman satire; which sort +of poem, though we had not derived from Rome, yet nature teaches +it mankind in all ages and in every country.</p> +<p>It is but necessary that, after so much has been said of +satire, some definition of it should be given. Heinsius, in +his Dissertations on Horace, makes it for me in these +words:—“Satire is a kind of poetry, without a series +of action, invented for the purging of our minds; in which human +vices, ignorance, and errors, and all things besides which are +produced from them in every man, are severely +reprehended—partly dramatically, partly simply, and +sometimes in both kinds of speaking, but for the most part +figuratively and occultly; consisting, in a low familiar way, +chiefly in a sharp and pungent manner of speech, but partly also +in a facetious and civil way of jesting, by which either hatred +or laughter or indignation is moved.” Where I cannot +but observe that this obscure and perplexed definition, or rather +description of satire, is wholly accommodated to the Horatian +way, and excluding the works of Juvenal and Persius as foreign +from that kind of poem. The clause in the beginning of it, +“without a series of action,” distinguishes satire +properly from stage-plays, which are all of one action and one +continued series of action. The end or scope of satire is +to purge the passions; so far it is common to the satires of +Juvenal and Persius. The rest which follows is also +generally belonging to all three, till he comes upon us with the +excluding clause, “consisting, in a low familiar way of +speech” which is the proper character of Horace, and from +which the other two (for their honour be it spoken) are far +distant. But how come lowness of style and the familiarity +of words to be so much the propriety of satire that without them +a poet can be no more a satirist than without risibility he can +be a man? Is the fault of Horace to be made the virtue and +standing rule of this poem? Is the <i>grande sophos</i> of +Persius, and the sublimity of Juvenal, to be circumscribed with +the meanness of words and vulgarity of expression? If +Horace refused the pains of numbers and the loftiness of figures +are they bound to follow so ill a precedent? Let him walk +afoot with his pad in his hand for his own pleasure, but let not +them be accounted no poets who choose to mount and show their +horsemanship. Holyday is not afraid to say that there was +never such a fall as from his odes to his satires, and that he, +injuriously to himself, untuned his harp. The majestic way +of Persius and Juvenal was new when they began it, but it is old +to us; and what poems have not, with time, received an alteration +in their fashion?—“which alteration,” says +Holyday, “is to after-times as good a warrant as the +first.” Has not Virgil changed the manners of +Homer’s heroes in his Æneis? Certainly he has, +and for the better; for Virgil’s age was more civilised and +better bred, and he writ according to the politeness of Rome +under the reign of Augustus Cæsar, not to the rudeness of +Agamemnon’s age or the times of Homer. Why should we +offer to confine free spirits to one form when we cannot so much +as confine our bodies to one fashion of apparel? Would not +Donne’s satires, which abound with so much wit, appear more +charming if he had taken care of his words and of his +numbers? But he followed Horace so very close that of +necessity he must fall with him; and I may safely say it of this +present age, that if we are not so great wits as Donne, yet +certainly we are better poets.</p> +<p>But I have said enough, and it may be too much, on this +subject. Will your lordship be pleased to prolong my +audience only so far till I tell you my own trivial thoughts how +a modern satire should be made? I will not deviate in the +least from the precepts and examples of the ancients, who were +always our best masters; I will only illustrate them, and +discover some of the hidden beauties in their designs, that we +thereby may form our own in imitation of them. Will you +please but to observe that Persius, the least in dignity of all +the three, has, notwithstanding, been the first who has +discovered to us this important secret in the designing of a +perfect satire—that it ought only to treat of one subject; +to be confined to one particular theme, or, at least, to one +principally? If other vices occur in the management of the +chief, they should only be transiently lashed, and not be +insisted on, so as to make the design double. As in a play +of the English fashion which we call a tragicomedy, there is to +be but one main design, and though there be an under-plot or +second walk of comical characters and adventures, yet they are +subservient to the chief fable, carried along under it and +helping to it, so that the drama may not seem a monster with two +heads. Thus the Copernican system of the planets makes the +moon to be moved by the motion of the earth, and carried about +her orb as a dependent of hers. Mascardi, in his discourse +of the “Doppia Favola,” or double tale in plays, +gives an instance of it in the famous pastoral of Guarini, called +<i>Il Pastor Fido</i>, where Corisca and the Satyr are the +under-parts; yet we may observe that Corisca is brought into the +body of the plot and made subservient to it. It is certain +that the divine wit of Horace was not ignorant of this +rule—that a play, though it consists of many parts, must +yet be one in the action, and must drive on the accomplishment of +one design—for he gives this very precept, <i>Sit quod vis +simplex duntaxat</i>, <i>et unum</i>; yet he seems not much to +mind it in his satires, many of them consisting of more arguments +than one, and the second without dependence on the first. +Casaubon has observed this before me in his preference of Persius +to Horace, and will have his own beloved author to be the first +who found out and introduced this method of confining himself to +one subject.</p> +<p>I know it may be urged in defence of Horace that this unity is +not necessary, because the very word <i>satura</i> signifies a +dish plentifully stored with all variety of fruits and +grains. Yet Juvenal, who calls his poems a <i>farrago</i> +(which is a word of the same signification with <i>satura</i>), +has chosen to follow the same method of Persius and not of +Horace; and Boileau, whose example alone is a sufficient +authority, has wholly confined himself in all his satires to this +unity of design. That variety which is not to be found in +any one satire is at least in many, written on several occasions; +and if variety be of absolute necessity in every one of them, +according to the etymology of the word, yet it may arise +naturally from one subject, as it is diversely treated in the +several subordinate branches of it, all relating to the +chief. It may be illustrated accordingly with variety of +examples in the subdivisions of it, and with as many precepts as +there are members of it, which all together may complete that +<i>olla</i> or hotch-potch which is properly a satire.</p> +<p>Under this unity of theme or subject is comprehended another +rule for perfecting the design of true satire. The poet is +bound, and that <i>ex officio</i>, to give his reader some one +precept of moral virtue, and to caution him against some one +particular vice or folly. Other virtues, subordinate to the +first, may be recommended under that chief head, and other vices +or follies may be scourged, besides that which he principally +intends; but he is chiefly to inculcate one virtue, and insist on +that. Thus Juvenal, in every satire excepting the first, +ties himself to one principal instructive point, or to the +shunning of moral evil. Even in the sixth, which seems only +an arraignment of the whole sex of womankind, there is a latent +admonition to avoid ill women, by showing how very few who are +virtuous and good are to be found amongst them. But this, +though the wittiest of all his satires, has yet the least of +truth or instruction in it; he has run himself into his old +declamatory way, and almost forgotten that he was now setting up +for a moral poet.</p> +<p>Persius is never wanting to us in some profitable doctrine, +and in exposing the opposite vices to it. His kind of +philosophy is one, which is the Stoic, and every satire is a +comment on one particular dogma of that sect, unless we will +except the first, which is against bad writers; and yet even +there he forgets not the precepts of the +“porch.” In general, all virtues are everywhere +to be praised and recommended to practice, and all vices to be +reprehended and made either odious or ridiculous, or else there +is a fundamental error in the whole design.</p> +<p>I have already declared who are the only persons that are the +adequate object of private satire, and who they are that may +properly be exposed by name for public examples of vices and +follies, and therefore I will trouble your lordship no further +with them. Of the best and finest manner of satire, I have +said enough in the comparison betwixt Juvenal and Horace; it is +that sharp well-mannered way of laughing a folly out of +countenance, of which your lordship is the best master in this +age. I will proceed to the versification which is most +proper for it, and add somewhat to what I have said already on +that subject. The sort of verse which is called +“burlesque,” consisting of eight syllables or four +feet, is that which our excellent Hudibras has chosen. I +ought to have mentioned him before when I spoke of Donne, but by +a slip of an old man’s memory he was forgotten. The +worth of his poem is too well known to need my commendation, and +he is above my censure. His satire is of the Varronian +kind, though unmixed with prose. The choice of his numbers +is suitable enough to his design as he has managed it; but in any +other hand the shortness of his verse, and the quick returns of +rhyme, had debased the dignity of style. And besides, the +double rhyme (a necessary companion of burlesque writing) is not +so proper for manly satire, for it turns earnest too much to +jest, and gives us a boyish kind of pleasure. It tickles +awkwardly, with a kind of pain to the best sort of readers; we +are pleased ungratefully, and, if I may say so, against our +liking. We thank him not for giving us that unseasonable +delight, when we know he could have given us a better and more +solid. He might have left that task to others who, not +being able to put in thought, can only makes us grin with the +excrescence of a word of two or three syllables in the +close. It is, indeed, below so great a master to make use +of such a little instrument. But his good sense is +perpetually shining through all he writes; it affords us not the +time of finding faults: we pass through the levity of his rhyme, +and are immediately carried into some admirable useful +thought. After all, he has chosen this kind of verse, and +has written the best in it, and had he taken another he would +always have excelled; as we say of a court favourite, that +whatsoever his office be, he still makes it uppermost and most +beneficial to himself.</p> +<p>The quickness of your imagination, my lord, has already +prevented me; and you know beforehand that I would prefer the +verse of ten syllables, which we call the English heroic, to that +of eight. This is truly my opinion, for this sort of number +is more roomy; the thought can turn itself with greater ease in a +larger compass. When the rhyme comes too thick upon us, it +straitens the expression; we are thinking of the close when we +should be employed in adorning the thought. It makes a poet +giddy with turning in a space too narrow for his imagination; he +loses many beauties without gaining one advantage. For a +burlesque rhyme I have already concluded to be none; or, if it +were, it is more easily purchased in ten syllables than in +eight. In both occasions it is as in a tennis-court, when +the strokes of greater force are given, when we strike out and +play at length. Tassoni and Boileau have left us the best +examples of this way in the “Seechia Rapita” and the +“Lutrin,” and next them Merlin Cocaius in his +“Baldus.” I will speak only of the two former, +because the last is written in Latin verse. The +“Secchia Rapita” is an Italian poem, a satire of the +Varronian kind. It is written in the stanza of eight, which +is their measure for heroic verse. The words are stately, +the numbers smooth; the turn both of thoughts and words is +happy. The first six lines of the stanza seem majestical +and severe, but the two last turn them all into a pleasant +ridicule. Boileau, if I am not much deceived, has modelled +from hence his famous “Lutrin.” He had read the +burlesque poetry of Scarron with some kind of indignation, as +witty as it was, and found nothing in France that was worthy of +his imitation; but he copied the Italian so well that his own may +pass for an original. He writes it in the French heroic +verse, and calls it an heroic poem; his subject is trivial, but +his verse is noble. I doubt not but he had Virgil in his +eye, for we find many admirable imitations of him, and some +parodies, as particularly this passage in the fourth of the +Æneids—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Nec tibi diva parens</i>, <i>generis nec +Dardanus auctor</i>,<br /> +<i>Perfide</i>; <i>sed duris genuit te cautibus horrens</i><br /> +<i>Caucasus</i>, <i>Hyrrcanæque admôrunt ubera +tigres</i>:”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>which he thus translates, keeping to the words, but altering +the sense:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Non</i>, <i>ton père à +Paris</i>, <i>ne fut point boulanger</i>:<br /> +<i>Et tu n’es point du sang de Gervais</i>, +<i>l’horloger</i>;<br /> +<i>Ta mère ne fut point la maîtresse d’un +coche</i>;<br /> +<i>Caucase dans ses flancs te forma d’une +roché</i>;<br /> +<i>Une tigresse affreuse</i>, <i>en quelque antre +écarté</i>,<br /> +<i>Te fit</i>, <i>avec son lait</i>, <i>succer sa +cruauté</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And as Virgil in his fourth Georgic of the bees, perpetually +raises the lowness of his subject by the loftiness of his words, +and ennobles it by comparisons drawn from empires and from +monarchs—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Admiranda tibi levium spectacula +rerum</i>,<br /> +<i>Magnanimosque duces</i>, <i>totiusque ordine gentis</i><br /> +<i>Mores et studia</i>, <i>et populos</i>, <i>et prælia +dicam</i>;”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>and again—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>At genus immortale manet</i>, +<i>multosque per annos</i><br /> +<i>Stat fortuna domûs</i>, <i>et avi numerantur +avorum</i>;”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>we see Boileau pursuing him in the same flights, and scarcely +yielding to his master. This I think, my lord, to be the +most beautiful and most noble kind of satire. Here is the +majesty of the heroic finely mixed with the venom of the other, +and raising the delight, which otherwise would be flat and +vulgar, by the sublimity of the expression. I could say +somewhat more of the delicacy of this and some other of his +satires, but it might turn to his prejudice if it were carried +back to France.</p> +<p>I have given your lordship but this bare hint—in what +verse and in what manner this sort of satire may be best +managed. Had I time I could enlarge on the beautiful turns +of words and thoughts which are as requisite in this as in heroic +poetry itself, of which the satire is undoubtedly a +species. With these beautiful turns I confess myself to +have been unacquainted till about twenty years ago. In a +conversation which I had with that noble wit of Scotland, Sir +George Mackenzie, he asked me why I did not imitate in my verses +the turns of Mr. Waller and Sir John Denham, of which he repeated +many to me. I had often read with pleasure, and with some +profit, those two fathers of our English poetry, but had not +seriously enough considered those beauties which give the last +perfection to their works. Some sprinklings of this kind I +had also formerly in my plays; but they were casual, and not +designed. But this hint, thus seasonably given me, first +made me sensible of my own wants, and brought me afterwards to +seek for the supply of them in other English authors. I +looked over the darling of my youth, the famous Cowley; there I +found, instead of them, the points of wit and quirks of epigram, +even in the “Davideis” (an heroic poem which is of an +opposite nature to those puerilities), but no elegant turns, +either on the word or on the thought. Then I consulted a +greater genius (without offence to the manes of that noble +author)—I mean Milton; but as he endeavours everywhere to +express Homer, whose age had not arrived to that fineness, I +found in him a true sublimity, lofty thoughts which were clothed +with admirable Grecisms and ancient words, which he had been +digging from the minds of Chaucer and Spenser, and which, with +all their rusticity, had somewhat of venerable in them. But +I found not there neither that for which I looked. At last +I had recourse to his master, Spenser, the author of that +immortal poem called the “Faerie Queen,” and there I +met with that which I had been looking for so long in vain. +Spenser had studied Virgil to as much advantage as Milton had +done Homer, and amongst the rest of his excellences had copied +that. Looking farther into the Italian, I found Tasso had +done the same; nay, more, that all the sonnets in that language +are on the turn of the first thought—which Mr. Walsh, in +his late ingenious preface to his poems, has observed. In +short, Virgil and Ovid are the two principal fountains of them in +Latin poetry. And the French at this day are so fond of +them that they judge them to be the first beauties; +<i>delicate</i>, <i>et bien tourné</i>, are the highest +commendations which they bestow on somewhat which they think a +masterpiece.</p> +<p>An example of the turn of words, amongst a thousand others, is +that in the last book of Ovid’s +“Metamorphoses”:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Heu</i>! <i>quantum scelus est</i>, +<i>in viscera</i>, <i>viscera condi</i>!<br /> +<i>Congestoque avidum pinguescere corpore corpus</i>;<br /> +<i>Alteriusque animantem animantis vivere leto</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>An example on the turn both of thoughts and words is to be +found in Catullus in the complaint of Ariadne when she was left +by Theseus:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Tum jam nulla viro juranti fæmina +credat</i>;<br /> +<i>Nulla viri speret sermones esse fideles</i>;<br /> +<i>Qui</i>, <i>dum aliquid cupiens animus prægestit +apisci</i>,<br /> +<i>Nil metuunt jurare</i>, <i>nihil promittere parcunt</i>:<br /> +<i>Sed simul ac cupidæ mentis satiata libido est</i>,<br /> +<i>Dicta nihil metuere</i>, <i>nihil perjuria +curant</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>An extraordinary turn upon the words is that in Ovid’s +“Epistolæ Heroidum” of Sappho to +Phaon:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Si</i>, <i>nisi quæ formâ +poterit te digna videri</i>,<br /> +<i>Nulla futura tua est</i>, <i>nulla futura tua +est</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Lastly a turn, which I cannot say is absolutely on +words—for the thought turns with them—is in the +fourth Georgic of Virgil, where Orpheus is to receive his wife +from hell on express condition not to look on her till she was +come on earth:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Cum subita incautum dementia cepit +amantem;<br /> +Ignoscenda quidem, scirent si ignoscere Manes.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I will not burthen your lordship with more of them, for I +write to a master who understands them better than myself; but I +may safely conclude them to be great beauties. I might +descend also to the mechanic beauties of heroic verse; but we +have yet no English Prosodia, not so much as a tolerable +dictionary or a grammar (so that our language is in a manner +barbarous); and what Government will encourage any one, or more, +who are capable of refining it, I know not: but nothing under a +public expense can go through with it. And I rather fear a +declination of the language than hope an advancement of it in the +present age.</p> +<p>I am still speaking to you, my lord, though in all probability +you are already out of hearing. Nothing which my meanness +can produce is worthy of this long attention. But I am come +to the last petition of Abraham: if there be ten righteous lines +in this vast preface, spare it for their sake; and also spare the +next city, because it is but a little one.</p> +<p>I would excuse the performance of this translation if it were +all my own; but the better, though not the greater, part being +the work of some gentlemen who have succeeded very happily in +their undertaking, let their excellences atone for my +imperfections and those of my sons. I have perused some of +the Satires which are done by other hands, and they seem to me as +perfect in their kind as anything I have seen in English +verse. The common way which we have taken is not a literal +translation, but a kind of paraphrase; or somewhat which is yet +more loose, betwixt a paraphrase and imitation. It was not +possible for us, or any men, to have made it pleasant any other +way. If rendering the exact sense of these authors, almost +line for line, had been our business, Barten Holyday had done it +already to our hands; and by the help of his learned notes and +illustrations, not only Juvenal and Persius, but, what yet is +more obscure, his own verses might be understood.</p> +<p>But he wrote for fame, and wrote to scholars; we write only +for the pleasure and entertainment of those gentlemen and ladies +who, though they are not scholars, are not ignorant—persons +of understanding and good sense, who, not having been conversant +in the original (or, at least, not having made Latin verse so +much their business as to be critics in it), would be glad to +find if the wit of our two great authors be answerable to their +fame and reputation in the world. We have therefore +endeavoured to give the public all the satisfaction we are able +in this kind.</p> +<p>And if we are not altogether so faithful to our author as our +predecessors Holyday and Stapleton, yet we may challenge to +ourselves this praise—that we shall be far more pleasing to +our readers. We have followed our authors at greater +distance, though not step by step as they have done; for +oftentimes they have gone so close that they have trod on the +heels of Juvenal and Persius, and hurt them by their too near +approach. A noble author would not be pursued too close by +a translator. We lose his spirit when we think to take his +body. The grosser part remains with us, but the soul is +flown away in some noble expression, or some delicate turn of +words or thought. Thus Holyday, who made this way his +choice, seized the meaning of Juvenal, but the poetry has always +escaped him.</p> +<p>They who will not grant me that pleasure is one of the ends of +poetry, but that it is only a means of compassing the only end +(which is instruction), must yet allow that without the means of +pleasure the instruction is but a bare and dry philosophy, a +crude preparation of morals which we may have from Aristotle and +Epictetus with more profit than from any poet. Neither +Holyday nor Stapleton have imitated Juvenal in the poetical part +of him, his diction, and his elocution. Nor, had they been +poets (as neither of them were), yet in the way they took, it was +impossible for them to have succeeded in the poetic part.</p> +<p>The English verse which we call heroic consists of no more +than ten syllables; the Latin hexameter sometimes rises to +seventeen; as, for example, this verse in Virgil:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Pulverulenta putrem sonitu quatit ungula +campum.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Here is the difference of no less than seven syllables in a +line betwixt the English and the Latin. Now the medium of +these is about fourteen syllables, because the dactyl is a more +frequent foot in hexameters than the spondee. But Holyday +(without considering that he writ with the disadvantage of four +syllables less in every verse) endeavours to make one of his +lines to comprehend the sense of one of Juvenal’s. +According to the falsity of the proposition was the +success. He was forced to crowd his verse with ill-sounding +monosyllables (of which our barbarous language affords him a wild +plenty), and by that means he arrived at his pedantic end, which +was to make a literal translation. His verses have nothing +of verse in them, but only the worst part of it—the rhyme; +and that, into the bargain, is far from good. But, which is +more intolerable, by cramming his ill-chosen and worse-sounding +monosyllables so close together, the very sense which he +endeavours to explain is become more obscure than that of his +author; so that Holyday himself cannot be understood without as +large a commentary as that which he makes on his two +authors. For my own part, I can make a shift to find the +meaning of Juvenal without his notes, but his translation is more +difficult than his author. And I find beauties in the Latin +to recompense my pains; but in Holyday and Stapleton my ears, in +the first place, are mortally offended, and then their sense is +so perplexed that I return to the original as the more pleasing +task as well as the more easy.</p> +<p>This must be said for our translation—that if we give +not the whole sense of Juvenal, yet we give the most considerable +part of it; we give it, in general, so clearly that few notes are +sufficient to make us intelligible. We make our author at +least appear in a poetic dress. We have actually made him +more sounding and more elegant than he was before in English, and +have endeavoured to make him speak that kind of English which he +would have spoken had he lived in England and had written to this +age. If sometimes any of us (and it is but seldom) make him +express the customs and manners of our native country rather than +of Rome, it is either when there was some kind of analogy betwixt +their customs and ours, or when (to make him more easy to vulgar +understandings) we gave him those manners which are familiar to +us. But I defend not this innovation; it is enough if I can +excuse it. For (to speak sincerely) the manners of nations +and ages are not to be confounded; we should either make them +English or leave them Roman. If this can neither be +defended nor excused, let it be pardoned at least, because it is +acknowledged; and so much the more easily as being a fault which +is never committed without some pleasure to the reader.</p> +<p>Thus, my lord, having troubled you with a tedious visit, the +best manners will be shown in the least ceremony. I will +slip away while your back is turned, and while you are otherwise +employed; with great confusion for having entertained you so long +with this discourse, and for having no other recompense to make +you than the worthy labours of my fellow-undertakers in this +work, and the thankful acknowledgments, prayers, and perpetual +good wishes of,</p> +<p>My Lord,</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Your Lordship’s</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Most obliged, most humble, and<br /> +Most obedient servant,</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">John +Dryden</span>.</p> +<h2>A DISCOURSE ON EPIC POETRY.</h2> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">ADDRESSED TO +THE MOST HONOURABLE</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">JOHN, LORD MARQUIS OF NORMANBY,</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">EARL OF +MULGRAVE, ETC., AND KNIGHT OF THE MOST NOBLE ORDER OF THE +GARTER.</span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">An heroic</span> poem (truly such) is +undoubtedly the greatest work which the soul of man is capable to +perform. The design of it is to form the mind to heroic +virtue by example; it is conveyed in verse that it may delight +while it instructs. The action of it is always one, entire, +and great. The least and most trivial episodes or +under-actions which are interwoven in it are parts either +necessary or convenient to carry on the main design—either +so necessary that without them the poem must be imperfect, or so +convenient that no others can be imagined more suitable to the +place in which they are. There is nothing to be left void +in a firm building; even the cavities ought not to be filled with +rubbish which is of a perishable kind—destructive to the +strength—but with brick or stone (though of less pieces, +yet of the same nature), and fitted to the crannies. Even +the least portions of them must be of the epic kind; all things +must be grave, majestical, and sublime; nothing of a foreign +nature, like the trifling novels which Ariosto and others have +inserted in their poems, by which the reader is misled into +another sort of pleasure, opposite to that which is designed in +an epic poem. One raises the soul and hardens it to virtue; +the other softens it again and unbends it into vice. One +conduces to the poet’s aim (the completing of his work), +which he is driving on, labouring, and hastening in every line; +the other slackens his pace, diverts him from his way, and locks +him up like a knight-errant in an enchanted castle when he should +be pursuing his first adventure. Statius (as Bossu has well +observed) was ambitions of trying his strength with his master, +Virgil, as Virgil had before tried his with Homer. The +Grecian gave the two Romans an example in the games which were +celebrated at the funerals of Patroclus. Virgil imitated +the invention of Homer, but changed the sports. But both +the Greek and Latin poet took their occasions from the subject, +though (to confess the truth) they were both ornamental, or, at +best, convenient parts of it, rather than of necessity arising +from it. Statius (who through his whole poem is noted for +want of conduct and judgment), instead of staying, as he might +have done, for the death of Capaneus, Hippomedon, Tydeus, or some +other of his Seven Champions (who are heroes all alike), or more +properly for the tragical end of the two brothers whose exequies +the next successor had leisure to perform when the siege was +raised, and in the interval betwixt the poet’s first action +and his second, went out of his way—as it were, on prepense +malice—to commit a fault; for he took his opportunity to +kill a royal infant by the means of a serpent (that author of all +evil) to make way for those funeral honours which he intended for +him. Now if this innocent had been of any relation to his +Thebais, if he had either farthered or hindered the taking of the +town, the poet might have found some sorry excuse at least for +detaining the reader from the promised siege. On these +terms this Capaneus of a poet engaged his two immortal +predecessors, and his success was answerable to his +enterprise.</p> +<p>If this economy must be observed in the minutest parts of an +epic poem, which to a common reader seem to be detached from the +body, and almost independent of it, what soul, though sent into +the world with great advantages of nature, cultivated with the +liberal arts and sciences, conversant with histories of the dead, +and enriched with observations on the living, can be sufficient +to inform the whole body of so great a work? I touch here +but transiently, without any strict method, on some few of those +many rules of imitating nature which Aristotle drew from +Homer’s “Iliads” and “Odysses,” and +which he fitted to the drama—furnishing himself also with +observations from the practice of the theatre when it flourished +under Æschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles (for the original +of the stage was from the epic poem). Narration, doubtless, +preceded acting, and gave laws to it. What at first was +told artfully was in process of time represented gracefully to +the sight and hearing. Those episodes of Homer which were +proper for the stage, the poets amplified each into an +action. Out of his limbs they formed their bodies; what he +had contracted, they enlarged; out of one Hercules were made +infinity of pigmies, yet all endued with human souls; for from +him, their great creator, they have each of them the +<i>divinæ particulam auræ</i>. They flowed from +him at first, and are at last resolved into him. Nor were +they only animated by him, but their measure and symmetry was +owing to him. His one, entire, and great action was copied +by them, according to the proportions of the drama. If he +finished his orb within the year, it sufficed to teach them that +their action being less, and being also less diversified with +incidents, their orb, of consequence, must be circumscribed in a +less compass, which they reduced within the limits either of a +natural or an artificial day. So that, as he taught them to +amplify what he had shortened, by the same rule applied the +contrary way he taught them to shorten what he had +amplified. Tragedy is the miniature of human life; an epic +poem is the draft at length. Here, my lord, I must contract +also, for before I was aware I was almost running into a long +digression to prove that there is no such absolute necessity that +the time of a stage-action should so strictly be confined to +twenty-four hours as never to exceed them (for which Aristotle +contends, and the Grecian stage has practised). Some longer +space on some occasions, I think, may be allowed, especially for +the English theatre, which requires more variety of incidents +than the French. Corneille himself, after long practice, +was inclined to think that the time allotted by the ancients was +too short to raise and finish a great action; and better a +mechanic rule were stretched or broken than a great beauty were +omitted. To raise, and afterwards to calm, the passions; to +purge the soul from pride by the examples of human miseries which +befall the greatest; in few words, to expel arrogance and +introduce compassion, are the great effects of +tragedy—great, I must confess, if they were altogether as +true as they are pompous. But are habits to be introduced +at three hours’ warning? Are radical diseases so +suddenly removed? A mountebank may promise such a cure, but +a skilful physician will not undertake it. An epic poem is +not in so much haste; it works leisurely: the changes which it +makes are slow, but the cure is likely to be more perfect. +The effects of tragedy, as I said, are too violent to be +lasting. If it be answered, that for this reason tragedies +are often to be seen, and the dose to be repeated, this is +tacitly to confess that there is more virtue in one heroic poem +than in many tragedies. A man is humbled one day, and his +pride returns the next. Chemical medicines are observed to +relieve oftener than to cure; for it is the nature of spirits to +make swift impressions, but not deep. Galenical decoctions, +to which I may properly compare an epic poem, have more of body +in them; they work by their substance and their weight.</p> +<p>It is one reason of Aristotle’s to prove that tragedy is +the more noble, because it turns in a shorter compass—the +whole action being circumscribed within the space of +four-and-twenty hours. He might prove as well that a +mushroom is to be preferred before a peach, because it shoots up +in the compass of a night. A chariot may be driven round +the pillar in less space than a large machine, because the bulk +is not so great. Is the moon a more noble planet than +Saturn, because she makes her revolution in less than thirty +days, and he in little less than thirty years? Both their +orbs are in proportion to their several magnitudes; and +consequently the quickness or slowness of their motion, and the +time of their circumvolutions, is no argument of the greater or +less perfection. And besides, what virtue is there in a +tragedy which is not contained in an epic poem, where pride is +humbled, virtue rewarded, and vice punished, and those more amply +treated than the narrowness of the drama can admit? The +shining quality of an epic hero, his magnanimity, his constancy, +his patience, his piety, or whatever characteristical virtue his +poet gives him, raises first our admiration; we are naturally +prone to imitate what we admire, and frequent acts produce a +habit. If the hero’s chief quality be +vicious—as, for example, the choler and obstinate desire of +vengeance in Achilles—yet the moral is instructive; and +besides, we are informed in the very proposition of the +“Iliads” that this anger was pernicious, that it +brought a thousand ills on the Grecian camp. The courage of +Achilles is proposed to imitation, not his pride and disobedience +to his general; nor his brutal cruelty to his dead enemy, nor the +selling his body to his father. We abhor these actions +while we read them, and what we abhor we never imitate; the poet +only shows them, like rocks or quicksands to be shunned.</p> +<p>By this example the critics have concluded that it is not +necessary the manners of the hero should be virtuous (they are +poetically good if they are of a piece); though where a character +of perfect virtue is set before us, it is more lovely; for there +the whole hero is to be imitated. This is the Æneas +of our author; this is that idea of perfection in an epic poem +which painters and statuaries have only in their minds, and which +no hands are able to express. These are the beauties of a +God in a human body. When the picture of Achilles is drawn +in tragedy, he is taken with those warts and moles and hard +features by those who represent him on the stage, or he is no +more Achilles; for his creator, Homer, has so described +him. Yet even thus he appears a perfect hero, though an +imperfect character of virtue. Horace paints him after +Homer, and delivers him to be copied on the stage with all those +imperfections. Therefore they are either not faults in an +heroic poem, or faults common to the drama.</p> +<p>After all, on the whole merits of the cause, it must be +acknowledged that the epic poem is more for the manners, and +tragedy for the passions. The passions, as I have said, are +violent; and acute distempers require medicines of a strong and +speedy operation. Ill habits of the mind are, like +chronical diseases, to be corrected by degrees, and cured by +alteratives; wherein, though purges are sometimes necessary, yet +diet, good air, and moderate exercise have the greatest +part. The matter being thus stated, it will appear that +both sorts of poetry are of use for their proper ends. The +stage is more active, the epic poem works at greater leisure; yet +is active too when need requires, for dialogue is imitated by the +drama from the more active parts of it. One puts off a fit, +like the quinquina, and relieves us only for a time; the other +roots out the distemper, and gives a healthful habit. The +sun enlightens and cheers us, dispels fogs, and warms the ground +with his daily beams; but the corn is sowed, increases, is +ripened, and is reaped for use in process of time and in its +proper season.</p> +<p>I proceed from the greatness of the action to the dignity of +the actors—I mean, to the persons employed in both +poems. There likewise tragedy will be seen to borrow from +the epopee; and that which borrows is always of less dignity, +because it has not of its own. A subject, it is true, may +lend to his sovereign; but the act of borrowing makes the king +inferior, because he wants and the subject supplies. And +suppose the persons of the drama wholly fabulous, or of the +poet’s invention, yet heroic poetry gave him the examples +of that invention, because it was first, and Homer the common +father of the stage. I know not of any one advantage which +tragedy can boast above heroic poetry but that it is represented +to the view as well as read, and instructs in the closet as well +as on the theatre. This is an uncontended excellence, and a +chief branch of its prerogative; yet I may be allowed to say +without partiality that herein the actors share the poet’s +praise. Your lordship knows some modern tragedies which are +beautiful on the stage, and yet I am confident you would not read +them. Tryphon the stationer complains they are seldom asked +for in his shop. The poet who flourished in the scene is +damned in the <i>ruelle</i>; nay, more, he is not esteemed a good +poet by those who see and hear his extravagances with +delight. They are a sort of stately fustian and lofty +childishness. Nothing but nature can give a sincere +pleasure; where that is not imitated, it is grotesque painting; +the fine woman ends in a fish’s tail.</p> +<p>I might also add that many things which not only please, but +are real beauties in the reading, would appear absurd upon the +stage; and those not only the <i>speciosa miracula</i>, as Horace +calls them, of transformations of Scylla, Antiphates, and the +Læstrygons (which cannot be represented even in operas), +but the prowess of Achilles or Æneas would appear +ridiculous in our dwarf-heroes of the theatre. We can +believe they routed armies in Homer or in Virgil, but <i>ne +Hercules contra duos</i> in the drama. I forbear to +instance in many things which the stage cannot or ought not to +represent; for I have said already more than I intended on this +subject, and should fear it might be turned against me that I +plead for the pre-eminence of epic poetry because I have taken +some pains in translating Virgil, if this were the first time +that I had delivered my opinion in this dispute; but I have more +than once already maintained the rights of my two masters against +their rivals of the scene, even while I wrote tragedies myself +and had no thoughts of this present undertaking. I submit +my opinion to your judgment, who are better qualified than any +man I know to decide this controversy. You come, my lord, +instructed in the cause, and needed not that I should open +it. Your “Essay of Poetry,” which was published +without a name, and of which I was not honoured with the +confidence, I read over and over with much delight and as much +instruction, and without flattering you, or making myself more +moral than I am, not without some envy. I was loth to be +informed how an epic poem should be written, or how a tragedy +should be contrived and managed, in better verse and with more +judgment than I could teach others. A native of Parnassus, +and bred up in the studies of its fundamental laws, may receive +new lights from his contemporaries, but it is a grudging kind of +praise which he gives his benefactors. He is more obliged +than he is willing to acknowledge; there is a tincture of malice +in his commendations: for where I own I am taught, I confess my +want of knowledge. A judge upon the bench may, out of good +nature, or, at least, interest, encourage the pleadings of a puny +counsellor, but he does not willingly commend his +brother-serjeant at the bar, especially when he controls his law, +and exposes that ignorance which is made sacred by his +place. I gave the unknown author his due commendation, I +must confess; but who can answer for me, and for the rest of the +poets who heard me read the poem, whether we should not have been +better pleased to have seen our own names at the bottom of the +title-page? Perhaps we commended it the more that we might +seem to be above the censure. We are naturally displeased +with an unknown critic, as the ladies are with a lampooner, +because we are bitten in the dark, and know not where to fasten +our revenge; but great excellences will work their way through +all sorts of opposition. I applauded rather out of decency +than affection; and was ambitious, as some yet can witness, to be +acquainted with a man with whom I had the honour to converse, and +that almost daily, for so many years together. Heaven knows +if I have heartily forgiven you this deceit. You extorted a +praise, which I should willingly have given had I known +you. Nothing had been more easy than to commend a patron of +a long standing. The world would join with me if the +encomiums were just, and if unjust would excuse a grateful +flatterer. But to come anonymous upon me, and force me to +commend you against my interest, was not altogether so fair, give +me leave to say, as it was politic; for by concealing your +quality you might clearly understand how your work succeeded, and +that the general approbation was given to your merit, not your +titles. Thus, like Apelles, you stood unseen behind your +own Venus, and received the praises of the passing +multitude. The work was commended, not the author; and, I +doubt not, this was one of the most pleasing adventures of your +life.</p> +<p>I have detained your lordship longer than I intended in this +dispute of preference betwixt the epic poem and the drama, and +yet have not formally answered any of the arguments which are +brought by Aristotle on the other side, and set in the fairest +light by Dacier. But I suppose without looking on the book, +I may have touched on some of the objections; for in this address +to your lordship I design not a treatise of heroic poetry, but +write in a loose epistolary way somewhat tending to that subject, +after the example of Horace in his first epistle of the second +book to Augustus Cæsar, and of that to the Pisos, which we +call his “Art of Poetry,” in both of which he +observes no method that I can trace, whatever Scaliger the +father, or Heinsius may have seen, or rather think they had +seen. I have taken up, laid down, and resumed, as often as +I pleased, the same subject, and this loose proceeding I shall +use through all this prefatory dedication. Yet all this +while I have been sailing with some side-wind or other toward the +point I proposed in the beginning—the greatness and +excellence of an heroic poem, with some of the difficulties which +attend that work. The comparison therefore which I made +betwixt the epopee and the tragedy was not altogether a +digression, for it is concluded on all hands that they are both +the masterpieces of human wit.</p> +<p>In the meantime I may be bold to draw this corollary from what +has been already said—that the file of heroic poets is very +short; all are not such who have assumed that lofty title in +ancient or modern ages, or have been so esteemed by their partial +and ignorant admirers.</p> +<p>There have been but one great “Ilias” and one +“Æneis” in so many ages; the next (but the next +with a long interval betwixt) was the +“Jerusalem”—I mean, not so much in distance of +time as in excellence. After these three are entered, some +Lord Chamberlain should be appointed, some critic of authority +should be set before the door to keep out a crowd of little poets +who press for admission, and are not of quality. +Mævius would be deafening your lordship’s ears with +his</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Fortunam Priami cantabo</i>, <i>et +nobile bellum</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Mere fustian (as Horace would tell you from behind, without +pressing forward), and more smoke than fire. Pulci, +Boiardo, and Ariosto would cry out, “Make room for the +Italian poets, the descendants of Virgil in a right +line.” Father Le Moine with his “Saint +Louis,” and Scudery with his “Alaric” (for a +godly king and a Gothic conqueror); and Chapelain would take it +ill that his “Maid” should be refused a place with +Helen and Lavinia. Spenser has a better plea for his +“Faerie Queen,” had his action been finished, or had +been one; and Milton, if the devil had not been his hero instead +of Adam; if the giant had not foiled the knight, and driven him +out of his stronghold to wander through the world with his +lady-errant; and if there had not been more machining persons +than human in his poem. After these the rest of our English +poets shall not be mentioned; I have that honour for them which I +ought to have; but if they are worthies, they are not to be +ranked amongst the three whom I have named, and who are +established in their reputation.</p> +<p>Before I quitted the comparison betwixt epic poetry and +tragedy I should have acquainted my judge with one advantage of +the former over the latter, which I now casually remember out of +the preface of Segrais before his translation of the +“Æneis,” or out of Bossu—no matter which: +“The style of the heroic poem is, and ought to be, more +lofty than that of the drama.” The critic is +certainly in the right, for the reason already urged—the +work of tragedy is on the passions, and in dialogue; both of them +abhor strong metaphors, in which the epopee delights. A +poet cannot speak too plainly on the stage, for <i>volat +irrevocabile verbum</i> (the sense is lost if it be not taken +flying) but what we read alone we have leisure to digest. +There an author may beautify his sense by the boldness of his +expression, which if we understand not fully at the first we may +dwell upon it till we find the secret force and excellence. +That which cures the manners by alterative physic, as I said +before, must proceed by insensible degrees; but that which purges +the passions must do its business all at once, or wholly fail of +its effect—at least, in the present operation—and +without repeated doses. We must beat the iron while it is +hot, but we may polish it at leisure. Thus, my lord, you +pay the fine of my forgetfulness; and yet the merits of both +causes are where they were, and undecided, till you declare +whether it be more for the benefit of mankind to have their +manners in general corrected, or their pride and hard-heartedness +removed.</p> +<p>I must now come closer to my present business, and not think +of making more invasive wars abroad, when, like Hannibal, I am +called back to the defence of my own country. Virgil is +attacked by many enemies; he has a whole confederacy against him; +and I must endeavour to defend him as well as I am able. +But their principal objections being against his moral, the +duration or length of time taken up in the action of the poem, +and what they have to urge against the manners of his hero, I +shall omit the rest as mere cavils of grammarians—at the +worst but casual slips of a great man’s pen, or +inconsiderable faults of an admirable poem, which the author had +not leisure to review before his death. Macrobius has +answered what the ancients could urge against him, and some +things I have lately read in Tannegui le Febvre, Valois, and +another whom I name not, which are scarce worth answering. +They begin with the moral of his poem, which I have elsewhere +confessed, and still must own, not to be so noble as that of +Homer. But let both be fairly stated, and without +contradicting my first opinion I can show that Virgil’s was +as useful to the Romans of his age as Homer’s was to the +Grecians of his, in what time soever he may be supposed to have +lived and flourished. Homer’s moral was to urge the +necessity of union, and of a good understanding betwixt +confederate states and princes engaged in a war with a mighty +monarch; as also of discipline in an army, and obedience in the +several chiefs to the supreme commander of the joint +forces. To inculcate this, he sets forth the ruinous +effects of discord in the camp of those allies, occasioned by the +quarrel betwixt the general and one of the next in office under +him. Agamemnon gives the provocation, and Achilles resents +the injury. Both parties are faulty in the quarrel, and +accordingly they are both punished; the aggressor is forced to +sue for peace to his inferior on dishonourable conditions; the +deserter refuses the satisfaction offered, and his obstinacy +costs him his best friend. This works the natural effect of +choler, and turns his rage against him by whom he was last +affronted, and most sensibly. The greater anger expels the +less, but his character is still preserved. In the meantime +the Grecian army receives loss on loss, and is half destroyed by +a pestilence into the bargain:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Quicquid delirant reges</i>, +<i>plectuntur Achivi</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>As the poet in the first part of the example had shown the bad +effects of discord, so after the reconcilement he gives the good +effects of unity; for Hector is slain, and then Troy must +fall. By this it is probable that Homer lived when the +Median monarchy was grown formidable to the Grecians, and that +the joint endeavours of his countrymen were little enough to +preserve their common freedom from an encroaching enemy. +Such was his moral, which all critics have allowed to be more +noble than that of Virgil, though not adapted to the times in +which the Roman poet lived. Had Virgil flourished in the +age of Ennius and addressed to Scipio, he had probably taken the +same moral, or some other not unlike it; for then the Romans were +in as much danger from the Carthaginian commonwealth as the +Grecians were from the Assyrian or Median monarchy. But we +are to consider him as writing his poem in a time when the old +form of government was subverted, and a new one just established +by Octavius Cæsar—in effect, by force of arms, but +seemingly by the consent of the Roman people. The +commonwealth had received a deadly wound in the former civil wars +betwixt Marius and Sylla. The commons, while the first +prevailed, had almost shaken off the yoke of the nobility; and +Marius and Cinna (like the captains of the mob), under the +specious pretence of the public good and of doing justice on the +oppressors of their liberty, revenged themselves without form of +law on their private enemies. Sylla, in his turn, +proscribed the heads of the adverse party. He, too, had +nothing but liberty and reformation in his mouth; for the cause +of religion is but a modern motive to rebellion, invented by the +Christian priesthood refining on the heathen. Sylla, to be +sure, meant no more good to the Roman people than Marius before +him, whatever he declared; but sacrificed the lives and took the +estates of all his enemies to gratify those who brought him into +power. Such was the reformation of the government by both +parties. The senate and the commons were the two bases on +which it stood, and the two champions of either faction each +destroyed the foundations of the other side; so the fabric, of +consequence, must fall betwixt them, and tyranny must be built +upon their ruins. <i>This comes of altering fundamental +laws and constitutions</i>; like him who, being in good health, +lodged himself in a physician’s house, and was +over-persuaded by his landlord to take physic (of which be died) +for the benefit of his doctor. “<i>Stavo +ben</i>,” was written on his monument, “<i>ma</i>, +<i>per star meglio</i>, <i>sto qui</i>.”</p> +<p>After the death of those two usurpers the commonwealth seemed +to recover, and held up its head for a little time, but it was +all the while in a deep consumption, which is a flattering +disease. Pompey, Crassus, and Cæsar had found the +sweets of arbitrary power, and each being a check to the +other’s growth, struck up a false friendship amongst +themselves and divided the government betwixt them, which none of +them was able to assume alone. These were the +public-spirited men of their age—that is, patriots for +their own interest. The commonwealth looked with a florid +countenance in their management; spread in bulk, and all the +while was wasting in the vitals. Not to trouble your +lordship with the repetition of what you know, after the death of +Crassus Pompey found himself outwitted by Cæsar, broke with +him, overpowered him in the senate, and caused many unjust +decrees to pass against him. Cæsar thus injured, and +unable to resist the faction of the nobles which was now +uppermost (for he was a Marian), had recourse to arms, and his +cause was just against Pompey, but not against his country, whose +constitution ought to have been sacred to him, and never to have +been violated on the account of any private wrong. But he +prevailed, and Heaven declaring for him, he became a providential +monarch under the title of Perpetual Dictator. He being +murdered by his own son (whom I neither dare commend nor can +justly blame, though Dante in his “Inferno” has put +him and Cassius, and Judas Iscariot betwixt them, into the great +devil’s mouth), the commonwealth popped up its head for the +third time under Brutus and Cassius, and then sank for ever.</p> +<p>Thus the Roman people were grossly gulled twice or thrice +over, and as often enslaved, in one century, and under the same +pretence of reformation. At last the two battles of +Philippi gave the decisive stroke against liberty, and not long +after the commonwealth was turned into a monarchy by the conduct +and good fortune of Augustus. It is true that the despotic +power could not have fallen into better hands than those of the +first and second Cæsar. Your lordship well knows what +obligations Virgil had to the latter of them. He saw, +beside, that the commonwealth was lost without resource; the +heads of it destroyed; the senate, new moulded, grown degenerate, +and either bought off or thrusting their own necks into the yoke +out of fear of being forced. Yet I may safely affirm for +our great author (as men of good sense are generally honest) that +he was still of republican principles in heart.</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Secretosque pios</i>; <i>his dantem jura +Catonem</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I think I need use no other argument to justify my opinion +than that of this one line taken from the eighth book of the +Æneis. If he had not well studied his patron’s +temper it might have ruined him with another prince. But +Augustus was not discontented (at least, that we can find) that +Cato was placed by his own poet in Elysium, and there giving laws +to the holy souls who deserved to be separated from the vulgar +sort of good spirits; for his conscience could not but whisper to +the arbitrary monarch that the kings of Rome were at first +elective, and governed not without a senate; that Romulus was no +hereditary prince, and though after his death he received divine +honours for the good he did on earth, yet he was but a god of +their own making; that the last Tarquin was expelled justly for +overt acts of tyranny and mal-administration (for such are the +conditions of an elective kingdom, and I meddle not with others, +being, for my own opinion, of Montange’s +principles—that an honest man ought to be contented with +that form of government, and with those fundamental constitutions +of it, which he received from his ancestors, and under which +himself was born, though at the same time he confessed freely +that if he could have chosen his place of birth it should have +been at Venice, which for many reasons I dislike, and am better +pleased to have been born an Englishman).</p> +<p>But to return from my long rambling; I say that Virgil having +maturely weighed the condition of the times in which he lived; +that an entire liberty was not to be retrieved; that the present +settlement had the prospect of a long continuance in the same +family or those adopted into it; that he held his paternal estate +from the bounty of the conqueror, by whom he was likewise +enriched, esteemed, and cherished; that this conqueror, though of +a bad kind, was the very best of it; that the arts of peace +flourished under him; that all men might be happy if they would +be quiet; that now he was in possession of the whole, yet he +shared a great part of his authority with the senate; that he +would be chosen into the ancient offices of the commonwealth, and +ruled by the power which he derived from them, and prorogued his +government from time to time, still, as it were, threatening to +dismiss himself from public cares, which he exercised more for +the common good than for any delight he took in +greatness—these things, I say, being considered by the +poet, he concluded it to be the interest of his country to be so +governed, to infuse an awful respect into the people towards such +a prince, by that respect to confirm their obedience to him, and +by that obedience to make them happy. This was the moral of +his divine poem; honest in the poet, honourable to the emperor +(whom he derives from a divine extraction), and reflecting part +of that honour on the Roman people (whom he derives also from the +Trojans), and not only profitable, but necessary, to the present +age, and likely to be such to their posterity. That it was +the received opinion that the Romans were descended from the +Trojans, and Julius Cæsar from Iulus, the son of +Æneas, was enough for Virgil, though perhaps he thought not +so himself, or that Æneas ever was in Italy, which +Bochartus manifestly proves. And Homer (where he says that +Jupiter hated the house of Priam, and was resolved to transfer +the kingdom to the family of Æneas) yet mentions nothing of +his leading a colony into a foreign country and settling +there. But that the Romans valued themselves on their +Trojan ancestry is so undoubted a truth that I need not prove +it. Even the seals which we have remaining of Julius +Cæsar (which we know to be antique) have the star of Venus +over them—though they were all graven after his +death—as a note that he was deified. I doubt not but +one reason why Augustus should be so passionately concerned for +the preservation of the “Æneis,” which its +author had condemned to be burnt as an imperfect poem by his last +will and testament, was because it did him a real service as well +as an honour; that a work should not be lost where his divine +original was celebrated in verse which had the character of +immortality stamped upon it.</p> +<p>Neither were the great Roman families which flourished in his +time less obliged by him than the emperor. Your lordship +knows with what address he makes mention of them as captains of +ships or leaders in the war; and even some of Italian extraction +are not forgotten. These are the single stars which are +sprinkled through the “Æneis,” but there are +whole constellations of them in the fifth book; and I could not +but take notice, when I translated it, of some favourite families +to which he gives the victory and awards the prizes, in the +person of his hero, at the funeral games which were celebrated in +honour of Anchises. I insist not on their names, but am +pleased to find the Memmii amongst them, derived from Mnestheus, +because Lucretius dedicates to one of that family, a branch of +which destroyed Corinth. I likewise either found or formed +an image to myself of the contrary kind—that those who lost +the prizes were such as had disobliged the poet, or were in +disgrace with Augustus, or enemies to Mæcenas; and this was +the poetical revenge he took, for <i>genus irritabile vatum</i>, +as Horace says. When a poet is thoroughly provoked, he will +do himself justice, how ever dear it cost him, <i>animamque in +vulnere ponit</i>. I think these are not bare imaginations +of my own, though I find no trace of them in the commentators; +but one poet may judge of another by himself. The vengeance +we defer is not forgotten. I hinted before that the whole +Roman people were obliged by Virgil in deriving them from Troy, +an ancestry which they affected. We and the French are of +the same humour: they would be thought to descend from a son, I +think, of Hector; and we would have our Britain both named and +planted by a descendant of Æneas. Spenser favours +this opinion what he can. His Prince Arthur, or whoever he +intends by him, is a Trojan. Thus the hero of Homer was a +Grecian; of Virgil, a Roman; of Tasso, an Italian.</p> +<p>I have transgressed my bounds and gone farther than the moral +led me; but if your lordship is not tired, I am safe enough.</p> +<p>Thus far, I think, my author is defended. But as +Augustus is still shadowed in the person of Æneas (of which +I shall say more when I come to the manners which the poet gives +his hero), I must prepare that subject by showing how dexterously +he managed both the prince and people, so as to displease +neither, and to do good to both—which is the part of a wise +and an honest man, and proves that it is possible for a courtier +not to be a knave. I shall continue still to speak my +thoughts like a free-born subject, as I am, though such things +perhaps as no Dutch commentator could, and I am sure no Frenchman +durst. I have already told your lordship my opinion of +Virgil—that he was no arbitrary man. Obliged he was +to his master for his bounty, and he repays him with good counsel +how to behave himself in his new monarchy so as to gain the +affections of his subjects, and deserve to be called the +“Father of His Country.” From this +consideration it is that he chose for the groundwork of his poem +one empire destroyed, and another raised from the ruins of +it. This was just the parallel. Æneas could not +pretend to be Priam’s heir in a lineal succession, for +Anchises, the hero’s father, was only of the second branch +of the royal family, and Helenus, a son of Priam, was yet +surviving, and might lawfully claim before him. It may be, +Virgil mentions him on that account. Neither has he +forgotten Priamus, in the fifth of his “Æneis,” +the son of Polites, youngest son to Priam, who was slain by +Pyrrhus in the second book. Æneas had only married +Creusa, Priam’s daughter, and by her could have no title +while any of the male issue were remaining. In this case +the poet gave him the next title, which is that of an Elective +King. The remaining Trojans chose him to lead them forth +and settle them in some foreign country. Ilioneus in his +speech to Dido calls him expressly by the name of king. Our +poet, who all this while had Augustus in his eye, had no desire +he should seem to succeed by any right of inheritance derived +from Julius Cæsar, such a title being but one degree +removed from conquest: for what was introduced by force, by force +may be removed. It was better for the people that they +should give than he should take, since that gift was indeed no +more at bottom than a trust. Virgil gives us an example of +this in the person of Mezentius. He governed arbitrarily; +he was expelled and came to the deserved end of all +tyrants. Our author shows us another sort of kingship in +the person of Latinus. He was descended from Saturn, and, +as I remember, in the third degree. He is described a just +and a gracious prince, solicitous for the welfare of his people, +always consulting with his senate to promote the common +good. We find him at the head of them when he enters into +the council-hall—speaking first, but still demanding their +advice, and steering by it, as far as the iniquity of the times +would suffer him. And this is the proper character of a +king by inheritance, who is born a father of his country. +Æneas, though he married the heiress of the crown, yet +claimed no title to it during the life of his +father-in-law. <i>Socer arma Latinus hebeto</i>, &c., +are Virgil’s words. As for himself, he was contented +to take care of his country gods, who were not those of Latium; +wherein our divine author seems to relate to the after-practice +of the Romans, which was to adopt the gods of those they +conquered or received as members of their commonwealth. +Yet, withal, he plainly touches at the office of the +high-priesthood, with which Augustus was invested and which made +his person more sacred and inviolable than even the tribunitial +power. It was not therefore for nothing that the most +judicious of all poets made that office vacant by the death of +Pantheus, in the second book of the “Æneis,” +for his hero to succeed in it, and consequently for Augustus to +enjoy. I know not that any of the commentators have taken +notice of that passage. If they have not, I am sure they +ought; and if they have, I am not indebted to them for the +observation. The words of Virgil are very plain:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Sacra suosque tibi commendat Troja +Penates</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>As for Augustus or his uncle Julius claiming by descent from +Æneas, that title is already out of doors. +Æneas succeeded not, but was elected. Troy was +fore-doomed to fall for ever:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Postquam res Asiæ</i>, +<i>Priamique evertere gentem</i>,<br /> +<i>Immeritam visum superis</i>.”—<span +class="smcap">Æneis</span>, I. iii., line 1.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Augustus, it is true, had once resolved to rebuild that city, +and there to make the seat of the Empire; but Horace writes an +ode on purpose to deter him from that thought, declaring the +place to be accursed, and that the gods would as often destroy it +as it should be raised. Hereupon the emperor laid aside a +project so ungrateful to the Roman people. But by this, my +lord, we may conclude that he had still his pedigree in his head, +and had an itch of being thought a divine king if his poets had +not given him better counsel.</p> +<p>I will pass by many less material objections for want of room +to answer them. What follows next is of great importance, +if the critics can make out their charge, for it is levelled at +the manners which our poet gives his hero, and which are the same +which were eminently seen in his Augustus. Those manners +were piety to the gods and a dutiful affection to his father, +love to his relations, care of his people, courage and conduct in +the wars, gratitude to those who had obliged him, and justice in +general to mankind.</p> +<p>Piety, as your lordship sees, takes place of all as the chief +part of his character; and the word in Latin is more full than it +can possibly be expressed in any modern language, for there it +comprehends not only devotion to the gods, but filial love and +tender affection to relations of all sorts. As instances of +this the deities of Troy and his own Penates are made the +companions of his flight; they appear to him in his voyage and +advise him, and at last he replaces them in Italy, their native +country. For his father, he takes him on his back. He +leads his little son, his wife follows him; but losing his +footsteps through fear or ignorance he goes back into the midst +of his enemies to find her, and leaves not his pursuit till her +ghost appears to forbid his farther search. I will say +nothing of his duty to his father while he lived, his sorrow for +his death, of the games instituted in honour of his memory, or +seeking him by his command even after death in the Elysian +fields. I will not mention his tenderness for his son, +which everywhere is visible; of his raising a tomb for Polydorus; +the obsequies for Misenus; his pious remembrance of Deiphobus; +the funerals of his nurse; his grief for Pallas, and his revenge +taken on his murderer, whom otherwise, by his natural compassion, +he had forgiven: and then the poem had been left imperfect, for +we could have had no certain prospect of his happiness while the +last obstacle to it was unremoved.</p> +<p>Of the other parts which compose his character as a king or as +a general I need say nothing; the whole “Æneis” +is one continued instance of some one or other of them; and where +I find anything of them taxed, it shall suffice me (as briefly as +I can) to vindicate my divine master to your lordship, and by you +to the reader. But herein Segrais, in his admirable preface +to his translation of the “Æneis,” as the +author of the Dauphin’s “Virgil” justly calls +it, has prevented me. Him I follow, and what I borrow from +him am ready to acknowledge to him, for, impartially speaking, +the French are as much better critics than the English as they +are worse poets. Thus we generally allow that they better +understand the management of a war than our islanders, but we +know we are superior to them in the day of battle; they value +themselves on their generals, we on our soldiers. But this +is not the proper place to decide that question, if they make it +one. I shall say perhaps as much of other nations and their +poets (excepting only Tasso), and hope to make my assertion good, +which is but doing justice to my country—part of which +honour will reflect on your lordship, whose thoughts are always +just, your numbers harmonious, your words chosen, your +expressions strong and manly, your verse flowing, and your turns +as happy as they are easy. If you would set us more copies, +your example would make all precepts needless. In the +meantime that little you have written is owned, and that +particularly by the poets (who are a nation not over-lavish of +praise to their contemporaries), as a principal ornament of our +language; but the sweetest essences are always confined in the +smallest glasses.</p> +<p>When I speak of your lordship, it is never a digression, and +therefore I need beg no pardon for it, but take up Segrais where +I left him, and shall use him less often than I have occasion for +him. For his preface is a perfect piece of criticism, full +and clear, and digested into an exact method; mine is loose and, +as I intended it, epistolary. Yet I dwell on many things +which he durst not touch, for it is dangerous to offend an +arbitrary master, and every patron who has the power of Augustus +has not his clemency. In short, my lord, I would not +translate him because I would bring you somewhat of my own. +His notes and observations on every book are of the same +excellency, and for the same reason I omit the greater part.</p> +<p>He takes no notice that Virgil is arraigned for placing piety +before valour, and making that piety the chief character of his +hero. I have said already from Bossu, that a poet is not +obliged to make his hero a virtuous man; therefore neither Homer +nor Tasso are to be blamed for giving what predominant quality +they pleased to their first character. But Virgil, who +designed to form a perfect prince, and would insinuate that +Augustus (whom he calls Æneas in his poem) was truly such, +found himself obliged to make him without +blemish—thoroughly virtuous; and a thorough virtue both +begins and ends in piety. Tasso without question observed +this before me, and therefore split his hero in two; he gave +Godfrey piety, and Rinaldo fortitude, for their chief qualities +or manners. Homer, who had chosen another moral, makes both +Agamemnon and Achilles vicious; for his design was to instruct in +virtue by showing the deformity of vice. I avoid repetition +of that I have said above. What follows is translated +literally from Segrais:—</p> +<p>“Virgil had considered that the greatest virtues of +Augustus consisted in the perfect art of governing his people, +which caused him to reign for more than forty years in great +felicity. He considered that his emperor was valiant, +civil, popular, eloquent, politic, and religious; he has given +all these qualities to Æneas. But knowing that piety +alone comprehends the whole duty of man towards the gods, towards +his country, and towards his relations, he judged that this ought +to be his first character whom he would set for a pattern of +perfection. In reality, they who believe that the praises +which arise from valour are superior to those which proceed from +any other virtues, have not considered, as they ought, that +valour, destitute of other virtues, cannot render a man worthy of +any true esteem. That quality, which signifies no more than +an intrepid courage, may he separated from many others which are +good, and accompanied with many which are ill. A man may be +very valiant, and yet impious and vicious; but the same cannot be +said of piety, which excludes all ill qualities, and comprehends +even valour itself, with all other qualities which are +good. Can we, for example, give the praise of valour to a +man who should see his gods profaned, and should want the courage +to defend them? to a man who should abandon his father, or desert +his king, in his last necessity?”</p> +<p>Thus far Segrais, in giving the preference to piety before +valour; I will now follow him where he considers this valour or +intrepid courage singly in itself; and this also Virgil gives to +his Æneas, and that in a heroical degree.</p> +<p>Having first concluded that our poet did for the best in +taking the first character of his hero from that essential virtue +on which the rest depend, he proceeds to tell us that in the ten +years’ war of Troy he was considered as the second champion +of his country, allowing Hector the first place; and this even by +the confession of Homer, who took all occasions of setting up his +own countrymen the Grecians, and of undervaluing the Trojan +chiefs. But Virgil (whom Segrais forgot to cite) makes +Diomede give him a higher character for strength and +courage. His testimony is this, in the eleventh +book:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> “<i>Stetimus +tela aspera contra</i>,<br /> +<i>Contulimusque manus</i>: <i>experto credite</i>, +<i>quantus</i><br /> +<i>In clypeum adsurgat</i>, <i>quo turbine torqueat +hastam</i>.<br /> +<i>Si duo præterea tales Inachias venisset ad urbes</i><br +/> +<i>Dardanus</i>, <i>et versis lugeret Græcia fatis</i>.<br +/> +<i>Quicquid apud duræ cessatum est mænia +Trojæ</i>,<br /> +<i>Hectoris Æneæque manu victoria Grajûm</i><br +/> +<i>Hæsit</i>, <i>et in decumum vestigia retulit +annum</i>.<br /> +<i>Ambo animis</i>, <i>ambo insignes præstantibus +armis</i>:<br /> +<i>Hic pietate prior</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I give not here my translation of these verses, though I think +I have not ill succeeded in them, because your lordship is so +great a master of the original that I have no reason to desire +you should see Virgil and me so near together. But you may +please, my lord, to take notice that the Latin author refines +upon the Greek, and insinuates that Homer had done his hero wrong +in giving the advantage of the duel to his own countryman, though +Diomedes was manifestly the second champion of the Grecians; and +Ulysses preferred him before Ajax when he chose him for the +companion of his nightly expedition, for he had a headpiece of +his own, and wanted only the fortitude of another to bring him +off with safety, and that he might compass his design with +honour.</p> +<p>The French translator thus proceeds:—“They who +accuse Æneas for want of courage, either understand not +Virgil or have read him slightly; otherwise they would not raise +an objection so easy to be answered.” Hereupon he +gives so many instances of the hero’s valour that to repeat +them after him would tire your lordship, and put me to the +unnecessary trouble of transcribing the greatest part of the +three last Æneids. In short, more could not be +expected from an Amadis, a Sir Lancelot, or the whole Round Table +than he performs. <i>Proxima quæque metit galdio</i> +is the perfect account of a knight-errant. If it be +replied, continues Segrais, that it was not difficult for him to +undertake and achieve such hardy enterprises because he wore +enchanted arms, that accusation in the first place must fall on +Homer ere it can reach Virgil. Achilles was as well +provided with them as Æneas, though he was invulnerable +without them; and Ariosto, the two Tassos (Bernardo and +Torquato), even our own Spenser—in a word, all modern +poets—have copied Homer, as well as Virgil; he is neither +the first nor last, but in the midst of them, and therefore is +safe if they are so. Who knows, says Segrais, but that his +fated armour was only an allegorical defence, and signified no +more than that he was under the peculiar protection of the gods? +born, as the astrologers will tell us out of Virgil (who was well +versed in the Chaldean mysteries), under the favourable influence +of Jupiter, Venus, and the Sun? But I insist not on this +because I know you believe not there is such an art; though not +only Horace and Persius, but Augustus himself, thought +otherwise. But in defence of Virgil, I dare positively say +that he has been more cautious in this particular than either his +predecessor or his descendants; for Æneas was actually +wounded in the twelfth of the “Æneis,” though +he had the same godsmith to forge his arms as had Achilles. +It seems he was no “war-luck,” as the Scots commonly +call such men, who, they say, are iron-free or lead-free. +Yet after this experiment that his arms were not impenetrable +(when he was cured indeed by his mother’s help, because he +was that day to conclude the war by the death of Turnus), the +poet durst not carry the miracle too far and restore him wholly +to his former vigour; he was still too weak to overtake his +enemy, yet we see with what courage he attacks Turnus when he +faces and renews the combat. I need say no more, for Virgil +defends himself without needing my assistance, and proves his +hero truly to deserve that name. He was not, then, a +second-rate champion, as they would have him who think fortitude +the first virtue in a hero.</p> +<p>But being beaten from this hold, they will not yet allow him +to be valiant, because he wept more often, as they think, than +well becomes a man of courage.</p> +<p>In the first place, if tears are arguments of cowardice, what +shall I say of Homer’s hero? Shall Achilles pass for +timorous because he wept, and wept on less occasions than +Æneas? Herein Virgil must be granted to have excelled +his master; for once both heroes are described lamenting their +lost loves: Briseis was taken away by force from the Grecians, +Creusa was lost for ever to her husband. But Achilles went +roaring along the salt sea-shore, and, like a booby, was +complaining to his mother when he should have revenged his injury +by arms: Æneas took a nobler course; for, having secured +his father and his son, he repeated all his former dangers to +have found his wife, if she had been above ground. And here +your lordship may observe the address of Virgil; it was not for +nothing that this passage was related, with all these tender +circumstances. Æneas told it, Dido heard it. +That he had been so affectionate a husband was no ill argument to +the coming dowager that he might prove as kind to her. +Virgil has a thousand secret beauties, though I have not leisure +to remark them.</p> +<p>Segrais, on this subject of a hero’s shedding tears, +observes that historians commend Alexander for weeping when he +read the mighty actions of Achilles; and Julius Cæsar is +likewise praised when out of the same noble envy, he wept at the +victories of Alexander. But if we observe more closely, we +shall find that the tears of Æneas were always on a +laudable occasion. Thus he weeps out of compassion and +tenderness of nature when in the temple of Carthage he beholds +the pictures of his friends who sacrificed their lives in defence +of their country. He deplores the lamentable end of his +pilot Palinurus, the untimely death of young Pallas his +confederate, and the rest which I omit. Yet even for these +tears his wretched critics dare condemn him; they make +Æneas little better than a kind of St. Swithin hero, always +raining. One of these censors was bold enough to argue him +of cowardice, when in the beginning of the first book he not only +weeps, but trembles, at an approaching storm:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Extemplo Æneæ solvuntur +frigore membra</i>:<br /> +<i>Ingemit</i>, <i>et duplices tendens ad sidera +palmas</i>,” &c.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But to this I have answered formerly that his fear was not for +himself, but for his people. And who can give a sovereign a +better commendation, or recommend a hero more to the affection of +the reader? They were threatened with a tempest, and he +wept; he was promised Italy, and therefore he prayed for the +accomplishment of that promise;—all this in the beginning +of a storm; therefore he showed the more early piety and the +quicker sense of compassion. Thus much I have urged +elsewhere in the defence of Virgil: and since, I have been +informed by Mr. Moyle, a young gentleman whom I can never +sufficiently commend, that the ancients accounted drowning an +accursed death. So that if we grant him to have been +afraid, he had just occasion for that fear, both in relation to +himself and to his subjects. I think our adversaries can +carry this argument no farther, unless they tell us that he ought +to have had more confidence in the promise of the gods. But +how was he assured that he had understood their oracles +aright? Helenus might be mistaken; Phoebus might speak +doubtfully; even his mother might flatter him that he might +prosecute his voyage, which if it succeeded happily he should be +the founder of an empire: for that she herself was doubtful of +his fortune is apparent by the address she made to Jupiter on his +behalf; to which the god makes answer in these words:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Parce metu</i>, <i>Cytherea</i>, +<i>manent immota tuorum</i><br /> +<i>Fata tibi</i>,” &c.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Notwithstanding which the goddess, though comforted, was not +assured; for even after this, through the course of the whole +“Æneis,” she still apprehends the interest +which Juno might make with Jupiter against her son. For it +was a moot point in heaven whether he could alter fate or not; +and indeed some passages in Virgil would make us suspect that he +was of opinion Jupiter might defer fate, though he could not +alter it; for in the latter end of the tenth book he introduces +Juno begging for the life of Turnus, and flattering her husband +with the power of changing destiny, <i>tua</i>, <i>qui potes</i>, +<i>orsa reflectas</i>! To which he graciously +answers—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Si mora præsentis leti</i>, +<i>tempusque caduco</i><br /> +<i>Oratur juveni</i>, <i>meque hoc ita ponere sentis</i>,<br /> +<i>Tolle fugâ Turnum</i>, <i>atquc instantibus eripe +fatis</i>.<br /> +<i>Hactenus indulsisse vacat</i>. <i>Sin altior +istis</i><br /> +<i>Sub precibus venia ulla latet</i>, <i>totumque moveri</i><br +/> +<i>Mutarive putas bellum</i>, <i>spes pascis +inanis</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But that he could not alter those decrees the king of gods +himself confesses in the book above cited, when he comforts +Hercules for the death of Pallas, who had invoked his aid before +he threw his lance at Turnus:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> “<i>Trojæ +sub mænibus altis</i><br /> +<i>Tot nati cecidere deûm</i>; <i>quin occidit +unà</i><br /> +<i>Sarpedon</i>, <i>mea progenies</i>; <i>etiam sua Turnum</i><br +/> +<i>Fata vocant</i>, <i>metasque dati pervenit ad +ævi</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Where he plainly acknowledges that he could not save his own +son, or prevent the death which he foresaw. Of his power to +defer the blow, I once occasionally discoursed with that +excellent person Sir Robert Howard, who is better conversant than +any man that I know in the doctrine of the Stoics, and he set me +right, from the concurrent testimony of philosophers and poets, +that Jupiter could not retard the effects of fate, even for a +moment; for when I cited Virgil as favouring the contrary opinion +in that verse—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Tolle fugâ Turnum</i>, <i>atque +instantibus eripe fatis</i>”—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>he replied, and I think with exact judgment, that when Jupiter +gave Juno leave to withdraw Turnus from the present danger, it +was because he certainly foreknew that his fatal hour was not +come, that it was in destiny for Juno at that time to save him, +and that himself obeyed destiny in giving her that leave.</p> +<p>I need say no more in justification of our hero’s +courage, and am much deceived if he ever be attacked on this side +of his character again. But he is arraigned with more show +of reason by the ladies, who will make a numerous party against +him, for being false to love in forsaking Dido; and I cannot much +blame them, for, to say the truth, it is an ill precedent for +their gallants to follow. Yet if I can bring him off with +flying colours, they may learn experience at her cost; and for +her sake avoid a cave as the worse shelter they can choose from a +shower of rain, especially when they have a lover in their +company.</p> +<p>In the first place, Segrais observes with much acuteness that +they who blame Æneas for his insensibility of love when he +left Carthage, contradict their former accusation of him for +being always crying, compassionate, and effeminately sensible of +those misfortunes which befell others. They give him two +contrary characters; but Virgil makes him of a piece, always +grateful, always tender-hearted. But they are impudent +enough to discharge themselves of this blunder by laying the +contradiction at Virgil’s door. He, they say, has +shown his hero with these inconsistent +characters—acknowledging and ungrateful, compassionate and +hard-hearted, but at the bottom fickle and self-interested; for +Dido had not only received his weather-beaten troops before she +saw him, and given them her protection, but had also offered them +an equal share in her dominion:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Vultis et his mecum pariter considere +regnis</i>?<br /> +<i>Urbem quam statuo</i>, <i>vesra est</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This was an obligement never to be forgotten, and the more to +be considered because antecedent to her love. That passion, +it is true, produced the usual effects of generosity, gallantry, +and care to please, and thither we refer them; but when she had +made all these advances, it was still in his power to have +refused them. After the intrigue of the cave—call it +marriage, or enjoyment only—he was no longer free to take +or leave; he had accepted the favour, and was obliged to be +constant, if he would be grateful.</p> +<p>My lord, I have set this argument in the best light I can, +that the ladies may not think I write booty; and perhaps it may +happen to me, as it did to Doctor Cudworth, who has raised such +strong objections against the being of a God and Providence, that +many think he has not answered them. You may please at +least to hear the adverse party. Segrais pleads for Virgil +that no less than an absolute command from Jupiter could excuse +this insensibility of the hero, and this abrupt departure, which +looks so like extreme ingratitude; but at the same time he does +wisely to remember you that Virgil had made piety the first +character of Æneas; and this being allowed, as I am afraid +it must, he was obliged, antecedent to all other considerations, +to search an asylum for his gods in Italy—for those very +gods, I say, who had promised to his race the universal +empire. Could a pious man dispense with the commands of +Jupiter to satisfy his passion, or—take it in the strongest +sense—to comply with the obligations of his +gratitude? Religion, it is true, must have moral honesty +for its groundwork, or we shall be apt to suspect its truth; but +an immediate revelation dispenses with all duties of +morality. All casuists agree that theft is a breach of the +moral law; yet if I might presume to mingle things sacred with +profane, the Israelites only spoiled the Egyptians, not robbed +them, because the propriety was transferred by a revelation to +their lawgiver. I confess Dido was a very infidel in this +point; for she would not believe, as Virgil makes her say, that +ever Jupiter would send Mercury on such an immoral errand. +But this needs no answer—at least, no more than Virgil +gives it:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Fata obstant</i>, <i>placidasque viri +Deus obstruit aures</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This notwithstanding, as Segrais confesses, he might have +shown a little more sensibility when he left her, for that had +been according to his character.</p> +<p>But let Virgil answer for himself. He still loved her, +and struggled with his inclinations to obey the gods:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> “<i>Curam +sub corde premebat</i>,<br /> +<i>Multa gemens</i>, <i>magnoque animum labefactus +amore</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Upon the whole matter, and humanly speaking, I doubt there was +a fault somewhere, and Jupiter is better able to bear the blame +than either Virgil or Æneas. The poet, it seems, had +found it out, and therefore brings the deserting hero and the +forsaken lady to meet together in the lower regions, where he +excuses himself when it is too late, and accordingly she will +take no satisfaction, nor so much as hear him. Now Segrais +is forced to abandon his defence, and excuses his author by +saying that the “Æneis” is an imperfect work, +and that death prevented the divine poet from reviewing it, and +for that reason he had condemned it to the fire, though at the +same time his two translators must acknowledge that the sixth +book is the most correct of the whole +“Æneis.” Oh, how convenient is a machine +sometimes in a heroic poem! This of Mercury is plainly one; +and Virgil was constrained to use it here, or the honesty of his +hero would be ill defended; and the fair sex, however, if they +had the deserter in their power, would certainly have shown him +no more mercy than the Bacchanals did Orpheus: for if too much +constancy may be a fault sometimes, then want of constancy, and +ingratitude after the last favour, is a crime that never will be +forgiven. But of machines, more in their proper place, +where I shall show with how much judgment they have been used by +Virgil; and in the meantime pass to another article of his +defence on the present subject, where, if I cannot clear the +hero, I hope at least to bring off the poet, for here I must +divide their causes. Let Æneas trust to his machine, +which will only help to break his fall; but the address is +incomparable. Plato, who borrowed so much from Homer, and +yet concluded for the banishment of all poets, would at least +have rewarded Virgil before he sent him into exile; but I go +farther, and say that he ought to be acquitted, and deserved, +beside, the bounty of Augustus and the gratitude of the Roman +people. If after this the ladies will stand out, let them +remember that the jury is not all agreed; for Octavia was of his +party, and was of the first quality in Rome: she was also present +at the reading of the sixth Æneid, and we know not that she +condemned Æneas, but we are sure she presented the poet for +his admirable elegy on her son Marcellus.</p> +<p>But let us consider the secret reasons which Virgil had for +thus framing this noble episode, wherein the whole passion of +love is more exactly described than in any other poet. Love +was the theme of his fourth book; and though it is the shortest +of the whole “Æneis,” yet there he has given +its beginning, its progress, its traverses, and its conclusion; +and had exhausted so entirely this subject that he could resume +it but very slightly in the eight ensuing books.</p> +<p>She was warmed with the graceful appearance of the hero; she +smothered those sparkles out of decency, but conversation blew +them up into a flame. Then she was forced to make a +confidante of her whom she best might trust, her own sister, who +approves the passion, and thereby augments it; then succeeds her +public owning it; and after that the consummation. Of Venus +and Juno, Jupiter and Mercury, I say nothing (for they were all +machining work); but possession having cooled his love, as it +increased hers, she soon perceived the change, or at least grew +suspicious of a change. This suspicion soon turned to +jealousy, and jealousy to rage; then she disdains and threatens, +and again is humble and entreats: and, nothing availing, +despairs, curses, and at last becomes her own executioner. +See here the whole process of that passion, to which nothing can +be added. I dare go no farther, lest I should lose the +connection of my discourse.</p> +<p>To love our native country, and to study its benefit and its +glory; to be interested in its concerns, is natural to all men, +and is indeed our common duty. A poet makes a farther step +for endeavouring to do honour to it. It is allowable in him +even to be partial in its cause; for he is not tied to truth, or +fettered by the laws of history. Homer and Tasso are justly +praised for choosing their heroes out of Greece and Italy; +Virgil, indeed, made his a Trojan, but it was to derive the +Romans and his own Augustus from him; but all the three poets are +manifestly partial to their heroes in favour of their +country. For Dares Phrygius reports of Hector that he was +slain cowardly; Æneas, according to the best account, slew +not Mezentius, but was slain by him; and the chronicles of Italy +tell us little of that Rinaldo d’Este who conquers +Jerusalem in Tasso. He might be a champion of the Church, +but we know not that he was so much as present at the +siege. To apply this to Virgil, he thought himself engaged +in honour to espouse the cause and quarrel of his country against +Carthage. He knew he could not please the Romans better, or +oblige them more to patronise his poem, than by disgracing the +foundress of that city. He shows her ungrateful to the +memory of her first husband, doting on a stranger, enjoyed and +afterwards forsaken by him. This was the original, says he, +of the immortal hatred betwixt the two rival nations. It is +true, he colours the falsehood of Æneas by an express +command from Jupiter to forsake the queen who had obliged him; +but he knew the Romans were to be his readers, and them he +bribed—perhaps at the expense of his hero’s honesty; +but he gained his cause, however, as pleading before corrupt +judges. They were content to see their founder false to +love, for still he had the advantage of the amour. It was +their enemy whom he forsook, and she might have forsaken him if +he had not got the start of her. She had already forgotten +her vows to her Sichæus, and <i>varium et nutabile semper +femina</i> is the sharpest satire in the fewest words that ever +was made on womankind; for both the adjectives are neuter, and +<i>animal</i> must be understood to make them grammar. +Virgil does well to put those words into the mouth of +Mercury. If a god had not spoken them, neither durst he +have written them, nor I translated them. Yet the deity was +forced to come twice on the same errand; and the second time, as +much a hero as Æneas was, he frighted him. It seems +he feared not Jupiter so much as Dido; for your lordship may +observe that, as much intent as he was upon his voyage, yet he +still delayed it, till the messenger was obliged to tell him +plainly that if he weighed not anchor in the night the queen +would be with him in the morning, <i>notumque furens quid femina +possit</i>: she was injured, she was revengeful, she was +powerful. The poet had likewise before hinted that the +people were naturally perfidious, for he gives their character in +the queen, and makes a proverb of <i>Punica fides</i> many ages +before it was invented.</p> +<p>Thus I hope, my lord, that I have made good my promise, and +justified the poet, whatever becomes of the false knight. +And, sure, a poet is as much privileged to lie as an ambassador +for the honour and interest of his country—at least, as Sir +Henry Wotton has defined.</p> +<p>This naturally leads me to the defence of the famous +anachronism in making Æneas and Dido contemporaries, for it +is certain that the hero lived almost two hundred years before +the building of Carthage. One who imitates Boccalini says +that Virgil was accused before Apollo for this error. The +god soon found that he was not able to defend his favourite by +reason, for the case was clear; he therefore gave this middle +sentence: that anything might be allowed to his son Virgil on the +account of his other merits; that, being a monarch, he had a +dispensing power, and pardoned him. But that this special +act of grace might never be drawn into example, or pleaded by his +puny successors in justification of their ignorance, he decreed +for the future—no poet should presume to make a lady die +for love two hundred years before her birth. To moralise +this story, Virgil is the Apollo who has this dispensing +power. His great judgment made the laws of poetry, but he +never made himself a slave to them; chronology at best is but a +cobweb law, and he broke through it with his weight. They +who will imitate him wisely must choose, as he did, an obscure +and a remote era, where they may invent at pleasure, and not be +easily contradicted. Neither he nor the Romans had ever +read the Bible, by which only his false computation of times can +be made out against him. This Segrais says in his defence, +and proves it from his learned friend Bochartus, whose letter on +this subject he has printed at the end of the fourth Æneid, +to which I refer your lordship and the reader. Yet the +credit of Virgil was so great that he made this fable of his own +invention pass for an authentic history, or at least as credible +as anything in Homer. Ovid takes it up after him even in +the same age, and makes an ancient heroine of Virgil’s +new-created Dido; dictates a letter for her, just before her +death, to the ingrateful fugitive; and, very unluckily for +himself, is for measuring a sword with a man so much superior in +force to him on the same subject. I think I may be judge of +this, because I have translated both. The famous author of +“The Art of Love” has nothing of his own; he borrows +all from a greater master in his own profession, and, which is +worse, improves nothing which he finds. Nature fails him; +and, being forced to his old shift, he has recourse to +witticism. This passes, indeed, with his soft admirers, and +gives him the preference to Virgil in their esteem; but let them +like for themselves, and not prescribe to others, for our author +needs not their admiration.</p> +<p>The motive that induced Virgil to coin this fable I have +showed already, and have also begun to show that he might make +this anachronism, by superseding the mechanic rules of poetry, +for the same reason that a monarch may dispense with or suspend +his own laws when he finds it necessary so to do, especially if +those laws are not altogether fundamental. Nothing is to be +called a fault in poetry, says Aristotle, but what is against the +art; therefore a man may be an admirable poet without being an +exact chronologer. Shall we dare, continues Segrais, to +condemn Virgil for having made a fiction against the order of +time, when we commend Ovid and other poets who have made many of +their fictions against the order of nature? For what else +are the splendid miracles of the +“Metamorphoses?” Yet these are beautiful as +they are related, and have also deep learning and instructive +mythologies couched under them. But to give, as Virgil does +in this episode, the original cause of the long wars betwixt Rome +and Carthage; to draw truth out of fiction after so probable a +manner, with so much beauty, and so much for the honour of his +country, was proper only to the divine wit of Maro; and Tasso, in +one of his discourses, admires him for this particularly. +It is not lawful indeed to contradict a point of history which is +known to all the world—as, for example, to make Hannibal +and Scipio contemporaries with Alexander—but in the dark +recesses of antiquity a great poet may and ought to feign such +things as he finds not there, if they can be brought to embellish +that subject which he treats. On the other side, the pains +and diligence of ill poets is but thrown away when they want the +genius to invent and feign agreeably. But if the fictions +be delightful (which they always are if they be natural) if they +be of a piece; if the beginning, the middle, and the end be in +their due places, and artfully united to each other, such works +can never fail of their deserved success. And such is +Virgil’s episode of Dido and Æneas, where the sourest +critic must acknowledge that if he had deprived his +“Æneis” of so great an ornament, because he +found no traces of it in antiquity, he had avoided their unjust +censure, but had wanted one of the greatest beauties of his +poem.</p> +<p>I shall say more of this in the next article of their charge +against him, which is—want of invention. In the +meantime I may affirm, in honour of this episode, that it is not +only now esteemed the most pleasing entertainment of the +“Æneis,” but was so accounted in his own age, +and before it was mellowed into that reputation which time has +given it; for which I need produce no other testimony than that +of Ovid, his contemporary:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Nec pars ulla magis legitur de corpore +toto</i>,<br /> +<i>Quam non legitimo fædere junctus amor</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Where, by the way, you may observe, my lord, that Ovid in +those words, <i>non legitimo fædere junctus amor</i>, will +by no means allow it to be a lawful marriage betwixt Dido and +Æneas. He was in banishment when he wrote those +verses, which I cite from his letter to Augustus. +“You, sir,” saith he, “have sent me into exile +for writing my ‘Art of Love’ and my wanton elegies; +yet your own poet was happy in your good graces, though he +brought Dido and Æneas into a cave, and left them there not +over-honestly together: may I be so bold to ask your majesty is +it a greater fault to teach the art of unlawful love than to show +it in the action?” But was Ovid the court-poet so bad +a courtier as to find no other plea to excuse himself than by a +plain accusation of his master? Virgil confessed it was a +lawful marriage betwixt the lovers; that Juno, the goddess of +matrimony, had ratified it by her presence (for it was her +business to bring matters to that issue): that the ceremonies +were short we may believe, for Dido was not only amorous, but a +widow. Mercury himself, though employed on a quite contrary +errand, yet owns it a marriage by an +innuendo—<i>pulchramque uxorius urbem extruis</i>. He +calls Æneas not only a husband, but upbraids him for being +a fond husband, as the word <i>uxorius</i> implies. Now +mark a little, if your lordship pleases, why Virgil is so much +concerned to make this marriage (for he seems to be the father of +the bride himself, and to give her to the bridegroom); it was to +make way for the divorce which he intended afterwards, for he was +a finer flatterer than Ovid, and I more than conjecture that he +had in his eye the divorce which not long before had passed +betwixt the emperor and Scribonia. He drew this dimple in +the cheek of Æneas to prove Augustus of the same family by +so remarkable a feature in the same place. Thus, as we say +in our home-spun English proverb, he killed two birds with one +stone—pleased the emperor by giving him the resemblance of +his ancestor, and gave him such a resemblance as was not +scandalous in that age (for to leave one wife and take another +was but a matter of gallantry at that time of day among the +Romans). <i>Neque hæc in fædera veni</i> is the +very excuse which Æneas makes when he leaves his +lady. “I made no such bargain with you at our +marriage to live always drudging on at Carthage; my business was +Italy, and I never made a secret of it. If I took my +pleasure, had not you your share of it? I leave you free at +my departure to comfort yourself with the next stranger who +happens to be shipwrecked on your coast; be as kind an hostess as +you have been to me, and you can never fail of another +husband. In the meantime I call the gods to witness that I +leave your shore unwillingly; for though Juno made the marriage, +yet Jupiter commands me to forsake you.” This is the +effect of what he saith when it is dishonoured out of Latin verse +into English prose. If the poet argued not aright, we must +pardon him for a poor blind heathen, who knew no better +morals.</p> +<p>I have detained your lordship longer than I intended on this +objection, which would indeed weigh something in a Spiritual +Court;—but I am not to defend our poet there. The +next, I think, is but a cavil, though the cry is great against +him, and hath continued from the time of Macrobius to this +present age; I hinted it before. They lay no less than want +of invention to his charge—a capital charge, I must +acknowledge; for a poet is a maker, as the word signifies; and +who cannot make—that is, invent—hath his name for +nothing. That which makes this accusation look so strong at +the first sight is that he has borrowed so many things from +Homer, Apollonius Rhodius, and others who preceded him. But +in the first place, if invention is to be taken in so strict a +sense that the matter of a poem must be wholly new, and that in +all its parts, then Scaliger hath made out, saith Segrais, that +the history of Troy was no more the invention of Homer than of +Virgil. There was not an old woman or almost a child, but +had it in their mouths before the Greek poet or his friends +digested it into this admirable order in which we read it. +At this rate, as Solomon hath told us, there is nothing new +beneath the sun. Who, then, can pass for an inventor if +Homer as well as Virgil must be deprived of that glory! Is +Versailles the less a new building because the architect of that +palace hath imitated others which were built before it? +Walls, doors and windows, apartments, offices, rooms of +convenience and magnificence, are in all great houses. So +descriptions, figures, fables, and the rest, must be in all +heroic poems; they are the common materials of poetry, furnished +from the magazine of nature: every poet hath as much right to +them as every man hath to air or water:</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Quid prohibetis aquas</i>? <i>Usus +communis aquarum est</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But the argument of the work (that is to say, its principal +action), the economy and disposition of it—these are the +things which distinguish copies from originals. The Poet +who borrows nothing from others is yet to be born; he and the +Jews’ Messias will come together. There are parts of +the “Æneis” which resemble some parts both of +the “Ilias” and of the “Odysses;” as, for +example, Æneas descended into hell, and Ulysses had been +there before him; Æneas loved Dido, and Ulysses loved +Calypso: in few words, Virgil hath imitated Homer’s +“Odysses” in his first six books, and in his six last +the “Ilias.” But from hence can we infer that +the two poets write the same history? Is there no invention +in some other parts of Virgil’s +“Æneis?” The disposition of so many +various matters, is not that his own? From what book of +Homer had Virgil his episode of Nysus and Euryalus, of Mezentius +and Lausus? From whence did he borrow his design of +bringing Æneas into Italy? of establishing the Roman Empire +on the foundations of a Trojan colony? to say nothing of the +honour he did his patron, not only in his descent from Venus, but +in making him so like her in his best features that the goddess +might have mistaken Augustus for her son. He had indeed the +story from common fame, as Homer had his from the Egyptian +priestess. <i>Æneadum genetriæ</i> was no more +unknown to Lucretius than to him; but Lucretius taught him not to +form his hero, to give him piety or valour for his +manners—and both in so eminent a degree that, having done +what was possible for man to save his king and country, his +mother was forced to appear to him and restrain his fury, which +hurried him to death in their revenge. But the poet made +his piety more successful; he brought off his father and his son; +and his gods witnessed to his devotion by putting themselves +under his protection, to be replaced by him in their promised +Italy. Neither the invention nor the conduct of this great +action were owing to Homer or any other poet; it is one thing to +copy, and another thing to imitate from nature. The copier +is that servile imitator to whom Horace gives no better a name +than that of animal; he will not so much as allow him to be a +man. Raffaelle imitated nature; they who copy one of +Raffaelle’s pieces, imitate but him, for his work is their +original. They translate him, as I do Virgil; and fall as +short of him as I of Virgil. There is a kind of invention +in the imitation of Raffaelle; for though the thing was in +nature, yet the idea of it was his own. Ulysses travelled, +so did Æneas; but neither of them were the first +travellers: for Cain went into the land of Nod before they were +born, and neither of the poets ever heard of such a man. If +Ulysses had been killed at Troy, yet Æneas must have gone +to sea, or he could never have arrived in Italy; but the designs +of the two poets were as different as the courses of their +heroes—one went home, and the other sought a home.</p> +<p>To return to my first similitude. Suppose Apelles and +Raffaelle had each of them painted a burning Troy, might not the +modern painter have succeeded as well as the ancient, though +neither of them had seen the town on fire? For the drafts +of both were taken from the ideas which they had of nature. +Cities have been burnt before either of them were in being. +But to close the simile as I began it: they would not have +designed it after the same manner; Apelles would have +distinguished Pyrrhus from the rest of all the Grecians, and +showed him forcing his entrance into Priam’s palace; there +he had set him in the fairest light, and given him the chief +place of all his figures, because he was a Grecian and he would +do honour to his country. Raffaelle, who was an Italian, +and descended from the Trojans, would have made Æneas the +hero of his piece, and perhaps not with his father on his back, +his son in one hand, his bundle of gods in the other, and his +wife following (for an act of piety is not half so graceful in a +picture as an act of courage); he would rather have drawn him +killing Androgeus or some other hand to hand, and the blaze of +the fires should have darted full upon his face, to make him +conspicuous amongst his Trojans. This, I think, is a just +comparison betwixt the two poets in the conduct of their several +designs. Virgil cannot be said to copy Homer; the Grecian +had only the advantage of writing first. If it be urged +that I have granted a resemblance in some parts, yet therein +Virgil has excelled him; for what are the tears of Calypso for +being left, to the fury and death of Dido? Where is there +the whole process of her passion and all its violent effects to +be found in the languishing episode of the +“Odysses”? If this be to copy, let the critics +show us the same disposition, features, or colouring in their +original. The like may be said of the descent to hell, +which was not of Homer’s invention either; he had it from +the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. But to what end did +Ulysses make that journey? Æneas undertook it by the +express commandment of his father’s ghost. There he +was to show him all the succeeding heroes of his race, and next +to Romulus (mark, if you please the address of Virgil) his own +patron, Augustus Cæsar. Anchises was likewise to +instruct him how to manage the Italian war, and how to conclude +it with his honour—that is, in other words, to lay the +foundations of that empire which Augustus was to govern. +This is the noble invention of our author, but it hath been +copied by so many sign-post daubers that now it is grown fulsome, +rather by their want of skill than by the commonness.</p> +<p>In the last place. I may safely grant that by reading +Homer, Virgil was taught to imitate his invention—that is +to imitate like him (which is no more than if a painter studied +Raffaelle that he might learn to design after his manner). +And thus I might imitate Virgil if I were capable of writing an +heroic poem, and yet the invention be my own; but I should +endeavour to avoid a servile copying. I would not give the +same story under other names, with the same characters, in the +same order, and with the same sequel, for every common reader to +find me out at the first sight for a plagiary, and cry, +“This I read before in Virgil in a better language and in +better verse.” This is like Merry-Andrew on the low +rope copying lubberly the same tricks which his master is so +dexterously performing on the high.</p> +<p>I will trouble your lordship but with one objection more, +which I know not whether I found in Le Febvre or Valois, but I am +sure I have read it in another French critic, whom I will not +name because I think it is not much for his reputation. +Virgil in the heat of action—suppose, for example, in +describing the fury of his hero in a battle (when he is +endeavouring to raise our concernments to the highest +pitch)—turns short on the sudden into some similitude which +diverts, say they, your attention from the main subject, and +misspends it on some trivial image. He pours cold water +into the caldron when his business is to make it boil.</p> +<p>This accusation is general against all who would be thought +heroic poets, but I think it touches Virgil less than any; he is +too great a master of his art to make a blot which may so easily +be hit. Similitudes (as I have said) are not for tragedy, +which is all violent, and where the passions are in a perpetual +ferment; for there they deaden, where they should animate; they +are not of the nature of dialogue unless in comedy. A +metaphor is almost all the stage can suffer, which is a kind of +similitude comprehended in a word. But this figure has a +contrary effect in heroic poetry; there it is employed to raise +the admiration, which is its proper business; and admiration is +not of so violent a nature as fear or hope, compassion or horror, +or any concernment we can have for such or such a person on the +stage. Not but I confess that similitudes and descriptions +when drawn into an unreasonable length must needs nauseate the +reader. Once I remember (and but once) Virgil makes a +similitude of fourteen lines, and his description of Fame is +about the same number. He is blamed for both, and I doubt +not but he would have contracted them had be lived to have +reviewed his work; but faults are no precedents. This I +have observed of his similitudes in general—that they are +not placed (as our unobserving critics tell us) in the heat of +any action, but commonly in its declining; when he has warmed us +in his description as much as possibly he can, then (lest that +warmth should languish) he renews it by some apt similitude which +illustrates his subject and yet palls not his audience. I +need give your lordship but one example of this kind, and leave +the rest to your observation when next you review the whole +“Æneis” in the original, unblemished by my rude +translation; it is in the first hook, where the poet describes +Neptune composing the ocean, on which Æolus had raised a +tempest without his permission. He had already chidden the +rebellious winds for obeying the commands of their usurping +master; he had warned them from the seas; he had beaten down the +billows with his mace; dispelled the clouds, restored the +sunshine, while Triton and Cymothoe were heaving the ships from +off the quicksands, before the poet would offer at a similitude +for illustration:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Ac</i>, <i>veluti magno in populo cum +sæpe coorta est</i><br /> +<i>Seditio</i>, <i>sævitque animis ignobile vulgus</i>;<br +/> +<i>Jamque faces</i>, <i>et saxa volant</i>; <i>furor arma +ministrat</i>;<br /> +<i>Tum</i>, <i>pietate gravem ac meritis si forte virum +quem</i><br /> +<i>Conspexere</i>, <i>silent</i>, <i>arrectisque auribus +adstant</i>:<br /> +<i>Ille regit dictis animos</i>, <i>et pectora mulcet</i>:<br /> +<i>Sic cunctus pelagi cecidit fragor</i>, <i>æquora +postquam</i><br /> +<i>Prospiciens genitor</i>, <i>coeloque invectus aperto</i><br /> +<i>Flectit equos</i>, <i>curruque volans dat lora +secundo</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This is the first similitude which Virgil makes in this poem, +and one of the longest in the whole, for which reason I the +rather cite it. While the storm was in its fury, any +allusion had been improper; for the poet could have compared it +to nothing more impetuous than itself; consequently he could have +made no illustration. If he could have illustrated, it had +been an ambitious ornament out of season, and would have diverted +our concernment (<i>nunc non erat his locus</i>), and therefore +he deferred it to its proper place.</p> +<p>These are the criticisms of most moment which have been made +against the “Æneis” by the ancients or +moderns. As for the particular exceptions against this or +that passage, Macrobius and Pontanus have answered them +already. If I desired to appear more learned than I am, it +had been as easy for me to have taken their objections and +solutions as it is for a country parson to take the expositions +of the Fathers out of Junius and Tremellius, or not to have named +the authors from whence I had them; for so Ruæus (otherwise +a most judicious commentator on Virgil’s works) has used +Pontanus, his greatest benefactor, of whom he is very silent, and +I do not remember that he once cites him.</p> +<p>What follows next is no objection; for that implies a fault, +and it had been none in Virgil if he had extended the time of his +action beyond a year—at least, Aristotle has set no precise +limits to it. Homer’s, we know, was within two +months; Tasso; I am sure, exceeds not a summer, and if I examined +him perhaps he might be reduced into a much less compass. +Bossu leaves it doubtful whether Virgil’s action were +within the year, or took up some months beyond it. Indeed, +the whole dispute is of no more concernment to the common reader +than it is to a ploughman whether February this year had +twenty-eight or twenty-nine days in it; but for the satisfaction +of the more curious (of which number I am sure your lordship is +one) I will translate what I think convenient out of Segrais, +whom perhaps you have not read, for he has made it highly +probable that the action of the “Æneis” began +in the spring, and was not extended beyond the autumn; and we +have known campaigns that have begun sooner and have ended +later.</p> +<p>Ronsard and the rest whom Segrais names, who are of opinion +that the action of this poem takes up almost a year and half, +ground their calculation thus:—Anchises died in Sicily at +the end of winter or beginning of the spring. Æneas, +immediately after the interment of his father, puts to sea for +Italy; he is surprised by the tempest described in the beginning +of the first book; and there it is that the scene of the poem +opens, and where the action must commence. He is driven by +this storm on the coasts of Africa; he stays at Carthage all that +summer, and almost all the winter following; sets sail again for +Italy just before the beginning of the spring; meets with +contrary winds, and makes Sicily the second time. This part +of the action completes the year. Then he celebrates the +anniversary of his father’s funerals, and shortly after +arrives at Cumes. And from thence his time is taken up in +his first treaty with Latinus; the overture of the war; the siege +of his camp by Turnus; his going for succours to relieve it; his +return; the raising of the siege by the first battle; the twelve +days’ truce; the second battle; the assault of Laurentum, +and the single fight with Turnus—all which, they say, +cannot take up less than four or five months more, by which +account we cannot suppose the entire action to be contained in a +much less compass than a year and half.</p> +<p>Segrais reckons another way, and his computation is not +condemned by the learned Ruæus, who compiled and published +the commentaries on our poet which we call the +“Dauphin’s Virgil.” He allows the time of +year when Anchises died to be in the latter end of winter or the +beginning of the spring; he acknowledges that when Æneas is +first seen at sea afterwards, and is driven by the tempest on the +coast of Africa, is the time when the action is naturally to +begin; he confesses farther, that Æneas left Carthage in +the latter end of winter, for Dido tells him in express terms, as +an argument for his longer stay—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Quin etiam hiberno moliris sidere +classem</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But whereas Ronsard’s followers suppose that when +Æneas had buried his father he set sail immediately for +Italy (though the tempest drove him on the coast of Carthage), +Segrais will by no means allow that supposition, but thinks it +much more probable that he remained in Sicily till the midst of +July or the beginning of August, at which time he places the +first appearance of his hero on the sea, and there opens the +action of the poem. From which beginning, to the death of +Turnus, which concludes the action, there need not be supposed +above ten months of intermediate time; for arriving at Carthage +in the latter end of summer, staying there the winter following, +departing thence in the very beginning of the spring, making a +short abode in Sicily the second time, landing in Italy, and +making the war, may be reasonably judged the business but of ten +months. To this the Ronsardians reply that, having been for +seven years before in quest of Italy, and having no more to do in +Sicily than to inter his father—after that office was +performed, what remained for him but without delay to pursue his +first adventure? To which Segrais answers that the +obsequies of his father, according to the rites of the Greeks and +Romans, would detain him for many days; that a longer time must +be taken up in the re-fitting of his ships after so tedious a +voyage, and in refreshing his weather-beaten soldiers on a +friendly coast. These indeed are but suppositions on both +sides, yet those of Segrais seem better grounded; for the feast +of Dido, when she entertained Æneas first, has the +appearance of a summer’s night, which seems already almost +ended, when he begins his story. Therefore the love was +made in autumn; the hunting followed properly, when the heats of +that scorching country were declining. The winter was +passed in jollity, as the season and their love required; and he +left her in the latter end of winter, as is already proved. +This opinion is fortified by the arrival of Æneas at the +mouth of Tiber, which marks the season of the spring, that season +being perfectly described by the singing of the birds saluting +the dawn, and by the beauty of the place, which the poet seems to +have painted expressly in the seventh Æneid:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Aurora in roseis fulgebat lutea +bigis</i>,<br /> +<i>Cùm venti posuere</i> . . .<br /> +. . . <i>variæ circumque supraque</i><br /> +<i>Assuetæ ripis volucres</i>, <i>et fluminis alveo</i>,<br +/> +<i>Æthera mulcebant cantu</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The remainder of the action required but three months more; +for when Æneas went for succour to the Tuscans, he found +their army in a readiness to march and wanting only a commander: +so that, according to this calculation, the +“Æneas” takes not up above a year complete, and +may be comprehended in less compass.</p> +<p>This, amongst other circumstances treated more at large by +Segrais, agrees with the rising of Orion, which caused the +tempest described in the beginning of the first book. By +some passages in the “Pastorals,” but more +particularly in the “Georgics,” our poet is found to +be an exact astronomer, according to the knowledge of that +age. Now Ilioneus, whom Virgil twice employs in embassies +as the best speaker of the Trojans, attributes that tempest to +Orion in his speech to Dido:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Cum subito assurgens fluctu nimbosus +Orion.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>He must mean either the heliacal or achronical rising of that +sign. The heliacal rising of a constellation is when it +comes from under the rays of the sun, and begins to appear before +daylight. The achronical rising, on the contrary, is when +it appears at the close of day, and in opposition of the +sun’s diurnal course. The heliacal rising of Orion is +at present computed to be about the 6th of July; and about that +time it is that he either causes or presages tempests on the +seas.</p> +<p>Segrais has observed farther, that when Anna counsels Dido to +stay Æneas during the winter, she speaks also of +Orion:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Dum pelago desævit hiems</i>, +<i>et aquosus Orion</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>If therefore Ilioneus, according to our supposition, +understand the heliacal rising of Orion, Anna must mean the +achronical, which the different epithets given to that +constellation seem to manifest. Ilioneus calls him +<i>nimbosus</i>, Anna, <i>aquosus</i>. He is tempestuous in +the summer, when he rises heliacally; and rainy in the winter, +when he rises achronically. Your lordship will pardon me +for the frequent repetition of these cant words, which I could +not avoid in this abbreviation of Segrais, who, I think, deserves +no little commendation in this new criticism.</p> +<p>I have yet a word or two to say of Virgil’s machines, +from my own observation of them. He has imitated those of +Homer, but not copied them. It was established long before +this time, in the Roman religion as well as in the Greek, that +there were gods, and both nations for the most part worshipped +the same deities, as did also the Trojans (from whom the Romans, +I suppose, would rather be thought to derive the rites of their +religion than from the Grecians, because they thought themselves +descended from them). Each of those gods had his proper +office, and the chief of them their particular attendants. +Thus Jupiter had in propriety Ganymede and Mercury, and Juno had +Iris. It was not for Virgil, then, to Create new ministers; +he must take what he found in his religion. It cannot +therefore be said that he borrowed them from Homer, any more than +from Apollo, Diana, and the rest, whom he uses as he finds +occasion for them, as the Grecian poet did; but he invents the +occasions for which he uses them. Venus, after the +destruction of Troy, had gained Neptune entirely to her party; +therefore we find him busy in the beginning of the +“Æneis” to calm the tempest raised by +Æolus, and afterwards conducting the Trojan fleet to Cumes +in safety, with the loss only of their pilot, for whom he +bargains. I name those two examples—amongst a hundred +which I omit—to prove that Virgil, generally speaking, +employed his machines in performing those things which might +possibly have been done without them. What more frequent +than a storm at sea upon the rising of Orion? What wonder +if amongst so many ships there should one be overset, which was +commanded by Orontes, though half the winds had not been there +which Æolus employed? Might not Palinurus, without a +miracle, fall asleep and drop into the sea, having been +over-wearied with watching, and secure of a quiet passage by his +observation of the skies? At least Æneas, who knew +nothing of the machine of Somnus, takes it plainly in this +sense:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>O nimium coelo et pelago confise +sereno</i>,<br /> +<i>Nudus in ignotâ</i>, <i>Palinure</i>, <i>jacebis +arenâ</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But machines sometimes are specious things to amuse the +reader, and give a colour of probability to things otherwise +incredible; and, besides, it soothed the vanity of the Romans to +find the gods so visibly concerned in all the actions of their +predecessors. We who are better taught by our religion, yet +own every wonderful accident which befalls us for the best, to be +brought to pass by some special providence of Almighty God, and +by the care of guardian angels; and from hence I might infer that +no heroic poem can be writ on the Epicurean principles, which I +could easily demonstrate if there were need to prove it or I had +leisure.</p> +<p>When Venus opens the eyes of her son Æneas to behold the +gods who combated against Troy in that fatal night when it was +surprised, we share the pleasure of that glorious vision (which +Tasso has not ill copied in the sacking of Jerusalem). But +the Greeks had done their business though neither Neptune, Juno, +or Pallas had given them their divine assistance. The most +crude machine which Virgil uses is in the episode of Camilla, +where Opis by the command of her mistress kills Aruns. The +next is in the twelfth Æneid, where Venus cures her son +Æneas. But in the last of these the poet was driven +to a necessity, for Turnus was to be slain that very day; and +Æneas, wounded as he was, could not have engaged him in +single combat unless his hurt had been miraculously healed and +the poet had considered that the dittany which she brought from +Crete could not have wrought so speedy an effect without the +juice of ambrosia which she mingled with it. After all, +that his machine might not seem too violent, we see the hero +limping after Turnus; the wound was skinned, but the strength of +his thigh was not restored. But what reason had our author +to wound Æneas at so critical a time? And how came +the cuishes to be worse tempered than the rest of his armour, +which was all wrought by Vulcan and his journeymen? These +difficulties are not easily to be solved without confessing that +Virgil had not life enough to correct his work, though he had +reviewed it and found those errors, which he resolved to mend; +but being prevented by death, and not willing to leave an +imperfect work behind him, he ordained by his last testament that +his “Æneis” should be burned. As for the +death of Aruns, who was shot by a goddess, the machine was not +altogether so outrageous as the wounding Mars and Venus by the +sword of Diomede. Two divinities, one would have thought, +might have pleaded their prerogative of impassibility, or at +least not have been wounded by any mortal hand. Beside +that, the ἴχωρ which they shed was so very +like our common blood that it was not to be distinguished from it +but only by the name and colour. As for what Horace says in +his “Art of Poetry,” that no machines are to be used +unless on some extraordinary occasion—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Nec deus intersit</i>, <i>nisi dignus +vindice nodus</i>”—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>that rule is to be applied to the theatre, of which he is then +speaking, and means no more than this—that when the knot of +the play is to be untied, and no other way is left for making the +discovery, then, and not otherwise, let a god descend upon a +rope, and clear the business to the audience. But this has +no relation to the machines which are used in an epic poem.</p> +<p>In the last place, for the dira, or flying pest which, +flapping on the shield of Turnus and fluttering about his head, +disheartened him in the duel, and presaged to him his approaching +death—I might have placed it more properly amongst the +objections, for the critics who lay want of courage to the charge +of Virgil’s hero quote this passage as a main proof of +their assertion. They say our author had not only secured +him before the duel, but also in the beginning of it had given +him the advantage in impenetrable arms and in his sword; for that +of Turnus was not his own (which was forged by Vulcan for his +father), but a weapon which he had snatched in haste, and by +mistake, belonging to his charioteer Metiscus. That after +all this Jupiter, who was partial to the Trojan, and distrustful +of the event, though he had hung the balance and given it a jog +of his hand to weigh down Turnus, thought convenient to give the +Fates a collateral security by sending the screech-owl to +discourage him; for which they quote these words of +Virgil:—</p> +<blockquote><p> “<i>Non +me tua turbida virtus</i><br /> +<i>Terret</i>, <i>ait</i>; <i>dii me terrent</i>, <i>et Jupiter +hostis</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In answer to which, I say that this machine is one of those +which the poet uses only for ornament, and not out of +necessity. Nothing can be more beautiful or more poetical +than his description of the three Diræ, or the setting of +the balance, which our Milton has borrowed from him, but employed +to a different end; for, first, he makes God Almighty set the +scales for St. Gabriel and Satan, when he knew no combat was to +follow; then he makes the good angel’s scale descend, and +the devil’s mount—quite contrary to Virgil, if I have +translated the three verses according to my author’s +sense:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Jupiter ipse duas æquota examine +lances</i><br /> +<i>Sustinet</i>, <i>et fata imponit diversa duorum</i>;<br /> +<i>Quem damnet labor</i>, <i>et quo vergat pondere +letum</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>For I have taken these words <i>Quem damnet labor</i> in the +sense which Virgil gives them in another place (<i>Damnabis tu +quoque votis</i>), to signify a prosperous event. Yet I +dare not condemn so great a genius as Milton; for I am much +mistaken if he alludes not to the text in Daniel where Belshazzar +was put into the balance and found too light. This is +digression, and I return to my subject. I said above that +these two machines of the balance and the Dira were only +ornamental, and that the success of the duel had been the same +without them; for when Æneas and Turnus stood fronting each +other before the altar, Turnus looked dejected, and his colour +faded in his face, as if he desponded of the victory before the +fight; and not only he, but all his party, when the strength of +the two champions was judged by the proportion of their limbs, +concluded it was <i>impar pugna</i>, and that their chief was +overmatched. Whereupon Juturna, who was of the same +opinion, took this opportunity to break the treaty and renew the +war. Juno herself had plainly told the nymph beforehand +that her brother was to fight</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Imparibus fatis</i>; <i>nec diis</i>, +<i>nec viribus æquis</i>;”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>so that there was no need of an apparition to fright Turnus, +he had the presage within himself of his impending destiny. +The Dira only served to confirm him in his first opinion, that it +was his destiny to die in the ensuing combat. And in this +sense are those words of Virgil to be taken—</p> +<blockquote><p> “<i>Non +me tua turbida virtus</i><br /> +<i>Terret</i>, <i>ait</i>; <i>dii me terrent</i>, <i>et Jupiter +hostis</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I doubt not but the adverb <i>solum</i> is to be understood +(“It is not your valour only that gives me this +concernment, but I find also by this portent that Jupiter is my +enemy”); for Turnus fled before, when his first sword was +broken, till his sister supplied him with a better, which indeed +he could not use because Æneas kept him at a distance with +his spear. I wonder Ruæus saw not this, where he +charges his author so unjustly for giving Turnus a second sword +to no purpose. How could he fasten a blow or make a thrust, +when he was not suffered to approach? Besides, the chief +errand of the Dira was to warn Juturna from the field, for she +could have brought the chariot again when she saw her brother +worsted in the duel. I might farther add that Æneas +was so eager of the fight that he left the city, now almost in +his possession, to decide his quarrel with Turnus by the sword; +whereas Turnus had manifestly declined the combat, and suffered +his sister to convey him as far from the reach of his enemy as +she could. I say, not only suffered her, but consented to +it; for it is plain he knew her by these words:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>O soror</i>, <i>et dudum agnovi</i>, +<i>cum prima per artem</i><br /> +<i>Fædera turbasti</i>, <i>teque hæc in bella +dedisti</i>;<br /> +<i>Et tunc necquicquam fallis dea</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I have dwelt so long on this subject that I must contract what +I have to say in reference to my translation, unless I would +swell my preface into a volume, and make it formidable to your +lordship, when you see so many pages yet behind. And, +indeed, what I have already written, either in justification or +praise of Virgil, is against myself for presuming to copy in my +coarse English the thoughts and beautiful expressions of this +inimitable poet, who flourished in an age when his language was +brought to its last perfection, for which it was particularly +owing to him and Horace. I will give your lordship my +opinion that those two friends had consulted each other’s +judgment wherein they should endeavour to excel; and they seem to +have pitched on propriety of thought, elegance of words, and +harmony of numbers. According to this model, Horace wrote +his odes and epodes; for his satires and epistles, being intended +wholly for instruction, required another style—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Ornari res ipsa negat, contenta +doceri”—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>and therefore, as he himself professes, are <i>sermoni +propriora</i> (nearer prose than verse). But Virgil, who +never attempted the lyric verse, is everywhere elegant, sweet, +and flowing in his hexameters. His words are not only +chosen, but the places in which he ranks them for the sound; he +who removes them from the station wherein their master sets them +spoils the harmony. What he says of the Sibyl’s +prophecies may be as properly applied to every word of +his—they must be read in order as they lie; the least +breath discomposes them, and somewhat of their divinity is +lost. I cannot boast that I have been thus exact in my +verses; but I have endeavoured to follow the example of my +master, and am the first Englishman perhaps who made it his +design to copy him in his numbers, his choice of words, and his +placing them for the sweetness of the sound. On this last +consideration I have shunned the cæsura as much as possibly +I could; for wherever that is used, it gives a roughness to the +verse, of which we can have little need in a language which is +overstocked with consonants. Such is not the Latin where +the vowels and consonants are mixed in proportion to each other; +yet Virgil judged the vowels to have somewhat of an over-balance, +and therefore tempers their sweetness with cæsuras. +Such difference there is in tongues that the same figure which +roughens one, gives majesty to another; and that was it which +Virgil studied in his verses. Ovid uses it but rarely; and +hence it is that his versification cannot so properly be called +sweet as luscious. The Italians are forced upon it once or +twice in every line, because they have a redundancy of vowels in +their language; their metal is so soft that it will not coin +without alloy to harden it. On the other side, for the +reason already named, it is all we can do to give sufficient +sweetness to our language; we must not only choose our words for +elegance, but for sound—to perform which a mastery in the +language is required; the poet must have a magazine of words, and +have the art to manage his few vowels to the best advantage, that +they may go the farther. He must also know the nature of +the vowels—which are more sonorous, and which more soft and +sweet—and so dispose them as his present occasions require; +all which, and a thousand secrets of versification beside, he may +learn from Virgil, if he will take him for his guide. If he +be above Virgil, and is resolved to follow his own <i>verve</i> +(as the French call it), the proverb will fall heavily upon him: +“Who teaches himself has a fool for his master.”</p> +<p>Virgil employed eleven years upon his +“Æneis,” yet he left it, as he thought himself, +imperfect; which, when I seriously consider, I wish that, instead +of three years which I have spent in the translation of his +works, I had four years more allowed me to correct my errors, +that I might make my version somewhat more tolerable than it is; +for a poet cannot have too great a reverence for his readers if +he expects his labours should survive him. Yet I will +neither plead my age nor sickness in excuse of the faults which I +have made. That I wanted time is all I have to say; for +some of my subscribers grew so clamorous that I could no longer +defer the publication. I hope, from the candour of your +lordship, and your often-experienced goodness to me, that if the +faults are not too many you will make allowances, with +Horace:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Si plura nitent in carmine</i>, <i>non +ego paucis</i><br /> +<i>Offendar maculis</i>, <i>quas aut incuria fudit</i>,<br /> +<i>Aut humana parùm cavit natura</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>You may please also to observe that there is not, to the best +of my remembrance, one vowel gaping on another for want of a +cæsura in this whole poem. But where a vowel ends a +word the next begins either with a consonant or what is its +equivalent; for our <i>w</i> and <i>h</i> aspirate, and our +diphthongs, are plainly such. The greatest latitude I take +is in the letter <i>y</i> when it concludes a word and the first +syllable of the next begins with a vowel. Neither need I +have called this a latitude, which is only an explanation of this +general rule—that no vowel can be cut off before another +when we cannot sink the pronunciation of it, as <i>he</i>, +<i>she</i>, <i>me</i>, <i>I</i>, &c. Virgil thinks it +sometimes a beauty to imitate the licence of the Greeks, and +leave two vowels opening on each other, as in that verse of the +third pastoral—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Et succus pecori</i>, <i>et lac +subducitur agnis</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But <i>nobis non licet esse tam disertis</i>—at least, +if we study to refine our numbers. I have long had by me +the materials of an English “Prosodia,” containing +all the mechanical rules of versification, wherein I have treated +with some exactness of the feet, the quantities, and the +pauses. The French and Italians know nothing of the two +first—at least, their best poets have not practised +them. As for the pauses, Malherbe first brought them into +France within this last century, and we see how they adorn their +Alexandrines. But as Virgil propounds a riddle which he +leaves unsolved—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Dic quibus in terris</i>, <i>inscripti +nomina regum</i><br /> +<i>Nascantur flores</i>, <i>et Phyllida solus +habeto</i>”—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>so I will give your lordship another, and leave the exposition +of it to your acute judgment. I am sure there are few who +make verses have observed the sweetness of these two lines in +“Cooper’s Hill”—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet +not dull;<br /> +Strong without rage; without o’erflowing, +full”—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>and there are yet fewer who can find the reason of that +sweetness. I have given it to some of my friends in +conversation, and they have allowed the criticism to be +just. But since the evil of false quantities is difficult +to be cured in any modern language; since the French and the +Italians, as well as we, are yet ignorant what feet are to be +used in heroic poetry; since I have not strictly observed those +rules myself which I can teach others; since I pretend to no +dictatorship among my fellow-poets; since, if I should instruct +some of them to make well-running verses, they want genius to +give them strength as well as sweetness; and, above all, since +your lordship has advised me not to publish that little which I +know, I look on your counsel as your command, which I shall +observe inviolably till you shall please to revoke it and leave +me at liberty to make my thoughts public. In the meantime, +that I may arrogate nothing to myself, I must acknowledge that +Virgil in Latin and Spenser in English have been my +masters. Spenser has also given me the boldness to make use +sometimes of his Alexandrine line, which we call, though +improperly, the Pindaric, because Mr. Cowley has often employed +it in his odes. It adds a certain majesty to the verse when +it is used with judgment, and stops the sense from overflowing +into another line. Formerly the French, like us and the +Italians, had but five feet or ten syllables in their heroic +verse; but since Ronsard’s time, as I suppose, they found +their tongue too weak to support their epic poetry without the +addition of another foot. That indeed has given it somewhat +of the run and measure of a trimetre, but it runs with more +activity than strength. Their language is not strong with +sinews, like our English; it has the nimbleness of a greyhound, +but not the bulk and body of a mastiff. Our men and our +verses overbear them by their weight; and <i>pondere</i>, <i>non +numero</i> is the British motto. The French have set up +purity for the standard of their language; and a masculine vigour +is that of ours. Like their tongue is the genius of their +poets, light and trifling in comparison of the English—more +proper for sonnets, madrigals, and elegies than heroic +poetry. The turn on thoughts and words is their chief +talent: but the epic poem is too stately to receive those little +ornaments. The painters draw their nymphs in thin and airy +habits, but the weight of gold and of embroideries is reserved +for queens and goddesses. Virgil is never frequent in those +turns, like Ovid, but much more sparing of them in his +“Æneis” than in his Pastorals and Georgics.</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Ignoscenda quidem</i>, <i>scirent si +ignoscere manes</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>That turn is beautiful indeed; but he employs it in the story +of Orpheus and Eurydice, not in his great poem. I have used +that licence in his “Æneis” sometimes, but I +own it as my fault; it was given to those who understand no +better. It is like Ovid’s</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Semivirumque bovem</i>, <i>semibovemque +virum</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The poet found it before his critics, but it was a darling sin +which he would not be persuaded to reform.</p> +<p>The want of genius, of which I have accused the French, is +laid to their charge by one of their own great authors, though I +have forgotten his name, and where I read it. If rewards +could make good poets, their great master has not been wanting on +his part in his bountiful encouragements; for he is wise enough +to imitate Augustus if he had a Maro. The Triumvir and +Proscriber had descended to us in a more hideous form than they +now appear, if the emperor had not taken care to make friends of +him and Horace. I confess the banishment of Ovid was a blot +in his escutcheon; yet he was only banished, and who knows but +his crime was capital? And then his exile was a +favour. Ariosto, who, with all his faults, must be +acknowledged a great poet, has put these words into the mouth of +an Evangelist; but whether they will pass for gospel now I cannot +tell:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Non fu si santo ni benigno Augusto,<br /> +Come la tuba di Virgilio suona;<br /> +L’haver havuto in poesia buon gusto,<br /> +La proscrittione iniqua gli pardona.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But heroic poetry is not of the growth of France, as it might +be of England if it were cultivated. Spenser wanted only to +have read the rules of Bossu, for no man was ever born with a +greater genius or had more knowledge to support it. But the +performance of the French is not equal to their skill; and +hitherto we have wanted skill to perform better. Segrais, +whose preface is so wonderfully good, yet is wholly destitute of +elevation; though his version is much better than that of the two +brothers, or any of the rest who have attempted Virgil. +Annibale Caro is a great name amongst the Italians, yet his +translation of the “Æneis” is most scandalously +mean, though he has taken the advantage of writing in blank +verse, and freed himself from the shackles of modern +rhyme—if it be modern; for Le Clerc has told us lately, and +I believe has made it out, that David’s Psalms were written +in as errant rhyme as they are translated. Now if a Muse +cannot run when she is unfettered, it is a sign she has but +little speed. I will not make a digression here, though I +am strangely tempted to it, but will only say that he who can +write well in rhyme may write better in blank verse. Rhyme +is certainly a constraint even to the best poets, and those who +make it with most ease; though perhaps I have as little reason to +complain of that hardship as any man, excepting Quarles and +Withers. What it adds to sweetness, it takes away from +sense; and he who loses the least by it may be called a gainer; +it often makes us swerve from an author’s meaning. As +if a mark he set up for an archer at a great distance, let him +aim as exactly as he can, the least wind will take his arrow and +divert it from the white.</p> +<p>I return to our Italian translator of the +“Æneis;” he is a foot-poet; he lackeys by the +side of Virgil at the best, but never mounts behind him. +Doctor Morelli, who is no mean critic in our poetry, and +therefore may be presumed to be a better in his own language, has +confirmed me in this opinion by his judgment, and thinks withal +that he has often mistaken his master’s sense. I +would say so if I durst, but am afraid I have committed the same +fault more often and more grossly; for I have forsaken +Ruæus (whom generally I follow) in many places, and made +expositions of my own in some, quite contrary to him, of which I +will give but two examples, because they are so near each other +in the tenth Æneid:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Sorti pater æquus +utrique</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Pallas says it to Turnus just before they fight. +Ruæus thinks that the word <i>pater</i> is to be referred +to Evander, the father of Pallas; but how could he imagine that +it was the same thing to Evander if his son were slain, or if he +overcame? The poet certainly intended Jupiter, the common +father of mankind, who, as Pallas hoped, would stand an impartial +spectator of the combat, and not be more favourable to Turnus +than to him. The second is not long after it, and both +before the duel is begun. They are the words of Jupiter, +who comforts Hercules for the death of Pallas, which was +immediately to ensue, and which Hercules could not hinder, though +the young hero had addressed his prayers to him for his +assistance, because the gods cannot control destiny. The +verse follows—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Sic ait</i>; <i>atque oculos Rutulorum +rejicit arvis</i>”—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>which the same Ruæus thus construes: “Jupiter, +after he had said this, immediately turns his eyes to the +Rutulian fields and beholds the duel.” I have given +this place another exposition—that he turned his eyes from +the field of combat that he might not behold a sight so +unpleasing to him. The word <i>rejicit</i>, I know, will +admit of both senses; but Jupiter having confessed that he could +not alter fate, and being grieved he could not in consideration +of Hercules, it seems to me that he should avert his eyes rather +than take pleasure in the spectacle. But of this I am not +so confident as the other, though I think I have followed +Virgil’s sense.</p> +<p>What I have said, though it has the face of arrogance, yet is +intended for the honour of my country, and therefore I will +boldly own that this English translation has more of +Virgil’s spirit in it than either the French or the +Italian. Some of our countrymen have translated episodes +and other parts of Virgil with great success; as particularly +your lordship, whose version of Orpheus and Eurydice is eminently +good. Amongst the dead authors, the Silenus of my Lord +Rescommon cannot be too much commended. I say nothing of +Sir John Denham, Mr. Waller, and Mr. Cowley; it is the utmost of +my ambition to be thought their equal, or not to be much inferior +to them and some others of the living. But it is one thing +to take pains on a fragment and translate it perfectly, and +another thing to have the weight of a whole author on my +shoulders. They who believe the burden light, let them +attempt the fourth, sixth, or eighth Pastoral; the first or +fourth Georgic; and, amongst the Æneids, the fourth, the +fifth, the seventh, the ninth, the tenth, the eleventh, or the +twelfth, for in these I think I have succeeded best.</p> +<p>Long before I undertook this work I was no stranger to the +original. I had also studied Virgil’s design, his +disposition of it, his manners, his judicious management of the +figures, the sober retrenchments of his sense, which always +leaves somewhat to gratify our imagination, on which it may +enlarge at pleasure; but, above all, the elegance of his +expressions and the harmony of his numbers. For, as I have +said in a former dissertation, the words are in poetry what the +colours are in painting. If the design be good, and the +draft be true, the colouring is the first beauty that strikes the +eye. Spenser and Milton are the nearest in English to +Virgil and Horace in the Latin, and I have endeavoured to form my +style by imitating their masters. I will farther own to +you, my lord, that my chief ambition is to please those readers +who have discernment enough to prefer Virgil before any other +poet in the Latin tongue. Such spirits as he desired to +please, such would I choose for my judges, and would stand or +fall by them alone. Segrais has distinguished the readers +of poetry, according to their capacity of judging, into three +classes (he might have said the same of writers, too, if he had +pleased). In the lowest form he places those whom he calls +<i>les petits esprits</i>—such things as are our +upper-gallery audience in a playhouse, who like nothing but the +husk and rind of wit; prefer a quibble, a conceit, an epigram, +before solid sense and elegant expression. These are +mob-readers. If Virgil and Martial steed for +Parliament-men, we know already who would carry it. But +though they make the greatest appearance in the field, and cry +the loudest, the best of it is they are but a sort of French +Huguenots, or Dutch boors, brought ever in herds, but not +naturalised, who have not land of two pounds per annum in +Parnassus, and therefore are not privileged to poll. Their +authors are of the same level; fit to represent them on a +mountebank’s stage, or to be masters of the ceremonies in a +bear-garden. Yet these are they who have the most +admirers. But it often happens, to their mortification, +that as their readers improve their stock of sense (as they may +by reading better books, and by conversation with men of +judgment), they soon forsake them; and when the torrent from the +mountains falls no more, the swelling writer is reduced into his +shallow bed, like the Mançanares at Madrid, with scarce +water to moisten his own pebbles. There are a middle sort +of readers (as we held there is a middle state of souls), such as +have a farther insight than the former, yet have not the capacity +of judging right; for I speak not of those who are bribed by a +party, and knew better if they were not corrupted, but I mean a +company of warm young men, who are not yet arrived so far as to +discern the difference betwixt fustian or ostentations sentences +and the true sublime. These are above liking Martial or +Owen’s epigrams, but they would certainly set Virgil below +Statius or Lucan. I need not say their poets are of the +same paste with their admirers. They affect greatness in +all they write, but it is a bladdered greatness, like that of the +vain man whom Seneca describes an ill habit of body, full of +humours, and swelled with dropsy. Even these, too, desert +their authors as their judgment ripens. The young gentlemen +themselves are commonly misled by their pedagogue at school, +their tutor at the university, or their governor in their +travels, and many of these three sorts are the most positive +blockheads in the world. How many of these flatulent +writers have I known who have sunk in their reputation after +seven or eight editions of their works! for indeed they are poets +only for young men. They had great success at their first +appearance, but not being of God, as a wit said formerly, they +could not stand.</p> +<p>I have already named two sorts of judges, but Virgil wrote for +neither of them, and by his example I am not ambitious of +pleasing the lowest or the middle form of readers. He chose +to please the most judicious souls, of the highest rank and +truest understanding. These are few in number; but whoever +is so happy as to gain their approbation can never lose it, +because they never give it blindly. Then they have a +certain magnetism in their judgment which attracts others to +their sense. Every day they gain some new proselyte, and in +time become the Church. For this reason a well-weighed +judicious poem, which at its first appearance gains no more upon +the world than to be just received, and rather not blamed than +much applauded, insinuates itself by insensible degrees into the +liking of the reader; the more he studies it, the more it grows +upon him, every time he takes it up he discovers some new graces +in it. And whereas poems which are produced by the vigour +of imagination only have a gloss upon them at the first (which +time wears off), the works of judgment are like the diamond, the +more they are polished the more lustre they receive. Such +is the difference betwixt Virgil’s +“Æneis” and Marini’s +“Adone.” And if I may be allowed to change the +metaphor, I would say that Virgil is like the Fame which he +describes:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Mobilitate viget</i>, <i>viresque +acquirit eundo</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Such a sort of reputation is my aim, though in a far inferior +degree, according to my motto in the +title-page—<i>sequiturque patrem non passibus +æquis</i>—and therefore I appeal to the highest court +of judicature, like that of the peers, of which your lordship is +so great an ornament.</p> +<p>Without this ambition which I own, of desiring to please the +<i>judices natos</i>, I could never have been able to have done +anything at this age, when the fire of poetry is commonly +extinguished in other men. Yet Virgil has given me the +example of Entellus for my encouragement; when he was well +heated, the younger champion could not stand before him. +And we find the elder contended not for the gift, but for the +honour (<i>nec dona moror</i>); for Dampier has informed us in +his “Voyages” that the air of the country which +produces gold is never wholesome.</p> +<p>I had long since considered that the way to please the best +judges is not to translate a poet literally, and Virgil least of +any other; for his peculiar beauty lying in his choice of words, +I am excluded from it by the narrow compass of our heroic verse, +unless I would make use of monosyllables only, and these clogged +with consonants, which are the dead weight of our mother +tongue. It is possible, I confess, though it rarely +happens, that a verse of monosyllables may sound harmoniously; +and some examples of it I have seen. My first line of the +“Æneis” is not harsh—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Arms, and the man I sing, who forced by +Fate,” &c.—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>but a much better instance may be given from the last line of +Manilius, made English by our learned and judicious Mr. +Creech—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Nor could the world have borne so fierce a +flame”—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>where the many liquid consonants are placed so artfully that +they give a pleasing sound to the words, though they are all of +one syllable. It is true, I have been sometimes forced upon +it in other places of this work, but I never did it out of +choice: I was either in haste, or Virgil gave me no occasion for +the ornament of words; for it seldom happens but a monosyllable +line turns verse to prose, and even that prose is rugged and +unharmonious. Philarchus, I remember, taxes Balzac for +placing twenty monosyllables in file without one dissyllable +betwixt them.</p> +<p>The way I have taken is not so strait as metaphrase, nor so +loose as paraphrase; some things, too, I have omitted, and +sometimes have added of my own. Yet the omissions, I hope, +are but of circumstances, and such as would have no grace in +English; and the additions, I also hope, are easily deduced from +Virgil’s sense. They will seem (at least, I have the +vanity to think so), not stuck into him, but growing out of +him. He studies brevity more than any other poet; but he +had the advantage of a language wherein much may be comprehended +in a little space. We and all the modern tongues have more +articles and pronouns, besides signs of tenses and cases, and +other barbarities on which our speech is built, by the faults of +our forefathers. The Romans founded theirs upon the Greek; +and the Greeks, we know, were labouring many hundred years upon +their language before they brought it to perfection. They +rejected all those signs, and cut off as many articles as they +could spare, comprehending in one word what we are constrained to +express in two; which is one reason why we cannot write so +concisely as they have done. The word <i>pater</i>, for +example, signifies not only “a father,” but +“your father,” “my father,” “his or +her father”—all included in a word.</p> +<p>This inconvenience is common to all modern tongues, and this +alone constrains us to employ more words than the ancients +needed. But having before observed that Virgil endeavours +to be short, and at the same time elegant, I pursue the +excellence and forsake the brevity. For there he is like +ambergris, a rich perfume, but of so close and glutinous a body +that it must be opened with inferior scents of musk or civet, or +the sweetness will not be drawn out into another language.</p> +<p>On the whole matter I thought fit to steer betwixt the two +extremes of paraphrase and literal translation; to keep as near +my author as I could without losing all his graces, the most +eminent of which are in the beauty of his words: and those words, +I must add, are always figurative. Such of these as would +retain their elegance in our tongue, I have endeavoured to graff +on it; but most of them are of necessity to be lest, because they +will not shine in any but their own. Virgil has sometimes +two of them in a line; but the scantiness of our heroic verse is +not capable of receiving more than one; and that, too, must +expiate for many others which have none. Such is the +difference of the languages, or such my want of skill in choosing +words. Yet I may presume to say, and I hope with as much +reason as the French translator, that, taking all the materials +of this divine author, I have endeavoured to make Virgil speak +such English as he would himself have spoken if he had been born +in England and in this present age. I acknowledge, with +Segrais, that I have not succeeded in this attempt according to +my desire; yet I shall not be wholly without praise, if in some +sort I may be allowed to have copied the clearness, the purity, +the easiness, and the magnificence of his style. But I +shall have occasion to speak farther on this subject before I end +the preface.</p> +<p>When I mentioned the Pindaric line, I should have added that I +take another licence in my verses; for I frequently make use of +triplet rhymes, and for the same reason—because they bound +the sense. And therefore I generally join these two +licences together, and make the last verse of the triplet a +Pindaric; for besides the majesty which it gives, it confines the +sense within the barriers of three lines, which would languish if +it were lengthened into four. Spenser is my example for +both these privileges of English verses; and Chapman has followed +him in his translation of Homer. Mr. Cowley has given in to +them after both; and all succeeding writers after him. I +regard them now as the <i>Magna Charta</i> of heroic poetry; and +am too much an Englishman to lose what my ancestors have gained +for me. Let the French and Italians value themselves on +their regularity; strength and elevation are our standard. +I said before, and I repeat it, that the affected purity of the +French has unsinewed their heroic verse. The language of an +epic poem is almost wholly figurative; yet they are so fearful of +a metaphor that no example of Virgil can encourage them to be +bold with safety. Sure, they might warm themselves by that +sprightly blaze, without approaching it so close as to singe +their wings; they may come as near it as their master. Not +that I would discourage that purity of diction in which he excels +all other poets; but he knows how far to extend his franchises, +and advances to the verge without venturing a foot beyond +it. On the other side, without being injurious to the +memory of our English Pindar, I will presume to say that his +metaphors are sometimes too violent, and his language is not +always pure. But at the same time I must excuse him, for +through the iniquity of the times he was forced to travel at an +age when, instead of learning foreign languages, he should have +studied the beauties of his mother tongue, which, like all other +speeches, is to be cultivated early, or we shall never write it +with any kind of elegance. Thus by gaining abroad he lost +at home, like the painter in the “Arcadia,” who, +going to see a skirmish, had his arms lopped off, and returned, +says Sir Philip Sidney, well instructed how to draw a battle, but +without a hand to perform his work.</p> +<p>There is another thing in which I have presumed to deviate +from him and Spenser. They both make hemistichs, or +half-verses, breaking off in the middle of a line. I +confess there are not many such in the “Faërie +Queen,” and even those few might be occasioned by his +unhappy choice of so long a stanza. Mr. Cowley had found +out that no kind of staff is proper for an heroic poem, as being +all too lyrical; yet though he wrote in couplets, where rhyme is +freer from constraint, he frequently affects half-verses, of +which we find not one in Homer, and I think not in any of the +Greek poets or the Latin, excepting only Virgil: and there is no +question but he thought he had Virgil’s authority for that +licence. But I am confident our poet never meant to leave +him or any other such a precedent; and I ground my opinion on +these two reasons: first, we find no example of a hemistich in +any of his Pastorals or Georgics, for he had given the last +finishing strokes to both these poems; but his +“Æneis” he left so incorrect, at least so short +of that perfection at which he aimed, that we know how hard a +sentence he passed upon it. And, in the second place, I +reasonably presume that he intended to have filled up all these +hemistichs, because in one of them we find the sense +imperfect:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Quem tibi jam Troja</i> . . . ” +(“Æn.” iii. 340.)</p> +</blockquote> +<p>which some foolish grammarian has ended for him with a +half-line of nonsense:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Peperit fumante Creusa</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>For Ascanius must have been born some years before the burning +of that city, which I need not prove. On the other side we +find also that he himself filled up one line in the sixth +Æneid, the enthusiasm seizing him while he was reading to +Augustus:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Misenum Æolidem</i>, <i>quo non +præstantior alter</i><br /> +<i>Ære ciere viros</i>, . . . ”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>to which he added in that transport, <i>Martemque accendare +cantu</i>, and never was any line more nobly finished, for the +reasons which I have given in the “Book of +Painting.”</p> +<p>On these considerations I have shunned hemistichs, not being +willing to imitate Virgil to a fault, like Alexander’s +courtiers, who affected to hold their necks awry because he could +not help it. I am confident your lordship is by this time +of my opinion, and that you will look on those half-lines +hereafter as the imperfect products of a hasty muse, like the +frogs and serpents in the Nile, part of them kindled into life, +and part a lump of unformed, unanimated mud.</p> +<p>I am sensible that many of my whole verses are as imperfect as +those halves, for want of time to digest them better. But +give me leave to make the excuse of Boccace, who, when he was +upbraided that some of his novels had not the spirit of the rest, +returned this answer: that Charlemagne, who made the Paladins, +was never able to raise an army of them. The leaders may be +heroes, but the multitude must consist of common men.</p> +<p>I am also bound to tell your lordship, in my own defence, that +from the beginning of the first Georgic to the end of the last +Æneid, I found the difficulty of translation growing on me +in every succeeding book. For Virgil, above all poets, had +a stock which I may call almost inexhaustible, of figurative, +elegant, and sounding words. I, who inherit but a small +portion of his genius, and write in a language so much inferior +to the Latin, have found it very painful to vary phrases when the +same sense returns upon me. Even he himself, whether out of +necessity or choice, has often expressed the same thing in the +same words, and often repeated two or three whole verses which he +had used before. Words are not so easily coined as money; +and yet we see that the credit not only of banks, but of +exchequers, cracks when little comes in and much goes out. +Virgil called upon me in every line for some new word, and I paid +so long that I was almost bankrupt; so that the latter end must +needs be more burthensome than the beginning or the middle; and +consequently the twelfth Æneid cost me double the time of +the first and second. What had become of me, if Virgil had +taxed me with another book? I had certainly been reduced to +pay the public in hammered money for want of milled; that is, in +the same old words which I had used before; and the receivers +must have been forced to have taken anything, where there was so +little to be had.</p> +<p>Besides this difficulty with which I have struggled and made a +shift to pass it ever, there is one remaining, which is +insuperable to all translators. We are bound to our +author’s sense, though with the latitudes already +mentioned; for I think it not so sacred as that one iota must not +be added or diminished, on pain of an anathema. But slaves +we are, and labour on another man’s plantation; we dress +the vineyard, but the wine is the owner’s. If the +soil be sometimes barren, then we are sure of being scourged; if +it be fruitful, and our care succeeds, we are not thanked; for +the proud reader will only say—the poor drudge has done his +duty. But this is nothing to what follows; for being +obliged to make his sense intelligible, we are forced to untune +our own verses that we may give his meaning to the reader. +He who invents is master of his thoughts and words: he can turn +and vary them as he pleases, till he renders them +harmonious. But the wretched translator has no such +privilege, for being tied to the thoughts, he must make what +music he can in the expression; and for this reason it cannot +always be so sweet as that of the original. There is a +beauty of sound, as Segrais has observed, in some Latin words, +which is wholly lost in any modern language. He instances +in that <i>mollis amaracus</i>, on which Venus lays Cupid in the +first Æneid. If I should translate it sweet-marjoram, +as the word signifies, the reader would think I had mistaken +Virgil; for these village-words, as I may call them, give us a +mean idea of the thing; but the sound of the Latin is so much +more pleasing, by the just mixture of the vowels with the +consonants, that it raises our fancies to conceive somewhat more +noble than a common herb, and to spread roses under him, and +strew lilies over him—a bed not unworthy the grandson of +the goddess.</p> +<p>If I cannot copy his harmonious numbers, how shall I imitate +his noble flights, where his thoughts and words are equally +sublime? <i>Quem</i></p> +<blockquote><p>“ . . . <i>quisquis studet +æmulari</i>,<br /> +. . . <i>cæratis ope Dedaleâ</i><br /> +<i>Nititur pennis</i>, <i>vitreo daturus</i><br /> + <i>Nomina ponto</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>What modern language or what poet can express the majestic +beauty of this one verse, amongst a thousand others?</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Aude</i>, <i>hospes</i>, <i>contemnere +opes</i>, <i>et te quoque dignum</i><br /> +<i>Finge Deo</i> . . . ”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>For my part, I am lost in the admiration of it. I +contemn the world when I think on it, and myself when I translate +it.</p> +<p>Lay by Virgil, I beseech your lordship and all my better sort +of judges, when you take up my version, and it will appear a +passable beauty when the original muse is absent; but like +Spenser’s false Florimel, made of snow, it melts and +vanishes when the true one comes in sight.</p> +<p>I will not excuse, but justify, myself for one pretended crime +with which I am liable to be charged by false critics, not only +in this translation, but in many of my original poems—that +I Latinise too much. It is true, that when I find an +English word significant and sounding, I neither borrow from the +Latin nor any other language; but when I want at home, I must +seek abroad. If sounding words are not of our growth and +manufacture, who shall hinder me to import them from a foreign +country? I carry not out the treasure of the nation which +is never to return, but what I bring from Italy I spend in +England. Here it remains and here it circulates, for if the +coin be good it will pass from one hand to another. I trade +both with the living and the dead for the enrichment of our +native language. We have enough in England to supply our +necessity; but if we will have things of magnificence and +splendour, we must get them by commerce. Poetry requires +ornament, and that is not to be had from our old Teuton +monosyllables; therefore, if I find any elegant word in a classic +author, I propose it to be naturalised by using it myself; and if +the public approves of it, the bill passes. But every man +cannot distinguish betwixt pedantry and poetry; every man, +therefore, is not fit to innovate.</p> +<p>Upon the whole matter, a poet must first be certain that the +word he would introduce is beautiful in the Latin; and is to +consider, in the next place, whether it will agree with the +English idiom. After this he ought to take the opinion of +judicious friends, such as are learned in both languages; and +lastly, since no man is infallible, let him use this licence very +sparingly; for if too many foreign words are poured in upon us, +it looks as if they were designed not to assist the natives, but +to conquer them.</p> +<p>I am now drawing towards a conclusion, and suspect your +lordship is very glad of it. But permit me first to own +what helps I have had in this undertaking. The late Earl of +Lauderdale sent me over his new translation of the +“Æneis,” which he had ended before I engaged in +the same design. Neither did I then intend it; but some +proposals being afterwards made me by my bookseller, I desired +his lordship’s leave that I might accept them, which he +freely granted, and I have his letter yet to show for that +permission. He resolved to have printed his work, which he +might have done two years before I could publish mine; and had +performed it, if death had not prevented him. But having +his manuscript in my hands, I consulted it as often as I doubted +of my author’s sense, for no man understood Virgil better +than that learned nobleman. His friends, I hear, have yet +another and more correct copy of that translation by them, which +had they pleased to have given the public, the judges must have +been convinced that I have not flattered him.</p> +<p>Besides this help, which was not inconsiderable, Mr. Congreve +has done me the favour to review the “Æneis,” +and compare my version with the original. I shall never be +ashamed to own that this excellent young man has shown me many +faults, which I have endeavoured to correct. It is true he +might have easily found more, and then my translation had been +more perfect.</p> +<p>Two other worthy friends of mine, who desire to have their +names concealed, seeing me straitened in my time, took pity on me +and gave me the life of Virgil, the two prefaces—to the +Pastorals and the Georgics—and all the arguments in prose +to the whole translation; which perhaps has caused a report that +the two first poems are not mine. If it had been true that +I had taken their verses for my own, I might have gloried in +their aid; and like Terence, have farthered the opinion that +Scipio and Lælius joined with me. But the same style +being continued through the whole, and the same laws of +versification observed, are proofs sufficient that this is one +man’s work; and your lordship is too well acquainted with +my manner to doubt that any part of it is another’s.</p> +<p>That your lordship may see I was in earnest when I premised to +hasten to an end, I will not give the reasons why I writ not +always in the proper terms of navigation, land-service, or in the +cant of any profession. I will only say that Virgil has +avoided these proprieties, because he writ not to mariners, +soldiers, astronomers, gardeners, peasants, &c., but to all +in general, and in particular to men and ladies of the first +quality, who have been better bred than to be too nicely knowing +in the terms. In such cases, it is enough for a poet to +write so plainly that he may be understood by his readers; to +avoid impropriety, and not affect to be thought learned in all +things.</p> +<p>I have emitted the four preliminary lines of the first +Æneid, because I think them inferior to any four others in +the whole poem; and consequently believe they are not +Virgil’s. There is too great a gap betwixt the +adjective <i>vicina</i> in the second line, and the substantive +<i>arva</i> in the latter end of the third; which keeps his +meaning in obscurity too long, and is contrary to the clearness +of his style. <i>Ut quamvis avido</i> is too ambitious an +ornament to be his, and <i>gratum opus agricolis</i> are all +words unnecessary, and independent of what he had said +before. <i>Horrentia Martis arma</i> is worse than any of +the rest. <i>Horrentia</i> is such a flat epithet as Tully +would have given us in his verses. It is a mere filler to +stop a vacancy in the hexameter, and connect the preface to the +work of Virgil.</p> +<p>Our author seems to sound a charge, and begins like the +clangour of a trumpet:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Arma</i>, <i>virumque cano</i>, +<i>Trojæ qui primus ab oris</i>,”—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Scarce a word without an <i>r</i>, and the vowels for the +greater part sonorous. The prefacer began with <i>Ille +ego</i>, which he was constrained to patch up in the fourth line +with <i>at nunc</i> to make the sense cohere; and if both those +words are not notorious botches I am much deceived, though the +French translator thinks otherwise. For my own part, I am +rather of the opinion that they were added by Tucca and Varius, +than retrenched.</p> +<p>I know it may be answered by such as think Virgil the author +of the four lines—that he asserts his title to the +“Æneis” in the beginning of this work, as he +did to the two former, in the last lines of the fourth +Georgic. I will not reply otherwise to this, than by +desiring them to compare these four lines with the four others, +which we know are his, because no poet but he alone could write +them. If they cannot distinguish creeping from flying, let +them lay down Virgil, and take up Ovid de Ponto in his +stead. My master needed not the assistance of that +preliminary poet to prove his claim: his own majestic mien +discovers him to be the king amidst a thousand courtiers. +It was a superfluous office, and therefore I would not set those +verses in the front of Virgil; but have rejected them to my own +preface:</p> +<blockquote><p>“I, who before, with shepherds in the +groves,<br /> +Sung to my oaten pipe their rural loves,<br /> +And issuing thence, compelled the neighb’ring field<br /> +A plenteous crop of rising corn to yield;<br /> +Manured the glebe, and stocked the fruitful plain<br /> +(A poem grateful to the greedy swain),” &c.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>If there be not a tolerable line in all these six, the +prefacer gave me no occasion to write better. This is a +just apology in this place; but I have done great wrong to Virgil +in the whole translation. Want of time, the inferiority of +our language, the inconvenience of rhyme, and all the other +excuses I have made, may alleviate my fault, but cannot justify +the boldness of my undertaking. What avails it me to +acknowledge freely that I have not been able to do him right in +any line? For even my own confession makes against me; and +it will always be returned upon me, “Why, then, did you +attempt it?” To which no other answer can be made, +than that I have done him less injury than any of his former +libellers.</p> +<p>What they called his picture had been drawn at length so many +times by the daubers of almost all nations, and still so unlike +him, that I snatched up the pencil with disdain, being satisfied +beforehand that I could make some small resemblance of him, +though I must be content with a worse likeness. A sixth +Pastoral, a Pharmaceutria, a single Orpheus, and some other +features have been exactly taken. But those holiday authors +writ for pleasure, and only showed us what they could have done +if they would have taken pains to perform the whole.</p> +<p>Be pleased, my lord, to accept with your wonted goodness this +unworthy present which I make you. I have taken off one +trouble from you, of defending it, by acknowledging its +imperfections; and though some part of them are covered in the +verse (as Ericthonius rode always in a chariot to hide his +lameness), such of them as cannot be concealed you will please to +connive at, though in the strictness of your judgment you cannot +pardon. If Homer was allowed to nod sometimes, in so long a +work it will be no wonder if I often fall asleep. You took +my “Aurengzebe” into your protection with all his +faults; and I hope here cannot be so many, because I translate an +author who gives me such examples of correctness. What my +jury may be I know not; but it is good for a criminal to plead +before a favourable judge: if I had said partial, would your +lordship have forgiven me? Or will you give me leave to +acquaint the world that I have many times been obliged to your +bounty since the Revolution? Though I never was reduced to +beg a charity, nor ever had the impudence to ask one, either of +your lordship or your noble kinsman the Earl of Dorset, much less +of any other, yet when I least expected it you have both +remembered me, so inherent it is in your family not to forget an +old servant. It looks rather like ingratitude on my part, +that where I have been so often obliged, I have appeared so +seldom to return my thanks, and where I was also so sure of being +well received. Somewhat of laziness was in the case, and +somewhat too of modesty; but nothing of disrespect or of +unthankfulness. I will not say that your lordship has +encouraged me to this presumption, lest, if my labours meet with +no success in public, I may expose your judgment to be +censured. As for my own enemies, I shall never think them +worth an answer; and if your lordship has any, they will not dare +to arraign you for want of knowledge in this art till they can +produce somewhat better of their own than your “Essay on +Poetry.” It was on this consideration that I have +drawn out my preface to so great a length. Had I not +addressed to a poet and a critic of the first magnitude, I had +myself been taxed for want of judgment, and shamed my patron for +want of understanding. But neither will you, my lord, so +soon be tired as any other, because the discourse is on your art; +neither will the learned reader think it tedious, because it is +<i>ad Clerum</i>: at least, when he begins to be weary, the +church doors are open. That I may pursue the allegory with +a short prayer after a long sermon.</p> +<p>May you live happily and long for the service of your country, +the encouragement of good letters and the ornament of poetry, +which cannot be wished more earnestly by any man than by</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Your Lordship’s most +humble,</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Most obliged and most<br /> +Obedient servant,</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">John +Dryden</span>.</p> +<h3>POSTSCRIPT.</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">What</span> Virgil wrote in the vigour of +his age (in plenty and at ease) I have undertaken to translate in +my declining years; struggling with wants, oppressed by sickness, +curbed in my genius, liable to be misconstrued in all I write; +and my judges, if they are not very equitable, already prejudiced +against me by the lying character which has been given them of my +morals. Yet steady to my principles, and not dispirited +with my afflictions, I have, by the blessing of God on my +endeavours, overcome all difficulties; and, in some measure, +acquitted myself of the debt which I owed the public when I +undertook this work. In the first place, therefore, I +thankfully acknowledge to the Almighty Power the assistance He +has given me in the beginning, the prosecution, and conclusion of +my present studies, which are more happily performed than I could +have promised to myself when I laboured under such +discouragements. For what I have done, imperfect as it is +for want of health and leisure to correct it, will be judged in +after-ages, and possibly in the present, to be no dishonour to my +native country, whose language and poetry would be more esteemed +abroad if they were better understood. Somewhat (give me +leave to say) I have added to both of them in the choice of words +and harmony of numbers, which were wanting, especially the last, +in all our poets; even in those who being endued with genius yet +have not cultivated their mother-tongue with sufficient care, or, +relying on the beauty of their thoughts, have judged the ornament +of words and sweetness of sound unnecessary. One is for +raking in Chaucer (our English Ennius) for antiquated words, +which are never to be revived but when sound or significancy is +wanting in the present language. But many of his deserve +not this redemption any more than the crowds of men who daily +die, or are slain for sixpence in a battle, merit to be restored +to life if a wish could revive them. Others have no ear for +verse, nor choice of words, nor distinction of thoughts, but +mingle farthings with their gold to make up the sum. Here +is a field of satire opened to me, but since the Revolution I +have wholly renounced that talent. For who would give +physic to the great, when he is uncalled, to do his patient no +good and endanger himself for his prescription? Neither am +I ignorant but I may justly be condemned for many of these faults +of which I have too liberally arraigned others:</p> + +<blockquote><p> “<i>Cynthius +aurem</i><br /> +<i>Vellit</i>, <i>et admonuit</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It is enough for me if the government will let me pass +unquestioned. In the meantime I am obliged in gratitude to +return my thanks to many of them, who have not only distinguished +me from others of the same party by a particular exception of +grace, but without considering the man have been bountiful to the +poet, have encouraged Virgil to speak such English as I could +teach him, and rewarded his interpreter for the pains he has +taken in bringing him over into Britain by defraying the charges +of his voyage. Even Cerberus, when he had received the sop, +permitted Æneas to pass freely to Elysium. Had it +been offered me and I had refused it, yet still some gratitude is +due to such who were willing to oblige me. But how much +more to those from whom I have received the favours which they +have offered to one of a different persuasion; amongst whom I +cannot omit naming the Earls of Derby and of Peterborough. +To the first of these I have not the honour to be known, and +therefore his liberality [was] as much unexpected as it was +undeserved. The present Earl of Peterborough has been +pleased long since to accept the tenders of my service: his +favours are so frequent to me that I receive them almost by +prescription. No difference of interests or opinion has +been able to withdraw his protection from me, and I might justly +be condemned for the most unthankful of mankind if I did not +always preserve for him a most profound respect and inviolable +gratitude. I must also add that if the last Æneid +shine amongst its fellows, it is owing to the commands of Sir +William Trumbull, one of the principal Secretaries of State, who +recommended it, as his favourite, to my care; and for his sake +particularly I have made it mine. For who would confess +weariness when he enjoined a fresh labour? I could not but +invoke the assistance of a muse for this last office:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Extremum hunc</i>, <i>Arethusa</i>; . . +.<br /> +. . . <i>neget quis carmina Gallo</i>?”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Neither am I to forget the noble present which was made me by +Gilbert Dolben, Esq., the worthy son of the late Archbishop of +York, who (when I began this work) enriched me with all the +several editions of Virgil and all the commentaries of those +editions in Latin, amongst which I could not but prefer the +Dauphin’s as the last, the shortest, and the most +judicious. Fabrini I had also sent me from Italy, but +either he understands Virgil very imperfectly or I have no +knowledge of my author.</p> +<p>Being invited by that worthy gentleman, Sir William Bowyer, to +Denham Court, I translated the first Georgic at his house and the +greatest part of the last Æneid. A more friendly +entertainment no man ever found. No wonder, therefore, if +both these versions surpass the rest; and own the satisfaction I +received in his converse, with whom I had the honour to be bred +in Cambridge, and in the same college. The seventh +Æneid was made English at Burghley, the magnificent abode +of the Earl of Exeter. In a village belonging to his family +I was born, and under his roof I endeavoured to make that +Æneid appear in English with as much lustre as I could, +though my author has not given the finishing strokes either to it +or to the eleventh, as I perhaps could prove in both if I durst +presume to criticise my master.</p> +<p>By a letter from William Walsh, Esq., of Abberley (who has so +long honoured me with his friendship, and who, without flattery, +is the best critic of our nation), I have been informed that his +Grace the Duke of Shrewsbury has procured a printed copy of the +Pastorals, Georgics, and six first Æneids from my +bookseller, and has read them in the country together with my +friend. This noble person (having been pleased to give them +a commendation which I presume not to insert) has made me vain +enough to boast of so great a favour, and to think I have +succeeded beyond my hopes; the character of his excellent +judgment, the acuteness of his wit, and his general knowledge of +good letters, being known as well to all the world as the +sweetness of his disposition, his humanity, his easiness of +access, and desire of obliging those who stand in need of his +protection are known to all who have approached him, and to me in +particular, who have formerly had the honour of his +conversation. Whoever has given the world the translation +of part of the third Georgic (which he calls “The Power of +Love”) has put me to sufficient pains to make my own not +inferior to his; as my Lord Roscommon’s +“Silenus” had formerly given me the same +trouble. The most ingenious Mr. Addison, of Oxford, has +also been as troublesome to me as the other two, and on the same +account; after his bees my latter swarm is scarcely worth the +hiving. Mr. Cowley’s praise of a country life is +excellent, but it is rather an imitation of Virgil than a +version. That I have recovered in some measure the health +which I had lost by too much application to this work, is owing +(next to God’s mercy) to the skill and care of Dr. Guibbons +and Dr. Hobbs (the two ornaments of their profession), whom I can +only pay by this acknowledgment. The whole faculty has +always been ready to oblige me, and the only one of them who +endeavoured to defame me had it not in his power. I desire +pardon from my readers for saying so much in relation to myself +which concerns not them; and with my acknowledgments to all my +subscribers, have only to add that the few notes which follow are +<i>par manière d’acquit</i>, because I had obliged +myself by articles to do somewhat of that kind. These +scattering observations are rather guesses at my author’s +meaning in some passages than proofs that so he meant. The +unlearned may have recourse to any poetical dictionary in English +for the names of persons, places, or fables, which the learned +need not, but that little which I say is either new or necessary, +and the first of these qualifications never fails to invite a +reader, if not to please him.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DISCOURSES ON SATIRE AND ON EPIC +POETRY***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 2615-h.htm or 2615-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/6/1/2615 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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